#dont do dark without checking the color space

[jothemouse]

And WOW! Another commission!!??!?!?! And this one very specifically for the Harvey lovers❤️‍🔥 ;)

Thank you to @peachygoliath-blog for commissioning me!!!

And a close up just for fun ;333

And if you, dear viewers, would like a commission of your own, they are still open!! Or if you'd like to just offer your support I have ko-fi and, as always, the best way to support me is just by reblogging!!!

[acheronist]

ok here's my player fansign event gossip

🐙

i was running a teensy bit late so i didn't get to say hi to rasmussen but he did look VERY handsome and looked a bit afraid LMAO. my sweet moose was probably out of his depth.. socially awkward darling

debrincat came out second and he was so so so so kind to fans. he was taking a ton of time to stop and sign something for EVERYONE who wanted something signed. about 8 or 9 guys passed him and went inside before he was nearly done walking thru the crowd to sign stuff... :'-) welcome home kitty we love u + it was so nice to see him recognize how excited we are for him too rahhh

i honestly dont remember seeing andrew copp at all but he must have walked by lol

berggren was sooo 🤏🏻🤏🏻 and cute and polite. he signed things very neatly and small and carefully (literally just JB48 in like a 1" square. its ok baby u can take up more space) + we congratulated him on getting called up again because we all love to see him skate and he seemed really genuinely surprised/pleased to hear it

it seemed like ville was bouncing back and forth between both sides of the walk a ton... also just trying to sign everything for everyone who wanted it... he was so 🙂 shaped though.. and he really is pale as fuck i think my guy was refracting sunlight as he walked by. i liked his signature a lot though it was very tight + angular + neatly written. big emphasis on the double Ls in his name. I dont even remember if he spoke though i'll be real.

ben chiarot looked sharp as FUCK. he had a turtleneck on under his suit jacket and his hair all slicked back..... he was serving sexy team dilf without children realness. so my bestie asked him if he just got done at a GQ model shoot while he was signing her shirt and he smirked and laughed under his breath a bit. whore <3

fischer was really fun to look at irl. his face is crazy i want 2 draw him. thats all i got LMAO. i dont remember anything else sorry to the christian fischer stans of tumblr dot com

compher was very polite too but he was moving thru the crowd really quick.. again i think he was just awkward and a little out of his depth w the crowd in the same way ras was? but he was very polite + nice + softspoken tho and i took a selfie w him for @comphy-and-cozy because she's violently in love with him but couldn't be there LOL

ghost looked SAUR sexy.. dark green suit well tailored very kind and polite.. i like that boy ! he was really softspoken too which surprised me because he's been such a freaky bitch on the ice lately

i also dont remember sprong at all but i do remember thinking it was kind of a #serve to match the toque to be the same burgundy color as his suit (also extremely well tailored. everyone looked very handsome). creative ways to make early male pattern baldness be kind of cunty + well dressed for the weather.

DYLAN.... DYYLAAANNNNNNNNNN

he was so so lovely.. definitely doing the same move as debrincat where he was just taking his damn time to sign smth for everyone who wanted smth. he was kind of in Good Captain Autopilot Mode it really reminded me of clips of stevie from the 90s... hockeytown loves our captains so much its unreal. but he signed my jersey and said hi to our little group and i sooo shaky lmao. but i handed him the art & he started to sign the plastic sleeve it was in? and I went no it's for you! and he kind of checked back into real life and went oh OH!!!!! and smiled when he actually looked at it and carried it w him thru the rest of the line :'-) idk i feel like he must get a lot of gifts from fans? but he definitely looked at it inside the doors of the LCA and he definitely carried it w him and didn't throw it away immediately so. big win for people who are me.

lucas and mo were funny asf they made it about 75% of the way thru the line and then the sun came out and was in their eyes and they both said ok i'm done now thank u and left. #respect

joey was so cute.. my bestie made a sign calling him a himbo last year and (then) he asked what a himbo was so we said Lmao google it, and this year he was signing stuff and talking to us and we were like "did you ever google what a himbo was" and he went huh. ohhh yeah lol like he was somehow both Pleased and Very embarrassed about it . cutesie.

newsy came out too!! and his daughter was with him and it was so cute they had matching friendship bracelets and newsy was like (to us the crowd) omg guys can we take a selfie ? can we do that?? and we were like Dawg you're head coach you can do anything you want..... so we all got a selfie w him LMAOOOO and he was so sweet and gently spoken and kind to fans. which still is crazy. i get whiplash every time how different he is to blash (the old coach who was a bitch and looked like he wanted to call people slurs but knew better) its unreallll

i think all the interviews where walman's said how much he likes detroit + feels wanted here weren't lies or exaggerations at all.... he stuck around so long to sign things for everyone (like dylan and debrincat did) and I think he was the last guy on the walk? and he was so funny and smiley and happy to be there.. my fucking GUY!!!!

[cheddar-inq]

three more scug designs!

btw usually ill refer to slugcats just with they/them pronouns but some of them will use pronouns like he/him or she/her depending on my personal headcanons for them i think arti and hunter use any pronouns but use she/her the most, rivulet uses he/they, and spearmaster uses any but primarily they/them idk man its just how i see them, call any of them whatever you like !!!!

anyways

monk is one of the few slugcats in the group with no glowing whatsoever, instead being able to grow flowers on their back these flowers can be picked without hurting monk, and if gifted to any creature will remove any hostility that specific creature has towards whoever gave it to them. the effect stays even if the flower is lost, and the flower doesnt mean the creature wont go back to being hostile.

its kind of like. "wow this is a great gift ok i wont beat the shit out of this person" and if you arent treating said creature kindly it will go right back to hating/wanting to eat you

monk is always at max karma and can grow karma flowers (although pretty rarely) alongside the normal ones. the karma flowers dont have the same effect as the normal flowers, just. normal karma flower !!

theyre pretty quiet, but super friendly and hate seeing people fight. they suck at breaking up fights, though, and usually just end up trying to find somebody else to break it up

bros also really short thank you for your time

monk uses he/she pronouns

next up is artificer !!

artificer, along with a couple others like hunter and spearmaster, does most of the protecting for the group.

although capable of glowing, its not something she can do easily and its not something that really worth trying to do

Along with her normal explosion jumps/explosions, she can do a MASSIVE explosion which stuns and/or kills any creature in a pretty large radius. usually if theres a lot of creatures in one spot she'll go in, explode once or twice, and then come back so she doesnt stun/hurt any of the scugs in the group.

she can use the massive explosion once, maybe twice before needing to lie down and cool down. using it causes her scars to start glowing a bit and smoking and they get very hot which hurts arti a lot, so she doesnt use that explosion very often, only when she really needs to.

her usual explosions often work fine if she overheats from any of her explosions it has the same effect, but it starts a lot slower and just keeps building up- faint glowing, getting hotter, and starting to smoke

shes very protective over the others (at least, the ones she likes) and struggles a lot with keeping her emotions in check, as she has a habit of getting worked up over things and needing to sit down and calm herself down for a bit.

arti uses any pronouns, she/her preferred (she and hunter are partners. love them)

aaand hunter !!

Hunter is based on a lantern mouse in terms of design. when sleeping, relaxed, or in bright spaces, she looks like the first design (dark red/orange-red one), but in dark places or when feeling a strong emotion they kind of "pop" to the lighter form and constantly glow (like a lantern mouse), their eyes and tail tip glow the most (eyes also get slightly lighter in color)

hunter is fairly serious but likes to slip jokes into conversation while keeping a straight face and not changing their tone at all, just to see if anyone will notice

shes usually hanging out near artificer

has the rot (of course how could i not) and sometimes it'll start to effect him more than usual, causing them a lot of pain and making it hard to walk. if it gets bad enough she can just collapse and wait for it to wear off enough for them to get up again

hunter uses any pronouns, she/they preferred (eheheh artihunter)

edit rq to mention: hunter does have scars, but theyre too dark to see on the darker ver and the glow from the other ver hide them (aka i forgot to unhide the layer with scars so here we are)

artihunter doodle next

[daystarvoyage]

What do you think about animation’s respectability politics?

Oh man oh man where to begin with this Good one, this topic might make me emotional, Nostalgic, and transparent.

Now, I'll try to articulate as much as possible, cause there's a lot going on with today's society and how we Poc or Bipoc Are seen.

(Meaning People of Color & Black Indigenous People of color.)

This will not only affect my way or others' views of today's media from the 80s and today's 2000s cause as a person born in the 90s.

i have alot to say on how we come along way from today's media, watching all forms of animation, be it episodic or story-driven shows, of every genre, but theres one topic no one dont want to open about is how we see each other in forms of media so where gonna get donw to the first years of my life and how it effected me

The Raging 80s & 90s (The open space for resolving politics & steppingstone to cultural appreciation.)

This was the pinnacale of golden age animation that trailblazed so many ideas, great shows and driven packed series & francshies, i feel this was a excellent time to see.Which had very provactive engaging storytelling made up for it,

(without the whole lgbt themes getting in the way be it good or bad we'll get to that soon.)

however There were certain times we never had premoninet characters, main main characters if you will, never gained any limelinght or just a magic or Token black being a side piece or disposable best friend without reasonnig leaving the show,

(Disney shows im looking at you with a bomb bastic SIDE EYES later on.)

that are underused to a degree in 80s animation which atsome point were depicted good.

(exception of kid n play show in the 90s being a prominent cast of colorful cast & movie series or fat albert being a first main character howver he has at times can promote harmful stereotypes.)

check out this beautiful empowerment article

but anything girl theme like jem from the 80s where i saw shana was ago to for black girl empowerment.

but however we have 90s example had harmful ones done in the most gaudy ways say example family matters urkel, & Great Exhibits of good poc rep Like Storm From Xmen,

may i say it was a truly a good time to be beautiful in my own skin and how to love yourself if you saw yourself in said character in your favorite show, where you had so much freedom seeing black people be powerful yet building the road for beautiful melanin folk to rise being happy in there skin.

Now for the dark days of todays

Todays depiction of black media 2000s So on THE DARK DAYS but theres light

with black animators and viewers finally seeing the great stamp that shows our culture being on televison shows put into media set the tone and bar in todays media but,

This is the years wear we as people have been see or degraded in the disrespected, from black face on youtubers to freaking damn controversys on stars wars casting its first black warrior along the african ariel debuncle ( which i find stupid)

I feel in todays media they really dumb down our self worth to try to make a profit off our culture, seeing it done beforehand on animation

YOU GUESS IT DISNEY (which understandable they had there controversys coming,)

which there some shows that show good represnetation with bad and flawed stories that dont paced well or just written in the white eyes for the audience, cause in todays world anything can be fixed with lgbt themes at the cause of proper stories to for the sake of appealing for profit, out of our pockets. so i feel todays media run these types of steroetypes to filth 247 in media.

heres a the gloriyfied tropes they try to depct on us that are harmful to this day everyone even social meda and tiktok

At the point i feel theres alot of work for todays future animators, creators to have better inclusion and open minded options to appease to other viewrs and true fans of great storytelling to tell for generations

But it have been great positive lgbt tropes which sometimes can make or break a show

Article here

Hope this answers all Thanks from The Daystar Voyage

Also DISNEY NEEDS TO BE BLACK OWNED ONE DAY LOL

[mspareader]

I never do these but my fiancee @littleyarngoblin tagged me so actually im legally obligated to now :P

10 People You Want to Know Better

Relationship status: See above lmao. Going on 6 years together!! At this point the engagement is a formality though, we already call each other *borat voice* my wife all the time

Favorite colors: Green! All of them are good but if you wanna get specific I love a bright chartreuse and a deep dark bluey forest green. I also love eye bleeding neon colors and light blues and bright reds for sketching in, and you can never go wrong with navy blue. This is a terrible question to ask a designer.

Favorite foods: Oranges/orange juice (I get called the citrus goblin by most of my social circle) and also my dad’s steak/lamb chops and ALSO so much garlic :)

Song stuck in my head: Lately it’s been Mirror by Porter Robinson. Literally phenomenal musician if u havent heard of him (and also Madeon) go check them both out lol

Last thing you googled: “bluey homestuck” (we were talking about pop culture references in the show dont @ me)

Time: not enough of it

Dream trip: Oh god I have too many of these... I can narrow it down to 2 though - hiking in the fjords in Scandinavia, and doing a cultural and design history tour of Japan (with my wife of course)

Last thing you read: If we’re being technical its the description for the plan of a museum exhibit. If we’re being normal its some 😳 fanfic.

Last book you enjoyed reading: The Illuminae Files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff - oh my god what an experience! even if you don’t like budding teen romance, space operas, or epistolary narration, the graphic design and multi-media presentation of this series alone makes it worth reading. I am passionate about this. I made a powerpoint about it. (Please talk to me about it.)

Favorite thing to cook/bake: I absolutely destroy at making gluten free brownies :P

Favorite craft to do in your free time: leatherworking and miniature painting! (also a light smattering of CAD for 3D printing lol)

Opinion on circuses: Not big on them. The performers are very talented but the animal abuse and working conditions and overall history aren’t it man. If u wanna watch some acrobats go to cirque du soleil its so much better I promise.

Most niche dislike: When people take bites out of kitkats without breaking them first, kaelyn. :P

Do you have a sense of direction?: If I’ve been somewhere twice, I can navigate there myself the third time without help (yes)

tagging: @2bagelsinatrenchcoat @mantiscandy @sheep-socks @avangion and @hotdogmchiggin. Have fun!

