#i started writing this while attempting to run a two week data pull | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

Text

Inamorata - Sukuna

You have no idea how much I like this idea lol ya know the meme ‘i got a boyfriend, yeah he kills people he’s crazy’ this is exactly what went through my head with this. Femme reader, I went for a...Sukuna is his own person and not attached to Itadori kind of thing? Like just a stand-alone demon. I had probably way too much fun writing this and would be down to write more for this concept

Content warnings: killing/murder/homicide choose your preferred noun, a little yandere?, size difference and Sukuna is in his four armed form, uhmm there’s a knife(main use to cut open readers palm in the beginning) and also licking blood from said wound, violence/gore at the end

Apparently there was a demon on the loose. From what you’d read on online forums and heard through the whispers of older people on the train, there was a foreboding presence terrorizing the city, preying on the weak and helpless and hoping to take over the world.

There were blurry photos and horrible sketches of what the creature supposedly looked like and the form it took, but none of them seemed to match up. The tattoos on the face and body were always off, the amount of muscle and the stature of the creature were all different depending on who you went to.

Which is why you decided, against all better judgement, to go looking for him. All the stories you’d heard about the demon, the kind of creature it was centuries ago in its prime, had intrigued you. With the mystique and terror surrounding this demon, you’d be a fool not to try and get a peek for yourself.

At first you’d tried a summoning circle, clearing a large space in your bedroom and drawing intricate patterns on the floor in hopes of his arrival. That method quickly turned futile as no demon ever came - but now you probably had a few ghosts watching you sleep at night.

The second method was to try and make a pact with the devil himself, slicing open your palm and dripping blood onto the pages of old scriptures. Attempting to sell your soul had worked even less than the first method and all you had to show for it was a bandage around your hand for two weeks.

“I’ll definitely see him now.” You mumbled to yourself, walking straight to where the demon was seen most: the red light district. Walking past bright neon signs and nearly naked women in shop windows, you took a peek into every alleyway you came across.

“Hey pretty lady, what’re you looking for?” A rough, scratchy voice sounded behind you as you walked past the umpteenth alleyway of the night.

“What do you think?” Not looking over your shoulder, you kept walking. The voice, while sounding absolutely disgusting, didn’t belong to a demon and therefore not worth your time.

“I think you’re looking for trouble.” Curling his fingers around your arm, the man you were trying to ignore snatched you back, making you stumble and fall into his chest. The nasty scent of body odor and cigarettes was wafting off the man, making you worry that his stench would cling to you for days.

“Not the kind you’re talking about.” Pushing away from him, you furiously wiped off your clothes. Looking this man in the face irritated you, he was wasting his time and you knew exactly what his intentions were.

“Don’t play so hard to get!” Forcing a less than charming smile on his face, the man made the move to grab you again.

“Don’t touch me!” Slapping his hands away, you took generous steps back from him. “You’re getting in the way of my search.”

“Search?” Quirking a brow at you, the man took a moment to think before his brows rose in surprise. “You’re looking for Sukuna, aren’t you?”

“That’s his name?” You’d never heard his name before, only seeing some people refer to him as a four armed creature from hell.

“Yup, and I’ve seen him a couple times.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the man smirked triumphantly. “You could say he and I have a kind of friendly relationship.”

“Do you now?” Your eyes trailed up from the man to the dark alleyway behind him where two glowing red eyes emerged.

“Oh yeah, Sukuna’s a great guy! Even offered to give me a position in his little army.” The more he spoke the brighter the eyes got and the fuzzy outline of a gigantic body was starting to take shape.

“His little army?” Slowly taking steps back as the figure came forward, you barely had time to react before the man was snatched up by two giant hands and yanked backwards. Lifting him into the air, it wasn’t long before a mouth with gleaming sharp teeth opened up and swallowed him whole.

As the eyes drew their attention back to you, a nervous laugh left your chest that you couldn’t force to stop. Every step you took back was now accompanied by a step forward from the creature until it fully left the alleyway and you saw exactly what you were dealing with.

Right in front of you, in full form and glory, was the demon you’d been searching for. The scrawling black tattoos along his entire body, the four arms, pink hair, second set of eyes and his impossibly muscular physique - all of it was exactly like you’d been hoping for.

“Hello, pretty little thing.” His voice boomed despite being relatively quiet, a slight echo to the deep timbre. It was almost melodic in a way, somehow soothing your racing heart just slightly.

“S-sukuna?” You squeaked out, back meeting the brick wall of a building.

“That would be me.” Chuckling as he stopped a few feet from you, Sukuna crossed his secondary arms and looked down upon you. The sheer height and width of his body easily dwarfed yours, your head only barely reaching his ribcage.

Your eyes couldn’t stay in one place as you looked at Sukuna. There was too much to take in and you could feel yourself quickly becoming overwhelmed trying to commit every detail to memory.

“You’re…” Licking your lips nervously, you could only meet his eyes for a moment before settling on the mark on his forehead. “You’re wearing womens clothes.” Tied around his waist and hanging off his legs was indeed a womens kimono, a surprising pristine white shade.

“That’s what you decide to say at our first meeting?” An echoing laugh bellowed from him and Sukuna shook his head, running one hand through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just...they never mentioned it online.” It felt a little silly to be explaining yourself to him when at any moment Sukuna could eat you like he did that man and you would have no way of stopping him.

“Little thing, I have a question for you.” Fixing you with a suddenly sharp stare, Sukuna lowered his brow and bent down, placing two arms above your head and two at your side, trapping you in against the wall with no possible outs.

“Yes?” Pinching your eyes closed, you held your breath as you waited for the inevitable bite of his teeth around.

“Are you scared?” Sukuna whispered, his breath fanning out over the top of your head.

“Yes.” It would be a lie to say no and you had nothing to lose by telling the truth. Sukuna’s eyes bore into you, the weight of his stare physically making your back bow.

“What did you think of me eating that man just now? Was that terrifying for you?”

“No.” Sukuna took a pause at your answer and although you couldn’t see it, his brow furrowed for a fraction of a second.

��What did you feel then? Surely you must have thought it was horrible.”

“N-not really.” Slowly cracking one eye open, you looked up at Sukuna, almost breaking your neck from having to stare directly above you. “I was actually quite happy you did that. He was getting on my nerves.”

The barking laugh that left Sukuna’s mouth made you flinch and throw your hands in the air. It was so loud it seemed to vibrate your entire body and a few windows on the building behind you shook from the force.

“You’re telling me you liked me killing that guy?” Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, Sukuna held you up in the air, eye level to him. You nodded, pitifully kicking your legs out to try and get back to solid ground. “Aren’t you a messed up little thing?” Still laughing, Sukuna took a proper once over of your body. “Pretty, but messed up.”

“P-please let me go!” You whimpered, hands desperately clutching Sukuna’s to try and not fall out of your clothes and onto the ground.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like how I hold you?” Shaking you for good effect, Sukuna smirked wildly at your scared little squeaks. “Tell me your name.”

