#i need a scanner room but i dont know if i want it to be connected to the main base or slightly separate

[parapsychologicalvulpes]

Playing subnautica again and struggling a lil bc I set rules that I wouldn't panic-cheat w console commands this time

so base building has been a lil slow but I'm having fun!! I thought it was high enough to not have a problem with a tube I wanted to build to my bedroom so I just stacked it on top like a lil attic instead

Also, I found a time capsule!!! There was a water filtration suit inside which is a massive boon for me bc I struggle keeping enough water, not so much with food

[artichokefunction]

the agent walks up to the kitchen staffs door, and it holds its wrist up to the ID scanner. it is let inside, no problem. that chip in its organic arm is one of the few actual wireless pieces of tech it has installed onboard, because those chips are easy to write to and easy to erase and are a very non-obtrusive system. can't hack someone through their ID, and those are so easy to fake. you don't really know why they're still in such common use. makes your job easier, you suppose. the kitchen staff work around the agent, and the agent slips through them.

it gets weird looks, they know they're in some danger, but no one ends up hurt. it stresses you out, a little bit, to see your agent around civilians. you dont really know why. or, well, you know what it can do. you don't know what it won't do. it's impossible to test for the absence of an occurrence. that's not the phrase. it's impossible to prove that something will never happen. that's it. no wait, that doesn't sound right either. whatever. you are not afraid of the agent, it is your friend. these random civilians are not it's friends. as far as you know. but it is polite, as far as you can tell, as it moves through the crowded kitchen. you check that it has access to the latest version of your little map of this building, and it does. and then it proves that it does because it goes the long way around and takes the door that leads to the staff hallways, and not the fancy ass dining area. it's following the route it needs to, no issue. tiny issue. it needs to get through two locked doors. issue so small it is microscopic, because all these locks are ID activated. lol. you scrape the biometric data you need from the security network, and update it's chip. and it's let through without issue. no wait. a little warning popup about how one person apparently went through one door twice in one direction. valid concern. you delete the warning. lol. the agent makes it to the room without issue.

inside of the room is a slender young man with short, greasy hair and a jumpy air to him. the agent startles him a lot by just popping up silently in the corner of his office. this is the client, and not the target. your view from the agents visor keeps wandering, because it's a bit bored. the client, Petra, asks you a question, out loud. well, he asks the agent a question, but it's not really listening. you respond via text, same channel that he hired you on.

"So. You're... agent Mandible?"

the codename you're currently using. [yes yes. where is the target? thought there was a job to do.]

you do not need to be this rude, but also it's kinda fun, watching the fear on his face, watching him puzzle the pieces together entirely incorrectly, because he whispers "Ah, so you're a robot..." under his breath in a way he thinks you won't hear. lol? even if one of you was a robot, you would be able to hear that. this guy is a fool. a fool who is paying you to kill his superior. it might actually be his dad, you didn't pry enough to find out. he has composed himself enough to tell you what room the target is in.

"I don't think I need to tell you how to get there, given that you found me just fine." he shuffles his feet, and visibly struggles to maintain eye contact. he feels he needs to be polite, apparently. "You arrived at the perfect time, he should be asleep for the next 15 minutes or so..." he trails off, and then turns to look out a window, hands behind his back, all fuckin formal. the agent is out of there as soon as the talking is over, and you've sent it on the updated map. you check on the targets room remotely. holy shit. the door lock isn't even engaged. he left it open. there are two cameras in his room. one is completely off, he requested that? lol. the other is not off, but it is on standby mode, it should alert and start recording when it detects movement. getting past that specific trick is not brainlessly easy, but it's not impossible either. you just want it to look untampered with. or- wait. it only needs to look untampered for the text ten minutes or so, while no-one's looking too hard, probably. you get it hacked, it's a good enough job. as good as it needs to be. they won't have footage of the incident. now you get to watch the agent do it's part of the job, from its perspective, no less. it takes a moment to consider something. medium of dispatch, maybe? oh, yeah. it gets out its knife. hand over his mouth, blade into his neck, up into the skull. simple and silent. kinda messy and gruesome also. the poor cleaning staff, that is not a cheap carpet. at least that desk seems very blood-proof, with how excessively shiny it is. the agent wipes its knife on the targets sleeve, and then it is out of there, along the new route you've sent it, down the quiet staff hallways but not the same ones as earlier. you leave your cam hack in place, might as well, and you text the client and tell him [it is done.] which is very edgy of you, you admit, but it's appropriate for this job, probably.

hmm. there's something to ponder there, about the aesthetics of death. guns make the process of creating death much more efficient, they're machines, they're optimized. using your own hand weapons takes the degree of separation out of it. you're much closer to the violence you're doing. you, in the general grammatical case, your personal hands are still pretty clean, overall. well, ok, no. degrees of separation, again. you are paid to be the middleman between the person who wants someone dead and the person who does the killing. person is here. you wave it into the truck, and then you drive away, out of this parking lot.

[do you want more hand weapons? i've been mostly focusing on guns, for range and effecacy, but for small jobs like this it might be worth it. maybe? what do you think?]

it makes a small ponderous noise, and looks up to the roof, fidgeting with its fingers, deep in thought.

[i should be able to get my hands on some weapons catalogs for you, plus there's that expo coming up in a few weeks. but with both of those, there's the problem of you being actively sold something. lots of loud flashy words to get you to spend lots of money money money]

it huffs a quiet laugh, and then it pulls its mask down to tap at its jaw. huh? oh, it's referencing the guy who sold you that jaw, and a lot of other very flashy and not strictly nessecary items. you laugh at that.

[oh man, i don't remember how many of them you've met, but i have quite a lot of friends like that. my sincere condolences.]

it throws it's hands up in mock despair, very clearly smiling at the same time. you have a new message, from Petra. [The money has been forwarded to you.] oh damn. immediately after the job? this guy has a lot of trust in his bank security. or he just hasn't thought of what an investigator might look for. family of rich idiots, over there. once the money comes in, you'll move it to your actual account. obfuscatory steps. the agent is messing with a small piece of fabric, folding and unfolding it. it might have snatched that from that last job. that's fair, honestly. small enough to be hard to identify and easy to dispose of it needed, and it looks like it has a good texture to it. you should get it some new fidgety things, once this money comes in. you could get yourself something too, maybe. been a while since you got new clothes, but also you don't like lugging around too much unnessecary stuff. maybe there's a clothes swap event somewhere nearby you could drop in to. how would you find that. you could ask a friend. carmen, they seem like they would know. you should drop into them anyways, say hi. it gets kinda hard to keep up with friends, with the constant travelling. but you do your best, and your friends are cool, they all seem to understand. the agent has just finished typing something out on its communicator.

[bazooka would be funny]

that is SO far from anything you were expecting, you're breathless with laughter.

[say fuck all of you. get explode]

you make a little explosion motion with both hands, one still on the wheel. the agent looks somewhat proud of having gotten you to laugh.

[okay, man, do you have any actual ideas?]

[no. give me some time]

[yeah yeah, no worries. we're in no rush]

[loressa]

Burgertime

----

Salt, fat, sizzle, sear - the components are basic and mandatory. The burger is the star and never let anyone tell you otherwise...even if that someone is a stupid bullshit Goodwill microwave because *someone* (Brenda in HR) is too fucking cheapass to upgrade.

I dont have time for this - Timmons needs a submit by noon for a merge by five because Perkins is absolutely horrible at his job - but fuck Perkins. I want a burger, specifically MY deliciously seared burger from last night, so it's time to settle in and wait. Triple beep on that idiot machine (fuck you, Brenda) and the microwave power's at 50% for that slow, deep reheat.

Some TV while we wait - Pedro seems to be really doing it dirty to Janessa Maria. Would NOT be surprised if he ends up stabbed with all those side chicas he's had going for weeks.

Annoyingly, the lunchroom TV cuts from daytime telenovelas to grainy cellphone zooms of movie monsters spilling out of weird machines. I check on my burger - ten minutes left and still rotating nicely, despite all expectations - and then focus back on the news again.

Invasion. Aliens. Doom. This channel sucks. Flip through a few, but it's all the same broadcast - burger doing great - and that's when I realized what's happening.

This bullshit castoff Oliver of a microwave is all please-maam-may-I-have-moreing my burger into a dry, shitty crumble. Fuck you, Brenda. Power down even lower, might help, has to help. I still hate Brenda.

Back to ten minutes and what is this bullshit on the TV. Timmons' task floats into my head and I kick myself - I didn't drop those completed components into code review. By the time I get back from that, we're at eight minutes, the burger is lightly sizzling and I've realized the entire office is empty.

Fucking corporate yoga. I can even hear them upstairs - graceful, my ass, they sound like elephants tap dancing. Seven minutes to heaven, though, so who gives a shit. I think I'll add some BBQ sauce, just to be heathenous.

I hear a crash from the area near Perkins' desk, but who cares. The guy is a mess. Six minutes. Looking juicy. Another crash. Did they have a lunch out? Perkins *likes* to drink, why do you think he's useless after lunchtime?

Flip channels for a bit, but it's all the same stupid YouTube alien movie promo crap - five minutes, die in a fire, Brenda - so I browse Reddit looking at food pics. Another crash and now it's starting to seem a bit weird. I glance at the microwave, mouth almost aching - four minutes - and sigh. Gotta help Perkins.

Aaaand, nope, that's an alien. That's totally, completely, absolutely, how the fuck is that an alien. He's... she's? It's tall, scaly, oozy, slimy, totally not human, pure nightmare factory, and appears to be baffled by a stapler. Why does Perkins even have a stapler?

You how know under pressure our brains turn into trapped rats trying to find the easiest way out and we think and do amazing shit? So yeah, three minutes left and burger is looking good.

I thank my Brenda-esque brain for absolutely nothing and dart back into the lunchroom, which has apparently become my safe house against an alien invasion. Yay, I always wanted to fight for my life surrounded by old egg salad and leftover pasta.

Right about now is when I realize my problem. See, the microwave has been going with an ambient hum since Sumeria was the shit, so any changes are going to be instantly noticed...and we're at two minutes left. Also the burger is looking amazi-

Right, yeah, pull it together girl. Fuck you, Brenda. With a REAL microwave, I would have been out of here alr-

Well, hold on now. I creep back to the door. The alien's apparently given up on staplers and is kinda scanning the room. Like, literally, scanning. There's old 90s style movie graphics sprouting out of his/her/its eyes.

One minute left - hi burger, you're beautiful - and I'm fumbling with my phone. This whole situation is stupid enough, might as well try....

And there we are. WiFi scanner is picking up something absolutely weird and confusing, clearly some sort of network we can't identify. The alien's got some tech - or biology? - emitting a signal.

I groan. I know the answer. I hate the answer. I sigh. I curse fucking Brenda. 10 seconds left. I back away and close my eyes. Everyone sacrifices in trying times.

3, 2, 1 - the rotation stops and the stupid little defunct microwave gives a happy chirp of a ding. Done! Aren't you proud of me? Never, Brenda-spawn.

A claw appears around the door. Oh fuuuuck, yep, this is happening. I duck down behind a table and reach up to fumble at the microwave door. Hopefully aliens aren't vegan. I manage to jab it open and suddenly the delicious, intoxicating smell of the perfect burger floods the lunchroom, rich and redolent.

Apparently demons like burgers, but I was counting on this. Everyone likes burgers unless they are useless bitches named Brenda. S/he/it leaps for the microwave and I slide sideways - this is a horrible idea - putting myself closer to her as my arms fumble at the countertop. Oh, god, it stinks like childhood trauma and ozone. Too late now and here we go - the creature realizes I'm here far too late, flailing and turning with way too many arms writhing about. His head is at the same level of the counter top, body coiled to strike.

My lunging fall nearly fails, apparently my aim is terrible, but I trip on a chair and surge upwards again, hands finally wrapping around the microwave.

"You like to transmit shit about Earth?????!" I want to scream but instead I just kinda squeak as I grab the horrible microwave with its beautiful payload and slide the entire thing over the creature's head.

"Farrady cage?" I whisper hopefully, quickly backing away, because that - and my burger - was really all I had. For a second, the alien is still, simply standing there with his/her/its head crammed in a microwave, before its head gives a sudden, anticlimactic plop and sinks to the ground, ooze puddling out on his/her/its shoulders.

As the creature falls, his/her/it's body gives a shake, some final death throe, and, with a rattle, a little brown disc comes soaring out of the microwave. It's a beautiful, heartwarming moment. The alien's dead, Berlin is playing take my breath away and I've been reunited with my hamburger.

The rest of earth can wait a few more minutes for me to save it. This shit is finally hot and ready and it's lunchtime for momma.

[bridgyrose]

ciel maiden au her becomeing maidne aslo kinda headacanon her being rabbit ears fausne hide her ears with that hate you dont have to use that if dont want to but you can

(Hope this works for you.)

“Miss Soleil.” 

Ciel took a moment to stand at attention as General Ironwood called for her. “Yes sir?” 

“I need you to come with me.” 

Ciel paused for a moment and looked over to the tube Penny’s body was kept in as it was repaired and rebuilt. Her hand shook for a moment as her tone slipped from its usual tone. “What for? As Penny’s keeper, I am supposed to stay by her side no matter what until she is repaired and functional.” 

Ironwood nodded and turned to walk off. “There’s an important matter I would like to discuss with you. Please, follow me.” 

Ciel lingered by Penny for a few moments longer before finally pulling away to follow General Ironwood. She kept a few steps behind the general as she walked, making sure to keep herself in proper form as much as she could. Her eyes glanced at her watch, carefully watching Penny’s vitals until they disappeared and showed only the time. “What do you need me for, general?” 

“I’m making a change of plans for your position. Seeing as Penny was a prototype to house the maiden and Specialist Schnee is too close to her sister for the responsibility, you are next in line for a new project.” 