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally.  You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened.  You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it.  You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys.  They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up.  There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured.  They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso.  The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat,  his dark curls sticking to his forehead.  He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands.  You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet.  You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly.  You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving.  You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you.  You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching.  Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you.  After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip.  “Seriously.  That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring.  Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away.  You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now.  You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup.  Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself.  “We…”  Your voice sounds absolutely shredded.  “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you.  “But we are alive.  Hey.”  He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand.  “We’re alive, right?  Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative.  A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence.  You’re alive.  Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering.  Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back.  But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking.  Full of light, and hope.  It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death.  Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies.  Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife.  You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort.  For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that.  “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!”  You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?”  Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position.  Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them.  “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him.  “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with.  “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too.  These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?”  Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close.  Why is he so close to you?  You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space.  Since when did he have that effect on you?  You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in.  You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness.  Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though.  Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands.  Hey.  Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips.  “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under.  Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement.  You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though.  His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head.  Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else.  Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

*** 

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and.  Well.  Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him.  But like, fuck him.  You know.  In the negative sense of the word.  The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it.  Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here.  Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall.  You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today.  You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again.  So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him.  Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now.  You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots.  He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you.  What have you done to deserve this torture?  Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay?  No, you’ve decided.  It’s not okay.  He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him.  In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie.  Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues.  “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps.  “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly.  “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?”  You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite.  Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug.  “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question?  It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache.  Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in?  “Ever.  The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?”  You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.  You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more.  Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is.  “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies.  “Maybe some Reds.  Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear.  Where are stress headaches localized?  Are those the ones right under your brow bone?  Because stars, you feel it.  “Fucking… why?  Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?”  Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you.  “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what?  No.  I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit.  This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that?  It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him.  The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you.  “Quit being so sensitive.  Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering.  You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset.  You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell.  But today was… a lot.  You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names.  These people aren’t your friends.  Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it?  You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle.  You almost died today.  You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit.  This is your squadron.  These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs.  You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that?  You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine.  How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you.  No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?”  You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy.  Ooh, you can already feel it burning.  It would be so fucking typical.  Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight.  How could he not know?  With as many friends as he has?  If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too.  You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it.  “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?”  Zhang turns his head.  “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No.  Yeah?  What?”  He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?”  Rossi confirms with a shrug.  “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right.  Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage.  You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel.  His pool is probably up soon, you figure.  That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today.  He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time.  Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—”  You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it.  Nobody has any fucking idea.  Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually…  “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—”  You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster.  Dameron had some… what?  “Wait.  Explain.  You’re saying he didn’t…”  You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together.  “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What?  No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated.  “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten?  He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…”  You blink, stunned.  “But… why?  Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs.  “Fuck if I know.  All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it.  Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t.  He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again.  You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today.  Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half… 

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here.  You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all.  You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.  

This is why he said that about Nine?  Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head.  Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today.  You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone.  Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow.  “What now?”  You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?”  You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder.  “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably.  “Well, uh.  We tried.”

“What?”  You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples.  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?  I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more.  “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing.  So we thought we’d buy you one instead.  Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air.  You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right.  Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar.  He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes.  The past… whole day.  Month and a half.  Or… fuck, how long have you known him?  Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours.  His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately.  You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on.  Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base.  You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here.  Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal.  Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around.  At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation.  You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly.  Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them.  Constant, never-ending.  Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe.  Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts.  You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance.  Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was.  Doesn’t matter now.  They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise.  It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary.  You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now.  But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms.  You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship.  You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized.  Spectacularly so.  Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary.  There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it.  Get each other.  He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly.  You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising.  Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive.  It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason…  You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you.  It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission.  How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.  

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name.  Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time.  The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him.  The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically.  Remembered, or at least asked the right person about.  But why?  It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s notorious for not giving a shit.  He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours?  You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself.  He was… singing your praises today.  He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him.  As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier.  Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him.  Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you.  He… he defended you.  Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back.  And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you.  What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago?  He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier.  The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh.  This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck.  The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder.  Shower, you’re in the shower.  Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck.  As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard.  You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here.  Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it.  If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today.  Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it.  You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you.  You enjoyed the fuck out of it.  You wish he’d do it again.  Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer.  He was doing you a favor, you realize that now.  Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point.  He turns you on, you fucking admit it.  He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore.  Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition.  You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that.  Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it.  You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room.  A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise.  Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that.  You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.  

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight.  You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today.  Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing.  What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level.  It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition.  Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review.  He could’ve thrown… three games, even.  Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls.  The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers.  You’ll be able to cum, at least once.  It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think.  You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention.  He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze.  It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.  He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements.  He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy.  Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been.  Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork.  Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you.  It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy.  He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop.  You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you.  He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open.  He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this.  He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there.  You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it.  Fuck.  This is torture.  Fuck him.  Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him.  Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum.  Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now.  Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change.  Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur.  Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months.  You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register.  Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight.  Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you.  You deserve this, you deserve some relief.  Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind.  You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open.  The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t.  You don’t have to give it fucking anything.  You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have?  Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower?  You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist.  And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck.  Was his hair wet?  Fuck, why can’t you remember?  His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much.  Post-shower, then.  Probably.  Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk.  You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started.  His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it.  The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point.  You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away.  Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor.  The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him.  A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way.  Still, what can you say?  Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him?  Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it.  Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you.  Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now.  Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed.  Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way.  You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it.  You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion.  He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more.  Fuck, are you positive that was an accident?  Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before.  You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form.  How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep?  Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what?  Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again?  Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move.  Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you.  Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support.  When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week.  Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight.  Nothing.  You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up.  Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut.  After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room.  However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams.  He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on.  The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines.  Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do.  He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one.  The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to.  Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it.  You never tell him the truth.  You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel.  He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight.  Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio.  The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind.  You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind.  I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next.  The silent promise that his actions allude to.  You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in.  Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth.  Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth.  You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought.  You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it.  A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine.  “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight.  Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too.  His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs.  You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit.  Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago.  Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers.  The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow.  Why is he going so fucking slow??  The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be.  You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him.  He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he?  So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation?  Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air.  You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk.  He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing.  His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins.  You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is.  Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you.  You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind.  Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult?  You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why.  Why did the fuck did you stop?  There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still.  It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it.  There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?”  Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly.  Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first?  Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic?  “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body.  The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.  

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards.  But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.  

Fuck him, bad way.  This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin.  It’s not a warning, it’s a threat.  If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you.  It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it.  “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again.  Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere.  Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all.  The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want.  As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy.  “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone.  Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen.  You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami.  You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment.  A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude.  Where’s the drop?  You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat.  It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There.  There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress.  It’s fucking mayhem.  You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it.  You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard.  Fucking hard.  It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow.  Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is.  Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other.  Stars, what did he do to you?  You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves.  Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago.  They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight.  Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance.  Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping.  This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now.  Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary.  He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now.  Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it.  He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck.  He was right.  You needed this.  Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it.  He’s not just pliant, he’s willing.  His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns.  Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it.  He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing.  Accommodating.  Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation.  You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again.  “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first.  “Mm.  Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing.  Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair.  Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it.  Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy.  You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive.  After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan.  He’s so… fucking hot.  Fuck.  He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side.  But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge.  The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself.  You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely.  Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself.  You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are.  Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip.  “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now.  Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm.  Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack.  “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What?  W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply.  Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart.  “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress.  And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body.  The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect.  Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works.  “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him.  By this point, you’re worrying again.  You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists.  If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand.  He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him.  Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t.  “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk.  You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain.  Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp.  It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just.  You need a hard reset.  You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again.  It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again.  The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine.  Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds.  “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly.  It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his.  Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself.  After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say.  You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now.  Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at.  He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think.  He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something.  How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do?  You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him.  Why can’t you figure out something?  You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent.  Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?”  Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking.  Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours.  “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried.  He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?”  He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time.  Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions.  “Well what do you want, baby?  You wanna just hang out?  That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want?  The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest.  “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?”  You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body.  “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears.  “You can—?”  Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious.  “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now.  “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right?  So why not?”  Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust.  “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated.  “You don’t get it.  You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet?  Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm.  He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.  An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud.  “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?”  He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs.  “Just say fuck it all and race for last place?  Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself.  “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room.  “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh.  Well, to sum up.  May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it.  Okay, you get it.  He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it.  You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk.  Only now, you’re… humbled.  By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight.  It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it.  It’s big.  It fills his whole palm without much room to spare.  Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow.  Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his.  You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing.  The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right.  He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock.  He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it.  It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance.  “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct.  The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh.  Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening.  “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself.  You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it.  Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip.  “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point.  You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore.  He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression.  His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this.  You know then that it must be really fucking wet.  You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it.  You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you.  He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast.  From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative.  You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it.  It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts.  But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad?  It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right.  You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you.  But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off.  The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it.  You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up.  You underestimate his self control, time and time again.  But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you.  “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad.  You make me so mad.  I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you.  I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound.  The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity.  “Say it.  ‘You…’—what?  Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves.  Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.  

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more.  Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this.  Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious.  “Not tonight.  I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs.  His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.  

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl.  “Fuck.  Tight little baby.  Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit.  You already feel it.  You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire.  And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone.  “Can you feel it coming?  Fuck, I can,” he shudders.  “Already.  Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point.  Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back.  Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow.  You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit.  It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more.  “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift.  His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?”  Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration.  “Tell me.  You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed.  After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it.  You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again.  Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you.  And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle.  It’s tender.  It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.  

You handle it silently.  At first.  You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all.  Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides.  Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter.  Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice.  It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him.  Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one.  You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy.  You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose.  You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more.  Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome.  He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack.  He tastes like you.  He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you.  It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still.  But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours.  His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves.  Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time.  What is he doing?  What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace.  You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum.  He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you.  “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up.  He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him.  “Never… fuck.  Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet.  Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice.  You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels.  So intimate.  You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again.  Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again.  He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down.  Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him.  When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation.  You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need.  That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right?  Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe.  Fuck.  His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open.  Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller.  And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going.  He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you.  He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied.  Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock.  Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it.  Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating.  Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy.  Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while.  You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you.  Same speed, same control.  

Your eyes nearly fucking cross.  “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat.  He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this.  This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with.  Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you.  Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more.  Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you.  Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl.  Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you.  “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl.  “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…”  His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening.  “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging.  But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.  

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come.  You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore.  You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend.  But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?”  He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours,  “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?”  You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else.  Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?”  You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once.  All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away.  You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does.  It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant.  Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying?  You don’t know anymore.  Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope.  Not even close.

He ruins you slowly.  Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination.  Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words.  You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted.  He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed.  He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this.  If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you.  It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours.  But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver.  He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him.  He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum.  You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants.  “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you.  Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up.  You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack.  “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late.  He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

“Fuck me!”  You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole!  Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far.  He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm.  Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go.  His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars.  Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours.  Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?”  He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs.  “Huh?  Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything?  You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you?  Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t.  You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it.  You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open.  You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him.  But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore.  You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet.  You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it.  Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.  

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you.  He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him.  All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown.  You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief.  He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid.  It’s so fucking stupid.  You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound.  Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room.  And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times.  He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him.  He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty.  Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile.  That one is practiced and alluring.  It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy.  Amazed, and uncoordinated.  Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow.  It makes you feel… alive.  Colorful.  Radiant.  Sunshine.  Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time.  You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable.  Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance.  “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?”  You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest.  You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals.  “Oh.  Pfft.  You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades.  Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget.  You forget everything.  You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had.  It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration.  Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval.  No.  This is good, this is how you want to stay.  The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect.  “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze.  A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you.  Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out.  “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again.  Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it.  Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement.  “Gah—look what you did.  I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times.  “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs.  It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again.  The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason.  You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap.  Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again.  You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.  

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing.  Not saying anything.  Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker.  So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes.  You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is.  Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings.  You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it.  You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue.  But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo.  It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks.  Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier.  Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?”  Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters.  You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency.  After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what?  Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once.  You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you.  It seems appropriate.  And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap.  You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again.  Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips.  He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does.  The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun.  You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?”  You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it.  Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling.  He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

[shoutoismybaby]

Omega Shame Part 1

Summary: After spending most of your life on suppressants and ignoring your second gender, you finally decide to embrace who you are with your alphas support. But what happens when your alpha Bakugou walks in on you nesting and sparks memories of your past trauma?

warnings: ABO, Nesting, ANGST ending with fluff,

***

Nesting. This was something you hadn't even attempted since you were but a small pup. Both suppressants and fear had kept any desire for this activity far away from you, until a couple months ago. That was when you got a courting proposal, your first ever.

It was a necklace, and not just your typical alphas 'just learned how to make jewelry with string'. No. This necklace required welding, a skill you had no idea about, but that just made sense for your alpha to poses. The chain was a simple silver, leading down to a locket with intricate holes on its top layer, creating an almost explosive like design. The cloth that sat inside was a ruby red color that matched the alphas eyes, and the scent it held was strong of caramel and ash.

Of course if Bakugou was to make a courting gift, his was going to be the best you had ever seen.

You had wasted no time in placing the necklace around your neck, relaxing as his scent filled your nose. It was from this point that you knew Bakugou would make an amazing alpha for you. After all, if he put so much effort into the courting gift, you could only imagine the effort he would put into courting you. Even then in typical Bakugou fashion, he passed all expectations.

It started with the way he would make you lunches, walk you to wherever you needed to go, and made sure to give you a thorough scenting only after he got permission. He always showed concern for your physical and mental wellbeing, stopping you from pushing yourself too hard in training and even scolding you for your self deprecating jokes.

“No one gets to talk down about my omega. Especially not my omega.” He had growled at you once. Again Bakugou did something unexpected, making your omega purr at a growl.

It felt so nice to have someone who cared about you. Someone who encouraged you to stop hiding your second gender from everyone but those in your own class. Not that you had even let your class discover on purpose, but the stressful situations class A had gotten in over the years did wonders for wearing off suppressants and scent blockers. 

He, along with your other classmates, had been building up your confidence in your secondary sex for years now. Bringing you to the realization that being an omega didn't mean that you were weak or any less than betas or alphas. Momo and Ochako were omegas after all, and they were some of the strongest people you knew. So once you had gotten an alpha your omega was basically begging to be set free, and you didn't feel like you had to deny it anymore.

So here you were, after 3 months of being off of the medications your hormones and instincts were finally leveling back to normal. It was something you had never experienced before, but you had Bakugou to help support you along the way. That's why you needed his scent in your nest. No matter how nauseous you felt walking into the young alphas room while you knew he was training, your omega refused to continue the day without at least one peice of his clothing. More than that and you were sure you would be sent into a panic attack. You had no idea how he would react to you doing this. Would he be disgusted? Angry?