“It’s (Y/N)!” Shouting into the air, you felt relief flood into you as Sukuna finally lowered you back to the ground and his hands released you.

“(Y/N)?” Sounding it out on his tongue, Sukuna shrugged to himself. “I like ‘little thing’ better.”

“I’m only little compared to you.” Fixing your clothes, you tried to regain your breath and stop your body from shaking so violently.

“So, what’s a creature like you doing out so late at night here? It’s not safe for a human like you to roam around these parts.”

“I was looking for you.”

“Me? You were looking for me?” Sukuna snorted, waving his hand dismissively at you. “A human like you looking for me? I’ve really seen it all.”

“It’s true!” Pulling out your phone, you quickly showed him all the data you’d compiled on him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Sukuna! I did a summoning circle, I’ve looked in hundreds of online forums - I even tried to make a deal with the devil!” Showing him the mark that was still healing on your palm, the fear that was in your body was slowly trickling out and being replaced with- hope? Excitement? It was hard to say, but as Sukuna grasped your hand between two fingers and looked at your palm, it would be wrong to say it was a negative emotion you felt.

“You really did all that for me?” His voice was much softer now but it still sounded like he was mocking you. Smoothing the pad of one finger across your palm, he felt the ridges of your palm and the wound.

“I did. I find you really fascinating and I- I just wanted to learn more about you.” You faltered when he looked at you, a fierce heat overtaking your cheeks at admitting out loud that you’d been looking for a demon because you found him interesting.

“Are you perhaps interested in me?” A smirk tugged one side of Sukuna’s lip up and he chuckled when your expression only grew more flustered. “Oh little thing, you’re more messed up than I thought.”

“Will you tell me more about yourself? Please?” The words tumbled out of your mouth desperately as you let Sukuna stretch out your arm and grasp your hand more firmly. He didn’t answer you or even acknowledge that you’d spoken, instead grazing the tip of one long sharp nail along the line of the cut.

“I find myself liking you more and more, why is that?” Sukuna’s tone sounded like he was addressing himself as he spoke aloud, turning your hand every which way as he kept scraping his nail against your palm. “Were you my lover in the past, back when I reigned as the ruler of this whole land?”

Racking your brain to try and remember any information on Sukuna potentially having a lover, you were ripped back to reality when Sukuna dug his nail into your skin, reopening the cut and making blood flow freely.

“Ow!” You couldn’t yank your arm out of his grasp and you watched in mild horror as Sukuna lowered himself to your hand, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth and drag across your skin. His tongue quickly became coated in dark red blood, his saliva starting to mingle with your blood.

“You taste so familiar, you must have been mine.” Lapping up your blood now, Sukuna didn’t stop until he could tell you were starting to get weak from blood loss. The lower half of his face was now covered in red, smeared across his skin like paint.

“Sukuna, that’s gross.” The mumble slipped from your delirious mind, making him laugh as he waved a hand over the cut and made it go away. Slipping your hand from his grasp it was like there had never been a mark there in the first place.

“A human telling me what’s gross?” Licking his face clean, Sukuna grinned down at you. The longer he looked at you the longer memories of a past you returned to his mind. The irresistible draw he felt to come to you tonight had been the same one that called to him centuries ago, making you the center of his otherwise cruel and empty world.

Placing two hands on the wall behind you, Sukuna leaned over you once more, this time grasping your chin and turning your face up to him. The saliva that had mixed with your blood had also given you new memories of the past as well, and as you looked at Sukuna you remembered all the things the two of you had done together.

“So, my pet, what shall we do first?”

Sukuna ended up carrying you home, having you tucked inside his kimono as he leaped on rooftops across the city. Opening your bedroom window, Sukuna shoved his body through, having to make himself slightly smaller to fit inside the house.

“Are you uh, hungry?” Standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom as Sukuna sat on your bed, you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

“I could eat.” Laying fully back on your bed, it creaked and groaned as Sukuna rested his weight on it. The thought of offering to take him to the kitchen came and went quickly in your head; just getting him into your room was a hard enough task.

Fixing him and yourself a quick meal, as soon as you were done eating Sukuna picked you up and rested you on his abdomen. Even after shrinking himself down your legs were still stretched as wide as possible in hopes of wrapping around his waist.

“As the memories of you return, I realize how much I’ve missed you, my pretty little thing.” Petting down your back, Sukuna looked at you fondly. Propped up on two of his arms, he could stare directly at your tiny body sitting atop him.

“What kind of memories do you have?” So far, the only thing you could seem to recall were memories of a more sexual nature. One’s of you and Sukuna wrapped up in each other's arms, both of his cocks stuffed inside you as you begged to cum.

“I remember giving you the world, whatever you wanted was yours for the taking.” The look in Sukunas eyes was surprisingly soft and you could feel the love coming out from him.

“Whatever I wanted?” Repeating the words, your mouth hung open slightly at all the possible things you could get.

“The world may exist to serve me, but I exist to serve you.” Fully sitting up, Sukuna held you against him as he leaned down, lips grazing your forehead. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I can get you anything in the world, I can do anything in the world.”

“Kill for me.” The whisper that left your lips was almost too quiet for even yourself to hear. But Sukuna nodded, having heard you perfectly. Your words made his body thrum with excitement and his nerves were on edge.

“Kill for you?” He repeated, kissing you on the forehead. The fingers that held you closely dug into your sides and if Sukuna wasn’t careful he could crush you completely.

“You love me, don’t you?” There was just the slightest hint of worry in your voice. What if you were overestimating your power over Sukuna? He could say no or even kill you himself.

“You have no idea what the things my love for you will do.”

Although it pained him to do so, Sukuna left you once the sun began to rise. He had other things to attend to, temples that worshipped him as a god to visit. Promising to see you once dusk began to settle over the sky, Sukuna leapt from your window and into the horizon.

“You came back.” Even though he swore up and down he’d come back, it still shocked you to see him back on your bed once it hit a certain time of night.

“Of course I did.” Sukuna almost seemed hurt you would question him. Holding out a hand, as soon as you grasped one of his fingers he pulled you to him and nestled your body into his side. “Did you do what I asked?”

“The list is in my pocket.” Before leaving, Sukuna had told you to make a list of all the people you wanted him to kill for you. The list had started out short, just a few people that had hurt you that you couldn’t let go of, and then it grew to others, politicians and corrupt people in the media.

“Quite impressive, little thing.” Reading over the list, Sukuna stood up. “Shall we go then?”

“Go whe-” As Sukuna threw open your bedroom window you were met with a strong gust of wind. “Sukuna, where are we going?” You asked him over the wind in your ears. Putting his upper arms into the sleeves of his kimono, he made sure you were nestled safely inside.

“We’re going to take care of the first person on your list.” Wrapping an arm around you, Sukuna jumped out of the window. Though this wasn’t your first time in this position, you hadn’t been fully cognizant when Sukuna took you home last night. Now, with a head clear and no lack of blood to distract you, you could see the lights of the city clearly as they whipped past you.