“And what project is that?” 

“To be the defender of Atlas as the Winter Maiden.” 

Ciel paused in her step as she heard the words, not quite registering what the general had meant. “I’m not sure I follow what you mean.” 

“I’ll explain everything, however this needs to remain between us.” Ironwood stopped at a door and placed his hand against a scanner. The door opened and he stepped aside. “After you.” 

Ciel took a few slow and careful steps into the room and paused as she looked down into a medical bay with an older woman kept in one of the aura transfer machines. Her heart raced for a moment as she took everything in, her well hidden emotions starting to make their way out. “Who is she?” 

“She is the winter maiden. She is the key to the relic that this academy hides, and a wielder of magic.” 

“Magic… magic doesnt exist.” 

“It does, though it seems very few know of it or ever see it.” Ironwood sat down and smiled a bit. “But today, I want you to make a choice. You can become a protector of our kingdom in a way you never could before, or you can go back to watching Penny and wait for her to be rebuilt so you can be her keeper once more.” 

Ciel made her way to the window, eyes glued to the old woman. “What’s her name?” 

“Her name is Fria. She doesnt have much longer to live, but still long enough for you to make your decision. If you do agree-” 

“I’ll do it.” 

Ironwood paused for a moment. “Are you sure?” 

Ciel nodded and pulled back from the window and looked back at her watch, tapping it impatiently to bring Penny’s vitals back on screen. “It was my job to make sure Penny was safe and on time for everything, to make sure that she had a companion that was trusted and to make sure that anyone she interacted with would not hurt her or know what she is. And I… failed with that. But maybe I can keep her safe once she’s repaired. And protect Atlas.” 

Ironwood smiled and nodded. “Then we’ll start the transfer in the morning. I suggest you get some rest and prepare for it.” 

Ciel nodded and kept her eyes on her watch as Penny’s vitals rotated back onto the screen. Her heart slowed a bit when she saw that everything was still normal for her in the state she was in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Ironwood stand up and leave the room, letting her be alone as she let her thoughts wander on how to protect everyone.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Again.” 

Ciel’s eyes glowed with a bright fire as she tried to take a few breaths and watched the field in front of her. Hard light projections of grimm started to appear in the training arena as her eyes moved to each one, trying to track their movements. With almost robotic-like movements, Ciel tried to mimic how she saw Penny fight, eyes moving from one grimm to the next as she sent out shards of ice, fireballs, and directed the wind to keep the grimm at bay. Her aura shattered again as a sabyr knocked her over and the program stopped. 

“That’s enough,” Ironwood called out from the observation room. “I’ll see you here again tomorrow, Ciel.” 

Ciel struggled to pick herself up as the flames in her eyes died down and the time on her watch started to slow down. She took a few breaths as her semblance slowed everything around her to a complete stop, standing still and letting her aura try to recharge slightly. While her semblance wasnt great for combat, as long as she stood still, she could get the rest she needed. Once she finished, she moved and dropped her semblance, letting time pick up again. “I’m ready for another round.” 

Ironwood paused. “Are you sure?” 

Ciel nodded and focused as she created a staff with her maiden powers, eyes blazing. “Again!” 

[richardsphere]

Leverage Redemption Log: The Great Train Job

*rhytmic chanting* Train Heist, Train Heist, Train Heist! --- Two Men (wether partners in business or life) talk about their rough times right now. They'll get through it. Angry mob with baseballs (yeah, this is definitly a Homophobia thing.)

Man, i know the name is meant to evoke that "old west movie with a trainheist" idea but did they really need to twirl that stache? --- half of their crops lost to a blight. Now hatecrimes. Hatecrime, and poison. Add in the name: Its a land thing, the railway company is trying to steal their land. --- Parker is taking the victims to the Ritz, "bet you its cobalt poisoning" Elliots shock that the new the deskjockey-lawyer can identify the poison.

Redemption list. (Yacht debacle) Prop reuse, Whitcomb is holding that generator-thingy from the in the OG series where they almost made a guy jump off a roof because they full-on inceptioned him. Thought I wouldnt notice, but I did. Parker isnt even here to see the briefing but she senses from across town that there is a rare, limited-edition novelty safe and instantly parachutes across town.

Im sorry Sophie, why are we giving this guy benefit of the doubt? --- Parker robs an old lady for a ticket. (which is a problem cause we already had tickets)

For some reason our heroes are afraid of bachelorette parties. --- Guys guilty (why did we bother with the giving LegallyNotElon the benefit of the doubt thing again?) Harry is creeping Elliot out. (Are you a serial killer? You legally have to tell me if you are)

In the Secretary of States defense, most US Secretaries ought to be at the Hague.

Oh no, Breanna is atracted to Yoo. (and just to hammer down this is a musk thing, "in a world of Edisons, she's a Tesla"). Oh, Hitlers Home away from Home...

Well this episode is definitly gonna be an awkward watch (I do not like cringe comedy)

--- Back with Harry the Prepper. Its time for some protected suits. (its battery prototypes) ---

On the train she flirts with the Nazi. Eye-scanner. No parker, the schematics arent inside the safe because they dont exist. The safe probably contains his 1th edition signed copy of Mein Kampf. (im only partially joking there)

Yeah this guy knows nothing, "Watt Kilogram" is not a unit produced by a battery. (he could be thinking of Kilowatt, as in a thousand Watt. Or Watt per Kilogram which is power/weigth ratio in mechanics but he's stitching buzzwords together badly). That thing puts the "Prop" in "proprietary". Its a scam to convince the investors to give him money for a product he doesnt have yet.

Put the world back in order... Parker is IN. --- We're back at the farm, and with 2 episodes to go (one of which named for Harry) its time to emphasize how far he's come.

Parker is angry the vault is empty (cause he's a brainless dimwit.)

The team has caught up to the blatantly obvious. "well arent you glad i brought a plastic tarp and ducttape" can you stop the Serialkiller Shit?

Time for Breanna to do a Sophie...

Phase 2 is a go. --- Are the mounties gonna be a problem? Cause it seems to me that this is another "Parker just takes the roof" situation.

And Sophie finally figured out where the Stanley Cup went. Turns out, they have juristiction (note; Its weird for Breanna to be the one saying this, this feels like a Harry line), also where did Breanna's Date go?

Breanna does not like being in the room full of literal Nazi's. --- Harry is riding away with the evidence while Elliot prepares for some White-Supremacist Punching, time for elliot to dine at the all-you-can-beat buffet.

Racist Mjolnir (lets be clear, with the amount of white supremacists that identify with vikings... thats just regular Mjolnir)

How did you get this? "word salad".

And the Nazi has entered his room. --- Harry, we all want to hit nazi's with a car sometime but for gods sake dont do it with a car that has pedestrian detection.

Harry does not hanle adrenaline well.

Oh just one Wired-article is all it takes for Karl to get his fascist-ass spartan-kicked off the train.

Pennies, Mounties arrest Musk Dinner at the farm

[nosuchthingasagruffalo]

New Earth

Kathryn looked at Chakotay laying in their bed as the morning light streamed across the covers, she slowly climbed under the duvet and stroked his face, it had been a whirlwind eight weeks since he had touched her heart with his tale of love, they had spent days making love in the bed, bending her over her bath, lying amongst the flowers, naming the constellations shining in the moonlight. "Hi Chakotay" Kathryn whispered into his ear, Chakotay groaned and pulled her into a kiss, but she pulled away. "I need to talk to you Chakotay" she whispered as a look of concern crossed his face. "I've been trying some of the cures I have created for this virus on myself, so I've been scanning regularly and .."

"You've been doing what?? Chakotay boomed "how could you be so stupid how do you know you won't kill yourself?"

"That's not the point" Kathryn replied curtly. The point is I have been scanning myself and it turns out the virus has interfered with all our usual medication, including.."

"Including what?" Chakotay pressed

"Contraceptives. I ovulated three weeks ago making me 5 weeks pregnant"

"Really?" Chakotay found his shock making way for a warm fuzzy feeling.

"Stop it" Kathryn snapped "I can't keep it. There's only two of us on this planet, what happens if we have an accident or get ill? What if we died and left a defenceless toddler alone. What happens when we die of old age and commit the child to 40 years of solitude? It's too risky. If we were on Voyager, or Earth this could work, but here, I won't condem a child to a life of loneliness. Our medical supplies won't last another 80 years, please know this is not a decision I have taken lightly."

"Of course" chakotay grimaced, "I can prepare a hypo but you will need to administer it. I will suport you but I wish it were different."

Two months later they were returned to Voyager. After the abortion Kathryn had given herself time to grieve but had also found a peace within herself. Her relationship with Chakotay had strengthened although she hadn't wanted to make love to him again too soon. On the second day of her return she found herself and Chakotay having a late dinner in her quarters and beckoned him to her bed. She parted her legs as he gently pushed himself inside her, kissing her neck and whispering words of love. She felt him tightening and panicked "pull out Chakotay" "Kathryn it's ok, the doctor readminstered our boosters but i won't do anything you dont want" he said as he pulled her into a cuddle "you'll resent me" Kathryn sniffed "if I had waited a 7 more weeks, I was too rash. You might not feel it now but you will" Chakotay shushed her "it wasn't the right timing, I only need you, I don't need anything else"

Present day

Chakotay awoke with a start. His vision quests did sometimes carry over into his dreams but this one had been recurring weekly. It was menacing and dark, the beating and whistling of feathers, the sound of a bird crying out, the sense of dread, loss. "Are you my lost child?" Chakotay had asked but he only heard and angry response echo through his mind "you must not ask me that" . He cursed himself for allowing any of his children to join Starfleet and put themselves in danger, why hadn't he and Kathryn encouraged them to stay planet side, safe and together as a family.

He heard Tuvok hail him over his comm "Captain, Admiral, please meet me in the conference room as soon as possible".

****

"We have identified a gaseous giant and small rocky moon at the coordinates we were given. Scans show there is a network of tunnels which our scanners are not able to permeate, no sign of Lohengrin."

Kathryn looked around the room "I don't want to waste any time, we will have a search party ready within the hour. Ensign Hussein please join Captain Tuvok and me, Captain Chakotay will remain on the ship should we be joined by any unexpected guests. Dismissed"

As the officers filed out Chakotay lingered, he walked around the table and towered over Kathryn. "Kathryn, what are you playing at? You're afraid aren't you, of what you might find, you're not protecting me, I won't let you do this, he's my son too, we BOTH encouraged him to join the Academy, we are both going to damn well see this through" he leaned down further, his face millimeters from her nose "permission to join the team Admiral". Kathryn met his eyes with an icy fire, she looked away, she nodded.

*****

Kathryn scanned her tricorder over the mouth of the caves "I'm reading human biosigns this way" she gestured down a tunnel and headed towards the location. She could hear noises and what sounded like words bouncing off the walls of the cave. She picked up the pace and hurried further down the tunnel, could this be Amal? She imagined turning a corner and seeing him there, waiting for her, embracing her outstretched arms. She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw two figures in front of her:

"Lottie, what are you doing here"

END OF SEASON ONE

To be continued .....

[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.

[heather-ouo]

Experiment accidental and tug war

Theresa Apocalypse x HoC! scientist! Gender neutral! Reader

Warning!: no proofread, grammar problem, near threatening situation,

Stuff to remind in case you dont know

HoC ( Herrscher of Creation), c/n ( code name ),

Part 2, part 3, part 4 | coming up |

——————————————————————————————————

“ Overseer im pretty sure is not “ bring your granddaughter to work day despite you are here with her in a lab coat.”  

You gave him a smirk as the overseer asked his “granddaughter” to wait for them in another room.   

“ Joke aside (c/n) you think i didn’t notice? Theresa has been coming to this lab more than usual, aside her weapon or her injuries and you who happens to be the first person i show her to.” 

The overseer give you the serious look while summoned out Judgment of  Shamash which is shifted by Void archives    

“ Cool down Otto think the other way, that midget is been bothering me for the past months! Her Judah, the manga, Battlesuits, the problem with her height, and clinging on me whenever she gets the chance!” 

You put your hands up try to calm the Overseer as he pointed the gun against your head.  

That remind the Overseer the day he show Theresa to you and it only take few mins until the clone was clinging on you not wanted to go back and the comics or what you called the manga, Theresa’s bookcase is full of them Otto winced at the thought of manga letting the gun shift back and disappear in the air.   

Needless to say he make you Theresa personal technician and healer maybe he should find a maid, already have one in mind. 

“ Calm down? Great, what’s the problem this time?”

The scientist pray in their mind anything, but letting the midget stay? This is a disaster to your work.

“ I need you to babysit Theresa again, l have negotiation with the president to build The Babylon labs.” 

The Theresa part cause you to fall off your chair. 

“ AGAIN?! OTTO SHE’S A WALKING DISASTER IN THIS LAB! A FREAKING DISASTER!” 

You waved your hands out then pointed at one of your creations which is broken due to a somebody messed it up.

“ Grandpa? Y/n?.. i heard some yelling is everything okay?”

A white haired girl poke her head in.

“ Ah.. my dear Theresa you come in the right timing”

Otto turned around to look at the girl.

“ l will be away for somewhere a month while im away don’t cause a disaster in the lab alright? ”

Otto tell the white haired girl while walking away.

“ OTTO YOU ARE PAIN IN THE NECK! I SWEAR TO HONKAI WILL! ”

You rapidly followed Otto as Theresa followed you out, Otto who is almost near the gate y/n summoned out a portal and throw balls of papers into in causing the Overseer buried in balls of papers.

The scientist pick up Theresa like a bag of potatoes running away while the Overseer tried to get out in balls of papers.

“ Ha ha! That was fun isn’t Teri? 

You run while Theresa is in your arm running in direction of you resting room where you put all the comics and mangas just in case they wont caught up in fire.

“ Buried Grandpa with paper? Sure is but i wanna see you creation!”