Ironically the only thing calming your thoughts was to continue building the nest. Pillows upon pillows methodically shoved between various stuffed animals and blankets became nest shaped as the time passed. Soon enough you were left with just one item left, one of his favorite skull shirts. You had wanted to take something he would miss less, but they weren’t drowned in his scent like this one was. You sat back into the middle of your nest to take a thorough look around. You didn’t want to take too long to decide a place for it by now as you were getting tired. Not to mention you were going to go out on a movie date with Bakugou so you also needed to get ready for that. You would have checked the time if you weren’t so fixated on your task, and that would turn out to be a huge mistake.

You had finally found the perfect place for his shirt when you heard your door open from behind you. In the middle of slipping the clothing item over your pillow you froze as your heart began to race. Your omega knew it was an alpha before you knew who it was and she let out a chirp before you could stop it.

All you could remember was the first time this had happened, an Alpha walking in on your nest. You were seven, not old enough to even present as an omega but tendencies could show early in childhood. You were excited and happily humming as you arranged your blankets, stuffed animals, and your parents best smelling clothes into small yet sturdy walls in the shape of an oval on your bed. You couldn’t help but feel safe, like you would no longer fall off your bed in the middle of the night, or that monsters or other intruders would quickly avoid hurting you once they got just a single sniff of your parents alpha scents. You were proud when you were finished and immediately snuggled into it for a nap, only to wake up to the scent of rotting eggs. A clear indicator your father was both near and very angry. All the yelling and trashing of your hard work that happened next was just a blur. But you could remember how you felt the entire time so vividly. The way your lungs seemed incapable of taking in air, the trembling of your hands and especially the weakness in your knees. Most of all, you remembered the absolute terror as your safe space was invaded. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as fast as your heart would allow it, and you could only sit back and watch.

It was that day that you first became aware that there was something wrong with you. Something gross, weak, and worth hating.

That’s why even when the scent of Bakugou filled your nose, your heart still didn’t slow down. In fact, it only sped up when you finally turned around to look at him, all of the hope you had gotten by convincing yourself he would be happy you were embracing yourself quickly diminishing. His brows furrowed more than normal and his mouth was set in a deep scowl, slightly open just enough that his naturally large canines poked out.

He was angry.

“Do you not know how to answer your fucking phone?! You were so eager to force me to agree to this date and then you don't even respond when I-” Your thoughts were racing far too fast to actually hear what he was saying. Your omega could only think of one thing, your alpha was angry with you. You messed up and now he was angry with you. It was just like your parents, you should have listened to them when they told you it was stupid to nest.

But you had worked so hard on it, and it made you feel so good. You didn’t want your nest to be torn apart again. The smell of smoke wafted from the alphas' palms as you were too caught up in your memories to really hear him. Hear how he was angry with you for forgetting about your date, angry that you had stood him up and too busy being upset to even notice that you were sitting in a nest. The smell of smoke invoked just another event in your mind, one that happened when you had first presented as an omega at 13. Something that caused the damn behind your eyes to finally break.

“PLEASE DON’T DESTROY MY NEST” You Omega sobbed, distressed chips flooding from your chest like air. “Please, please!”

Your outburst startled the Alpha into silence. He could only stand there and watch as his omegas scent was filled with fear as she wiped at her eyes aggressively. A first he was confused, letting his body pump out comfort pheromones instinctually as he let himself observe the situation. You were dressed only in your school uniform, clearly having been building the nest that surrounded you from the time you entered the dorm room to when he had burst into your room, now far past dark. You were trembling too, body curled up in on itself as you hiccupped and begged.

“Please, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy! Just please dont destroy my nest.” Your voice cracked and it resonated painfully in his ear and his heart dropped. Why did you think he would destroy your nest? Sure he wasn't the best alpha but he wasn’t a monster. Did you really think he would destroy the one place where you felt safest? A weight grew in his chest that left as a deep growl,

“Here.” He growled, “Probably best if we just end this bullshit.”

This was all your fault. If you hadnt built this stupid nest in the first place, or even started crying like a fucking baby then this wouldnt have happened. But you were a weak omega, and just like your parents said, no one can love someone so weak. Especially not someone as powerful as Katsuki. You shouldn’t have let yourself believe that they were wrong for even a second. You had thought that Bakugou would be the one who would love you for who you truly were. But that was naive. No one could love such a burden. No one could love you.

The drop of the crafted bracelet to the ground seconds before your door slammed, leaving you alone once more in your room, proof enough of that.

Your parents were right.

A flame of anger lit in your chest. Why were you so unloveable just the way you were? Why couldn’t you just be different? Why couldn’t you be an alpha like your parents had wanted?

You could feel your nails extend into claws as the hair on your body raised. You glared at the soft material weaved together around you as hot tears built up behind your eyes. This time instead of being fueled by fear they were fueled by rage and resentment.

You were so angry. So angry at youself, at your weak omega, and especially at your stupid nest. You couldn't help but let a couple tears fall as you let your anger get the best of you, and you didn't stop it until you were heaving in the middle of your disaster of a room. Surrounded by torn pieces of fabric and the other contents of your room scattered by your tantrum, you finally let yourself breath. 

You turned around to see the item you had been avoiding, your pillow with bakugou's shirt. With a deep breath you grabbed a hold of the object, digging your claws into its plush softness. The caramel ash smell that permeated the air only helped to break down the remaining bits of your anger. And you didn’t want to be left alone with your despair just yet.

With the release of your breath a ripping sound could be heard. The shirt split and cotton popped out from the opening like popcorn. Once you had successfully dissected what had been a comfort item you threw it somewhere away from you and took another deep breath.

Now you were finally alone. Just you and your reality. You could really feel how much pain your omega was in as your hair began to lower and your normal nails returned. You had heard about this pain before. A deep one in your chest, heartbreak. Your omega seemed to curl around that feeling. Of rejection. Self hatred. That no one would ever need you, let alone want you. You could feel yourself start to slip into the limbo of numbness and searing pain.

An Omega Depression.

You remembered learning about it back when you were in middle school, most people were beginning to present as their second sex. Your teachers had emphasized how important it was to get medical attention at the first signs, you knew how dangerous it was, but all you wanted to do was lay there on the floor. You were tired, and what was the point? No one cared about you, not your parents… not Bakugou. Your throat strained painfully at that thought. Bakugou didn’t want you, and it was your fault.

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[faeriescorpio]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, and 10

what song makes you feel better?

Song that makes me feel better. I think Touch Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon is up there. I can't drive without blasting this song because I have a lot of fear about driving and blasting this song makes me happy. When I'm not listening to melodramatic and emo alternative songs I'm blasting (checks spotify wrapped with tears in my eyes) ...bubblegum pop. I mocked that genre last year but apparently that's what I listen to. Like. Um. Classic by MKTO. look its very bouncy and also it kinda sounds like Wilbur Soot's Your New Boyfriend and I will not elaborate

2. what’s your feel-good movie?

Ooh I've got a few comfort movies. I constantly talk about how I love bad movies, and it really shows. I usually watch The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, National Treasure, Star Trek: Into Darkness, or Mission Impossible 5: Rogue Nation when I wants a comfort movie, whether im in an adventure mood, or action mood, or gentle angst mood

3. what’s your favorite candle scent?

I have this cinnamon scent that I adore, but I've been informed that it smells like soap. I think they're lying but whatever. i don't actually know what else is in there besides cinnamon, because I bought it at a witch store and the label just says "Scorpio" and it doesn't list ingredients or anything

4. what flower would you like to be given?

I said roses but I'm always ready to go into detail. I have these kind of pink-red roses in my backyard and I adore them, and I have some white roses but those are more susceptible to the mildew/mold so I never get to show them off. I give my friends yellow roses sometimes because those are supposed to mean friendship. supposedly they also mean jealousy but what my friends dont know about flower symbolism cant hurt them so if I'm giving my crush's boyfriend a yellow rose because "youre part of the friend group now" who's to say anything? who's gonna know. whos gonna know. i love to dick around with flower meanings and not explain anything to my friends

5. who do you feel most you around?

my best friend, easily. we've known each other for 11 years, and younger me had no filter so by the time the concept of Keeping Things To Yourself got into my brain my bestie already knew more about me than I did myself because I forget a lot of stuff, an excellent example of my bestie knowing more about me than me is this fic

alternatively i guess bestie's gf I feel pretty me around too. all those posts about aggressively third-wheeling are no joke. they recently did a two year anniversary thing and they posted photos of themselves and literally over half the photos were either MY house or I was in them but was cropped out for anniversary purposes. I was rolling on the floor cackling over this. like yeah, thats exactly where youre supposed to be >:3 my house

6. say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).

I have nice hair, I have nice eyes, I like how tall I am. I like my creativity, my determination, and my loyalty.

7. what color brings you peace?

lavender and blue-greys calm me. also the sea-green color

9. what calms you down?

im not great at calming myself down but if im unhappy about something then I usually watch youtube videos to distract myself. Honestly I try to hype myself up more than calm myself, like make myself giddy with excitement. a great way to do this for me is to watch videos where people react Avengers Endgame in theatres because Thor's hammer will start lifting into the air and the whole movie theatre will scream and for some reason listening to a punch of people cheer hypes me up. i am using my dumb little sensitive empathy as a weapon against myself

10. what’s something you’re excited for?

part two of in space with markiplier! also mission impossible 7 and 8, theyre being filmed back to back. they just finished filming MI 7 and its in post-production and theyve started MI 8. MI 7 was supposed to come out like this summer but its coming out next summer because 1) quarantine and 2) Tom Cruise is delaying production over an argument over how long Mission Impossible 7 should be in theatres before it goes on a streaming service. I've heard rumors that either a character I dont like, or a character who is the fan favorite and my special scrungly may die in MI 7 which is like. are you kidding. not to be rude but i hope the fan favorite survives and its the character i dont care for who dies, and since my character is one of 4 people confirmed for MI 8 I'm in high hopes. (grips Tom Cruise by the shoulders) you wouldnt kill the comedic relief, the fan favorite, right? if you wanna read about me talking about mission impossible for half an hour the i did make a post a few days ago

[brelione]

Trying To Help (The Best Boys)

Series Masterlist

Warnings:Mentions of death, not super sad kind of just conflicting I think (figured id give you guys an emotional break), mentions of blood.Not proof read because im a lazy bitch.

“Hey pretty boy.”You whispered, trying not to cry.Topper frowned, not understanding where he was or why everything felt so weird. “Im sorry I drove off a bridge.”He replied, his voice sounding funny as if he had been talking with food in his mouth.

 “Dont be bubs, you didnt mean to….”You replied, hoping your voice wasnt hurting his head.His eyes closed again, too lazy to keep them open. “Rafe should be here soon.”You bit the inside of your cheek anxiously.

His nose scrunched up, a look of disapproval on his face. “Why does everything always gotta be about Rafe?”He asked, his eyes opening wide when he realised there was a cast on his arm.He moved the fingers on his right hand, making sure that one wasnt broken too.Needles and IVs had been stabbed into his arm and hand, an air tube across his face and at his nostrils.

He noticed your hand on the bed, reaching for it with his good hand.You let him hold it, glad he wasnt mad at you.The room was quiet and dark but not so much that it was awkward, the two of you just trying to keep eachother calm. “Hey,guys.”The door opened to reveal Rafe.

He was wearing a backwards hat, a light blue polo shirt and black pants.He looked just as much of a mess as you, a guilty expression on his face.His eyes flicked over to you and Toppers hands as he sat in the chair next to you.

 “Is that Rafe?”Topper asked, too tired to open his eyes again. “Yeah, dude.You really fucked up this time.”Rafe smiled but his face quickly fell into a frown when you didnt do the same.You began to drag your fingertips along Toppers arm, feeling a bit better when he grinned at the feeling.

“So how was the movie?”He asked, feeling his eyes water up. “Um...yeah, we didnt end up finishing it.Guess it wasnt the same without you there.”You muttered, your fingers trailing back down to his palm.

He hummed, taking in a deep breath when he realised you could hear his heartbeat increasing from the monitor. “I knew you wouldnt finish it.Between you and Kelce screaming and….and Rafe being an impatient slut.”Topper smiled, opening his eyes ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of Rafe’s reaction.

 “Hmm...you’re lucky your arms already broken, pussy.”Rafe smiled, becoming less tense when you rolled your eyes. “DOnt be fucking rude.”You whispered with a small smile. “You know what...its the quoting the Kardashians daily for me.”Topper bit his lip as he waited for you to respond. “Its...the breaking my flower pot for me.”You replied, tapping your fingers against his palm.You grinned,recalling the memory.

You and Kelce had spent the morning together after a sleepover.You had scrolled through your pinterest feed as usual, coming across a ton of diy plant pots and decided to just go for it.You told Kelce about your idea as you two sat down for breakfast, both of you half asleep as you drank coffee. “Yeah, okay.”he agreed, putting on his shoes once he had finished his eggs.

 “So how many pots should we get?”He asked as you buckled your seatbelt.You shrugged, not really having a proper answer as he began to drive to Walmart, cursing when he couldnt find a parking spot.Once he did he waited for you to go back to your pinterest boards and figure out exactly what type of paint you would need for the project.

It was far too early for the store to be busy, holding on to Kelce’s back as he grabbed a cart. “What isle?”He asked, stopping to grab a bag of cheetos. “Uhhh….I dont know.Hold on.”You pulled out your phone, holding onto him with one arm and resting the phone on top of his head.

 “Thirteen.”You replied, squealing and holding on for dear life as he began running through the store, coming to a halt when he reached the isle.You hopped off of his back, grabbing some small pots and some medium pots and putting them into the cart carefully. 

“Can I paint spongebob on mine?”He asked, his eyes glancing through the paint colors on the hunt for a bright yellow. “I dont care, paint whatever you want.”You replied, grabbing the primary colors and tossing them into the cart.Kelce being Kelce had freaked when he saw the variety of stickers, buying at least thirty dollars worth of puppy stickers, marvel stickers, car stickers and shiny spikes. 