“It’s beautiful.” Carefully leaning forward, you gazed at the downtown area with all the flashing lights and swerving cars.

“If you say so.” Patting your hip, Sukuna pulled you back, resting your weight fully on his arm and clothes. He wouldn’t admit it, and despite knowing he would catch you in a millisecond, Sukuna didn’t want you to fall out and fall to the ground.

Coming upon the first persons house, he settled you on the ground outside. You were in a tightly knit residential area standing directly under a streetlight, with rows of houses that all looked similar. In a flash, Sukuna had broken into the house and grabbed the person you were after.

“This them?” With a tight grip on their ankle, Sukuna shook them side to side.

“Mhmm.” You didn’t need to look to know he’d gotten the right person, just the feeling you had around them was enough to confirm it.

“W-what’s going on here?!” They screamed, blood pooling in their head the longer they hung upside down.

“Don’t speak.” Sukuna barked, shaking them once again. “You don’t speak to her, or at all.” The person screamed again, a high pitched sound that quickly got shut off as Sukuna swung their body and smacked them against the ground. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

For a moment you thought they’d died from how hard Sukuna hit them against the ground, but a small whimper and breathless gasps sounded from where their face was crushed against the pavement.

“Do you know why I’m here?” You whispered, standing over their motionless body. Rolling over onto their back, they shook their head and started to stammer. “If you can’t answer my question I don’t want you to make a sound.” Pressing your foot onto their throat, you flinched when their hands came up to try and claw you away.

“Don’t touch her.” Instantly pinning their arms down, Sukuna glowered. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Let me think.” Staring down into their glassy eyes, a million options went through your mind. Sukuna’s power was limitless, there was nothing he couldn’t do. If you asked him to throw their body into outer space, he would do it in a heartbeat. “Rip them limb from limb. You can eat them if you’d like.”

“As you wish.” A sick grin curled Sukuna’s lip and he drug their body across the ground until they were directly underneath him.

“(Y/N) wait! W-wait please!” Their shrill cries fell on deaf ears, and the sound of the first limb being torn off their body was something you could get used to. “Oh- oh my god, my leg!”

“God I wish you’d shut up.” You kept your eyes on the person's face, refusing to look at where blood squirted generously from their now missing extremity.

“Allow me.” With the swipe of one claw Sukuna gouged out their throat. Hot, bright red blood spilled out onto the pavement, pooling and almost making it to where you stood. Throwing one leg into his mouth, Sukuna used a non-bloody hand to lift you up and place you onto a brick wall.

“Thank you.” Giving him a gentle smile, you now had a front row seat to Sukuna ripping apart this person's body and slowly devouring them. There was a mess of blood coating Sukuna’s skin, far more blood than when he had drunk yours.

As you watched Sukuna eat this person, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. It felt good to get justice in your own way for how this person wronged you. After being told to let it go, try and move and let time heal the wound, you could finally get closure the way you wanted.

“All done?” You asked once the last piece of their body was consumed. Standing up to his full height, Sukuna still looked down at you. The blood on his skin began to sizzle off, evaporating into the air and leaving the pungent smile of iron behind.

“Have I made you happy?” He responded, cupping your face and lightly squishing your cheeks. Smiling proudly, a warm flush washed over your face the longer you and Sukuna looked at each other.

“Yes, very.” Nuzzling into his palm and kissing it, you let out a breathless laugh as Sukuna did the same.

“I’m happy to please you.” Kissing you on the top of the head, Sukuna pulled out the list and crossed out the first name. “Shall we go to the others now?”

#tw: violence #tw: blood #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines

267 notes · View notes

dindjarinbae · 5 years ago

Text

Commander Brown Eyes (Din Djarin x reader)

hi i know this wasn’t requested, but it was something i had been writing since like friday or satuday so... i have like 12 requests to get to, and i am hoping to get those all done within the next two weeks, so bear with me please!! anyways, soft din, that’s it. send tweet.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 3979

“Y/n. I want you to come, too. You won’t show up on anything at all. You have no record.” Your boyfriend, Din Djarin, pointed out while you, Fennec, Cara, Mayfeld, Boba Fett, and Din, all stood trying to figure out who was going to accompany Mayfeld into the mining facility.

You blinked and looked up at Din, shaking your head a few times, “I- I couldn’t possibly go, what on earth do you need me for?” You asked, getting a bit nervous. He usually adamantly refused to let you go on missions or anything of the sort in fear that you might get hurt, so why now? You looked at him quizzically and begged for an answer with your eyes.

You got an answer, just not from Din.

“Because you’re pretty. There ain’t a single general in there that would even think to find us suspicious because they’ll be looking at you.” Mayfeld interjected and looked at Din, “That’s the idea, right Mando?” He asked and raised his eyebrows.

Din shuffled his feet around for a second and then nodded, “I had a better way of saying it, but that works, too.” He mumbled and you could just sense that his eyes were on you. You blinked a few times and then looked at Cara and Fennec to see if they were going to protest but Fennec was nodding and Cara seemed to think this was a good idea.

“But I’m going with you two, as well. I don’t like her going in alone with you.” He spoke firmly towards Mayfeld, and Mayfeld started ranting about how that wasn’t smart because the beskar armor would be too suspicious.

You tuned them out while they bickered amongst themselves and you turned to Boba, who you decided that you liked very much and you frowned a bit. You saw his shoulders shake in a small chuckle and he shook his head, “Don’t look at me like that, this wasn’t my idea.” He stated and folded his arms across his chest. You huffed and then dramatically sighed, getting reluctantly dragged into the mission.

——

By the time the three of you had arrived into the base after a relentless attack from pirates, the entire base had gathered there to cheer you on. Din climbed out of the cab and held his arms out for you, and you climbed into his outstretched arms and he gently lifted you down, holding you underneath your armpits like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. He held you for just a bit longer than normal, and you assumed he was just nervous to have you in the base with him and Mayfeld. Carefully, he set you on your feet and you looked up at him, chuckling quietly, not getting used at all to the stormtrooper outfit he had to throw on.

“Don’t you dare say anything about it.” He mumbled and gave your ass a well concealed, playful smack.

You giggled and grinned up at him cheekily, “I didn’t say anything! I just thought it!” You protested, and he would’ve grabbed you and whacked you on the ass again, but Mayfeld came around the front of the vehicle and he cleared his throat at the two of you.

The playful side of Din melted away instantly and he walked up to join Mayfeld, and you trailed behind the two of them, nodding kindly at the stormtroopers that waved at you as you passed through the crowd. You looked around the crowded base and desperately wanted to grab onto Din’s arm, but all the eyes in the room suggested that you not do that. You stayed back behind them and tried to make yourself as small as possible as the two of them rendezvoused in front of the mess hall and you moved up closer to them until you you’re beside Din, your hip brushing his thigh. He glanced down at you, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you in a protective grip.

Mayfeld wandered off casually a few steps to check for a terminal, and he came back seconds later to report.