“ Teri you’re banned from my creation lab no matter what you say.” You quickly argued back before anymore disaster or explosion to your beloved creation.

“ Please? (Y/n) just one last time! I wanna see the that battlesuit with bunny ears!”

“ just this once and don’t enter my lab without my permission unless is an emergency.”

You pull out your lab card to the scanner with a bleep sound then the iron door open.

* * Swish * *

The scientist and the clone walked into the lab battlesuits in the transparent  containers, blue prints on the desk, some weird looking liquid in the tube, weird pink purple-ish liquid in some Beakers.

Theresa were staring at the breaker which is secure contain in the transparent box with a sign ‘HANDS OFF! ESPECIALLY OTTO AND TERI’

“ I know that look Teri come on that battlesuit is almost done ”

You guided Theresa away from that container.

.

. .

. . .

After you finished showed Theresa the battlesuit which in the future called ‘ magic girl Teri Teri’ you let the clone go back to the resting room trusted her wont do anything, you went back where you left out on the broken creation.

Soft click sound and rusty eee sound behind you until….

* * Smash! * *

* * thud! * *

The scientist rapidly turned found the clone passed out on the cold ground, you looked up and found the container with sign are opened. “ THERESA! ”

* * TANK! TANK! * *

Sound of footsteps rushing against the small holes in the floor, you carried fainted out Theresa in bride style hurried to the infirmary letting nurse taking care of her.

(y/n) went back to the lab picking up the remaining of the breaker cutting your hand in the process but you dont give a damn. Looking at the label of the breaker something clicked in your mind, the liquid inside with temporary growth is specifically made for Theresa.

.

. .

. . .

Wait growth? 

Oh no

——————————————————————————————————

Gonna get back to TikTok eheh

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2, part 3, part 4 | coming up |

[alleycat-arcade]

Game Start! The Seven Lords: Ex Machina

Anonymous asked: Hey, I read your Marius-like Mc sample hcs the other day and was wondering if you'd do something similar? But the Mc would be a Construct, like the ones from Punishing Gray Raven. I dont know if you play it though, so feel free to ignore this one if you want! I don't know many others who play PGR so sorry if its weird.

Here you are, Anon. The game is all ready and waiting for you. Just don't forget to scan your bracelet on the scanner.

(Big thanks to my friend for helping me with this, since I really didn't know anything about PGR. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, the Mc for this is based off of what are known as Constructs/Structures from a game called Punishing: Gray Raven. Essentially, Constructs are humans that were modified to become battle cyborgs and have their consciousness stored in an Inner Device in their "body". They work with Commanders/Commandants to rid the Earth of what is known as the "Punishing Virus", one that effects humans and robots. I won't mention it much, but essentially it kills humans really quick without a serum and it takes over robots and makes them mindless killing machines.)

The Brothers React to a Construct!Mc (Obey Me! Shall We Date? Headcanons)

Content Warnings: Brief mentions of violence, but nothing too descript. Maybe like extremely minor spoilers for PGR? Basically everything that is said in the intro of the game.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

"Thank you for your assistance today Mc, it was a great help." The Gray Raven's Commandant smiled at you, patting you on the shoulder. "You are welcome, Commandant. If you need anything else, do let me or my Squadron's Commandant know." It wasn't too often you were selected to work with other squadrons, so it was quite nice when you had been requested for this specific mission. You had heard about the Gray Raven a few times from some of your fellow constructs that you were close with, and from what you could tell they were well qualified. The mission was a simple retrieval of some supplies, but it happened to be from an area that you were very familiar with. With your assistance, the squadron was easily able to navigate through the densely vegetated subway system, and collect the stolen supply crates. Needless to say, you were feeling tired by the time you returned to Babylonia. Though you lacked a human body, your robotic form was in definite need of a recharge.

It was late when you had returned to your dormitory. Your Commandant had requested that you rest and recharge for the rest of the day, while the rest of the Squadron went on a quick mission. Though you had stated you were fine, your Commandant would not shake from their position and their orders were final. You settled into your bed with your weapon sit at your side, prepared in case you should be called upon in an emergency. As the strongest Construct on your squadron, it was not a surprise when you would be called out into the field not too long after you were left behind. Your eyes drifted closed as you let your thoughts fade.

And opened not too long after, feeling a disconnection from the machine that charged your body. You awoke, still in bed, but in the middle of an unfamiliar room.

(Note: You still have pacts with the brothers still you were human at one point. The pact sigils appear as if they were laser-engraved into your cybernetic form.)

Lucifer:

He was surprised that Diavolo had wanted to keep you in the Devildom, even though you weren't human. Sure, he had selected you, but he hadn't known that the image had been from when you used to be a human and that you were from a completely different Earth entirely

He does appreciate the fact that you don't need to be looked after as much as a human would. Your cybernetic body allowed you to function pretty much on just electricity, so you didn't eat much besides snacks, and you could protect yourself fairly well. He still went ahead and assigned Mammon to look after you just in case, though.

Lucifer finds you a decent conversational partner. You have a decent amount of knowledge on different topics and since you don't get that tired, you can sit and talk with him for quite a while. If you happen to be a fan of classical music or vinyl's, he'll happy chat with you for hours on end.

When you had requested a small area for combat training be built for you, he was a little suspicious. Eventually, he complied after getting to know you better. Sometimes Lucifer will go down and watch you tear into the pseudo-enemies with your attacks, sitting within your line of sight but out of firing range.

If you ever feel upset about your current form and how you are no longer human and he's gotten close with you, he'll welcome you into his study and comfort you in whatever way feels best to you. Want to sit together and talk about it over a glass of Demonus while a cursed vinyl plays on his record player? Or would you prefer to simply sit close to him and maybe hold his hand? If it makes you feel at peace he'd be happy to do it for you. After all, he understands not liking one's own form that they were forcibly transformed into.

He doesn't understand a lot of your cybernetic parts and abilities though. Don't try explaining your Inner-device to him unless you want to explain pretty much all of the technological processes that lead up to it either.

Side-note: He had thought you were part demon for a moment when he saw the prominent horn sticking out of your hair, until he spotted your very obliviously robotic hands. Levi had attempted to explain to him what it was in a simpler way than you had, and he'd ended up believing it was like the antennae of the wi-fi router.

Mammon:

Mammon is apprehensive of you to say the least. He's seen enough of those movies where the robots go rogue and takeover all of the appliances and then the world. Plus, you seem to be decently strong, so why does he have to watch over you anyway?

Since you did seem to be able to handle yourself well, he thought he could slack off a little in looking after you. It was only until he returned to the House of Lamentation to an angry Lucifer and you doing some repairs to your own leg did he realize he may have to keep an eye out for you more. You may be a cyborg created and trained for battle, but you aren't indestructible.

He also watches you sometimes when you're training, but he'd actually make his presence known. If you need a hand-to-hand combat partner ever, he'd likely offer himself smugly and tell you how great his skills were and how he'd wreck you in an instant. He is actually quite strong, and agile as well, but if you do manage a few strong blows on him he'd be impressed. He'll call it dumb luck every time you do, though.

He thought you would be some sort of strict, intelligent, and cold person like how android usually were in the movies. Yet, when he gets to know you, Mammon does in fact realize that you used to be human and that your personality has pretty much remained in tact. Even if you are the strict type, he still recognizes just how alive you act and feel.

Should you come to him regarding your insecurities about your form, no matter how much he's warmed up to you he'll be hesitant at first. Eventually, he eases into it when he compares his own experiences from becoming a demon after the Fall. Though it comes out in his typical tsundere manner, you can tell that he's trying his best. A good heart to heart alone in one of your rooms and he might stop the act for a little while.

Grasps a lot of the basic concepts about your cybernetic body. Some of the stuff about you he does in fact find fascinating, but he won't ever tell you of his own volition. Tries to get you to add special attachments to your body for some completely random stuff, some of it useful and some of it not. Sure, a screwdriver hidden in your finger may be a useful tool, but what purpose would you having a monitor that connects to the DVR serve?

Side-Note: You made the mistake of telling Mammon about your ability to manipulate data and perform a form of hacking on technological devices. He's tried roping you into more schemes that involve something like hacking into a bank vault multiple times now. You may want to see if Solomon knows any memory erasing spells.

Leviathan:

He is looking... respectfully. Levi can see the tell-tale signs of cyborg all over you, from the wires hooking you to your charging station to your mechanical joints.

Honestly, Leviathan wants nothing more to leap over the table and sputter anything and everything on his mind about you and robots and cyborgs in general and how you look so much like this one character and how cool the concept of cyborgs are and how- oh, he just did that? OH.

Its cute how quickly he goes from passionate and excited to shy and embarrassed. If you want to bond with him though you'll have to earn his trust the usual way, even if you are a super cool cyborg person. You do catch him staring at you from a distance quite often.

He's honestly probably the closest thing you'll find in the Devildom to a personal mechanic for yourself. This demon has probably assembled enough figurines and worked with enough technical devices that he can do a decent job. You may have to teach him a few things, but he catches on pretty easy. He may even ask to make a few upgrades, but only if you approve of them first! Levi probably also makes sure to practice them on different devices beforehand.

While watching you in combat is cool and he'd be your personal cheerleader in a heartbeat, what he enjoys most is that you can keep up with him on his anime and gaming binges. He might even set up a little replicant charging station in his room just so you can hang out with him for longer.

He's not the best when it comes to comforting you, but he does try as hard as he can. Probably more likely to try and distract you from your troubles with things you both like or something you just do. But if he feels like it'd be best for you and he has steeled himself enough, a bout of shaky hand holding and speaking your mind may occur.

Likely the easiest person to teach about the working of Cybernetics and Babylonia in general. If you indulge him in such a way, he'll listen to you for hours without getting bored or not asking questions.

Side-note: Levi probably has set up a lot of your stuff for you. Given enough time with you and enough listening to you about your world, he may manage to make a recreation of a device that your Commandant would use. If you happen to start calling him Commandant though, he'll be stuck in between liking it and feeling awkward about it. Since on one hand, he knows how close Commandants and Constructs usually are, but on the other, it makes him feel like he's still in Admiral Levi mode.

Satan:

Honestly, probably the most forward and upfront with his interest in you when you arrive. Satan's read plenty of factual books in regards to humans and demons, but you're something straight out of a science fiction novel. Except you're real, alive, and standing right in front of him.

He finds himself torn in between spending time studying you and planning his next prank on Lucifer. Until you get to know him better, he'll just settle to examine you from a distance while you train in combat or whatever other task you do that interests him. If you ask him nicely enough he might spar with you, but don't expect him to go easy.

Once his whole thing with Luci has settled down, he's asking you all the questions he held back from before. If RAD, his brothers, or your internal battery didn't get in the way, it would be a good month and a half before he stopped questioning you. From how it feels to do certain tasks to the way that certain devices work, this knowledge thirsty bookworm wants to know. Even if he needs a few supplementary materials every now and then.

If you have trouble doing certain tasks, he may pick up a book or two on robotics to help you out a little. No, he did not do it just because you wanted to pet the cats he hung around with all the time. He just wanted to make sure that your finger joints functioned to their fullest extent so you could read and study is all.

Though he was born a demon and had remained one his whole life, he does understand somewhat of your personal insecurities through comforting his brothers sometimes in the past. He'll let you speak as long as you need while the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Satan also knows a lot about being seen as something that you're not, an insecurity he'll admit to you that the two of you share.

Picks up on a lot of the whole cyborg stuff almost as fast as Levi. He also finds everything about the whole virus that's taken over your version of Earth to be intriguing. If you're good at debating, then you may go over potential solutions. Too bad you weren't the one sending yourself back home at the end of exchange program, you might've taken him back with you if he wanted to go.

Side-Note: If your metallic body happens to frighten off cats for whatever reason, he'll willingly put aside all of his pranking ideas until its resolved. Building a Rube-Goldberg in Lucifer's office that splatters red paint all over his new suit is not as important as keeping you away from making that sad face of disappointment when the furry critters scurry away from you. He'll weave catnip into your clothing secretly if he has to.

Asmodeus:

Do I even need to say what Asmo's first question for you is? I think we all already know.

The novelty of cybernetics wears off on him a lot faster than it does for his brothers though. He'd take to you in a similar way he would to any other species. Asmo may ask you some specifics, but most of them pertain more to domestic things rather than your combat or intelligence purposes. Not to say he doesn't like strong or smart people though.

Something that Asmo catches on to a lot faster than his brothers is the way you do struggle with a handful of basic tasks. If the two of you have become close, he's eager to help teach you how to do certain things that you never had the need to do or learn. Even if you do grasp how to do something but struggle with it, he'll graciously take your hands and show you how. Not without some light hearted teasing, though.

Honestly, your quality of life spikes upwards quite a bit when you bond with Asmo. He'll adapt a lot of his self-care rituals to suit you, happily painting the nails of your metal clawed hands and putting a face mask on you despite the lack of skin that would blemish. Will get you to take a bath with him if you're comfortable, and even if you don't physically feel the soothing warmth of the water, your human memories fill in the gaps.

Asmo also helps you pick out a ton of stylish yet functional outfits. The two of you spend hours in Majolish going through different sets that allowed you to be combat ready while looking cool or cute. If you're feeling confidant enough, he'll even pick out a few that do highlight the mechanics of your body.

Asmo is honestly a perfect demon to go to if you wish to confide your insecurities in him. While his go to would likely be a full day set aside for self care for the two of you, he isn't against just holding each other close and letting you release it all. I the safety of his room and your arms, he'll confess a lot of his own insecurities to you as well, and by the end of the night the two of you are having a play fight of complimenting the beauty of the other.

The Avatar of Lust has likely found himself in the presence of beings of all shapes and sizes, in both sexual and non-sexual situations. Though a cyborg is a new concept to him for the most part, he'll likely adjust well to it and treat you just as he'd treat anyone else.