“No weeds are gonna mess with this plant when im done with it.”He said proudly as he grabbed every single strip of spike stickers.You had rolled your eyes, picking out some pearl like stickers and tossing them in the cart.Kelce smiled, getting an idea.

He moved all of the items to the opposite side of the cart to leave an empty space, picking you up quickly and putting you inside. “Kelce-seriously?”You sighed, holding on to the side as he pushed the cart quickly, swerving it against the tile on his way to the plant isle. 

“Yep, its easier this way.”He replied, stopping the cart once you guys got to the other side of the store. “Ooh….can we grow sunflowers?”He asked, tossing the bag of seeds into the cart before you could answer. “Get lavender too.”You replied, taking out your phone to play subway surfers.

Kelce huffed, arms wrapping around your shoulders and placing a kiss on the top of your head as he watched you play. “Whats your high score?”He asked, playing with the baby hairs that had fallen out of your braids. 

“I dunno, higher than yours.”You grinned, hearing him gasp. “Fucking rude.”He muttered, flicking your temple. “Fuck you.”You replied, avoiding a train. “Fuck you!”He exclaimed driving the cart to check out.He grabbed a few packs of gum as well, scanning the items at the self checkout.

You two then spent the whole afternoon painting pots and covering them in an obnoxious amount of stickers.The small one that Kelce had done all by himself was covered with spike stickers that kept falling off. “It wont stay stuck!”He exclaimed, becoming frustrated.

 “Kelce, babe, its cause you’ve got paint on the sticky part.”You sighed, grabbing a paper towel and putting it under the water to wipe off the yellow paint from the pot.He was a pouting mess for the rest of the afternoon but was happy with the outcome of the pot, taking a photo of it to post on his snapchat story. “How did you do that?”He asked, pointing to the pastel rainbow pot you had painted.You shrugged, just going off of what you saw in the video.You two had decided to just go sit on the couch and watch some cartoons while you waited for Rafe and Topper, leaving the pots to dry on the table.

Once Topper had gotten there he had given you a quick greeting and went into the kitchen to get something to drink, accidentally elbowing one of the pots in the process and sending it to the floor, the clay colliding with your tile floor. “TOPPER!WHAT THE FUCK?!”You exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen.

“Its the stealing my hoodies from me and then pretending you didnt for me.”He replied.Your heart dropped as you realized you were wearing his hoodie right now, beginning to freak out when you realised you werent even wearing pants.

 “Shut up.”You replied, squeezing his hand lightly.Kelce came through the door a few seconds later, sighing loudly. “These people are ridiculous-I had to convince them that I was Top’s adopted brother.Did you have to do that?”He asked Rafe, going to stand at the end of the bed.

 “Nope.”Rafe replied.Kelce bit the inside of his cheek, staring at Topper. “Concussion?”He asked, noticing the bandage that was peaking out from Topper’s forehead.You nodded, looking between the two boys. “How you feeling?”Kelce asked.Topper grinned, peaking one eye open. 

“Like shit.”Topper replied, a small smile on his face. “How long am I gonna be stuck here?”Topper asked, finally acknowledging the fact that he was in a hospital.Rafe shook his head, looking over to Kelce as if he knew anything about the situation that you and Rafe didnt.

Kelce shrugged, not knowing either. “I mean, with that kind of injury one could only assume a good two weeks or so.You wont be able to drive- (Y/N)- how did you get here?”Kelce asked, realising.You had texted them from the hospital which meant that Rafe hadnt driven you.

You went quiet, feeling their eyes on you. “Uhhh….I drove.”You replied, hoping they wouldnt push further.Topper opened both of his eyes this time, wanting to make sure he had understood properly. “What?”Topper asked, cringing at the lisp he now had.

He shouldve known his voice would sound different.He had literally bit off part of his tongue. “I drove.”You repeated, feeling a bit insecure.Rafe just looked confused, Kelce was shocked and Topper just couldnt believe it.

 “How’d it go?”Topper asked, wanting to sit up when he realised that he couldnt really move that much.You shrugged, trying to figure out why the attention was on you when Topper had literally almost died.

 “I dont really know, kinda just did it.I dont really remember it either.”You replied, feeling Rafe’s hand drift onto your knee, tapping your knee cap.He had been doing it for years.He was awkward most of the time and didnt know what to do if his hand was empty, usually going to hold yours or just touch you in some way to feel more grounded.

 “Why dont you remember it?”Topper asked, unable to grasp the whole situation.Thank god he didnt know that the nurse had told you about his ‘last words’.He wouldve had a heart attack on spot. “I was in shock, dum dum.I was just-just trying to make breakfast and then the fucking hospital calls me and tells me that you drove into a river.”You laughed, a few tears rolling down your face.

Toppers heart beat quickened,squeezing your hand tight. “I said I was sorry...did you at least drink water this morning?”He asked, wishing he could hug you.You laughed, wiping your face. “No, no I didnt cause I thought you were gonna die!”You replied, sniffling.

 “For the love of life, Topper.Keep up.”You let out a shaky breath. “Im trying my best, sunshine.”He answered, not paying attention to Rafe or Kelce.It felt like you were the only one who was actually in the room with him.

 “I mean, I guess its just karma.Have any of us ever left during a movie night?All im saying is I think its like a curse or something.”Topper answered, trying his best to get you to stop crying.Kelce couldnt even think of something to say, the situation was overpowering him.

You just sighed,leaning your forehead against the mattress, staring down at the floor. “Why’d you leave?”You asked, still not understanding the full situation that lead to Topper leaving your house.Rafe shifted in his seat, squeezing your knee, almost trying to tell you not to bring it up again.

 “Just...wanted to go home.”He mumbled, knowing better than to bring up the argument that he no longer cared about.He couldve laughed at it.As jealous as he was as Rafe even he could admit that the son of a bitch cared about you more than anyone and to accuse him of not caring about you was the stupidest thing he had ever said.And that was saying a lot.

SOmetimes he was close to positive that Rafe didnt care about him or Kelce but there was never a single doubt in his mind that Rafe didnt love you.Now he kind of wish that he had died since it would leave you with Rafe and Kelce.

They were both better friends than he could ever be no matter how hard he tried.It wouldve been better for the whole friend group if he had stayed dead. “You have a concussion, bubs.Nothing you say is relevant for the next two weeks.”You joked, feeling the tears roll down your face and onto your collarbones, not even bothering to wipe them away anymore.

 “You have a single brain cell, (Y/N).Nothing you say is relevant.”He replied, laughing a bit.It didnt do much but hurt his head and make his tongue sting. “See?That’s not relevant.”You replied, lifting your head up from the mattress and kissing the back of his hand lightly.

Rafe smiled slightly, glad to see that you were a bit better and that Topper hadnt yelled at him to get out. “You know what?I just think I should say something really important.”Topper announced, thinking that he sounded louder than he actually did.Rafe squeezed your knee tightly, worried that Topper would tell you what he knew and that Kelce would freak out about it.

 “I dont think im allowed to watch tv with a concussion-fuck.”Topper grumbled, hearing Rafe let out a sigh of relief.He noticed Kelce still standing, getting up and asking you quietly if you two could share your seat.

You huffed, standing up and allowing him to sit in your chair, sitting on his lap, feeling self conscious when Toppers hoodie lifted to reveal half your thigh. “I mean, you could always do other things to pass the time.”Kelce replied, sitting down in the chair.

 “Hmm...like what?”Topper asked.Thank god Kelce was an optimist, the rest of you would be absolutely fucked without him. “Like….coloring, reading or….I dont know, thinking.”Kelce suggested, going quiet soon after. “Read what?”Topper asked.

He had never liked reading.Back when you guys were still in school he would refuse to read anything, tossing his homework down as you and Kelce tried to do yours.You usually had to harass Rafe for hours to do his work when all he could focus on was you.He would purposely annoy you just so you’d talk more and get all mad.

Between him and Topper you never got your work done, having to read to Topper so he would get some of his work done. “I could read you the Harry Potter books, ive got them downloaded to my phone.”You replied, a small grin on your face.

Toppers face became red, wanting to protest but deciding that he’d rather have you read to him than continue with the upsetting conversations. “Yeah, okay.”He answered, closing his eyes as you began to read.Kelce was smiling as you read, making comments every once in a while. 

“Wow, what a bitch.”He muttered about Vernon.Rafe squeezed your waist, resting his head against your back.It was some time in the afternoon when the nurse came in to check Toppers IV and give him some more medication. “Theres food available in the cafeteria, a warm soup or something soft would be best for your friend here.”She gestured towards Topper before leaving.

She had given you all a weird look, trying to figure out why a patient’s girlfriend was sitting on the lap of his assumed brother.Kelce bit the inside of his cheek, hearing his stomach rumbling. “Alright, well im going to the cafeteria. (Y/N), can you come with me please?”He asked.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Im not wearing pants.”You answered. “Can you stand up for a minute?”Rafe asked.You huffed, getting off of his lap, eyes widening when he pulled off his shorts and handed them right over to you.

Kelce wasnt even surprised, just hungry.You awkwardly pulled up the shorts, tying them tight around your waist and following Kelce into the elevator.Everything was going smoothly until it came to a stop. “What the hell?”Kelce asked, hitting a ton of buttons at once. “Kelce!Stop that!”You smacked his wrist, screaming when the elevator moved slightly, coming to a stop again. 

“What should I do?Im pressing the red button!”He exclaimed as he pressed it again. “I dont know!Press it again!”You exclaimed, clinging onto his arm. “Oh my fuck-shit dammit!Now we’re gonna die!”You exclaimed. 

“We’re already in a hospital, we’ll be fine.”He answered, pressing the button again. “Kelce!It’s gonna fall!”You exclaimed, holding onto him so tight you were starting to shake. “No its not, its fine.Just wait for someone to come fix it.”He spoke, pulling you onto the floor so you were sitting against him. “It’ll be fine, just wait.”He repeated.

“Im sorry, man.”Topper sighed, looking over to Rafe.THe brunette simply shrugged, not really bothered by it anymore. “Apology accepted.”Rafe replied.Topper let out a sigh of relief, glad that the tension wasnt as strong.

 “But like, can you be honest real quick?”Topper asked, waiting for Rafe to answer. “Yeah, yeah okay.”Rafe replied, dreading what Topper would ask. “Did you guys do anything?”He asked.Rafe frowned, not knowing what to say.

He didnt want to tell Topper something that you werent okay with him knowing but at the same time didnt want to lie. “Yeah, yeah we did.”Rafe replied, holding his breath.Topper simply hummed, letting out a breath through his nose. 

“Were you careful?You know she doesnt….hasnt done those types of things.You didnt hurt her though, right?”Topper asked.Rafe was a bit confused, thinking that Topper would get all jealous and grumpy. “Yeah, yeah I was….she was fine, like she said she was fine and I told her she could….ya know, stop me.She didnt though, I was careful.”Rafe’s cheeks were red, trying not to go into too much depth.

Topper nodded a bit, sighing. “Thats good...so like, are you guys dating now or whatever?”Topper asked, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.Rafe gulped, not really knowing the answer himself. “I dont know….its all complicated I guess.”He replied, feeling guilty now that he was actually talking about it.

 “Okay...hey, do you think she knows?”Topper asked, hoping you wouldnt walk in at the wrong time.Rafe laughed at the comment. “Damn, man.I dont even know.Like, she obviously knows I do.Ive made it pretty obvious but like...you’ve made it pretty obvious too at this point I think.I feel like she doesnt think anyone would like her like that no matter how obvious we make it.I dont know, I feel like right now wouldnt be a good time to talk to her about this though, lets just not say anything to her.”Rafe muttered, realising he had promised you that he wouldnt tell anyone what you two had done last night

. “Hmm...you know whats fucked?”Topper asked, blinking slowly.Rafe hummed, waiting for him to continue. “I lost my two year streak with her.And you.”The blonde smiled, wiggling his toes carefully.Rafe laughed, pinching his nostrils. “Yeah, thats fucked.”He agreed.

“Nobody’s coming.”You huffed, holding on to Kelce’s hand as you leaned against the elevator wall. “You dont know that.”He replied, not sounding genuine at all. “I dont know….do you wanna talk about something?”You asked, thinking of ways to pass time while you guys were trapped.

He sighed, nodding. “What do you wanna talk about?”He asked, flicking at your fingertips. “I dont know...how are your cousins?”You asked, realising that that’s where he had come from.He chuckled, shaking his head.

 “Alec would not stop complaining about sushi, I guess her favorite restaurant closed and now shes all pissy about it.Shes really fucking tall now.”He sighed, kind of glad that he was able to leave the house.You nodded, trying to think of something else to say.

Alec was his 17 year old cousin, she was nice sometimes but she could also be a lot to handle from what you had heard.She was pretty cool though, always commenting on your instagram posts and hyping you up.It kind of gave Rafe a little competition since she always commented before him.

 “What about Jax?Is he still an ass?”You asked.You had met Jax a total of two times, both times he had called you hot and stared at you.He was 17 so it was kind of weird of him but you hadnt had to deal with him in a good six months.

Kelce shrugged, not having much to say. “Yeah, I dont think hes ever gonna change.He tried to download porn to my phone.”Kelce replied, biting the inside of his cheek. “Hey, is it true that Rafe kissed you?I mean, he told me but I figured he probably just dreamt it.”fuck.

Now everything was coming unraveled and you’d have to figure out how you wouldnt hurt anyone. “Uh...yeah, he did.”You answered, biting your bottom lip.He was silent.That was scary if something was so shocking that Kelce had nothing to say.

 “Alright...so how do you feel about it?”He asked, keeping his voice calm and steady.He was tired of not knowing what was going on, not understanding the new tension between you and Rafe.There had always been something there but recently it seemed to get a lot more serious.

But then again he had noticed the way you held Topper, how you’d sigh whenever the blonde kissed your forehead or when he’d hug you.He didnt really want to say anything, figuring that when you wanted to date one of them you would.

Now he sounded exactly like Topper, you were pretty sure those were the exact words that he had said to you. “Um….yeah, I dont really know.I guess that like im not mad about it but I just...I dont know how to feel.”You answered, knowing that it sounded stupid.