“There it is.” He spoke lowly, and Din gave him a small nod.

“Good luck.” He said gruffly and you moved backwards behind him just a bit. But he caught your arm gently and pulled you out, “You need to go with him.” He stated and pushed you towards Mayfeld very carefully.

You swallowed thickly and nodded, meeting Mayfeld’s eyes. He nodded towards the terminal and you looked over your shoulder at Din who nodded at you once, telling you to go. You scuttled off behind Mayfeld and followed him closely until he stopped in the threshold of the mess hall. His stance changed and he visibly tensed before turning around and walking right back the way he came, catching your arm in the process, pulling you back to Din.

When the two of you reached Din again, you wiggled your arm away from Mayfeld and you grabbed onto Din’s arm, not caring who saw at this point. Your heart was racing and you had a bad, bad feeling about this all.

“I can’t go in there.” Mayfeld stated, a tremor in his voice.

“Why not?” Din asked sharply, and you tightened your grip on his arm. He allowed you to cling to his arm and he kept his gaze fixed entirely on Mayfeld.

“That’s Valin Hess.” Mayfeld answered and you scooter a bit closer to Din.

He yanked his arm from your grip and you almost protested, but in an act of (maybe thirty minutes worth) touch deprivation, he wrapped the same arm around your waist and he pulled you against his side, the cool metal of the stormtrooper armor pressing coldly against you.

“Who?” He asked, and tightened his arm around you.

“Valin Hess. I used to serve under him.” Mayfeld practically wheezed, and you could hear the panic in his voice. You felt bad for Mayfeld, with his face turning a ghostly white and the anxiety in his tone. You reached out to rub his shoulder once reassuringly and then sunk back into Mando, looking down at your feet.

“Will he recognize you?” Din asked, moving closer to Mayfeld.

“I don’t know. I was just a field operative, but I’m not taking the chance. It’s over.” Mayfeld whispered and you shook your head quickly, looking up at him.

“No no no, you have t-“ you protested, but Din promptly cut you off.

Mayfeld moved to leave, but Din grabbed his arm, “Let’s just do this quick and we can get out of here.” He said sternly and you frowned, looking up at Mayfeld with a panicked expression. He couldn’t back out. He couldn’t. If he did, you would never see your little green baby ever again, and that brought hot, stinging tears to your eyes.

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort. I’m sorry.” Mayfeld snapped and he tried to walk away again.

As he did last time, Din caught his arm and tugged him back, “No, I cant. If we don’t get those coordinates, then me and her,” he said, and motioned towards you with the chin of the helmet he wore, “... will lose the kid forever. Give me the data stick.” Din said and Mayfeld looked a bit perplexed.

“It’s not gonna work.” He protested and fell silent for a second.

You looked up at Din and then back at Mayfeld and you could see the frown etching itself onto Mayfeld’s face, “In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face. And unless you’re gonna send her in there-'' he said and motioned towards you.

Din shook his head and held you tighter, and Mayfeld simply nodded, “I figured. Let’s go.” He snapped.

“Give it to me.” Din said again, sharper this time. Mayfeld held it out and Din snatched it from his hand and he tugged you forward a bit before letting his arm fall from your waist. He nodded for you to follow him and you shook your head, feeling nothing but terror as you looked at Valin Hess inside the mess hall. Din sighed as he watched you stand next to Mayfeld and he tipped his head to the side a bit, and something told you he was pleading to you with his eyes.

You reluctantly nodded and followed in behind him, standing casually a couple tables away while he parked himself in front of the terminal. You felt Valin’s dark stare on yourself and then watched it move to Din and it stayed there while he attempted to use the terminal. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the terminal chirped out that there was a problem and there was an incomplete facial scan.

Everything then moved in slow motion as you watched Din grab the helmet he wore, and he lifted it over his head, revealing the hair that you’d felt before, but had never seen. A gasp got stuck in your throat. Of course it would be brown. Of course Din Djarin would have the prettiest brown curls that you’d ever laid your eyes on, and you wanted nothing more in that moment then to go to him and run your fingers through the soft, pretty curls that fell to the nape of his neck.

The computer quit its’ bitching and you watched him put the data stick in the terminal. You wanted desperately for him to turn around, and you could tell by his body language that he was absolutely terrified. He had worn that helmet his entire life to hide his face from the world, and now his face was out in the open for everyone, including his girlfriend to see. You couldn’t imagine what that felt like.

“Trooper!”

A deep voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked over at it’s source. Valin Hess.

He rose from his seat and walked towards Din, and you felt bile rise in your throat as you moved just a step forward to be closer to him.

“Hey, trooper.” Valin snapped once again, and Din quickly pulled the data stick from the terminal before he turned towards Hess.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you.” Valin drawled and you went another step closer, biting your lip as he spoke again, “What’s your designation?” He asked, and his voice gave you shivers as you watched Din’s body language show exactly what you’d expected: terror.

“Transport crew.” He nearly whispered, and your heart broke as you heard his voice crack on the last syllable.

There was only a second of silence before Hess spoke again, “What?” He asked, turning his body ever so slightly.

“My designation is transport copilot.” Din answered again, and you prayed that this was the answer Valin Hess was looking for.

From where you stood, you could see only a side profile of your Mandalorian. A strong nose, high cheekbones, a bit of a mustache, and a light coating of facial hair. Nothing you didn’t already know he had, because you’d felt it many times without the lights on or with your eyes covered, but this was the first time you had a real picture to put with the features your gentle fingertips would trace whenever he let you do so.

“No son,” Valin said, a bit annoyed now, “What’s your TK number?” He asked and you turned your head towards Mayfeld.

You caught his eye and sent him a pleading look, begging for him to come in and help out. Your lip wobbled and Mayfeld sighed before moving in towards you.

“My TK number is...” Din began, but before he could continue, Mayfeld had already grabbed your arm and walked the both of you over towards Valin and Din.

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK five nine three, sir.” Mayfeld interjected and dropped your arm, leaving you to subtly scoot yourself towards Din.

That is exactly what you did. You scurried to his side and it took all of your will not to latch onto his arm as you so often did when you wanted to be close to him.

“I’m imperial combat assault transport, Lieutenant TK one-eleven, sir.” Mayfeld finished and you glanced up at Din.

He stole a glance down at you as well, and you felt your eyes water just a bit. He was truly the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, with his full bottom lip and the sharp curve of his jawline with the thin stubble that grew over his skin, but what really made your heart melt, was his eyes. His big, pretty, entrancing brown eyes, framed with his full eyebrows and a set of short, dark lashes. You wanted so badly to touch his face, and you could see the nervousness in his expression as he stared at you.

“And this is his... human hearing aid of sorts,” he said and pointed towards you, “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” Mayfeld explained.

Valin gave a slight nod before leaning in towards Din, and you put a gentle, reassuring hand on Din’s shoulder, “What’s your name officer?” Valin asked loudly, and borderline condescendingly.

Din was silent and looked around and Hess raised his eyebrows as if to reiterate his question before Mayfeld stepped in again.