Side-Note: Asmo actually has picked up a lot of accessories that are cyber inspired in order to match you. He's also bought you a lot of matching ones that resemble things about him or the things you like. You once made a joke about a gear themed object where you'd suggested he get you a demon heart themed one to match. Needless to say, he presented you with one the next day.

Beelzebub:

When the two of you meet, there's no much of a reaction from Beel. He doesn't dislike you per say, but he also doesn't necessarily like you either. He's sorta like "yeah, they exist". He wouldn't say that you don't look unappetizing also, but considering you are made of mostly metal he doesn't think about eating you as much as he expected when the exchange program was first brought up.

He does respect your strength for a human, but sometimes he forgets you're a cyborg when he tries to ask you about how you do your workouts. Beel does eventually invite you to join him when he goes to the gym, even if you don't gain anything from working out, it's a nice activity for the two of you to bond over. He'd rather just watch you if you want to do combat training though.

When he gets to fully know you, he does worry about your eating habits. You and his brothers have told him more than once that you technically don't need to eat, but he offers you bites of his food just about every time he eats unless he's feeling particularly hangry that day. His brothers nearly had a heart attack when they saw Beel offer you a large bite of his favourite custard for the first time.

Your physical form doesn't matter too much once he begins to think of you as family. You worm your way into his heart and your there forever (unless you do something legitimately awful of course). He notices it on the occasion, but it's more like an "Oh, okay" moment. The most he notices it is of course when he's eating.

If Mammon is busy for whatever reason, you can count on Beel to look after you when you're out and about in the Devildom. If your internal battery is feeling low and you feel like you need to head back for a recharge, he'll carry you back so you can conserve your energy. Any of the brothers could probably carry you if they wanted, since your frame is built to be light and fast, but Beel likely does it the most often.

When you're feeling upset about your body, he'll make sure to hold you close and let you know he's not leaving you. He'll mention the Fall maybe briefly, but he doesn't dwell on it too long, instead focusing on you. If you'd like, he'd bring you down to the kitchen and ask you to make dinner with him or just watch him. He manages to actually make it through the cooking process without too much difficulty, only eating a little bit of the ingredients and making sure to sample a little of the food to make sure it tastes good for you and his brothers.

Side-Note: He's always happy to see you in the bleachers during his Fangol games. Beel has learned to recognize you by your unique horn, which is far more metallic and deliberately designed than the demons around you. Something that he won't outright tell you is that he had a sort of clip-in horn that was a replica of yours made. He keeps it in his locker, but it's his good luck charm for his games. Beel wouldn't deny it if you found out, but he'd be a little flustered.

Belphegor:

Imagine this demon's surprise when what he thought was the human exchange student he had lured up to the attic was literally just a robot. Even if he didn't notice it at first, when he tries to pull the whole "I'm a human, just like you. You gotta free me!" thing you outright tell him that you're not. He may need sometime to figure out if he's going to also hate cyborgs before he carries out his previously made plans.

He does end up killing you, but he doesn't do it by choking you since you don't require air. He instead gets lucky and smashes your Inner-device where your consciousness is stored. Thankfully, the rest of Chapter 16's events play out as normal though, so you are still very much alive. Albeit, maybe you have a few scratches dug into the metal of your neck.

When the two of you are working out your feelings after that event, Belphie struggles with two things. One, that you forgive him since you've been betrayed by close friends multiple times due to a virus, and two, that your body is kind of hard. The first one is really something he'll have to come to terms with, but he does make efforts in order to make your body a more comfortable pillow. If you let him, he'll start buying you really plush and comfortable clothes. Though, he won't argue that you are his favourite napping spot without the plush clothes in the hotter times, since you are very cool to the touch.

You know how Beel would carry you quite a bit? It's probably because of how often he'd carry Belphie around. And now, since you've got the strength, you've taken on the mantle of also carrying around the Avatar of Sloth.

He's tried to climb into bed with you before, but it's a little uncomfortable for him to weave through the charging cables to reach you. Hopefully you didn't have plans for the day after Belphie does this, because he's going to want plenty of cuddles once you wake up for his efforts.

Belphie comforts you in a different way than his brothers, instead giving you plenty of sweet dreams if you desire them, ones in which you feel the things you miss about being fully human. He'll be open to talk about it if you want, but he finds his first method the easiest for him personally. He tends to get a little teary eyed when he thinks about the Fall.

Side-note: After the exchange program ended, he made a small plushie version of you to sleep with in your place. Inside of it is a programmed clock that lets him know when it's the time to call you on the D.D.D. that Diavolo let you take with you, and an inner frame that replicates the stiffness of your body a little.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

*Temperance is away, cleaning up a stain on the carpet. You wonder how they can see it with how dark it is in here.*

(Here we are Anon! I hope you enjoyed!. I did my best, but most of my knowledge about PGR doesn't go to far past the beginning chapters. My friend helped me a lot with certain lore corrections though! If you want anything changed, send me an ask and let me know! Edit: Apologies Anon! I didn't notice I put this in the queue instead of auto-posting it, so it came out a little later than expected. Sorry about that! <3 )

[frogkitchen-the-archive]

life feels hard and unforgiving sometimes so here’s some highlights just from a single day from last week to remind anyone out there that life is still worth living and enjoying, and there are plenty of kind people :)

I stopped at the grocery store (different from where I work) to kill time waiting for my second bus. I found some jeans in the clothing section, but wanted to know how much they were, so i went to the dressing rooms where two older women working then had a friendly battle to see who could log into their scanner first to check the price, it was really fun

After the second bus, theres a short half mile walk to my work, and as i was passing by businesses on the way (it was like 9:30am), one fast food worker opened her window (the drive thru was empty) and waived for me to come over. I ran over and she said she loved my outfit and asked where I got my stuff so I told her the goodwill I go to and where the best clearance stuff I find is. It’s also been heavily raining recently so I told her where the best raincoats are in town

I’m at work doing my (retail) job, and a lady asks me for help. She starts apologizing (a lot) because she couldn’t find an exact photo of what she was looking for, and I told her she doesn’t need to apologize at all! I said if she wanted to stop reflexively apologizing all the time, she can change up the words she uses like I do. When I’m doing something and it takes a while, I say “thank you for helping me/ thank you for waiting,” and it usually works really well. It’s also my job to help people find things in the store so there’s no need to feel guilty about asking for help! In the end I found the bookshelf she wanted and she said that it was good advice that she wants to practice more

Whenever I find something broken or unusable, i bring it up to the front desk and put a sticky note on it saying what’s wrong, usually with a little frowny face. My manager saw me doing this finally and said “so its YOU who’s been leaving this stuff up here!” And i was like oh no! Do you want me to stop? And she replied “nah, honestly I think it’s funny and I like finding this stuff up here. Just wish people would stop breaking our shit.” This new note was on a open bag of chips and said “someone was eating me like a feral animal and then decided to leave the bag :( “

Sometimes when someone breaks an item, especially glass or ceramic, they feel bad and start to try to clean it up themselves. I, trying to be as friendly as possible but still firm, go “NOOO nO don’t touch it, sTOPP >:0 its sharp you need to stay safe” in the most silly way possible to try to distract from the fact that they feel bad. I call for someone to grab a broom and guard the broken pieces while looking at the customer like 👀 dont you dare touch any of the pieces this isn’t your job LOL. I know how quickly one small thing (dropping & breaking something at the store) can really hurt your mood (speaking from experience) so Im very over-the-top silly when it comes to cleaning these accidents. Dropping shit happens! Don’t feel bad lol im rushing in to clean it up >:)

While at the front of the store I was approached by an older man and he said, “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but where is the nearest real grocery store?” And when I tell you i SNORTED and said “nah that’s not rude, I don’t get any of my meat or produce from here,” and told him the nearest store with actual fresh produce and meat was a little bit further down the street.

Whenever I’m working and friends come in, they pretend not to know me to some degree so I can put on my retail face for a moment and “help” them while they tell me briefly about their day :) and then I actually tell them wherever the stuff they’re looking for actually is located in the store lol

I get asked pretty frequently how I do my hair and how I get it to stay like that, (medium length curly hair that actually holds its curls), to the point where I made a little diagram i keep on my phone of my routine + products I use and recommend, and show it to them to take a picture of or airdrop it to them :) 

It was close to closing for the front cafe department (i am trained for multiple departments and switch during the day sometimes lol) and one of our last customers for the night was very unsure of what she wanted to drink. Since we throw out most of the tea for the night, i broke out the little sample cups and let her try allll of them so she could narrow down her choices. Halfway through trying them, she asked “do you do this all the time?” And I was like “no, usually it’s too busy, but we’re about to close and I want you to get a good experience & drink out of this” :) she laughed at that and decided on a peach tea lemonade w/ another fruit drink mixed in it.

Leaving work I went to say goodbye to a handful of my coworkers, as per my routine, and my one coworker always gives me a cup of whip cream and a fork. I never asked her to do this but she’s started it as part of her routine so I’ve accepted it into mine. I take the cup home with me and put the whip cream on a little bowl of fruit every night :)

[futures-tense]

What did you think about the new lone star episode? I like reading your opinions because I always agree with them lol

Oh my god babe im so glad you asked because I probably would have told you anyway

SO there was a lot,,, like a lot of thoughts that I had to write them all down and the Owen thoughts will be at the end, because I know thats what you’re here for

- CAPTAIN JUDD

- Marjan being ✨pretty✨

- “Husband? You guys are babies.”

- Its the Tarlos Teasing for me, and the way TK pushes Carlos away I’m- these boys are so soft

- Paul called them Tarlos I’m-

- Someone give Marjan a hug please, I want to give her a hug

- I have a lot of experience painting rooms myself instead of professionally and like,,, Owen literally taped EVERYTHING it was so unnecessary anyway-

- “What the hell are you doin here?” Go off Judd I’m begging you

- also the way Marjan looked at Owen when he’s spouting off orders at them cause she knows thats not his job at the moment and he should just not

- “Ride or Die bitches” queens supporting queens

- The Sun and Salt reopening!!

- There’s a major lack of my favorite Bernese Mountain Dog

- Marjans outfits are iconic as always

- The way she’s starting to breakdown but still manages to save her life and do her job despite the fact that she has every right to be mad at the girl but she’s not because thats just Marjan

- Carlos’s lil wink when TK goes “Crisis Averted!!”

Now for my Owen (Derogatory) thoughts

If you don’t agree with this that’s fine, I don’t expect everyone to, so just keep scrolling my love thanks

- So Gabriel talking about the arsonist’s profile (narcissistic, who thinks he’s so much smarter etc etc) and how perfectly it fits owen i just- More on that later

- Owen could at least pretend to have a poker face, like TK didnt have to get him anything but he did because he knows how difficult being away from work will be for him. Because TK (unlike others) pays attention

- Owen to Billy: I can’t imagine [listening to the scanner app thing] is very good for your mental health.

Me: dont you even start Mr. Tequila Time

- Owen and his stupid hero complex

- Owen Just casually making bombs and starting fires in his backyard exactly the way the arsonist started them just to prove a point

- Imagine being an ass to someone who’s not willing to break the law because he needs to keep his benefits because- ya know- he’s sick

- The way Owen said “I just need to make a stop” or run an Errand or whatever like he’s just running to the supermarket instead of breaking multiple laws and is only building the case against himself

- This might be really bad to say but like,,, if he isn’t at least convicted with the breaking and entering i might lose my mind

Owen literally said “here’s the physical description of the arsonist” and then described himself. AND THEN WENT “Here’s a mental profile of the most arsonists” and then described himself AGAIN. THEN he went out and bought bomb making materials and thought “well I’ll show them exactly how the arsonist set off the incendiary and then i’ll break more laws to prove it again. And they’ll celebrate me because I figured it out” and he’s probably right but like And then he was arrested and i smiled cause he’s a dumbass. There’s literally means (all the stuff he bought, the fact that he knew exactly how it works and how to set it off and and and), opportunity (he’s basically jobless for the next three weeks so), motive (mmm, he’s a bored sociopath?).

anyway that was a lot and im sorry but im so glad you enjoy hearing my thoughts about this because I have a lot of them and i like to talk about them

[pbandjesse]

It was very warm today! But I felt very cute. I did my best to not fall apart because I was to warm. I fell apart for other reasons but you know. Can't win them all.

I slept okay. I felt pretty good when I woke up but I for sure need to start stretching again. My back and hips have been hurting me. And the few tiny stretches help a lot so I know a more structured stretch when I get up will help a lot more.

I got dressed and was determined to wear a harness with my dress. Every time I see someone online do it I am just like that is the coolest thing and I want to look like the cool girls from the internet. And I think it looked great.

I made half a bagel and headed to the museum. There was some confusion with the start time but it was fine in the end. I had an excellent drive in. I'm at my favorite part of the MCR playlist so far. And I got to the museum without an issue.

I was just watching Aubrey today so it wasn't like I had a ton to do. I did some supplies. I helped set up tables. And chatted with my friends. It was good.

The group was sweet. I would end up helping with the assembly line a lot more then I was scheduled too. But that's fine. I liked doing one side of the line and the kids did a great job.

We had a little break. And while Aubrey was ushering them to lunch I went and got things set up in the next classroom. I also decided I would do a printmaking project tomorrow at Puhtok so I borrowed the carving tools I have there before I went to have my little break.

The rest of the day was mostly watching. Giving tips. And enjoying watching the kids make roller coasters. It was fun but I was a little in my head.

I started getting really bad anxiety about camp. I had running thoughts and half convinced myself that I had done something wrong and that I wasn't actually going to work at camp this year and they were going to tell me tomorrow and be like. NVM we don't actually need you this year. And I was working myself up so much I decided I should just email Alexi directly.