Kelce nodded, understanding. “So do you like Rafe?LIke, you know.”He asked, pulling at the sleeve of the hoodie out of boredom.You shrugged, not knowing the answer. “(Y/N), come on now.I see the way you look at him...its a little bit of something.”He pushed.

You knew he was right but you’d rather die than admit it. “I dont know, Kelce.Its just weird, I guess.Like we’ve been friends for like...eight years and now all this shit is happening.”You answered.

He nodded, trying to think of the best advice to give you. “Alright, well life is too short for shit.If you like Rafe then I think you should go for it.All that matters is that you’re happy and if he makes you happy then you should be with him.”Kelce squeezed your hand, waiting for you to speak.

Of course Kelce would say that.That was the most Kelce thing you had ever heard him say. “Yeah, but I dont think I want to be with him.”You muttered, not knowing how to explain what you were feeling.Kelce was confused, trying his best not to show it.

 “Okay….but why?Do you like someone else at the same time?”He asked, trying to piece everything together.The elevator began to move again, scaring you both. “Shit.”You sighed, holding on to his arm as he helped you up. 

“We’ll talk about this later.”It sounded like more of a question.He had never been great at being assertive.A few staff members apologized, explaining that a patient had went roaming around and they had to stop the elevators to prevent them from leaving the hospital.

Kelce held onto your hand tight as you made your way to the cafeteria.None of the food looked particularly appetizing, eventually deciding on a small container of mac and cheese for yourself, a turkey sandwich for Rafe and finding a sealed bowl of potato soup for Topper.

Kelce had grabbed a few sodas and a gatorade for Topper, reuniting with you as you both went to the line, paying for the food.You two had decided on just taking the elevator again, figuring it would be difficult to walk up the stairs with so much to carry.

Luckily it didnt come to a stop this time, the two of you completing the trip successfully and walking back into the hospital room.Rafe and Topper were laughing about something, Rafe sitting in his boxers.It was quite funny.You all ate in a pretty much silence, having to help Topper elevate the upper half of his bed so he could eat properly. 

“I hate hospital food.”Rafe sighed, biting into his sandwich while keeping you balanced on his left thigh.He tried to ignore all of the thoughts he was getting, figuring that the lack of caffeine in his system was making him horny.

That first night in the hospital had been the hardest.You were the only one who was allowed to stay while Kelce and Rafe had to go home.You had given Rafe his sweatpants back.

He decided that he needed to talk to you, taking your hand and getting far away from the room where the trauma patients were seperated from the elderly. “How are you?”He asked.You kind of wanted to punch him.What the hell kind of question was that?

 “I just...im fine.”You forced yourself to grin, not wanting to be rude.He licked his lips, looking around. “Thats...not what I meant.”His face flushed a bit, his ears pink. “oh-oh....um, yeah im fine.”You repeated.He hummed, hands ending up in the pockets of your hoodie.

 “Thats good....im sorry that I went so fast, I know you wanted me to be gentle.”He apologized, kissing your forehead. “Its fine, Rafe.”You answered, hugging him.He huffed, accepting the hug. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I can stop by your house and grab you some clothes.”He offered, staring down at you.You nodded, accepting the offer.He leaned down, kissing you gently, feeling himself get weak.

You pulled away after a moment, kissing the tip of his nose before standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”You grinned, kissing him gently. “Alright, text me the clothes that you want...do you want one of my shirts?”he asked, smiling when you nodded. “Alright....okay, tomorrow.”He repeated, finally letting go of you.

You ended up staying up for a majority of the night, holding Topper’s hand as you read to him, switching from Harry Potter to short stories.He had moved over in his bed ever so slightly, groaning in pain, staring at the small empty space he had made.

You took the message, hesitantly laying next to him, becoming stiff when he wrapped his good arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re cold.”He mumbled, holding you tighter.

The nurse came in to wake him up every hour and a half since sleep was bad for concussions.You barely got any sleep, more focused on listening to make sure his heartbeat was steady.

Rafe and Kelce came at seven in the morning with coffee and donuts, a container of chocolate flavored yogurt for Topper.Rafe had stuffed one of your backpacks full of clothes, grabbing whatever he thought would bring you comfort.

He had grabbed you a new shirt from his closet, a mint blue and purple striped polo that was pretty long on him which meant it would fit you like a baggy dress, spraying it with his cologne.

He grabbed your facewash for you, a hairbrush, some hair ties, some socks, soft pants and some loose fitting shirts.He felt a little guilty for looking through your bras and underwear but he knew he couldnt just not bring you some, grabbing a few random ones and stuffing them in the bag.

He grabbed your polaroid camera and a few of your photos, thinking that you might show them to Topper.You were glad to be able to change into some pants, thanking him quietly and slipping in the bathroom to change, sighing when you noticed how wattery and irritated your eyes looked, changing into the shirt that you had seen Rafe wear a couple of times, sniffing it and feeling a calm sensation run through your body.

You sat at the foot of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest as you drank your coffee, taking long, slow blinks.That had been your first day without sleep.It wasnt until the third day that Kelce and Rafe were becoming really concerned.

It had began to rain outside, Kelce and Rafe were trying to convince you to leave and go home. “No.”You answered, sitting in one of the chairs.Topper was asleep.“No-no, you.We’re going home- dont give me that look.You can come back tomorrow but tonight you’re going to sleep in your bed, okay?”Kelce asked, not really giving you any options, picking up your bag.

 “No.”You repeated, wanting to scream when he grabbed your arm, bringing you outside the room. “(Y/N), you havent slept in days.Just come home.”Rafe tried to convince you, going on to explain that you could ride with him or Kelce and then tomorrow the three of you would go into Rafe’s truck and Kelce could drive your car back to your house so you didnt have to worry about it.

You agreed eventually, going back into the room to say bye to Topper, kissing his cheek. “Hey, dont worry about me.Got it?If I find out you were worrying about me im gonna break all your flower pots.”He threatened, a small grin on his face.

You had decided to drive with Kelce, holding his hand as he drove on the wet roads.He was careful to drive slowly so he wouldnt freak you out, informing you that Rafe was going to go stop at a Papa Ginos to grab you guys dinner.

Your house felt foreign to you, the couch not comfy anymore.Kelce frowned, noticing your discomfort. The anxiety felt like it was eating away at your brain.Kelce tried to think of a way to help, the thoughts not coming so easy to him anymore.

The stress was building up inside of him, the stress from dealing with everyone elses problems combining with his own. “Come on.”He grabbed your hand, bringing you upstairs.

Your legs were tired from being held to your chest or bent at uncomfortable angles so you could lay in the hospital bed.He opened the door to your bedroom. “Lay down.”He told you, hoping his voice hadnt come across as creepy.

You raised your eyebrows, not understanding why he was telling you to do this but going along with it anyways.He got onto the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your toso, one of his legs resting across your thighs with his head directly under your chin.

 “What are you doing?”You asked.You couldnt deny it, it was quite a comfortable position. “Im trying to help.I saw this thing on Tik Tok the other day that if you lay on someone its like a weighted blanket and helps with stress.”He explained, pulling your comforter up over your bodies.

It only took you a matter of seconds to fall asleep, Kelce grinning.The feeling of cuddling someone helped him too, a small sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes as well, falling asleep before Rafe pulled into your driveway with a pizza in the backseat.

@sweetlittlegingy    @nicolefarley603 @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @newsies-yeet @butgilinsky @jjjmaybank @gracelovesbroadway  @one-stella @outerbongs  @copper-boom  @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl  @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee  @on-socks-off @spn-marvel-nerd @lovelyelinor @chinamolina602  @sexytholland @28cnn  @popcrone818 @fttayla @cherryobx @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @drewstarkeyobx @wldflwrskyee @judayyyw @jjtheangel @jj-iz-bae@sunwardsss @meaganjm  @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @natalie-kate-98 @nxsmss @broken-jj @joshy-obx @classygirlything @abbiesthings @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @teenagekook​  @multifandombabies @i-love-scott-mccall​

Comment with a star emoji if you’d like to be added to the series taglist.

[snickiebear]

yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)

ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you. 

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them. 

As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are. 

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

OMGG okok 

@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. 

@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn 

@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL. 

fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks

i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A. 

When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip. 

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH. 

@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about. 

@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it. 

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA

Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka

Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it. 

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay. 

I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time. 

Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH

Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?

Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.

Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps. 

As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing. 

It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.

Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA  

40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?

AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO

so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.

Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.” 

The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic. 

I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))

ask me shit plz

[babysizedfics]

the first time vee regressed in therapy (and meeting michael after)

NOTE: this is almost 2k words... so it continues under the cut. No TWs!

for the first few sessions of vees therapy with dr picani, patton is in the room with them because of vee's selective mutism, so patton hung around to help translate for vee during seasions until she is able to speak for herself, and thru these firsts sessions emile sees how attached the two are to each other

and after about three or four weeks, once vee can reliably talk for herself, patton stil sits in the waiting room so if vee needs him he's there

im their first session without patton, emile actually prompts vee to tell him what she calls her uncle patton. she says "patton" but emile is like do u not call him uncle? and she hesitates bc she definitely doesnt call him uncle but she hates lying

and emile smiles knowing that she doesnt. then he asks "are there any other names you call your uncle, vee?" because unbeknown to vee, emile actually heard her call patton "dad" one day in the waiting room

she is made rlly nervous by this question but emile assures her he isnt trying to trick her or anything, he just wants her to be honest. and after some more coaxing she whispers that she calls patton "dad" and emile is like thats lovely

and suddenly vee is teary and panicky because shes scared emile is being sacastic or will quiz her about it, but he insists that its very nice that she is comfy calling patton that and that they are so close and it makes vee feel a lot safer

but that prompts emile to start asking her about her biological father, janus. has she ever called him dad or was he always janus? does she know why that is?

vee really tries her best to stay calm and answer, but the questions suddenly get too much and before she knows it virgil goes non-verbal bc she realises she is starting to regress

emile notices vee's distress and changes his voice like softer and more clear. he asks what is wrong, he assures her they dont need to talk about anything vee doesnt want to talk about. Can you breathe with me? Good thank you, can you talk? No thats alright you dont have to. Is there anything he can do to make her feel safe?

and the soft caring words just push vee compeltely into half regression and she starts fully crying, tears spilling down her cheeks and shaky breaths and little squeaks and sniffles and tightly cuddling her softie she took with her (a lilac octopus, dr violet)

after a couple minutes of just crying and emile givinf her some space to let it out, the tears arent slowing down. so she cries " i w-wan pa-p-p-..." giving up after she realises her voice is definitely little now

"what do you want, vee?" emile prompts so so kindly that it just makes vee's chest ache

she whimpers "w-wan papa" and trails off in sobs

and emile instantly knows she means patton. he very easily rolls with this infantile behaviour, being a child therapist a lot of the time. he just sees her acting like a toddler and he immediately thinks okay time to turn on the toddler therapy, no questions asked

emile stands up carefully and speaks clear and gentle "okay vee. dr picani is leaving for just a moment to get your papa, okay? I'll be back very soon" and vee just squeaks through her tears, so he hurries out to the waiting room to fetch patton

pat literally jumps from his seat when emile calls him in saying vee is upset and practically runs through the corridor and into the office. he immediately pulls her into a one armed cuddle on the couch while emile just closes the door rlly gentle for privacy and hands a box of tissues to patton. so patton softly shushes his baby and wipes her tears away while emile takes quick notes in his book

patton is rlly quietly shushing her and comforting her, trying to be discreet. emile notices that this is obviously a common occurence, and also notices that patton seems to be holding back something

so when patton looks up briefly and catches emiles gaze, emile just smiles and speaks softly "do you know what age regression is, patton?"

and patton breathes a massive sigh of relief and hugs vee tighter "yeah... yeah we do"

and emile nods and smiles a little sympathetic looking back at vee and patton jumps right back to comforting her, not trying to be discreet this time, going full papa mode now that he has the confirmation that emile knows about regression

patton lifts a still crying vee into his lap and cuddles her to his chest and rocks her. "its alright, baby, shh shhh, papas got you" (vee still crying and grabbing pattons shirt tightly) "i know i know, baby, youre ok"

then emile adds in softly "youre doing very well vee" and patton smiles at him then repeats for vee "did you hear dr picani? he said youre doing sooo well! youre so so brave, hunnybunny"

and eventually when vee is comforted enough and the tears have stopped, emile raises his eyebrows questioningly at patton and pat talks to vee: "vee, are you ready to talk to dr picani again?"

she whimpers and grips patton tighter. "its okay babygirl, papas not going anywhere..." patton hesitstes and looks up at emile a little worried "uh, as long as thats alright with dr picani"

emile nods and smiles softly when vee peeks over her softie at him "of course. you can do whatever you want vee, if having your dad - or your papa here makes you feel safer then of course he can stay. would you like patton to stay so you can feel safer?"

vee doesnt respond but frowns and hides behind dr violet again, and emile looks to patton

patton explains gently "we need simpler language than that for her when she's regressed."