“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Mayfeld asked, and Din gave a nod.

“And her?” Valin asked again, pointing at you, his eyes traveling up and down your body, and you felt like hiding behind Din.

You had to think quickly, so you thought quickly of your favorite flower and you looked up at Valin with a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “I just go by Lavender, sir. Apparently a head injury left me without a memory of my name.” You said, laughing casually.

Valin tore his gaze away from you after a skeevy smirk in your direction and Mayfeld spoke up again, “Come on, you two. Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils.” Mayfeld said and put a hand on Din’s back while Din put a hand on yours and the three of you began to walk away.

“You’re not dismissed.” Hess drawled and the three of you froze. You looked up at Din fearfully and he glanced down at you with the same amount of fear in his eyes, but for different reasons. You were afraid of the Imperial General speaking to you, and he was afraid of the world that could now see him without a helmet.

When the two men turned around, Din smoothly swept you behind his back protectively and you couldn’t help but stare up at his hair again.

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?” Valin asked and you took a step closer to Din, even if it was just his back.

Both of the boys answered with a simple ‘yes, sir’ and you bit down on your lip, hanging your head as you stood behind Din. Valin Hess turned around to look at the two of them and spoke, “Well you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” he then glanced at you, “Why’s she hiding?” He asked and bent his head to the side to peer around Din’s shoulder, “Why are you hiding, little girl?”

“She’s not big on people, Sir.” Mayfeld interjected and Valin chuckled.

He clapped both Mayfeld and Din on the shoulder, “Come with me, hm? Let’s get a drink, Brown Eyes.” He said patronizingly and you finally gave into the need to clutch Din’s arm. He looked down at you, along with Mayfeld and Mayfeld sent a look to Din, saying something like ‘bad idea to bring her’, and Din just nodded knowingly.

The three of you all went to a table and you took the seat closest to Din, clandestinely placing your hand against his thigh, and he laid his down on top of yours reassuringly. You glanced up at him and bit your lip, and he gave you a very small nod. Valin was out of the room getting a bottle of whatever he decided on, and you took this time to lean your forehead against the side of Din’s face.

“I love you, you know. I’m very, very proud of you.” You whispered and turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers with his. He nodded and laid his forehead against yours for a second while you looked into his deep, brown eyes. You smiled softly and pecked his lips a few times, “You do have beautiful eyes you know, Din Djarin.” You whispered so quietly that you were practically mouthing it.

He rolled his eyes and you could feel his hand trembling in yours, “I find yours much prettier.” He whispered back and you bumped your nose against his before pulling away so that you two weren’t touching when Hess came back.

He finally did come back and sat down at the table, setting down three glasses and he nodded at you, “Figured she was a little young for a drink.” He chuckled and reached out to tap your chin a few times. You felt Din’s hand tighten around yours in anger, reacting to the way Valin had just touched you. He opened the bottle up and grinned a bit, “What shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on about “to health” or “to success” but,” he seemed to be amused by himself as he paused dramatically to pour a drink for Din and Mayfeld, “.. I’d like to do something a little less rote.” He finished and closed the bottle, pointing at Din with it, “Where you from, Brown Eyes?” He asked and you felt Din stiffen.

He opened his mouth to speak when Mayfeld, once again, interjected, saving the day, “How about a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld asked and you leaned your head down a bit.

You closed your eyes and held onto Din’s hand tightly while Mayfeld went on to speak back and forth to Valin, but at this point, their voices were muffled and far away as you tried to calm down and think of a way out of this situation. You tapped the side of your Mandalorian’s hand and he tapped yours in return, the both of you growing tenser and tenser while Mayfeld’s tone grew more intense and Valin got more defensive. You sucked in a staggering breath and Din squeezed your hand tightly to remind you not to make any noise. You scooted closer to him and he placed your intertwined hands on your thigh.

“...but what they really want.. is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.” Valin spoke and picked up his glass. You watched Mayfeld’s hand twitch towards his blaster and you squeezed Din’s in a warning. Valin raised his glass and smiled wickedly, “To the Empire.” He toasted and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Mayfeld whipped out his blaster and shot Valin dead, and you let out a yelp, practically throwing yourself onto Din’s lap. The two men looked at each other and then at a trooper behind them before Mayfeld also shot them as well. He shot the other remaining officers in the room and Din sprang to his feet. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up as well, yanking you back so that you were behind him as he shot at an officer.

Mayfeld grabbed the helmet Din once wore and passed it to him, “You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He said and Din gratefully took the helmet before turning to you. You looked up at him with soft eyes and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before you pulled away, trying to memorize his face before he turned away and slipped the helmet back on.

You felt your heart sink as you realized that was probably the only time he’d have the helmet off in front of you, and then the shooting began. You were backed up against the wall by Din and he nodded at Mayfeld who jumped up onto a window ledge and yanked you up with him. You watched while Din jumped up as well and Mayfeld kicked out a panel on the window before he slipped underneath it.

“Take her!” Din yelled at Mayfeld, and Mayfeld reached in and grabbed you, and you shrieked when you saw the drop below. You looked at him for a moment and he nodded before Din made his way out onto the ledge and Din pointed at a ladder.

“Y/n. Go. Climb that now and Boba will come and get you when you’re on top. Now!” Din commanded and while he and Mayfeld shot troopers, you ran along the ledge to the ladder. You climbed it to the top of the building and watched Boba circle down in his ship to get you. The door opened and you climbed inside, running up the ramp and into the ship. You climbed your way up into the cockpit as he moved the ship to avoid getting shot at and the two of you made eye contact.

Boba smiled at you and he pointed up at your face, “Your cheeks are flushed like you’ve just been kissed for the first time.” He teased and you blushed, “Yeah, there was a first in there. But it wasn’t me getting kissed.” You mumbled and gave Boba a look. He analyzed your face for a second and then he nodded. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t say anything, and if he didn’t, he didn’t ask.

Boba circled the ship back to the rooftop and he hovered with the door open just a few feet away from the edge of the roof. You patted Boba’s arm once before climbing back down to the entrance where Din and Mayfeld had just jumped in. As they flew away, Mayfeld nudged Din, “Hand me that cycler rifle.” He commanded.

Din passed him the rifle and then glanced over his shoulder at you. You jumped back a bit at the sound of an explosion and you looked down to see that Mayfeld had shot up the tanks of rhydonium, causing the entire base to blow. Him and Din watched it blow for a moment before Mayfeld walked back inside the ship, with a simple: “We all need to sleep at night.” Before he walked off.

Din looked down at you as Mayfeld went to find a place to sit and he took your hand, “Come with me to put my armor back on.” He whispered and you nodded as he gathered the bag of his armor up and guided you to the small sleeping space that was on the far end of the ship. He closed the door behind you two and then turned to you in the cramped space and he took the helmet off again. Gently, he grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, his eyes meeting yours.