And because she's amazing she emailed me back within like 3 minutes. She was like. Jesse you didn't do anything wrong! We are so excited to have you back! And I was just like. Washed me relief. She said I could make a wishlist for supplies and I would do that this afternoon. But I felt so much better.

I would watch the desk for James so they could go get us 711 pizza. The ticket taking is always fine but I flounder without gift shop sales. Because not everything has barcodes and you have to find the scanner paper and I am just so bad at it.

Mike came and helped. But James would come back pretty quickly and I felt very dumb so I was glad they could take over again.

I went to the education office to have my little lunch and then did car parts supplies while I chatted with my coworkers about the wedding and Stardew valley and the places we like to eat in town.

Me and Aubrey did some more oysters and put away some stuff before it was time to go. I went to kiss James's head before I headed back out into the world. And headed home.

When I got back here I saw from outside that Mr Will put an ac unit in our living room. Which I didn't want but I appreciated him doing it still. I dont want to put all of his business out there but he apparently had a small stroke. I am devastated about this. He has no paralysis but possibly some blindness? I did not get to see him today though and I'm really sad about that. I am going to make him some cookies.

And James would move the ac to our bedroom when they got home. Which is what I wanted originally.

I did some cleaning and made sure I had things ready for tomorrow. For the market and puhtok and everything. I wiped down the kitchen. And put on the couch cover. Tidied up a while. And put some stuff in the trunk for camp. Clothes and a few things. It's not the final stuff but it's a start!

I got a little overheated. I sat down and tried to do some knitting. I got two rows of the 3 I was supposed to. But it was hard to sit with the yarn on my lap. I was just very uncomfortable.

I decided to take a quick shower and that helped a lot. Plus putting on a fan. And I would play Stardew until James got home.

They had stopped at the bike store to do some networking for the museum. And we're all sweaty but it was still nice to have them with me. And they would make me breakfast for dinner! Love that.

I took my nail polish off and made the list for camp. Texted with CJ for a while because she's coming over on Sunday. I watched James play video games for a little. And then went to work on a new print for Charlotte for her birthday.

I have been hanging out since then. I have to wake up early early but that's alright. It is going to be a long day. But I am looking forward to all the parts of it. So wish me luck. It's the first day of the farmers market and then I'm heading to puhtok for the first day of the year. I am excited.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves in the heat!!

[cummingforkylo]

I was wondering, if you could write a Kylo and reader smut where he’s got the readers back like presses against his front while he’s fucking her and maybe chokes her a bit. Cause like. I need they in my life. Maybe even someone like Hux walks in on them? I really just need some rough dominant kylo smut in my life. 🤪😍 your writing is amazing by the way

Okay so I may have wrote something really long, really smutty and like...really terrible. Like...Kylo is not even kind of a good guy in this. So I mixed this request with another one: “hey!!! Love love LOVE your blog!! 😍 alsooo could you write something in which Kylo and reader are not really together but they have really really rough sex and kinda dub con but not really and the reader asks him to stop bc it’s hurting a little too much and kylo realises and starts being super soft™️ and kissing her and saying he’s sorry?” but like...god he does not say sorry and is not soft. So maybe this isn’t anything either of you want, its entirely self indulgent, annndd actually kind of personal? But it is SUPER long so you know:

Following Rating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon/noncon, nasty sex, throat fuckingWord count: 2,234Prompt/summary:rough dominant Kylo, mildly obsessed reader. 

Your mind was always filled with daydreams, plans, fantasies, impossible ones but you couldn’t help but indulge them. You had lived on and off Star Destroyers and other ships your whole life. You mother was a highly regarded engineer, your father, the Captain of a Dreadnaught, they were decorated veterans of the Empire and now decorated in The First Order. You were supposed to follow in their footsteps, be smart, powerful, courageously  wage war agains the Resistance, but you couldn’t find that drive in you. What motivated you was the love of language, of stories, fantasies, and people. You always felt too connected with people to be part of the cold regime of the First Order. You couldn’t detach yourself the way others could, you couldn’t let go of your empathy. Your daydreams and feelings had always been a source of frustration in your parents, you were born into a good family, a good name with the chance to really make a name for yourself, they gave you all the opportunities. The best education. The best introductions. Yet, you still struggle.

You still lived in your father’s quarters on the Supremacy while you finished your schooling, but you had begun to fixate on something, The Supreme Leader. You didn’t see him often, but when you caught glimpses of him around the ship your imagination would run wild. You wondered what he was like, if he was really as hot tempered as everyone said, you wondered at how powerful he was and you tried to understand how someone so outwardly beautiful could be as dark and twisted as everyone said he was. You didn’t believe it so you did something stupid. You took to following him around the ship. You tried to stay back from him and of course, you could never go into rooms you didn’t have clearance to enter, but you lagged behind him as he walked through the halls. You listened to his hushed conversations with Generals and other leaders within the First Order.

You ever started to write about him, just little notes about the way he moved or the tilt of his head as he listened to something he didn’t like. Nothing of significance to anyone but yourself. You kept it all on your datapad, not thinking about if anyone would be able to read it. You were finishing writing something down in the hallway right after he had ducked into a door you couldn’t follow him through when the door unexpectedly opened with a blast of air. You jumped so bad you nearly dropped your datapad and you tried to step towards the wall so Kylo wouldn’t notice you but it was too late, he had stepped into your path, towering over you.

“Are you following me?” He asked, his voice filled with a dark anger.

“N-No!” You said immediately, but your voice was shaking. Kylo’s eyes darted over your face, taking you in.

“Then how come every time I turn around, I see you?” he asked, he took a step towards you, you stepped back but it didn’t do much, he was still directly in front of you. Your heart thudded in your chest hard, you had thought you had been so sneaky, you had thought no one noticed. That was obviously not the case.

“I…” You didn’t know what to say, you had no explanation. His dark brown eyes seemed black with anger and there was a spark of electricity that ran through his expression. His energy crackled with instability. It was everything that had attracted you to him in the first place. You swallowed, searching for something to say. You were at a loss though.

“Nothing to say?” he asked.

“I don’t f-follow you.” You insisted. His mouth twisted into a grimace at the lie and he lifted his hand. There was a moment where you wondered what he was doing but then he was in your mind. You felt as though your skull might crack open from the pressure. It came in waves that staggered you, you stumbled backwards again and your back in the wall. He must have followed you because as you tried to force your eyes open to look at him, he was still right in front of you. Each thought of him was pulled to the forefront of your mind, your attraction, your curiosity, your admiration, your interest, and your writing. The vice grip on your mind released in a whoosh and a gasp. You leaned forward, trying to catch your breath,

“Insolent, girl.” He snarled and his hand closed around your datapad. You lunged for it but your hand froze in the air, it tensed there, completely locked up. Panic swept through you as he looked at the datapad, scrolling through your pages of notes on…him. There were things in there that you would have never admitted to anyone. “You stupid girl, did you think I didn’t notice you lurking around me?” he asked, looking up from the datapad. He dropped it onto the ground, it didn’t smash but the screen went dark.

Kylo released the Force that had been holding you but his hand found your upper arm. His fingers closed in a vice grip reminiscent of what he had done to your mind earlier. He drags you away from the wall, across the hall to the door he had come out of. He placed his other palm against the scanner and the doors whooshed open again. He marched you inside and shoved you so hard that you lost your balance and fell to the ground in front of him.

“If you’re so obsessed with knowing the real me, why don’t I show you?” He asked, his voice had a tiny tremor in it, like he was trying to keep himself under some control.

“No, I didn’t mean-please!” You gasped but he strode up to you and grabbed the back of your head, his other hand worked on his trousers, unbuckling them with a swift precision. You found yourself in a position you had thought about a number of times.You were stiffened by fear much more now than you had been in your fantasies but at the same time, liquid excitement gathered in your belly. It made your nipples go stiff, it made your heart beat a little faster-or maybe that was the fear.

“I thought this is what you wanted, you dirty slut.” His breathing was rough, that strained lilt in his voice echoed in your mind. His hand had worked his pants down by now and the size of his cock panicked you and turned your bones to mush.  “You fantasized about it, little girl. You’ve never been fucked by anyone and yet you thought about getting on your knees and pleasing my cock, haven’t you?” he asked. He didn’t need to ask, he had seen it. He had watched your fantasies in your mind. “It’s almost endearing. Your obsession.” He said. Your face was hot with embarrassment and tears welled up, making your eyes prickle and you lip tremble. You had no words.

“I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what? Want this?” His hand curled into your hair, his fingers scraped your scalp as he gathered a fistful of it. “We both know that isn’t true.” He said through a nasty chuckle. You hated that he was right. “Open your mouth before I lose patience.” He said. His fist in your hair dragged you down towards his cock, your mouth opened almost instinctually and you felt the warmth of the tip of his cock thrust into your mouth. His hips rocked forward and his cock entered your mouth, enveloped in heat and wetness. Your tongue circled his head, while your lips struggled to wrap around how thick his cock was. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling you unquestioningly forward, the tip pressed into the back of your throat. Spit filled your mouth, slipping in streams and rivulets down out of your mouth and down the sides of his cock. You gagged and tried to pull back. His hand at the back of your head an immoveable barrier, keeping you locked on his cock.

You couldn’t breath, your body screamed for release from choking on the intrusion in your throat. Your throat contracted around his cock, tears streamed out of your eyes. Kylo ripped your head back from his cock and you sucked in air finally. You nearly retched. He caught your face in his hand, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and his fingers.

“Do you think I’m as dark as everyone says I am, yet?” his deep voice rolled out of him and that sparking energy around him burned through you.

“Yes,” you managed to garble out through your spit and tears. You regretted every thought you had had about him, everything you wrote wondering if he was really as fearful as everyone said seemed so foolish now.

“I dont think you understand just yet.” He said. He shoved you down by your hair, pushing you onto all fours.

“No, no, no no!” you sobbed, realizing what he was doing you struggled forward but he caught your hips in his big hands, keeping you in place. You said no, but your body was a traitor and it was screaming yes. Kylo’s hands shoved your skirt up. It would only take a flick of his hand and he would see your shame, he would see how excited you had gotten by being used by him. Kylo must have head this in your thoughts because his hand paused in its movements,

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you, little slut?” he asked. You whined, unable to manage something else. He knew it was true. He could see your mind. There was no use arguing, and he was going to use you even more. You wanted it and didn’t at the same time. Your cunt was throbbing with need but you remembered his size, you remembered how rough he was and ice daggers of fear spiked through you.

“You write all about me, about how you know I would make you feel good and now you can’t even manage a ‘yes sir’ ? Disgusting.” Kylo ripped your underwear down and you moaned in shame, pleasure and fear. Course leather ran over your exposed pussy, dipping into the folds. He knelt behind you, your fear and burning pleasure mounted at the same time. He pressed the head of his cock against you, running it along your slit, it grazed against your clit and you yelped at the sensitive bundle of nerves being touched without warning. Involuntarily your hips shimmed back towards his cock,

“You nasty girl. If your cunt didn’t look so inviting I wouldn’t bother giving you what you want.” He growled. You wanted to sob that it wasn’t what you wanted, that you couldn’t take his cock but you doubted it would matter to him. He shoved himself forward and the breath was kicked out of you in a gasp. He filled your whole pussy, he had buried his  whole cock deep inside of you in one thrust. There was no room left for motion, you were sure of it. Pleasure, pain and a mix of desperation and distress filled your body, you felt weak and unable to move. His cock felt like it would split you in half but you could also feel how lubricated you were.

“Your cunt  is so tight,” he gasped, he started to drag his cock back out, looking down at it. “You didn’t even bleed, little girl. You’re just that desperate.” He growled. Your pussy was burning with the stretch, burning with the pleasure. His cock smacked into you again, you felt garbled, uncontrollable and lost. You felt like you were unfurling underneath him, your fantasies becoming reality was too much and you were losing your mind each time he slammed into you. Each thrust sent your jerking forward. Your face pressed into the floor and he held your hips up as he rocked into you. Your breath came out in gasps or low pained moans,

“Oh…ah…Oh! No! Oh…” each thrust sent fireworks bursting under your skin, not only in a good way, not only in a burning pain. All of the above.  Kylo leaned over your back, pressing his lips to your ear,

“Do you think you understand me now?” He asked. You sobbed in response. His fingers closed into your hair again and he ground your face against the floor. “Do you think I care even a iota about you? Or that you’re sobbing on my floor?” His hips hadn’t slowed, they snapped into you again and again and again.

“No!” you sobbed.

“Good job, whore. You’ve gotten one thing right.” He snarled, his hips smacked into yours over and over. Pleasure washed over you, but it was like an out of body pleasure. You could feel your own orgasm mounting. He must have heard this, “No. You don’t get to cum.” His hips sped again and the pleasure mingled with pain once again. With his hand in your hair, tugging your head back from the floor now he thrust one last time inside before ripping away, leaving your cunt dripping and clenching on air. Hot ropes of cum spilled over your back, ass and up into your hair. Kylo smacked your ass and stood up.

“Get out.” He said.

[ask-them-bois]

Ancient Sounds 2/5

AS.pt1

Oliver took a deep, steadying breath, running his tongue over his lips as he waited. The chill of the ice rink slipped under his clothes and ghosted over his skin, making him shiver. He adjusted his stance, his bloodpumper thudding against his thoratic cage. He never felt blinder than when he was on the ice; the cold negated every scent, and at the moment the rink was dead quiet. His cane was sat on a bench outside the field.

Yet, with the anticipation turning his blood hot, he’d never felt more alive. The music started with a burst of fanfare over the speakers, and Oliver shot off across the ice. One moment he stood near the wall, the next he was gliding halfway across the rink. The music thrummed in his ears as he spun about and leaped like a ribbon dancer, coming down cleanly on a practiced, one-footed landing, only to bend back further than should be natural.