"oh my apologies..." emile starts, then tries again. "Vee?" he waits for vee to lower her softie from her eyes again to show shes listening. "Do you still want your papa?"

vees shoulders are tensed and shes hugging her softie so tight, still hiding partially behind it, but she nods a little

and so they continue with patton in the room

throughout the session she is REALLY shy of emile in this headspace but emile is just rly gentle and treats her like an actual young child while she sits in pattons lap and tries to interact with him, so emile manages to coax some stuff from her. and is shocked to find that this seems to be a headspace that actuslly allows vee to be more open and honest with him even if her language is limited

he asks her how does she feel right now? its okay if she doesnt know. is she scared? thats okay, it is very scary. she's being so brave. but is papas lap soft and warm? thats very nice! does it make her feel safe? does it help her tears go away? well thats good to hear, we dint want you to be sad. do you love papa? Can you show me how much? Woah that's a lot!!

and once vee has calmed down a lot and giggled a little at how nice dr picani is being to her, emile sees vee start to suck her thumb

unfortunately its not sanitary for her to suck her thumb in oublic since she must have touched surfaces, and pat brings her thumb away and desperately apologizes when vee whines and starts tearing up when papa wont let her suck her thumb. she dorsnt have her pretty paci so what else is she meant to do!

then emile announces in a very babytak voice. "vee, can you guess what I have in my desk drawer? Haha No, not frogs. Look!" and he pulls out a handful of lollipops! all different colours! and vee starts bouncign a little on papas lap and smiling

with a quick check that she has no allergies (egg, but there aint no egge in lollipops) emile lets her pick a flavor/color then givs it to her to suck on

patton needs to hold it for her though in case she accidentally swallows it, so her lil hands are just holdin gently on papas hand as he holds the lollipop for her and her legs are swingin, dangling down from papas lap bc she happy stims when she is eatin sweets by kicking her feet!

nearing the end of the session emile tells vee how good ahe's been answering al his questions and being well behaved for her papa. so he lets her pick a sticker to prove how good she was today!

but she doesn't want to touch the sticky or have it one her pretty dress, so patton asks her to point to her favourite and papa can pick it up for her. but shes too shy to pick one

so papa chooses one for her, a puffy pink kitty, then puts it on his nose to make her giggle. shes shy abt giggling in front of emile and buries her face on papas shoulder and patton cradles her head and coos and emile just watches all of this rly softly

and then their time is up and patton smiles and pats vee's leg and asks if she wants to be carried and she shakes her head with a proud smile. patton gasps "are you gonna be a big girl and walk on your own?"

then vees smile drops and she whines and grabs pats hand and patton giggles "no no not completely on your own. paps gonna hold your hand baby" so she nods and they get up with patton holding her hand

then patton says goodbye to emile and thanks him for being so kind to vee, and emile says "my pleasure. i'll see you next week vee!"

vee squeezes her papas hand and shuffles behind him a little. but she waves her softies tentacle at emile to say goodbye and emile smiles and waves to them "byebye dr violet, make sure you keep vee safe and happy this week!" and vee giggles and patton leads her outside

in the waiting room vee is much more closed off because theres the receptionist and a couple other clients in there so she just keeps her eyes down while papa signs them out - then she hears a slightly deep voice say "oh, I really like your stuffie"

vee doesnt really know how to react, she looks up a little and sees dark blue jeans and thick legs and vans sneakers but then quickly tugs pattons hand and steps behind him to hide from the stranger

"Thank you! It was a 'well done for going to therapy' gift from me" patton says cheerfully, and vee starts stroking his fingers as a comfort stim

"aw that's sweet!" the stranger says just as joyful as patton... so vee feels okay looking up now that she knows this stranger wasnt trying to make fun of her

she only catches some shaggy brown hair and a tshirt with what looks like a horror film image on it that she doesnt recognise. she doesnt dare make eye contact but she can tell the stranger is smiling at her

and she cant talk, shes too little, but shes not little enough to not understand whats happening. so she lets go of pattons hand bruefly to sign "thank you" then quickly grabs his hand again, feeling her cheeks warm and looking back to the ground

"you're welcome!" the stranger says, still happy, so vee smiles a little, then tugs pattons hand and looks up at him pleadingly

patton is beaming, his cheeks bunched in the biggest smile. "ready to go, sweetie?" vee nods "okay, here we go. It was lovely meeting you..."

"michael!"

"michael" patton smiles and holds out his other hand to shake michaels hand. "im patton and this is vee! have a good night!"

"you too, patton!" michael bids as patton and vee start walking away. then the voice soeaks again "bye vee!"

vee doesnt respond but she smiles and pulls dr violet up to hide it

patton leads her out to the parking lot and as he buckles her seatbelt for her he presses a big kiss to her cheek "im so so proud of you, babygirl"

and the whole ride home patton speaks softly and recaps what was good about theraoy this week. he does it to reinforce with vee that this is a good thing to do.

he talks about how lovely dr picani was and how he already knew what regression was. he talks about how funny his jokes were and how much she giggled. and her lollipop and her sticker - which they just realised was still on pattons nose and laughed about. and he talked about the lovely boy in the waiting room who liked vee's softie!

and the whole time vee is smiling and giggling and blushing and getting closer to full regression so that when they get home vee is just a bouncy wiggly giggly baby all night

[thewritingstar]

Falling Back to You

Pairing: Blossick (Blossom x Brick, Reds)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Soft, sweet reds because I've been feeling angsty lately and needed a breather lol. Sorry to everyone who follows me for other fandoms, I promise Ill write more for FT (you can always leave asks lol)

Tag List: @over-under-through1 @shellielyzabeth (if you want to be on my tag list, you can find the post or dm me)

I hope you enjoy. This has been sitting in my drafts for a few months and decided to just finish it lol. 

---

“I’m surprised you don’t have your hat on.” A voice came from behind him. But not just any voice. The moment the first word left those lips, the hair on his neck stood up and sent a familiar chill down his back. It was a voice that he knew well, could distinguish in a crowd of a thousand voices, it was the equivalent of his favorite song or the taste of the sweetest thing to melt in your mouth.

“Blossom.” He said under his breath but her super hearing picked it up.

She thought she was prepared to see him, after all its been two years. That’s enough time to heal, right? But she prayed that he didn’t hear the small gasp that escaped her lips as he turned. That crisp dark red suit fit him like a glove and she spotted him from a mile away in that signature color. He looked good in red.

“Hi.” She managed to say smoothly as he took a step towards her. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a reluctant tone. It was only the most important night of his life. The one where he would be promoted to the head of the department, the one he busted his ass off from the ground up. Not to mention an award for a case he worked on last year. 

She shrugged and bit her lip. “My boss is here and I have to write a report for him.” Then added. “And I wasn’t going to miss the achievement you have been talking about for literal years.” She said shyly. “I promised after all.” 

And she did. Back when they had dated all those years ago. Blossom was by his side as he worked from being an assistant at the law firm to one of the most promising lawyers, and now the highest ranked lawyer, but she missed the last part. Unfortunately. 

He studied his ass off and she did too, both of them determined to outshine anyone in their paths, maybe that why they chose different companies. They had traded their childhood rivalry for a path of lust and love, a simple competition would not be throwing them down that path. In fact their jobs were the reason they weren’t together.

“You remembered.” He said under his breath. She heard it, of course. 

She tapped her foot and looked around before giving a puzzling look. “Wheres Jasmine?” It pained her to ask. 

Jasmine. Oh yes, his girlfriend who couldn’t be bothered to celebrate to most important time of his career. Or rather, ex girlfriend, As of last night where he found her with another man. 

“Not my girlfriend.” He simply stated as she nodded before taking a sip of her drink. 

It must have been good if she brought it to her lips. Blossom loved a good cocktail but if it was hard liquor, she required top shelf, something he admired. He was like that too and was the reason she only drank the highest quality. 

“What about Tyson?” 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not my boyfriend.” She said bitterly and he didn’t know why he was happy about it. “Cheated on me for a blonde.” Her glass was on the verge of cracking before she smoothed out her dress. “Typical.” 

He hummed in agreement. There was a feeling of anger running through him as he thought about any man hurting Blossom, sure he hurt her too but nothing like that. No their fight was different, it was a fight about whats best for both of them. 

They had just under an hour before the cermony started. He didn’t want to bother being inside socailzing with a bunch of random people and he had a feeling she didn’t either. The wide open hallway was becoming stuffy and he could see a trio of men walking their way and knew Blossom would become the talking point. 

Before Brick could turn them the other way, the men were already there. 

“Brick.” The tall one spat. 

“Landon.” Brick matched his tone. What a dumb name he thought. 

Landon turned and did not bother to hide the fact that he was checking out Blossom. Of course he was. Even in her simple black cocktail dress that screamed sophistication, she was a walking dream. 

“And you are?” He gave her a smirk that could charm anyone, expcet for Blossom of course. 

Brick was pracitcally smiling as Blossom shook his hand. He knew she wouldn’t take his bait. 

“Blossom Utonium. Head of corrupt affairs at Duchess Law.” She started with what Brick likes to call her “Miss Business voice”. 

Landon smirked. “Duchess Law? Someones a smart cookie.” He winked. 

The other men behind him agreed and Blossom held her tounge. She hated being patronized or looked down on. He should be thanking the lucky stars that he’s even in her presence.

Brick could tell she was annoyed and wrapped his arm around her waist before looking at Landon. “She makes more money than all three of you combine and actally can win a case so show some repect.” He spat and he turned them around towards the back doors that led to the garden space. 

The feeling of having his arm around her sent a spark through her body. At first it felt foreign but the memories came rolling in waves as they walked.

“I could handle myself.” She stated and he hid his laugh.

“I know, but you won’t because of your repuation. I for one don’t care about mine that much.”

“Or maybe its because you still care.” She teased as she sat on the stone bench with him. 

He was about to response but his phone began to ring. He wanted to ignore it but Blossom probably would say something about it. 

“Its Butch.” He said before trying to put it back into his pocket. 

“You should anwser it. I’m sure he’s wanting to wish his brother well.”

He huffed and anwsered on the final ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hey quick question. Do you think that I would win in a fight against Thanos?” 

Brick only shook his head.

“Butch.”

“Its serious cause Buttercup doesn’t think so but I could take him for sure.” 

Blossom was holding a hand to her mouth as the guy kept going on about the stupid question. 

“Oh shit dude, tonights your night!”

“Yes it is now Imma hang up now.”

“Brick be nice.”

“Wait a minute bro. Is that Miss Blossom with you?”

“Yes because shes the only one who bothered to care.”

“Hey you’re the one who said not to come. Anyways tell her I said hi and that you two should totally get back together because you kept going on and on about how you missed her and leaving her was the worst choice you made-” The line cut dead and the phone was shoved in his pocket. 

“Hes stupid.” He mumbled and Blossom drank the rest of her drink. 

“Hes not wrong.”

He turned towards her and gazed silently. She was just as he remembered. Gorgeous and graceful and even without a word spoken, she could command a room. He admired her greatly and she felt the same. 

“Brick, can we just skip all of it?” She asked softly. 

“I’ve kinda been looking forward to my award.”

“No, not this.” She gestured to the building. “But this.” She pointed between them. 

“Skip what?”

“Oh I don’t know, the drama of it all? Because if we don’t confess now we are going to waste so much time running after each other and I-I dont want to waste time.” She looked down at her shoes. A sad sigh leaving her lips. “I just miss you.” 

The confession surprised him. They were both forward people who never beat around the bush but when it came to their feelings between them, they had always been shy. Boomer and Bubbles were easy to confess and even Butch and Buttercup seemed to have it together but for them, it felt impossible sometimes.

No matter where he turned, she was there. They had always crossed paths like star-crossed lovers and it was as if the universe was constantly pulling them together and they had tried. They really did. 

Perhaps the timing wasn’t enough or their pride had stood in the way. they never meant to fall apart the way they did but when the other side of the bed was empty, those walls they held up became transparent and it only took a mere few seconds to see what they had lost. 

But he understood what she meant. They both knew that if anything were to happen between them tonight it would start a snowball effect that everyone was tired of seeing. Over and over they would fall in line and build each other up before something came between them and pulled them apart. 

He wanted to get past all the hurdles of playing cat and mouse until on of them caved and said their feelings. But her saying she missed him wasn’t her caving, she was just tired and so was he.

They had been young when they had fallen in love. The rules of life tossing them into a sea of doubt but now they were adults who knew the game and could easily avoid anything in their paths, except each other. 

His hand slid over hers. “I missed you too.”

She smiled softly before her hand rested on his cheek. “I’m really proud of you Brick, you’ve come along way.” 

“I’m just happy you got to see it.” He whispered before his lips touched hers with a fire they both had missed. 

A swirl of fire and ice that only they knew. No matter how much life decided to pull them apart or change the course, he would always find himself coming back to her. 

The kiss didn’t last as long as he would have liked but seeing the faint blush on her cheeks made it all worth it. 

“What are you doing later?” He asked as he helped her up from the bench. 

“I was going to get take out and sit in my hotel room watching movies.” 

Brick leaned over to fix the bow in her hair, taking the time to have her close. “I don’t suppose you would accept any company?” He winked before kissing the back of her hand and handing her the red purse.

“I think I can make an exception.” She winked and he had never thought she had looked more stunning. 

She took his hand, their palms resting naturally together, before walking back to the ceremony, where he would leave with not only his award but the woman he had loved for years and years. 

--

was the ending lazy? yes. do I care, only a little bit. Lol. I’ve had a really off day so I hope this is good.

Hope you enjoyed :) 

[dinolikes]

IMPOSTER- PART TWO

summery ❤︎ Nobody has any quirks and are stuck on a ship like among us

pairings ❤︎ Imposter!Dabi x Reader

content warnings ❤︎ major character death

| prev. |

you sobbed into dabi's chest as hawks and ingeniumu covered thirteens body with a sheet, everyone looking over, some with tears, and some with just a blank look, like they were still processing it.

it was silent for a long time before ingeniumu cleared his throat and looked up, everyone seeing the ghost of tears in his eyes, "we have to call h-headquarters," his voice cracked but he stood tall, he would make a great captain one day, even with his pushover attitude.

you were crowded in the cafeteria, a computer resting on the table with headquarters on the line.

"im sorry to say this but you have an imposter."

you shook your head, you refused to believe it, how could these people, your FRIENDS, who you've lived with for a year, how could they be imposters?

though you shouldnt be surprised, the league has been gaining members, rarely any ship didnt have at least ONE imposter, some even having as much as three, you just thought you guys were the exception.

"twice, hawks, you searched thirteens body correct?" a voice came through the screen.

"yes sir," hawks quietly muttered.

"was everything in place?"

"he didnt have the vent key."

the vent key, really easy to pass through, was originally made for people to quickly go from room to rooms, but after the rise of imposters who started using it to sneak up on people, only one person was allowed to use it per day.

the voice cursed, "very well." a sigh could be heard, "well you know the drill," you did, you just didnt like it, "if you suspect someone, send them out and let them die," you gulped.

you didnt know if you could do that, even knowing that someone here murdered thirteen, you learned to care for each of them, even weirdo itchy snatch tomura. you didnt know if you could just send them into space to suffocate. even the thought made you sick.