“I love you, y/n y/l/n.” Din breathed before leaning down to connect your lips. He kissed you softer than he ever had before, and you attributed it to the timidness that came with the vulnerability of a visible face, but you didn’t mind, kissing him back with the same careful gentility. After a moment, he pulled away and you smiled up at him.

“Hey, I love you too, Brown Eyes.” You teased and winked up at him.

That earned you another, much more passionate kiss.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #baby yoda #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #mando x y/n #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x you #fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic

698 notes · View notes

bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

#reader insert #poe dameron x reader #night changes series #fanfic #angst #fluff #poe dameron #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x reader #oscar isaac #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x female reader #poe smut

180 notes · View notes

jinterlude · 4 years ago

Text

Grow a Pear

—Requested by @shadowsremedy: Seokjin + Kuroko’s Basketball + School Gym as part of @bangtan-headquarters Bangtan Anime Club Drabble Event!

—Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (Female OC) [feat. Seungcheol from SVT]

—Genre(s): Humor, Slight-Angst, & Slight-Fluff

—AUs/Tropes: Anime-verse, Kuroko’s Basketball!AU, High School!AU, Basketball Player!Seokjin, Basketball Club Manager!Reader, Opposites Attract Trope

—Warning(s) & Rating: Swearing, Reader threatening bodily harm onto Seokjin, Shameless flirting, & Jealousy from an old middle school rival / PG-15

—Word Count: 1.6K

—Summary: In which news of playing against a certain team sparks a rather interesting memory...

—A/N: This drabble is based on episodes 52 & 53 of KnB, but you do not have to watch the series to understand this story’s overall premise! It is also inspired by Kesha’s song “Grow a Pear” (hence the title LOL) because I immediately think of Kise’s character. Since Seokjin reminds me of that 2D pretty boy, I decided to write a fun story!

“Hey, ___!”

A faint hum exits your lips as your eyes remain fixated on your player statistics book. You flip between a few pages with the gears in your brain working in overdrive, almost forgetting for a split moment that Kaijo’s basketball captain asked for your attention.

“Yes, Sungwon?” You reply, closing the book and tucking it underneath your arm.

Pursing his lips, Sungwon strides over to you, leaning against the stage inside the gym. Don’t you love playing inside an auditorium?

“So…” He begins but grows silent. How on Earth is he supposed to ask you to be the sacrificial lamb? How will he tell you that you’ve been chosen to say the team’s resident narcissist yet talented prodigy that Kaijo will play against Fukuda Sugo? Specifically, they’re playing against a certain someone with a rather colorful history with yourself and said prodigy.

Tiny creases form on your forehead as your brows knit together. You know that carefree look anywhere. More often than not, you become chosen to do a specific task that no other teammate wants to do—talking to Kim Seokjin.

“Now, before you say no—”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t even hear what I have to say.”

“Doesn’t matter. My answer is still the same. No.”

With that, you turn on your heel, and not even a few steps in, you bump into the one person you don’t want to see.

“Princess!”

And to think…

You were having such a fantastic day…

“What do you want, Seokjin?” You question, grabbing the statistics book from your underarm and flipping it open to some random page. You already have the data mesmerized like the back of your hand. You just want to appear busy in front of the arrogant pretty boy.

“Well, besides you finally acknowledging that you’re my girlfriend? A little bird told me that we’re playing against his team in the Quarterfinals,” Seokjin replies, his tone dropping near the end. This serious expression slowly takes over his handsome features, almost sending shivers down your spine.

If looks can kill, then Seokjin is guilty of murder in the first degree...

Thank God he chose to attend a different school. Who knows what will happen if two people who absolutely despise each other play on the same team.

“Remind me to thank Namjoon for that…” You mutter, slightly shaking your head as you slowly draw in your breath. Then, a force, light chuckle escapes your lips, personally finding it rather humorous of the current situation.

“Anyway, so how are you feeling about playing against the dude who has a thing for your sloppy seconds?” You tease, attempting to lighten up the situation.

Seokjin’s brow perks up, “Sloppy seconds?” he repeats, a tiny grin form on his handsome face.

You nod, “Well yeah...I mean, he did steal your ex-girlfriend from you.”

In response, the arrogant basketball player hums. However, this exciting gleam enters the corners of his eyes.

What is he thinking now?

Suddenly, he turns to you, his gaze piercing into yours with this unexplainable emotion glazing over his eyes.

“Oh? I mean, he did come close to stealing you away from me that one day.” He states as this bright smile dances across his gorgeous face.

For a split second, your cheeks become hot. Your heart practically drums against your chest. Shit. Even your palms clam up, sticking to the cover of the player statistics book.

What is this feeling?

Then, it dawns on you. This nervousness is the same emotion you felt when you comforted Seokjin that fateful day—well, supported him in your own unique way…

Tapping your pencil against your chin, a soft growl emits from your lips as you try to figure out the best course of action. The Captain, Kim Namjoon, previously asked you to develop a plan to preserve the Generation of Miracle’s stamina, specifically when using their rather unique talents. At first, you thought Namjoon was flat out insane for asking such a request. Like, you’d have to take into account their height and weight difference. Oh! You couldn’t forget that you also keep in mind their current talent levels. All while these calculations occur during an official game with another team.

Yeah...

Namjoon might as well tell you to put on a fucking jersey while he’s at it.

Rubbing the sides of your forehead, you can’t help but let out a long, harsh breath as this throbbing sensation enters the left side of your head.

“Hey, manager ___.” You hear a familiar voice, interrupting your rather irritating calculations. You look up from the tiny pile of scattered papers containing player statistics. However, you don’t bother spouting words towards the overly cocky player. Instead, you merely hum in response, unknowingly irking the basketball player.

Plastering on a smug grin, the person leans against the stage, quickly glancing at what you’re doing.

“So, is that the special project Namjoon asked you to do for him?” The arrogant male student asks.

“Yep, and shouldn’t you be practicing Seungcheol?” You question back, raising a brow.

Seungcheol scoffs lightly, “Why? I mean, I already earned a permanent spot on the regular team, so…” He trails on, chuckling to himself. He finds the mere thought of his spot being taken away quite humorous.

You mentally roll your eyes. God, you don’t know who’s the bigger arrogant fool. Him or—

“Yo, Seokjin!” shouts Jungkook, running up to the new recruit.

Ah, Kim Seokjin. He recently joined the basketball club just a few months ago. He’s already showing promise despite being a second-year student. Shit. Seokjin’s talents have rapidly progressed to the point that Namjoon took notice of him and was promoted to first-string just last week.

Yet, you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something is holding Seokjin back.

But what?

Before you become entirely lost in your thoughts, you hear Seungcheol’s arrogant voice taunt Seokjin.

Oh, great…

You swiftly stand up from your seat and rush over to the argumentative duo. But as you draw near to the quarrelsome pair, you instantly halt. What is this intense atmosphere lingering in the air?

And why do you suddenly feel something other than agitation towards Seokjin?

“W-what did you say?”

“You heard me, Kim Seokjin. Whoever wins our 1v1 match earns the right to call ___ his girlfriend.”