She laughed, unbridled glee shaking her apart as she threw her arms up, reaching for the invisible audience in the empty stands. She went with the momentum she’d built, flipping onto her hands. A twist, jump, and she was back on her feet, dashing forward and spinning. The music swelled as she reached behind herself and grabbed her leg.

She stopped in place and spun, spun, spun, one hand up, palm raised to the ceiling. As the music crashed into its climax she crouched and threw herself skyward once more, arms spread like she was flying, before she rolled forward into a flip and landed once more on her feet.

She couldn’t see it, but she could imagine her cape flowing out behind her, glimmering like fire as the warm colored glitter caught the spotlights. The gems and sequins on her uniform sparkled, setting her limbs aflame like the wings of a phoenix.

The music began to fade as they soared in circles, until the track stopped completely. They stopped, too, panting, and lit up at the scattered applause to their right.

“Well done, master Maddel, as always!” One of Oliver’s entourage called; the goldblood, from the sound of it. Oliver flashed her a charming smile and skated towards her voice, one hand out. Their fingers tapped the low wall around the rink and they grabbed it, coming to a stop.

“Thank you, darling, did you like that?” He purred, leaning his elbows on the wall.

“Yes, ma’am, that was spectacular.” Another troll chipped in.

“Thank you so much, my dear. It’s a little more basic than the dance I did earlier, but it won me a competition a few sweeps ago. Could one of you hand me a hydration cylinder, pretty please?” Oliver purred, her voice giggly and sweet. She heard a flurry of movement, then the cool metal of the soda can was pressed against her arm.

She took it with another sugary, “Thank you, darling!” and cracked the tab before taking a sip.

“When’s your next performance, master Maddel?” The goldblood asked.

“I’m afraid it won’t be for a while, my sweet, I’m all tied up in some other business at the moment.” Oliver told her forlornly, setting his soda down. “Speaking of, what time is it?”

“It’s just past midnight, sir.”

“Ah, then I’m afraid I need to get going, I’ve been practicing since the sun went down, and I have a video date with my precious morail I don’t want to be late for.”

“How will you video date if you can’t-” The goldblood began, only to be abruptly cut off; by the ‘smack’ sound, Oliver could guess someone had covered her mouth.

“Can’t see?” Oliver finished for her, before he chuckled, turning and skating for the nearby gate, “I don’t need eyes to hear my beloved’s words, do I?”

“N- no, ma’am, I suppose not.” The goldblood said meekly.

Oliver only chuckled again. The gate beeped, signaling he’d arrived next to it, and he pushed it open. Stepping out onto the rubbery ground, he carefully and somewhat awkwardly walked to the bench across from him. He sat, easily untying and removing the skates.

She flexed out her toes, relieved, and felt around. On the bench next to her laid her cane and purse, both of which she scooped up, along with her skates. “Good night, my loves!” She said cheerfully, shouldering her purse and headed for the locker rooms.

When they shouldered their way into their VIP locker room, they tapped their way towards the showers, stripping down as they went and dropping their purse and skates on a chair. A quick rinse, and they stepped out, grabbing a towel from the waiting pile.

He toweled off as he headed for his locker, scooping up his uniform as he went. He pressed his thumb to the scanner and it popped open, and Oliver traded their skates for their street clothes.

Binder, jumpsuit, cape, and white band were traded for bra, a band shirt, and skinny jeans. He tied an olive green band around his eyes before slipping a pair of pumps on his feet and brushing out his hair.

She sighed, relieved to be out of uniform, and pinched the collar of her shirt, pulling it up to her sniffnub and inhaling deeply. The shirt smelled like her morail’s cologne and detergent; probably because she’d stolen it from him. With a laugh, she grabbed her purse and cane and headed for the door again. She slipped out the rink’s front door, in time to hear the scuttlebuggy pull up.

“Good evening, master Maddel.” The driver said as they emerged from the buggy and walked around to open the door.

“Good evening, darling.” Oliver replied, hand out. The driver took his hand and helped him into the carriage, before shutting the door and walking back towards the front seats.

“Where to, sir?” The driver asked as they got in.

“Home.”

“Yes, sir.”

The scuttlebuggy started up and began to move, and Oliver opened his purse and dug out his palmhusk and a pair of earbuds. He slipped them into his ears and turned the screen on.

“Home screen.” The buds informed him, “Two new messages, four missed calls.” With practiced fingers, Oliver pulled up Trollian and pressed a button. The buds promptly began reading out the messages:

-HeavymetalMeowbeast began trolling SightlessFirebird!-

HM: HEY BABE!!!! HM: GUESS WHAT?!?! I FOUND SOMETHING I THINK YOURE GONNA LOVE!! MESSAGE ME BACK ASAP!! LOVE YOU!! <>

-HeavymetalMeowbeast is idle-

Oliver smiled softly, thumbing the speech-to-text option. They raised the palmhusk closer and began to speak.

SF: Hello, sugargrub~. What is it you want to tell me~?

They waited, and were not disappointed by the swift response, which the buds quickly read out:

HM: OKAY OKAY OKAY SO!!!! HM: YOU KNOW YOUR ANCESTOR, THE DEADSCAR DUDE?!?! FUCKING EPIC NAME BY THE WAY!!! ANYWAY, I DECIDED TO DO SOME DIGGING ABOUT MY OWN BLOODLINE AND YOULL NEVER FUCKING GUESS WHO MY ANCESTOR IS!!!!!!!

SF: Hmm~. You’re right, darling, I can’t guess~. Do tell, though~.

HM: HIS NAME IS DMITRI “THE HIEROPHANT” AKSHAI, AND HE WAS THE FUCKING FOUNDER OF THE BLACK HAND!!!!! HOW FLIP FUCKING COOL IS THAT?!?!?

SF: Very 7lip 7ucking cool~. Did you 7ind out anything else~?

Oliver smiled softly to herself; she knew her morail’s ancestry already, she’d just neglected to mention it to him. Why else would she have chosen him as a morail? As her second in command at the Black Hand? Well… that’s why she chose him at first, but he’d grown on her exponentially since then. Not that he needed to know that.

HM: YEAH I DID!! I FOUND SOME CONNECTIONS OF HIS!! GOOD NEWS FOR US, MOST OF THEM ARE ALREADY BACK!!! MAYBE WE CAN TALK TO THEM, SEE WHAT THEY KNOW??? OR, I GUESS YOUD HAVE TO, SINCE IM ON TOUR!! YOU DONT HAVE TO THO!!

SF: Well, it depends~. Who are his connections~?

HM: OKAY GET THIS!! I FOUND RECORDS OF NONE OTHER THAN HOUNDING, BLUEGILL, SOME GUY NAMED BRIGAN, A DUDE CALLED THE IMPERIAL ENFORCER, AND A DUDE NAMED BLADEPEN!!!! HOW FUCKING COOL OF A NAME IS THAT?!?! HM: ANYWAY, COULDNT FIND MUCH ON THE LAST TWO, THEY WERE BARELY MENTIONED IN THE RECORDS I FOUND!!! SOME KIND OF COVER UP??? NOT TOTALLY SURE!! HM: ANY OF THEM RING A DONGSHOUTER??

SF: Hm~… Yes, I believe several o7 those ring a dongshouter~. Well done, BB, I’ll dig around and see what I can 7ind~.

HM: OKAY!! WE STILL ON FOR DATE NIGHT LATER???

SF: Absolutely, my love~. <> You’ll see me in a 7ew hours~.

HM: LMAO, OKAY!!! PALE FOR YOU OLLY!! TTYL!! <>

-HeavymetalMeowbeast ceased trolling SightlessFirebird!-

Oliver purred, raising his head as he felt the scuttlebuggy come to a stop.

“We’re here, sir.” The driver said, parking the vehicle and getting out. Oliver nodded, gathering his things and getting out of the buggy with the driver’s help.

“Thank you, dear.” They told the driver, pressing a few bills into their hand before they tapped their way to their hivestem’s front doors.

He pulled a card from his purse and took a moment to locate the scanner, before pressing the card against it. The scanner beeped, and he heard the doors swish open in front of him. He headed for the vertical ascension box, thumbing the button.

His fingers drummed against the head of his cane as he waited, humming to himself. When the box pinged, signaling the doors had opened, he ducked inside. He felt for the panel and ran his fingers upwards, until he felt the correct number under his fingers and pressed it.

The doors shut, and the box began to rise. As she waited, Oliver clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, thinking. Finally, the ride ended, and the doors opened. Oliver stepped out, into her own hive.

Oliver’s hive was a vast, penthouse apartment near the top of the hivestem. From what he’d been told, it had a lovely view of the city on one side, and the mountains on the other. He had everything, from a large mealblock to a hot tub on the balcony, to an entire block converted into an aviary for his pets and lusus.

After dropping his purse on the loungeplank, he headed to the mealblock and dug leftovers out of his mealvault. Thin slices of sashimi, cooked just enough to sear a crust of spices along the edges, and a bowl of sugar-glazed scarabs.

Oliver hummed, carrying his dinner to his studio slash office, and set it down next to his husktop, which he boot up. Popping a scarab in his mouth, he picked up a small remote and clicked it. He heard a beep, and his audio-crate began playing music at a low volume; it was thundering, screeching heavy metal, with intense bass and drums. A moment later, Oliver’s morail’s voice started howling out lyrics.

Smiling to themself, Oliver heard their husktop beep to indicate it was on and ready. With the screen reader as a guide, they located the desktop Trollian and opened it.

-SightlessFirebird began trolling TheDecaying!-

SF: Hello, my lovely dear Brigan~! You do not know me, but I am a 7riend, in dire need of your assistance~. I need in7ormation~.

There was a pause, before the husktop pinged.

TD: Wh_ is Brigan?

Oliver frowned.

SF: You are, my dear~.

TD: I am wh_?

SF: You are Brigan~!

TD: I am?

Oliver sighed, beginning to wonder if this was a good idea.

SF: Yes, my love, and I want to know- have you ever heard of a man called the Hierophant~?

TD: Wh_ are y_u?

SF: I am a 7riend, as I said~. Do you know the Hierophant~?

There was another pause, much longer than the first. Oliver began to get concerned after several minutes ticked by; he’d nearly finished his plate of sashimi by the time his husktop pinged.

TD: I d_ n_t kn_w y_u. Th- magg_ts whisp-r y_u ar- n_t t_ b- trust-d. A blind bird dr-ss-d in flam-s will _nly b- c_nsum-d by what mak-s th-m pr-tty. Fir-s di- wh-n th-y ar- suff_cat-d. Th- Hi-r_phant fl-w _n wax wings, t__ cl_s- t_ th_ flint and st--l that lit y_ur f-ath-rs, and n_w h- burns.* *(I do not know you. The maggots whisper you are not to be trusted. A blind bird dressed in flames will only be consumed by what makes them pretty. Fires die when they are suffocated. The Hierophant flew on wax wings, too close to the flint and steel that lit your feathers, and now he burns.)

Oliver sat back, surprised, before he scowled.

SF: So you *did* know him~?

TD: Knew who?

Oliver took a deep breath, a frustrated growl rolling in her throat.

SF: Thank you for your help, Brigan~.

TD: G__dbye, Blind Ph_-nix.

-TheDecaying ceased trolling SightlessFirebird!-

-TheDecaying has blocked SightlessFirebird!-

That was a waste of time, Oliver thought bitterly, mentally scratching Brigan off their list. They tossed another sugar-scarab into their mouth and chewed on it ruefully, thinking.

“An evil god nestled somewhere in time, A bloody spider- no warnings, no signs. Judgement day and the rotten child arrives, Eventually, laid bare are his crimes.

The records went up in flames, no turning back, ‘Cause I just had to see, was the spider’s bite watching me? In the mist, the facts twist, and bones do snap, as I lay on your altar, bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.”

Oliver’s morail’s voice cut through their thoughts and they turned their head towards the radio, which was still playing one of their morail’s albums. Oliver knew that album; Spades of Revolution, their latest release.

“A bloody spider…” Oliver repeated aloud, tapping their claws on the desk, “And a rotten child…” A wicked smile crawled across their face and they turned back to the husktop.

Dismissing the failed conversation, Oliver pulled up a new chatroom.

-SightlessFirebird began trolling WacobaRanchOffical!-

SF: Hello, Mr. Bluegill~. My name is Oliver, and I am a huge 7an o7 your work~. I was wondering i7 I could ask you a 7ew questions~?

Oliver sat back and waited. Having cleared her bowl and plate, she picked them up and took them to the mealblock sink. She stopped by the aviary to feed her birds and lusus, giving them each a minute of attention- they’d get more later, before sunrise- before heading back to the office.

She tapped a button on the side of her mouse, but the screen reader only read back the message she’s sent. She frowned.

SF: Mr. Kappal~? Are you there~? I don’t mean to be a bother, my dear man, I’m just very curious about a 7ew things~.

Still, no response came. Oliver waited several minutes, which stretched onto hours. He went and showered, did his entire hair and skin treatment routine, and got changed into a comfy robe.

When he checked again, nothing, and the clock informed him it was nearly time for his video date with his morail. Nibbling on his lip, he sent a final message.

SF: Well, just get to me when you can, sir~! I hope to hear 7rom you soon~!

No response ever came.

Somewhere, far away, in a hive by the seaside, a husktop pinged three times over the span of several hours. Only one of the residents heard it.

But he couldn’t stop staring at the blood on his hands.

[bridgyrose]

Ruby watched as more grimm filled the streets, looking towards the sky with a bit of regret. Black and red storm clouds started to roll in from the distance, the cracking of thunder could already be heard: the signs that Salem was already on her way over to Atlas. 

Watts shook his head as he watched Ruby, pulling out his scroll to start running through the security cameras around Mantle. “Regretting what you’ve done to that failure of a project, are you?” 

“N-no, of course not,” Ruby replied, her voice breaking as she tried to hide her guilt. “I just… when Salem said she would make her way to Atlas, I thought we’d have more time. Or it would be less… ominous.” 