"until then, we'll need you to finish your tasks fast, we'll have you home by the end of the day, which means the imposter will probably try to kill faster today. watch out." with that a beep was heard, signaling that you were disconnected.

a grim silence filled the room.

hawks finally spoke up, "which one of you assholes did it?"

dabi glared at the taller man, "fuck you dude, how do we know you didnt do it?"

hawks took a step closer, "bold accusations from someone who seems to hate everyone!"

"why would I kill one of the only people I actually like in this shithole?"

"because he had the vent key dumbass!"

"hey!" twice yelled.

hawks glowered at him, "oh yeah, how could we forget twice here? you found the body right? meaning you were the last one to see him? why DID you decide to check on him huh?"

"why would I come to you guys then?!"

"i dunno, to throw off suspicion maybe?"

you finally snapped "stop it!" everyone's heads shot towards you, "thirteen is dead," you choked out, "and I know thay we're all upset but we just have to finish today's tasks and then we're back home, okay?"

everyone stared, until deku started nodding, "y-yeah! just today's tasks left! then we'll go home and catch the imposter and we'll be fine!"

"what makes you so sure we'll catch him once we get home idiot?"

deku stared up confusingly at kaachan, "dont we have cameras?"

ingeniumu looked at his friend "obviously deku but whatre you getting at?"

"our cameras have memory sticks," shoto spoke up quietly, "when they're connected into one of headquarters machines, you can access all of what it caught,"

deku nodded rapidly, "exactly!"

your eyes lit up, "deku your a genius!" you grabbed his head and gave him a big smooch on the forehead, leaving him a red and stuttering mess.

dabi tsk'ed, "c'mere,' he grabbed you hand and pulled you towards him, wrapping you hands around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

you rolled your eyes playfully at his jealous nature.

"fine. we finish our task but if another person is found dead we're booting someone off." with that, hawks stormed off.

you tried not to go too harsh on him, you knew hawks looked up to thirteen, and beneath that cocky demeanor, he really was soft.

knowing that though, you couldnt help but feel some fear and resentment.

fear because you didnt think you could kill off one of your own and resentment because you knew hawks would make you do exactly that.

"we should have a plan," ingeniumu speaks up, "4 groups of two who continue on and do their tasks, and I think twice should be on security, just incase the imposter attacks again," everyone nods.

"i'll go with wonder," dabi states, already grabbing your hand,

"dont you think you'll get distracted with...other things?" tomura smirks, dabi clenching your hand in his.

"fuck. off."

"oo feisty~"

dabi glares, "yknow you dont really seem to care much that thirteens dead!"

tomura's eyes flash a dangerous color and he leans forward.

"the FUCK did you just say?"

"you heard me you fucking incel,"

"stop!" ingeniumu yells, "tomura is right, you guys do get quite distracted, wonder is with hawks, dabi your with shoto. ill go with tomura and that leaves deku and kaachan, with twice on security. let's go!"

dabi grumbles but goes with his brother as you lightly kiss him on the cheek and go with hawks.

you cant help but think about how amazing that kid is gonna be when hes older as a captain of his own ship.

you and hawks head off, both of you checking your list and stopping by rooms, the other waiting as they finish their task and repeating, until hawks sighed.

"how are you dating that asshole?"

you laugh, "hes not too bad once he likes you,"

"and what? he just doesn't like me?"

"exactly."

"what if he didnt like thirteen?" your smile drops instantly.

"hawks..."

"I'm just saying!"

"well STOP saying! I know dabi and he wouldnt betray me like that, so whatever accusations you have against MY boyfriend, I dont wanna here it," you scowl as you check your notebook, and started heading forward, "c'mon. I have to do wires in electrical."

hawks stayed quiet through the walk, as you stormed forward, wanting to get as much away from him as possible without ACTUALLY losing him. if you were being honest you were scared of going off alone.

as you walked in electrical you instantly went towards the wires, not noticing hawks standing in the doorway,

"wonder?"

"yes hawks?" you snap.

"I just saw someone vent." you pause and turn around.

"where and who?!"

"I dont know! I just saw the vent close when we walked in here and since Thirteen had the key before he died, that means that only the imposter can vent!"

"fuck! why would they vent though?!"

hawks paused. "maybe they killed someone again."

tears filled your eyes as you started searching the dark room, almost tripping over something, you only briefly looked up but you choked back a sob.

it was a foot.

"hawks!"

he came running towards you from behind the wall and saw the foot, gulping as he turned on the flashlight.

there say ingeniumu, with his throat slashed.

you couldnt hold back the cry that left your throat as hawks pulled you in for a hug, mostly to hide his own tears.

"what's going on in here?" you heard dabi's voice and you lifted you head to see him and shoto.

he looked mad but when hawks gestured with his flashlight towards the body, the brief flash letting both of the boys see, dabi understood.

"c'mere baby," he grabbed you quickly and held you tight as you sobbed into his chest, dabi looked up at his brother, "shoto can you call a meeting?" he asked softly. you assumed shoto nodded because there were no other words spoken.

there you all sat again, in cafeteria.

you were sniffling as dabi played with your hair, you holding shoto close as he leaned into you, still in shock of seeing his friend's lifeless corpse like that.

deku stood tall and didnt bother to hide the tears streaming down his face and even kaachan was caught sniffling a bit.

twice sat quietly in the corner, with his elbows on his knees.

hawks though, was red in the face from anger. and the victim of his anger was none other than tomura.

"you were teamed up with him fuckface!"

tomura simply shrugged, "I got bored and wanted to check on twice, see if he was alive,"

"well he is! but your partner fucking isnt!" hawks jammed his finger against the other mans chest, "and I think YOURE the cause!"

tomura raised his eyebrows, "I was with twice, right twice?" he did a 180 to stare hard at twice who looked up slightly and slowly nodded. that seemed to please tomura though as he turned back around, "see?"

"that doesnt mean shit! you were supposed to be with him!"

"but I wasnt."

"but you WERE! that's why the kid is dead!"

"I say we vote." shoto's voice was muffled by your neck and dabi's chest, where he was currently crammed in, but it was still intelligible.

you raise your head and wipe a few stray tears, "I think that's smart sho,"

you all nod and murmur in agreement.

"fine then. let's vote." hawks glares at tomura one last time, "who says skip?"

tomura, twice and shoto raise their hands.

"i dont think theres enough evidence." shoto explains and you nod, quietly telling him that theres nothing wrong with his belief.

hawks has a slight triumph look on his face, "who says that tomura is a fucking psychopath who likes to murder children!"

"murder a child. thirteen is practically twice my age" tomura corrects, "and besides I didn't do it."

hawks rolls his eyes, "whatever, everyone just vote."

you, dabi, hawks, deku and kaachan raise your hand, making you guys the winner.

"perfect." hawks drags tomura over to the ejecting room, usually used for heavier garbage that didnt fit in the disposal.

as you all surrounding the glass wall that separated you and tomura you cried a bit more.

sure you hated this dude but you still KNEW him!

"anything left to say sicko?" hawks glared at the smiling tomura.

"maybe you arent as much of a bird brain as I thought hawks. good job, you win," he does a slight bow like this was a performance before hawks pulls the lever, tomura's body flying out before hawks closed it again.

"he admitted to it." deku stated simply.

"yeah."

| next |

[jillskidmore2486]

Drone X Pro

Drone X pro reviews, price & scam update. Dont Buy Before Reading. Is it the Best Drone Under $100 For Beginners? Modern life has become mostly dependent on Drones for videography. From filmmaking to having some cinematic shot of the place you visit, weve found much use of the thing. But the equipment can be expensive. Thats about to change with the Drone X Pro reviews.

No doubt, the popularity of drones will only increase day by day. Many are looking to get a drone, but the various types make it hard for them to choose one.

Quadcopter seems like the top pick for both hobbyists and professionals alike.

Now, whatever the use you may have for it, finding a good drone within a reasonable price bracket has become quite impossible. The likes of DJI drones are quite expensive. Not everyone can afford them..https://apnews.com/9d3c69b6d4f59585ef651b100b4d7ad7

However, if you want something close to that, check out the Drone X Pro. This flying machine has become a sensational hit among drone lovers.

Price isnt the only thing for which you should go for it. It is the best drone for photography as it got a great camera on it. And the control it offers on the air is something unreal. It is the future of drones.

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Why Look into the Drone X pro?

Flying a drone isnt easy, as it takes time to adjust to the controls. But Drone X is the best drone for travel for beginners who want a drone to start working with it right away. Controlling it isnt that hard, and it is quite intuitive.

The Drone X Pro is incredibly lightweight, so maneuvering it on the air is super easy. It got a one-touch controller, which makes taking it off and landing it a piece of cake.

Right out of the box, you will like the Drone X pro for its size, design, and the many features it got. Unlike other drones within the price range, this remains stable during flights. Thats because it includes features like on board-gyro that holds the altitude. You can make those mid-air turning maneuvers and have some fun with it. You dont need to be a pro to fly it.

Thats not all.

This flying machine got a 2MP camera with the option to record videos at 720p. It might not be able to fulfill the need of professionals. Still, an average Joe can get those super cool aerial shots to gloat about on their social media. On top of that, you get a flight time of at least 10 minutes with a full charge. ADVERTISEMENT

If you consider the price, the best drone under $100 offers features that no one can match within this price range.

But there is more to it for which youve got to check out the Drone X pros technical specs.

Technical Features:

There are many functionalities the drone offers that makes it hard for you to ignore it. Lets take a look at them.

Controllers:

The drones available on the market today have controls that arent at all great. Especially the cheaper ones have controls that make it hard to fly the machine. Fortunately, this Drone X Pro comes with a universal control option.

Now, you can control the Drone x Pro using your mobile phone. But if you need a controller, you get one too with the package.

Whether you use the controller or the phone to fly it, you wont find any difference. Manipulating the drone is super easy. Even someone flying a drone for the first time wont have trouble getting the hang of it on your smartphone.

And when the drone gets out of sight, even then, you will be able to be in control. Thats because when you use your Smartphone to fly the drone, you will get a real-time FPV feed. This FPV feed will display where your drone is flying.

However, suppose you want to do the tricks and want more maneuverability flying the Drone X pro. Then use the controller instead of the phone. The sticks on it make it easier for you to move it around on those tight corners and twist and turn on those open spaces.

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Control:

Aside from getting dual-controller options with the Drone X Pro, you get an easy and convenient drone to take off and land. Theres no denying that most of us worry about breaking the flying gear when we try to land them. Its a hard skill.

With the Drone X Pro, you wont have those panic attacks while landing. It got features that can check the terrain to make the landing as smooth as it can without any crashes.

However, the best part about the drones control is that it got safety fail features to avoid accidents. Usually, when drones lose connection to the controller, they will fall off the air. It can shatter the parts into pieces. When it comes to the Drone x Pro, there is no such risk as the drone can detect when it loses connection. So it will automatically slow down during landing. It gives you time to regain control to land it.

Durability:

Flying drones, you will often encounter objects that you might hit into and cause the machine to crash. Even the best pilots lose control of their drones. And crashing to something always means one thing, a broken drone. Not with the Drone X Pro.

You will be left amazed when you will find out how durable the Drone X Pro is. The folding propeller makes for a sturdy and robust construction that wont get damaged easily. Even the exterior of it is resilient enough to take hits from time to time.

Stability:

During the flight, another issue that arises most of the time is the stability of the drone. With cheap drones, you often feel like not in control while being on the air.

The advanced stabilization algorithms during landing, flight, and take-off of the Drone X Pro wont leave you with such a feeling anymore. Even in turbulent conditions like too much wind, the drone will hold its station and stay on the course.

And thats what makes flying it so easy. You dont need to learn different skills to be in control of the wheels. On the one hand, the altitude hold mode is a feature that the Drone X Pro introduces to make life easy for the pilots. Using this feature, you will be able to drift the Drone and keep it in a constant height and position.

With such control over the drone, you will get smoother and more synchronized shots while flying it.

Flight Time:

Take the Drone X Pro and compare it to any other drone within its range, or thats even a bit more expensive. The flight time will impress you.

No doubt, you want to get those drone shots perfect. Only having a great camera wont cut for the job. It would help if you had a drone to give you the hang time on the air to meet your filming needs.

In comparison to the expensive models, the 10-minute flight time might not look like a lot. But considering the Drone X Pro price, its quite impressive. The fast charging time also helps the cause. It takes only 70-minutes to charge it and get it back again in the air.

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Camera:

The reason that many are becoming interested in getting a drone is those beautiful shots from the air. But to get those picture-perfect shots, youve got to need a high-quality camera. Compared to the Mavericks, the Drone X Pro isnt on the same level. Looking at the price gap, you already know why it is. Still, the camera leaves a good impression. With the 2MP camera on it, you can record videos and take photos that are pretty clear at 720p resolution.

If you want to capture still photos with wider angles, the Drone x Pro will allow you just that with 1200 wide-angle. Not to forget, the panoramic mode lets you take 3600 photos with just a click of a button.

The only issue with the camera is that it got fixed and wont adjust to the vibrations like those expensive ones. So, if there is too much turbulence, the videos you might get will be jittery.

Portable:

The Drone X Pro is exceptionally lightweight. You might love how good photos and stable videos you can take with this mini travel companion. It wont take much space, nor will it add extra weight to your things. With it, you dont have to carry those heavier and bulkier drones found in the market.

Foldable:

Once you fold it up, it fits in the palm of your hand. Take it wherever you want.

It got easy folding joints to make the footprint of it super small. Besides, you can detach the propeller blades and make room for it in your backpack.

Some more features:

Most drones are hard to operate. If you want an easy to fly drone, then the Drone x Pro should be on your list. The drone uses a single keystroke for both takeoff and landing.

You can pilot the drone in dark conditions too. The drone has 2 LED lights that are positioned next to the camera. It gives you a clear vision to play with it at night.

There is also the option of using gravity sensors. By tilting your phone right and left, front and back, you can move the drone in the air. Want to feel like piloting the drone? Then connect the Drone X Pro with your First Person Goggles for that.