“Hold on. You can’t just call dibs on ___!” shouts Jungkook in complete and utter shock.

Instantly slapping yourself back, in reality, you snatch a basketball from an innocent player and roughly throw it at Seungcheol, anger visible all over your face.

Sadly for you, the annoying prick catches it with ease, smirking at you.

“What’s the matter, babe? You don’t believe that I can put Seokjin in his place?” He coos, further taunting Seokjin. What sets the handsome prodigy over the edge is when Seungcheol abruptly pulls you against his chest, dropping the basketball in the process. His cheek brushes against yours, making you want to gag.

Just as you’re about to violently elbow him in the stomach, Seokjin shoves Seungcheol away before forcefully throwing the discarded ball at him.

“You start.”

“This should be fun.”

But it was just the opposite...

It was a complete slaughter with Seokjin on his hands and knees, panting and sweating profusely. His eyes widened from the shock of his defeat.

Not only has he lost horribly against Seungcheol, but he also lost you—or so he believes.

“So, how about that date, baby girl? After all, you’re now my girlfriend.” Seungcheol asks, making sure that Seokjin can hear him.

“Yeah, I don’t date dudes who have a thing for other fellas’ sloppy seconds.” You bluntly state, turning towards Yoongi and Jungkook, “I mean, first it was Yerin, right? The one that was going around the entire fucking school saying that she was Seokjin’s girlfriend. Oh, I feel sorry for her since it was just last week, you were chasing after her, and now you’re after me.” You say, clicking your tongue in fake disappointment.

Seungcheol’s arrogant smile vanishes and is now replaced with a scowl.

“Let me ask you this, why are you obsessed with Seokjin’s sloppy seconds? Like there are a million girls in this damn school who, oddly enough, would love to be your arm candy. Yet you go after the ones that either show interest in Seokjin or who Seokjin’s interested in. Like, dude. Stop. It’s honestly creepy to the point that I firmly believe you have a weird obsession with him.” You finish as you walk over to Seokjin, offering him a helping hand.

Seokjin faintly smiles, grabbing your hand, as he pulls himself up. Soon, his smile becomes bright. His sweet smile almost blinds you—and makes your heart skip a beat.

“I knew you had a soft spot for me, ___.”

“Don’t push it, Jinnie boy.”

Softly shaking your head, you playfully shove Seokjin, snapping him out of his thoughts. You then jump down from the stage, having popped yourself up there moments earlier.

“Well, all I have to say is that Seungcheol better watch out. He hasn’t seen your ‘Perfect Copy’ in action yet.” You warmly smile as you make your way towards the exit but soon halt. You glance over your shoulder, maintaining that sweet smile, and say,

“Besides, he’s no match for you with your girlfriend cheering you on from the bench.”

“Right…” He mumbles, totally ignoring your words. Then, it hits him as if someone doused him with cold water.

“Wait! Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?!!” Seokjin hollers, chasing after you.

“I don’t know. Win tomorrow’s match, and I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, that’s cruel, princess…”

71 notes · View notes

forcefully-awoken · 4 years ago

Text

LOVE LANGUAGES

Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance, but he does enjoy a challenge

Rating: Explicit

Warnings for: Attempted sexual assault, my shit romantic writing, Kylo Ren doesn’t understand romance and neither do I.

Note: This was written for the Citrus Dome Lovers Day Literature collab.

Read on ao3 here. Header by the lovely Elmi.

Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance.

There has never been a need for it in his life, growing up the only couple he had truly seen in action were his own parents. The volatile relationship they had together, one moment embarrassingly in love and physical, the next a screaming match with random objects flying through the air. He couldn’t imagine attaching himself to a person like that, letting their emotions influence his own. No, there was no need for something as trivial as romance in Kylo Ren’s life.

That is, until you come along.

You trail behind Hux, of all people, taking diligent notes of whatever the General says on your data pad. You’re new to Starkiller, he can tell from the wide eye look you give everything as you pass by it, the way your head jerks towards him and then away when you realize he’s staring right at you. He doesn’t even know why he’s staring at you. You were, you are, irrelevant to him. He hardly gives you a second thought when you leave the room.

Until you collide face first into his chest. It’s the middle of the night, there’s no reason for you to be wandering the halls (there’s no real reason he is either, aside from a bout of insomnia, but he’s Kylo Ren and you are, well, you). You stammer out some pathetic excuse about the base being so big you get easily turned around. You’re nearly in tears by the time he takes as much pity as he can on you, barking out a short “Enough.”

You stop speaking immediately, even though he made no use of the Force. With your mouth closed he takes a moment to appreciate you. He lets his eyes drift over your form under his mask, and delights in the way you squirm under his gaze. You look so small like this, so soft in all the right places. You look so deliciously breakable.

“Come to my quarters,” he instructs you, wanting to see just how much you can endure under him. He turns, expecting you to follow but to his incredulous surprise he hears your voice calling after him.

“No, I won’t be going with you,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a certainty in it. Your tone leaves no room for debate, and before he can even get back to you, you’re gone. Moving around him and through the hallways, leaving him standing in your wake. It’s the first time someone has denied him in… far too long. He’s used to taking now, to everything to be one challenge after the next, none of them too strenuous for him to overcome.

But here you are now, a new little thing. Telling him no, walking away from him without so much as a second glance. It shouldn’t get under his skin in this way, but when he finds himself alone in his room again he’s consumed with thoughts of you. It wasn’t just your rejection, he realizes, but your outright dismissal of him all together. He was leader of the Knights of Ren, the Supreme Leader’s right hand, but you had acted as if he were some random trooper. It wouldn’t do, he decided, it wouldn’t do at all. He stumbles across an issue he’s never encountered before- how to talk to someone like you.

He’s had his fair share of beings across the galaxy, but they were paid for, or had willingly given themselves to him for a small taste of power. A means to a brief end, he couldn’t remember half the names or faces. There had been nobody exceptional. Until you. He doesn’t think Hux will take kindly to it if he offers you money, and while he doesn’t care what Hux thinks of him, the thought of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, the victory would ring hollow.

It makes him think of the vague talks his father gave him as a child, when the old man would indulge just a little too hard. Han Solo was, by his own account, a scoundrel, leaving broken hearts in his wake without a care. The trend had kept up into Kylo’s own childhood, only the heart of a son is a lot harder to mend. It’s never been what Kylo Ren wanted out of life, and isn’t what he wants out of you. He banishes the memories from his mind, forces himself to focus on what’s right in front of him.

“Why did you say no?” It’s the first time he’s seen you alone in almost two weeks, always in Hux’s shadow. You’re taking notes on the bridge now, while Hux is off doing Maker knows what, probably something Kylo will have to correct later on. The only thing that matters to him now is standing next to you. He’s never been one for posturing before, but now he stands a bit straighter, puffs his chest out a little more to see if he can pull a reaction from you.

You barely spare him a second glance.