Watts took a brief look to the sky, watching the storm clouds. “She does have a thing for the dramatic. Now I understand where Cinder had gotten it from.” 

“You still think she’s dead, dont you?” 

“I can hope.” Watts gave a smirk as he finally managed to bring up the footage of the security cameras up onto his scroll. “Ah, here we are. Now, lets see if we can find the best place to send Tyrian.” 

Ruby sighed and walked over to Watts, looking over his shoulder as he started moving from camera to camera. Ironwood’s soldiers could be caught periodically falling to grimm, only for the Happy Huntresses and whoever they could recruit to swoop in. “You know, we could try to create a bigger rift between Mantle and Atlas and take advantage of the chaos before Salem gets here.” 

Watts looked at Ruby curiously. “And what did you have in mind?” 

“Its no secret that Ironwood cant stand the Happy Huntresses, while the citizens of Mantle adore her. If we could stage an attack between his soldiers and them, we just might be able to create enough chaos to sever whatever relations they have left.” 

Watts grinned and started running through his scroll again, connecting to the Mantle network. “It’s a good thing he never updated the network.” 

Ruby nodded slowly, walking away from Watts and putting her hood up. “I’m going to look to keep an eye out for any more of Ironwood’s soldiers and see if he might have wisened up and sent any human soldiers out. The last thing we need is for him to complicate things further.” 

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Penny tried to keep herself calm as she kept to Winter’s side, the voice in the back of her mind starting to get louder. She found herself looking behind her, trying to find where the voice was coming from, her hands starting to twitch as they seemed to move outside of her control.

“They’re lying to you, always lying.” 

Penny finally had enough, pulling out her swords and glaring at the figures behind her.  “Stop it, all of you!” 

“Penny, there’s no one there,” replied Winter, keeping her voice calm as she put a hand on Penny’s shoulder.

Penny paused for a moment, her vision shifting as she watched the figures disappear, leaving an empty hallway. She slowly put her swords back into her pack, letting out a heavy sigh. “I… I am sorry, Winter.” 

Winter sighed and pulled her hand away. “Maybe its time you take a break from all of this. I know it hasnt been easy trying to keep Mantle safe on your own and now everything that’s going on with Ruby and Salem…” 

“I need to be out there helping others. Helping my friends. And Ruby…” Penny held her arm, trying to keep herself in check. “I still do not believe that she is willingly helping Salem. She would never hurt anyone.” 

“Maybe she wasnt who we all thought she was.” Winter took a deep breath and put her hand on a scanner, watching as it turned green and opened the elevator doors. “But right now, we have to focus on keeping our kingdom safe.” 

Penny slowly nodded, her eyes starting to flash between red and green for a second as she entered with Winter. “I know.” 

Winter pressed a button for the lowest floor for the elevator, the doors closing behind her as the elevator came to life and started heading down. She stood with her hands behind her back, her eyes giving off a slight glow as wisps of light trailed the edges. 

Penny paused for a moment after the elevator stopped, opening up to an open room with a large door on the other side. She looked around, taking everything in. “Where are we?” 

Winter walked down the steps and towards a small walkway that led to the vault door. “This… is the vault for the scepter. General Ironwood has a plan to keep Atlas safe, however he needs us to use this relic.” 

“Did our friends not say that if we used this, Atlas would fall?” asked Penny as she followed behind Winter.

“Atlas would fall, if we were planning to use it for any other purpose.” Winter slowly put her hand to the door, her eyes lighting up as the maiden powers came to life. The vault door came to life as it lit up in blue, each metal section folding away to show the relic, safe and sound. “However, he wants us to raise Atlas higher. To buy us time to find a way to stop Salem.” 

Penny took a step past the doorway, her body seizing up as she did. A loud noise bombarded her sound receptors, causing her to cover her ears and drop to her knees. Her body shook as pain flooded through her synthetic skin. 

The voice came back into her mind, repeating a single phrase over and over, getting louder with each one: “Take the relic.” 

“No! I.. will not…” 

Winter hesitated for a moment as she reached out to the relic, turning to face Penny. “Penny? Penny!” She rushed over to her friend, only stopping once she saw Penny’s swords fly into the air. “What’s going on?” 

Penny’s eyes flashed between red and green as she held her head, fighting for control of her body. “Winter… please… I… I need… help…” 

Winter slowly moved close enough to put a hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I’m here Penny. Tell me what you need me to do.” 

The room went quiet as Penny went still, her body powering down. The silence broke once her swords hit the ground, the sound of clanking metal echoed through the room. 

Winter slowly moved her hand away from Penny, watching her for a moment. “Penny? Are you-?” 

Winter was quickly interrupted as Penny’s body whirred back to life, the once green lights glowing a bright red. Penny slowly stood up, moving her hands off her head and her swords came back up into the air. “Give me… the relic.” 

Winter took a step back, pulling out her sword. “Penny, I know you’re still in there.” 

Penny frowned and took a step closer to Winter, immediately falling over and screaming in pain once more as the lights on her body started flickering between red and green. “I… I need… the relic…. I wont… everything hurts…” 

“Penny, what’s going on?” 

Penny sent a sword towards Winter, stopping it an inch from her face. “I do not… know… cannot… fight it…” 

Winter took a deep breath, summoning a few glyphs around Penny. “You’ll be fine. I’ll take you to Pietro-” 

Winter was interrupted once again, this time with a sword coming to her side. Penny looked up to watch the sword be deflected with a glyph, her vision slowly starting to distort as she watched figures surround her, no longer recognizing Winter. Her voice started to fill with panic as she flew up into the air, spinning her blades around her. “Give me the relic!” 

Winter sighed as she started creating an icy wind around her. “I… cant do that.” 

Penny’s eyes went to a solid red just as she started speeding towards Winter. 

[dyke-remy]

Live And Let Die, part 4

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3   Part 5   Part 6

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Note: If anyone tags this as r/mr/m I will hunt them for sport

Words: 4853

6 years ago

Remus looked out of the car window. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be here. This was the wrong place. The wrong time. Maybe he should make the car turn around.

"You still here bro?"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder making him jump in his seat. He looked over to the driver. To Roman.

His brother sent him a smile before looking back at the road "Seriously you good? You looked like you were going to mars"

"Just kinda zoning out" Remus replied.

"You took your meds right? I don't want you nearly getting us killed because you were too busy daydreaming about Beetlejuice again"

"He's the man of my dreams Ro-bro!!!.....and yes I have taken them"

"Re-Re I gotta get you a date once we get back. I can Not let Beetlejuice be your standard of men!"  Roman playfully poked his elbow into his ribs "Hey that new Q assistant has been staring at us even since they read our files. I'm sure all it'll take is asking them out and they'll fall head over heels for you"

"They would probably only be interested 'cause of dad" Remus muttered out while crossing his arms "It's always like that. Either that or 'cause of mom"

"At least It's definitely not because of your horribly ugly monster you call a mustache" Roman got a bonk on the head for that.

"Whatever. You go and get yet anotha fling once we get home why dont you. One day you're either gonna get cannibalised or get syphilis. Or both!!!"

Roman let out a gasp "I am far too clean and princely to get syphilis you dirty heathen!!!" He smacked his brother with one arm while driving with the other.

Remus smacked him back "No-oh. Syphilis and gonorre and some weird blue stuff!!"

The smacking got more intense and the prince's gasps and shrieks of defence even louder and nasalier with every sex joke. Until he finally stood on the brakes. The car stopped so suddenly Remus had to hold himself back from flying out the windshield.

"We're here" He simply stated.

Remus let out an overly extra breathe of relief "Finally! Thought my skin was gonna rot off my bones before we got here!"

Roman leaned back and took out his usual weapons from the box sitting in the backseat while continuing to talk.

"Remember: this is a serious mission! Not just some ol' dragon we gotta arrest. Army of fire breathing dragon witches levels of serious. No unnecessary fighting and absolutely no inspecting dead bodies!!"

"You know I can't promise that" Remus replied while stuffing the biggest handgun he'd been able to get his hands (heh) on into the holster stuck onto the side of his waist.

"I know far too frick fracking well"

"PLEase just say fuck!"

"No. Fuck you!!"

They got out of the car. Their feet sank down into the sand the moment they stepped off the gravel road. For dozens of miles around them there was nothing but them, sand and a few even sandier hills.

And of course the statue. That goshdarn statue.

Enfuel, a company with ties to both energy and oil distrubution, had recently bought this random piece of land in the middle of the desert. A statue was placed in the middle of it a year or so later. It looked similar to one of the old egyptic statues and when they looked up information about it all sites said it had been around for hundreds of years. Of course MI6 had satellite pictures to show otherwise.

MI6 had been keeping check on Enfuel for a while. An anonymous worker had been selling them information for months. Even without the leaked information the vast buying of land and spikes of Enfuel employees dying in 'accidents' was enough to rise suspicion.

The agents made their way towards the statue. Guns ready in their hands. No one was around. It was a large one. Over 20 feet wide and at least 15 feet high.

Roman hunched down in the shade from the statue and took out a mechanical gadget he'd gotten from Q. It was a scanner. He placed it on the ground and activated it.

"And now we wait"

"Time to rant and or infodump?" Remus asked.

"Yes but not from you. You got to infodump the last time. It is my time to rant to kill time on a mission!"

He rolled his eyes "Yeah sure go ahead"

His brother instantly went on a long rant about the local theater production he'd landed a role in. It was the first time he'd ever acted. Aside from exercising and his special interest (disney) the theater was the first time he'd ever had a real hobby. His (now ex) boyfriend had been the one to take him to audition after introducing him to (and accidentally making him instantly hyperfixate on) musicals.

"And I just can't wait to-"

He stopped midsentence when the machine made a sound. He was still happy stimming as he checked it.

"Holy zeus" He gasped out.

He showed it to Remus. The scanner had created a blueprint of everything within a 10 feet radius. It clearly showed that there was something built under the ground. There was also an entrance built into the statue.

Remus went over and clicked on a specific point on the statue like the blueprint showed. A keypad appeared. They sent a photo of it to Q. Within minutes he'd somehow been able to come up with the correct code.

He put in the code and a hidden door nearly obscured between two pillars opened up. The brother sent each other excited smiles before entering.

There was a short staircase that led down into a corridor. The walls looked like something they'd find in a mourge and the dim lights shone a cold blue. Roman buttoned up the shirt he had on that was supposed to look like the uniform many Enfuel employees wore.

"Sure doesn't look ancient" Remus muttered.

It was practically a maze of corridors and rooms. Everywhere that cold blue light was the same. None of the rooms they passed seemed to have any important information in them. Having a secret facility wasn't enough for an investigation! It was just aesthetic as fuck!

They aimleesly stumbled around for at least half an hour as they got to the parts the blueprints hadn't showed. They probably walked in circles a few times too. Roman was about to suggest they call up Q when he saw guards, armed guards, out of the corner of his eyes.

He threw out his arm to stop Remus and dragged him back to hide behind a wall. He peeked out and saw how the 2 guards were staying outside a door.

"Bingo" He whispered. He turned to his twin "Wherever there are guards are the important things"

"The juicy secrets!" Remus agreed.

The brothers got out from their hidingspot at the same time. They tried to look casual while walking up to the guards. Right when one of the guards moved to stop them, to ask who they were, Roman took out his gun and shot them in the knee.

Remus elbowed the other guard right between his ribs before pulling his arm around the guard's neck. It didn't take long before he let the guard collapse onto the ground after choking him to unconsciousness.

The other guard feeble sat on the ground with their hands pressed to the wound on their knee. Roman held his gun to their head "Give us the key to the room"

They didn't even hesitate to throw the key over to Remus. They looked up at Roman with pleading eyes. With one swift kick they too laid on the ground knocked out.

The brothers pushed the guards to a good hiding spot in silence. The door opened reveleaing a quite small room but it was filled with computers, databases and of course at least 10 people working on those computers.

All it took was Roman holding up his gun to one of them to make the others freeze in fear. It was very clear that they were just doing their job so Remus tried to go as nice on them as possible when he knocked them out.

"Remind me to request instant sleeping pills from Q" He said after the last one laid still on the ground.

"Noted" Roman replied while barricading the door so no one could get in.

Remus glared at the computer with the biggest screen. He tried to read what was on it but only got a headache and some scattered words. Roman gently pushed him aside.

"It's probably better if I try to find what these guys are up to and you stand guard. Please try to not let me get shot"

"I'll do my worst! Maybe I'll even shoot you myself!" Remus joked.

He looked through the room while hearing Roman mumbling to Q about decoding and taking down firewalls. It didn't take long to realize there was actually a second door in the room. He wasn't sure where it lead but decided to barricade it as well.

"You're still free on Saturday right?" Roman suddenly asked while waiting for Q to hack into the database for him.

Remus rolled his eyes "Nah dude I suddenly got loads of friends and we're all gonna go raid a cemetery and create a zombie army. Supa busy that day sorry"

"Ha Ha" He let out druly "Well the new mission impossible movie is coming out so I kinda thought we could go see it. Y'know cinema caturday like we used to do"

"Oh yeah using our free time away from our spy work to watch a spy movie. Real smart decision Ro-bro"

"It can some other movie! I just wanted to do something" Roman slumped back against the desk so he was leaning on it "I know I've been kinda busy like whenever we're not on missions with the whole theater work-"

"Kinda?!" Remus let out a scratchy laugh "Bro you've been going to that theater like you'll turn to dust if you're not there all the time"

Roman plucked at the green bead bracelet on his wrist "Well it's exciting! I never really thought I could wokr with anything that didn't involve fighting or smugling. It's...nice..getting to do something else. I can't wait until it's time for the premiere and I'll actually get to hear the audience"

"Let's just hope no villain decides to try and take over the world during your perfomance nights" Remus joked. Roman's expression went from excitement to worry "Ro-bro I was kidding. I'm sure if anything happens I can just go with 0012 or something- or I mean like I'll come see you of course I just- It'll be chill!"