However, Drone X Pro has more tricks under its sleeve. The headless mode is one such. This feature makes flying much easier for newbie drone pilots.

You will have the same front no matter the camera position to make it easier to fly.

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How good the camera in Drone X Pro?

The camera isnt on the same level as the DJI maverick or the other expensive drones out there. Still, the best drone under $100 got one of the best cameras in a drone that comes within this price range.

The quadcopter got a pretty decent camera. It gives a 720 camera with a FOV of 120 to take videos from a wide range of angles. For the perfect aerial view, you can adjust the angle between 0-90. The color balance and frame rate are quite good. You will be able to capture moving things on the video well.

Even the drone has an FPV feature. Now, you can live stream video images right into your phone while flying it on the air. Though it doesnt have a gimbal for video and image stabilization. The 6-axis gyroscope and altitude hold feature does a good job of minimizing distortions while taking those shots from the air. Using the 2MP sensor, you can get good pictures.

Performance of the Drone X Pro:

Looking at the Drone X Pro reviews, you will see it has a fairly short flying time. It can give you 9-10 minutes of air time. Still, it performs way better than other drones that come within the same price bracket.

However, the flight time isnt that long and requires a bit more improvement. The 500mAh 3.7V lipo battery charges within an hour, but for that 1 hour, you get only 10 minutes of fun. So, pack some extra batteries with you.

Besides the short flying time, the Drone X Pro performs well in the air. With its 6-axis gyroscope and altitude hold function, it keeps itself stable in slightly breezy conditions. There will be minimal distortion in the videos.

Benefits of using Drone X Pro:

You can get a lot of benefits out of the Drone X Pro. For instance, if you love to travel and take shots of the places you visit for your social media or just capture some fond memory to look back at later, the gadget is a must.

You can take nice shots using the 2MP sensor. Besides that, the 720p camera lets you take videos in high-definition. Capture those scenic aerial shots and start your own travel blogs that others would love to watch. For starters, its a great drone.

Even if youre looking to have just casual fun, you can go for it. Most drones have a complex control, which makes them hard to fly in the air. The Drone X Pro, however, has simple control. Using your phone or the controller that comes with it, you can fly it around without any prior experience. The best part is you can use it both indoors and outdoors. You can master the art of flying first in your home and then go to the open space to get the best use out of it.

For those who have trouble keeping things stable in the windy conditions or land the drone without damaging it, this one is perfect. You get a proper stable flight system that keeps you still even in turbulent conditions. Similarly, the easy takeoff and landing maneuver will make it easy for you to get it off the ground and back there without any problem.

Most importantly, the best drone for beginners is worth every penny as it offers you longevity. You will get an impact-resistant drone that can handle those crashes from time to time.

What users have to say?

Going through the Drone X Pro reviews, there are a couple of things that came up time after time when people talked about it.

Without any doubt, most of them considered it the best drone for beginners within this price range. For them, its a steal for what it has to offer. People took it out and tried out in windy conditions to test it out, and it handled the abuse pretty well.

Also, it was easy to operate than most other drones. Features like easy landing and takeoff and the headless option made it easy to fly for the first-timers. They found it fun and easy to learn.

The only issue that most have about it is the Drone X Pro battery life. Other than that, most people are quite happy with it as it got a higher customer rating.

Accessories included with Drone X Pro:

Besides the drone, you get a couple of extra stuff with the kit. Here they are:

   If you crash your drone and break the propellers, no worries. Drone X Pro provides 4-backup ones with the kit.    To keep your drone in top-shape and for easy carrying, the drone comes with a storage bag.    The package includes a screwdriver for easy installation and detachment of parts.    For charging the drone, it comes with a USB cable.    A well-detailed instruction gets provided to help you to install and fix problems with the drone. It is in English, so you can easily follow it.    The drone comes with batteries, so you can get it flying without needing to buy new ones.

How much does the Drone X Pro cost?

For the build quality and the Drone X Pro features, many think of it as expensive equipment.

Looking at the technical features, many go directly looking into more inexpensive options thinking it isnt worth looking at it as it might cost a fortune. But to be fair, this one is not that expensive at all. It is even cheaper than some of those alternative options.

The Drone X Pro comes with a price range of 93-99 US dollars from the official website. You might get deals on different occasions. In the upcoming Black Friday, you might get it for even less than that.

Check for offers on Amazon or other such websites. Or you can keep an eye on their official website to get the best deals.

Why you should get the drone?

While looking to buy a quadcopter, you always need to look into the brand. There are big names like DJI, which come in a certain price bracket that not everyone can afford.

No doubt, you shouldnt compromise with the quality. But it is also hard to spend big bucks on a drone. Thats where the Drone X Pro brand comes in with the perfect balance and quality.

The drones they offer are quite on par with some of the best. Operating them on the air is a treat. It covers good ground in a short time. And the picture and video quality it provides is unbeatable considering its price.

If youre looking for the best drone for travel, this is it. It is lightweight and foldable. You can take it with you in your backpack as it doesnt take a lot of space. Plus, it got modern features that you expect to find in high-priced drones. Whether that may be the auto-landing and takeoff or headless movement trait for effortless steering in the air, these are hard to come by in a drone under $100.

You can take 360-degree loops at a 120 frame-per-second rate with it. For any beginner looking to have a drone, it got everything and much more.

Drone X Pro available all over the world:

Unlike other products, you dont get bound by your location when getting the Drone X Pro. You can get it from the manufacturing website to any part of the world. The drone is currently available at a 50% discount there. Get your hands on one paying half the price. Or get two if you like for the price of one.

The German-made lightweight and easy to fly drone has become a worldwide sensation. And they are having a hard time keeping up with the demand. Yet, they didnt compromise with the quality and still produce in short numbers with their trusted manufacturers. So, every single drone that comes out of the Drone X Pro is of the highest quality.

If you want to enjoy that quality, youve got to be fast. But be careful! There are other websites with similar drones out there. Most of them are fakes, so you should better go to the official website to not fall into such a trap.

DroneX Pro Coustomer Reviews

The Customer Reviews of Drone x Pro is different depends on different geographical location. Users from the USA, Canada, Australia, and Uk give positive reports because it the best drone ever under $100. Also, gadgets are available in the local market.

Conclusion:

The DroneX Pro is a drone that got made to make flying easy. Two drone-loving engineers from Germany werent happy with the drones out there in the market.

They were heavy and hard to fly. Newbies often felt intimidated. To make it easy, they come with their invention, the Drone X Pro. Not only is it lightweight, but it is super easy to fly. A handful of features work to make it possible.

But youre not getting a toy drone thats easy to fly. Youre getting a real travel drone that you can use to capture the views from the air. Whether youre a beginner or just someone who loves quadcopter, you will be happy with the Drone X Pro.

= CLICK HERE TO VISIT OFFICIAL WEBSITE TO GET 50% OFF For DroneX Pro =

FAQs: Where to buy it? You can purchase it from Amazon. But there are many fakes. It is better to get it from the official manufacturers website. What part should you replace the drone? You can get a better quality battery for the drone to increase your flight time. Will it last? Yes, the durable build quality will make it last. It can withstand high impacts without any problem How much does it weigh? It weighs around 360 grams. Can you fly it using your phone? Yes, you can control the Drone X Pro using your smartphone. Youve got to download the app, and youre ready to fly it.

[webcricket]

Castiel Drabbles

Characters: CastielXDemon!Reader

Bat Out of Hell Lyric Prompt: #17 - “You’ve been nothing but an angel every day of your life, and now you wonder what it’s like to be damned.”

Word Count: 1362

Requested by: @ladyofletters67

Summary: The reader uses a bit of veracity and sass to vie for an angel’s affection.

<<<   >>>

Over the years, trial after trauma after countless trial compounding into a constant uncontrolled free fall toward humanity’s cause, everything Castiel thought he knew for fact dissolved into mere fiction perpetrated by his Father in a plot seemingly created solely for the entertainment of that self-same Creator.

Everything, that is, except one universal tenet of reckoning arising over and over no matter the situation: Everything comes at a cost. Nothing in life is free, least of all that will he fought fist and wing and wit whilst falling to embrace.

Which accounts for his stubborn suspicion about your motives in helping the Winchesters - not coming to their aid on one or two occasions, but rising from the fires of Hell whenever they get stuck in a rut, and just as often availing your support even when they aren’t. After all, demons don’t take day trips out of the pell-mell of perdition to offer assistance unless they want something in return.

The what is what the seraph cannot figure out. What has him both dubious and intrigued in such a manner he can’t keep his thoughts, idle or otherwise, from wandering to you and the conflict of emotion - a push and pull dance between light and dark, divinity and doom, a cosmic waltz that leaves him dizzy - he feels every time he’s in your presence.

It’s what has him summoning you for interrogation to a generically furnished motel room off the I-90 with Sam and Dean well out of the way - generic save for the addition of a demon trap fastidiously spray painted in crimson on the carpet and for which Castiel’s, or rather, Jimmy Novak’s credit card will be docked for damages after he checks out and housekeeping discovers the disturbing decor.

You’ve dodged his queries before by disappearing - an action usually preceded by a flirtatious fluttering pink smirk and a suggestive wink. The trap guarantees you won’t get away without clearing up his confusion.

You manifest in an onyx-eyed akimbo-stance huff cursing the rudeness of your summoner when they could have simply picked up the phone and called because, ‘Hello! It’s not the dark ages.’

The dissatisfied murmur ceases, a smile spreading your lips to flash the pearly whites veiled beneath when you see the angel is the source of your involuntary vexation because this particular angel intrigues you as much, if not more, than you intrigue him.

Sure, when you first sauntered into the Winchester’s wheel house uninvited it was with the idea of indebting them to you in return for some future favor; but when you laid eyes on their ally, you got a glimpse of actual glory, and although your mortal soul be damned beyond saving, all else fled your thoughts save a taste for a different type of seraphim-assisted salvation.

If he doesn’t recognize your interest - nay, overt attraction - yet through that thickly righteous skull housing his celestial grey matter, all it means is that you need to keep knock-knock-knocking at Heaven’s door a little longer and, perhaps, a little louder.

“Angelcake, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You move a step and a half in his direction, stopping short at the outer line of the circle.

The seraph didn’t doubt the tried and true tactic would hold you, but still, his chest swells with a sense of satisfaction in seeing you at his mercy. Studying your face in anticipation of a frown emerging thereon, a surprising observation surfaces from his subconscious to tickle his rational fancy that the bedlam of twisted soul behind those inky irises, a creature unrecognizable as a human anymore, appears to him as a chaos of stormy hues not sinister in disorder, but as compelling as the shifting colors of a sunset so stunning one cannot look away from it.

The thought, twitching his upper lip, tests his stolid facade.

You peer up in time to catch the subtle crack in his stoicism. Defiant of how he thinks you’ll react, your smile widens, stretching up at one corner in sultry reach toward an equally grinning gaze. “If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask.”

“What? I-” A squint dims the vibrant blaze of his blues; the lids flare after a second or two in sudden understanding of your debauched implication- “no, that’s not-”

“You really don’t know, do you? You angelic ass.” Smile and patience summarily fading, you interrupt a train of verbalized thought definitely not traveling to the destination you desire. If you stuck a Post-It note to your forehead that read, ‘Fuck me!’ in block letters you couldn’t be any more obvious; not that the feeling is strictly physical for you, that’s just the superficial iceberg of a much deeper emotion.

The hot white neon radiance of raggedly feathered wings stacked over his shoulders - clear as day to your demonic second sight - shudder in revolt of the accusation. “What are you talking about?”

Evidently he needs you to spell it out for him like a prophet writing on a wall; God’s team never did fair well without a playbook. But the problem here isn’t him knowing - that ruffling of feathers tells you on some level, he knows enough to rile him - it’s one of doubt. The problem with him is always freaking doubt. Doubt, like everything, exists in balance; the other side of fear is bravery.

You’ve witnessed first hand he isn’t lacking for courage in other areas, you just need to lube the cogs of the celestial machine enough to loosen them in your favor. “I see the way you look at me, Castiel. The way you don’t look away.”

The continued intensity of his stare and shiver of plumes scream out the truth skimmed by the statement; and yet, his tongue wields incongruous words. “I look because you’re an abomination and it’s my duty not to turn a blind eye.”

“Pshaw, duty,” you blow a puff of disenchanted air through pursed lips. Toeing the very edge of the sigil until your chest tightens in a crush of ribs, you steal a couple of extra millimeters of pain-stifled space in order to drive the point home as close to its heavenly host as possible. “An abomination according to who? You, Castiel?”

The query jars him into motion and the guilty realization you aren’t off base in asking about his assumption gravitates him nearer; demons are a species he thought he knew, but he thought he knew a lot of other things too and he was wrong. He lifts a palm to lightly press your arm to encourage you to retreat back within bounds and out of suffering, confessing in a penitence-laden lowness of tone, “No. No one.”

You swat at the kindness; wincing, arm breaching the barrier to follow his, your fingers wrap his wrist. Panting at the onslaught of pain, you yank him into the trap with you.

Instinct guides his hands to hook your waist, stabilizing you while you steady your breath.

Your body hums in gratitude for the gesture. Straightening yourself with the leverage of his lapels, peering up, you pierce his glossy blues with a blackly earnest gaze. “So then what do you really think I am? ‘Cause I think you’ve been nothing but an angel every day of your life, and now you wonder what it’s like to be damned.”

Although the interrogation didn’t go exactly to plan - things rarely ever do - your challenge to his foundation clarifies to him what it is you want, not from the Winchesters, but from him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, amid the lies programed as gospel on the day of his making, a once firmly held belief that all demons are abominations buries itself in the ruins of false reason. Reverberating in a swift smash of sweetly soft lips to yours, the truth of what he feels asserts itself in the knee-weakening, grace-revving, loin girding proof of a kiss.

Everything comes at a cost, and once in an epoch, payment is tendered in the love-bridled beating of an angel’s heart for his beautiful abomination.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity   @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx   @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @ladyofletters67 @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim   @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79