There came a silence. There always came a silence after talking about the theater thing. Spending an entire childhood learning about jewel smuggling, self defense and the innerworks of crime made any kind of work that didn't involve any of those shocking enough to warrant silence. Especially after it was Roman's idea to start working at the MI6 as soon as they moved away from their mom and the floating palace at 18.

He'd wanted to be a hero. Remus had just wanted to stay close with his brother.

"But yeah I guess I'm free on Saturday if you wanna go see that movie or whatever" Remus muttered while glancing over to his brother "More surprised that you're not busy honestly"

"Oh I was! Some friends from the theater heard I would get back from 'work' soon and wanted to hang out and I still got that guy who wants to go on a date with me as soon as possible and some guys from the Q branch asked me to test some gadgets for them. But I made sure to clear time in case you said yes" Roman replied with a smile.

"That's....That's....Ro-bro you're a sappy dork you know that right?"

"Of course! That's part of my everlasting and undying charm!"

The conversation was forcibly stopped as Q announced that the code was cracked. Roman flapped his hands in excitement to see the movie, Remus flapped back. They both turned back to what they were doing.

The duke to his surprise noticed a small crack in the wall right next to the door. He couldn't stop his curiosity from taking the better of him and looking through.

On the other side was a big room. There was a long dinner table in the middle with excessive amounts of expensive food on it. There were crystal candelabras hanging from the ceiling. The walls were white just like the floor but there were old paintings decorating the walls.

Most importantly there were 4 people in it. 3 men who looked to be at least 40. All of them were wearing suits but one of them was sitting in a chair by the luxurious table in a glistening dark purple suit. The other two were standing by the table with briefcases gripped in their shaking hands. Remus could see the sweat from nervousness dripping down their neck all the way from where he stood.

Last and least was the fourth person. A young boy, he was at the most 9 years old, sat on another chair by the table. He was holding the hand of the older man. His eyes were hidden by his hair and he had a large hoodie on.

"-So even though there has been someone selling important information about my company you two are 100% certaint that neither of you have destroyed my trust?" The man clad in purple asked.

The two men quickly shook their head. The purple clad man, who happened to be the leader of the Enfuel company, shone up into a wide grin. It was too wide. Too eerie. Not happy. Just sinister.

"How wonderful! I knew I could trust you both!" The leader took out a gun and shot one of the men in the leg.

He fell down on the ground and writhed in pain. The young boy let out a scream and flinched away. The other man bolted for the closest door which instantly made Remus take out a knife and get ready to defend Roman. But before he could get anywhere the leader had pressed a button on his chair which made all doors lock.

"I heard that the MI6 were on to us because of you fools running your mouths" The leader said while standing up. Remus nearly chuckled at how right he was.

The shot man simply cried while the other got down on his knees and begged "Please please I'll do anything. I have a family. I have 2 kids. I can- please don't kill me"

"How funny, I have a kid too" The leader held out his hand "Son come here"

The young boy quickly ran over and took his dad's hand. He was already crying. When the gun was reloaded he turned his head to look away. It resulted in the leader grabbing onto his son's head and dragging in it so he was forced to look at the helpless men, soon to be corpses. Remus could hear the boy whimper from pain.

"Do I-I h-have to see ev-every time?" He cried out.

"Until you learn to stop crying over some insect's death, Yes. These people are traitors. They're beneath us because they have hurt us. You have to see what we do to people who hurt us"

A bullet went off. One of the men collapsed dead on the floor. The other desperately crawled away until he hit the wall. The young boy's crying turned into sobs.

"You should be used to it by now" His dad said in a calm tone.

The leader forced the gun into his son's shaking hands. He held onto his hands so he couldn't let go. He moved his hands for him, reloaded the gun for him, held the gun to the living man's forehead for him. The young boy's entire body was shaking from fear. He closed his eyes. Pretended like the cold metal wasn't in his hands. Pretended like he wasn't one move of his finger away from taking a life.

"Open your eyes son" The leader commanded "You have to see. See the fear in his eyes. That is the look of a dead man. We could ask anything of him"

"I-I want him t-to live. P-Please dad w-we can send-d him to the b-bad room instead"

"The bad rooms are for those who are of use to us. This man has nothing for us"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder. He turned around and pointed the knife at the person's neck. Thankfully it was just Roman.

"The files are all here" Ro informed while holding up an USB drive. He had on a strained expression "It's sick. Q told you they made it so Enfuel was the only company avaible for like an entire part of Latvia right?"

"I wasn't listening but probably yeah"

"They're planning to make all electricy and fuel unaviable for those cities for months. And they're going to make it look like an accident so they won't even have to take accountability. They're planning to try and completely cut them off from the rest of the world"

"People are gonna die" Remus concluded.

"Bet"

"Why the fuck would someone even do that?"

Roman shrugged "Said nothing about that. At least we can stop it if we know it will happen. All we have to do is get out of here and get it to M"

Remus was about to nod but then he heard muffled sounds from the other room. He closed his hands into fists. There was a cold lump stuck in his throat.

"There's a kid here. Like 8? 9 maybe? Being made to hold a gun" He whispered.

"Mom teached us how to use pistols at 12" Roman replied with a shrug.

"She made us shoot at targets" Their mom is a very powerful lady so they had to know how to defend themself since so many people wanted to hurt them to get to their mom "This is-"

A gunshot went off. Gutwrenching screaming followed. It sounded like it came from the boy. Soon sobbing took over.

"Don't cry like that. You weren't even the one pulling the trigger" His dad snarled out.

The brothers at looked each other. They both knew that the mission was hundreds of times more important than one kid but....with that one look they both knew they had to do something.

"Okay new mission" Remus said "Protect the kid"

They searched the room and found an entrance to the vents in the roof. They climbed in and crawled as quietly as possible until they could see down into the other room. The leader had gone back to sitting by the table, he was drinking some wine. The son was still sitting by one of the corpses. His sobs was racking his whole body as he held onto the dead body. Quiet beggings to wake up could be heard.

The brothers took out their guns in anticipation. Remus slammed his foot down into the vent panel and jumped down onto the ground. He jumped back up on his feet and held the gun to the leader's head.

Roman was just as quick with getting down. He went over to the kid and hunched down in front of him, half to comfort him and half to be a human shield.

"It's okay now kid. We won't hurt you. We'll get you out of here. I promise" He whispered to him while sending him a warm smile.

He was full on hyperventilating "No. No. Please. Get out. I don't- dad will- I don't want to have to see anyone else die- I don't want to hurt anyone- please- NoNoNoNo"

"Shhh. No one will be hurt. Just focus on my breathing okay. In and out. Deep breathes. You'll be safe soon" Roman assured. He kept one hand on the young boy's shoulder and the other hand on his gun.

Remus held the gun as still as possible against the leader's forehead. The older man didn't look away even for a second. His cold blue eyes stared at him until it felt like he was digging into him. The agent tried to glance around for a clear exit. At best he saw another entrance to the vents close to the wall on the side of the room.

"I've buried people like you before" The leader let out in a dry emotionless tone. "Even if you do get anyway it won't do much. All of the evidence will be gone except for a meek little plan I can easily manipulate away in court. You're really just delaying the inevitable"

"Not letting people die isn't doing nothing" Remus snarled back.

A smile crept up on his face "Letting people die does just a little"

He pressed down on a hidden panel on his chair. All Remus could see was that it was some sort of controller before hearing a muffled shout. He spun around in time to see Roman sitting with his arms around the kid. Blood was seeping out of his shoulder.

By the press of a button a panel on the wall had turned around and a mechanic gun had become visible, useable too via the panel. The gun head moved again, readjusting it's line of sight.

Logically Remus should have moved his gun back towards the leader's head. Logically he should have shot his brains out. Logically he shouldn't have made a single sound. Logically he shouldn't have shown any ounce of care or emotion (weakness), it'd been drilled into them during training after all.

But Remus wasn't thinking logically. His brother was hurt. His brother was in danger. He had to protect him.

A guttural sound of terror left his throat. It sounded like something close to his brother's name. He wasn't fast enough. There was nothing he could. He watched as the bullet went into Roman's chest.

Remus didn't reach him. There was a hit to the back of his head. The hit was hard enough to make it feel like his brain split apart. He was already unconscious as he fell down on the ground. He was just close enough so the blood from his brother reached him.

--

The moment Remus awakened again his heart immediately began to beat fast enough so he could hear it. He wanted to yell out for his brother before he'd even had time to open his eyes.

The fear calmed won just a bit when he did look up and saw Roman, thank god he saw Roman, laying next to him. He didn't calm down completely because his brother was visibly hurt. Hurt badly.

There were swelling on his cheeks from soon to be bruises and his right eye had closed completely from a black eye. Blood had dried around the wound on his shoulder and the one on his chest was still bleeding. Thankfully it hadn't hit his heart but it was still heavily bleeding. The kid's hoodie had been pressed against the wound. His left leg from the knee down had been mangled and turned the wrong way.

Remus had rope tied around his wrists and ankles. They hadn't even bothered to tie Roman's ankles. Even with all the injuries his twin tried to send him a weak smile.

"don't speak too loudly" He whispered out. His breathing was uneven and raspy.

Normally Remus would have screeched in defiance. Now he glanced around the room while making his every move as quiet as possible.

The leader and his son were still in the room. The leader was polishing a knife. There were multiple knives and other gratuitous tools laid out across the table. Oh god he'd only kept them alive to make them suffer until death as much as possible.

When he turned back to Roman there were tears in his brother's eyes. His smile was strained.

"I was going to resign"

Roman let out a sob as his smile disappeared. It only left an expression filled with pain.

"I-I never really wanted t-this! I just- I didn't know what else I would be. Re I was planning to make this my last mission. I don't know if I want to be an actor. But fuck at least I-I want to be an actor ten times more than I want to be an agent"

Remus tried to move closer. He wanted to reach out and hold his brother. Comfort him. Tell him half the things he said didn't make sense.

"You- What-" He let out a nervous chuckle "Ro-bro what are you talking about?"

At first there was no reply. Just a choked back sob. Roman moved closer and stared at the ropes around Remus' wrists. Anything was better than looking at his face. He moved his hands to try and untangle the ropes.

"You have to hug mom for me. And tell her I love her. And hug Lucy a-and Macey and Amita-" Roman closed his eyes, tried to force back another wave of tears "-And Everyone on the island. All of them. And the people at the theater. A-And everyone in Q branch a-and Oh god Q. Please hug Q- Logan. Hug Logan for me. Please. And Patton and M even though he will hate it. Please. I wish I'd known. I just want to be able to say goodbye at least. I just-"

"Shut up you dork. We're getting out of here. I'll just carry you. What's some old weak boned guy and some kid gonna do against us"

Roman glanced up at him, just for a moment, before going back to the ropes.

"Remus I-"

He coughed. His entire body shook and writhed in pain. He ignored it and continued with the ropes. Blood was coming down his lips. He was coughing up blood.

"Remus-"

Roman met his eyes this time. He didn't have to say anything more. They both knew it. Even if one of them didn't want to accept it. It'd taken at least an hour to drive here. He wasn't going to make it unless he got medical help within the next minutes. He wasn't going to- He wasn't-

Roman wasn't going to make it.

"You can't- I- I'm sure- I can-" Remus stuttered out.

"You need to take the information and get back to M alive" He pulled the ropes away from Remus' wrists "There's a vent right above us. The bitchass dragon witch is too busy with torture devices to look at us. If you go now you can-"

"You will-"

"Remus I'm already dead! The kid isn't being saved either! He's stuck here! We failed! The least you can do is try to stop more death!"

"But you will-"

"Please I need you to survive" Roman pressed the USB drive into his hands. His hands were shaking "I-I'm trying to stay strong to make this easier for you b-but-" He let out a shakey sob "I just want to hug mom again. I want us to-to- I- I need you to survive. I need you to stay alive. Please. If I know you survive I can attempt to die in peace. I can't- I can't-" It continued into incoherent sobbing.

They couldn't hug each other, the leader would realize they were awake if they did. All they could do was press their hands together. They held onto each other's hands so tightly it hurt. Neither wanted to let go.

"....I love you...I wish- I don't- I just want you to- I love you" Remus choked out through tears.

Somehow Roman mustered a smile "I love you too" He wiped a tear away from his twin's cheek "I'm sorry. I wish I could stay with you. Please go. Please survive"

Remus tightened his grip on his hand for one last second. He wished he could drag it out. Even Continuing to exists in this moment of misery sounded better than spending the rest of his life without him.

He forced his hands away and sat up. Heuntied the ropes around his ancles in one rushed pull. He heard a yell from behind him. He jumped up and grabbed onto the vent. A bullet went past him as he climbed in.

He continued to cry as he hurried away. He kept the USB drive in his mouth. It felt like a part of him had been ripped out. A big part. A part he needed to live.

(He wished he'd never noticed the crack in the wall. He wished he'd just left the kid to be abused. He was horrible. He just wanted his brother to be okay)

It should have been him who was left for dead. Roman had so many more people who would mourn him. He had had a future. Goals. Dreams. Relationships. Remus was replacable.

Remus pushed himself out of the vent. His lungs were burning. He was numb. There were so many emotions he'd overloaded. He couldn't even feel the cold against his skin. Only the tears against his cheeks.

He escaped the facility and ran. In the distance he could see the car. He wanted to die. He couldn't imagine a life without his brother. Roman was the one who was supposed to come back with the information to save people. Roman was the hero! It wasn't fair!

Remus wanted to stop and let the guards catch up to him. Wanted to let himself scream and sob and be killed. Wanted to hug his brother again even if the only way to hug him was if they were both dead.

Instead he forced himself survive but only because it'd been Roman's wish.