“I’ve heard tales about you,” You begin, voice so casual that someone might think the two of you are discussing the weather, “I’m not looking to be the next conquest of the great Kylo Ren. I’m here to work not to… dally with you.” It made sense, laid out in front of him like that, but it didn’t lessen the sting of rejection. He says nothing else but stalks off the bridge, grinding his teeth together.

It’s Phasma, of all people, who has the best advice for him. He doesn’t even approach her about it, the tall commander simply seems to know what’s on his mind. She finds him after a meeting, blocks the doorway so he can’t leave the room.

“You have to woo her,” Her voice is painfully flat, almost strained with how casually she’s forcing the words to be. He considers for a moment simply running her and then himself through with his lightsaber, but thinks better of it. The First Order would fall into ruin if Hux was the only one left. “Find out her love language, and approach it as you would a battle- with a clear strategy.” She saves him any further embarrassment by blessedly leaving him alone with his thoughts now.

He has to research what the fucking things are, something that galls him. He can’t remember the last time he had to do his own research on things, having briefings prepared for him for so long now. He finds out there’s five of these so called love languages (they sound like something his parents would have fought about). It’s easy, after that, to come up with a plan.

He starts with the easiest and most obvious- quality time. It’s easy enough to request your transfer. Hux sputters and complains but ultimately it’s useless. Now you shadow him to war councils, diligently typing away at your data pad with pursed lips. He watches you to see if any of the meeting makes you blanch, after all a meeting with the Knights of Ren is drastically different than what you might be used to.

You say nothing to him the whole time.

“Send your notes to me,” It’s a needless reminder- you’ve already sent them to him but he feels the need to condescend, just a bit. Your lips flatten into a thin line and you give him a curt nod. His own lips mimic yours behind his mask before he bites out, “Is there a problem?”

“Don’t interfere with my career,” Your words are quick and quiet, eyes staring up at him with a burning anger. He can feel it radiating off of you in waves through the Force, almost as fierce as his own.

“Duly noted,” is his only response, before you turn on your heel and stalk off without being dismissed. He should reprimand you for it, but all Kylo Ren can look at is the soft sway of your thighs as you go.

The next language he decides to test out seems easy to him as well, until he has to put it into practice. Gift giving is something that he thought would be almost laughably menial. It isn’t until he starts to think about it more that he realizes he comes up short in this arena.

While the conditions on Starkiller base aren’t luxurious by any means, the workers and troops want for nothing on it. There is hardly even a black market for contraband goods, with how tightly regulated the ship was. He selected the only thing that even made slight sense to him, given how cold it was on the base.

“Here,” He acosts you after a meeting one day, thrusting the bundled up fabric in your general direction. You take it with hesitant hands, unfolding it to hold it away from yourself as you eye it up and down. Your head tilts to the side and you bite your lower lip in concentration, something he’s seen you do more than once during particularly intense meetings.

“This is a sweater,” What it is is the only thing he thinks would be a suitable gift for the frigid planet base. It’s black, but the fabric is soft and warm. He thinks you’d look good in it as well, but he would rather talk to Hux than admit it.

“The base is cold,” He tried to keep any irritation out of his voice, the both of you know this fact already, “This will keep you warm.” He doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, already burning with humiliation. His strides carry him so far away so quickly he almost misses your quiet reply-

“Or you could.” When he turns back to you, you’ve already turned away from him as well, falling in with a group headed towards the residential area.

But the next time he sees you on a day off, you’re wearing the sweater.

The next love language he attempts to conquer gives him pause. Words of affirmation seems to be the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of. Of course anybody would like to be complimented, it’s in the nature of being. Mindless and meaningless compliments seem dull and almost insulting.

He could compliment you on your work, of course, though he suspects you’ve heard all there is to hear on that subject. You’re a quick and succinct note taker, he’s seen it first hand, but that doesn’t scream romance to him. On the other hand, being complimented on a skill you’ve clearly worked hard at is better than any alternatives.

This time he finds you before a meeting, situating yourself in the corner of the room. He’s noticed that about you- that you press yourself into the back of the room, so you can observe everything all at once. You stand up straighter when he walks in, an action he’s read is a positive sign. Because of how you position yourself you’re back into the corner of the room with him in front of you, blocking any way out.

“Your notes are good,” Fuck, it sounds even worse saying it out loud. Your face remains impassive but he continues on anyways, “They’re direct and to the point, but you never miss anything. You do a passable job.”

“Thank you,” Your reply sounds sincere, but your voice is so small it barely reaches his ears. There’s a hint of a smile quirking at your lips when you continue speaking, “My parents were both officers for the First Order. They taught me well.”

More people are trickling in so he wrenches himself away from you, ignoring the pointed stare from Hux as they both seat themselves. The meeting passes slowly, something about trade routes and treaties. Kylo is happy to have his helmet on now, his eyes never leaving your face as you type away.

“Do be so kind as to not break my assistant,” Hux says to him after, as they walk to their audience with Supreme Leader Snoke. It takes Kylo by surprise, the quiet steel in Hux’s voice. Neither of them say anything else, but Kylo nods his head in acknowledgement.

Hux’s words stick in his chest for the rest of the day. He had wanted to break you at first, wanted to crawl inside your mind and see what made you tick but this dance the two of you were doing was far better than any easy conquest. It was… interesting to see whatever barrier you had put up between the two of you come down slowly.

He’s quiet in his thoughts when he returns to his quarters, until a scream tears him back to reality. He hasn’t heard your voice make a noise like that before but he knows with surety that it’s you calling for help. Kylo makes quick work of finding you, cornered by two drunken troopers.

One of them has the sweater he gave you halfway off your body while the other is struggling to get your pants off. Rage rips through him like a storm, and with one violent sweep of his arm the two of them are flying off of you, hitting the wall with enough force they’re either dead or about to be. He turns on them with a snarl, ready to wipe them from the base and from memory when he hears you sniffle.

Turning back to you he can see now how badly you’re shaking, trying to wrap the sweater back around you. There’s tears streaming down your face, dripping down onto the floor beneath you.

“I-I’m sorry you had to see that,” You manage to get out, and his rage returns. For all his wrongs he knows you don’t need to apologize to him. When he tells you this your head snaps up so fast he thinks you might hurt yourself. It’s only when your eyes widen and your mouth drops open a little he realizes- he left his helmet in his quarters.

This time it’s Kylo who stands a little bit straighter, posturing under your gaze. He knows he’s an attractive man, and now you get to know that as well. He’s silent, letting you drink him in until-

“Can you take me home?” His heart stutters out a tango in his chest as he nods. You grab onto his arms, your hands so hot he can feel them through the layers he’s still wearing. Perhaps you meant for him to lead you back to your own quarters but you say nothing as he leads you to his own. You don’t speak when he closes the door behind you.

And you don’t speak when you grab the front of his shirt to tug him down, pressing your lips to his.

Whatever doubts you had before have been wiped away, as your mouth opens under his to invite his tongue in. You whimper when his large hands dig into your thighs, manhandling you up until your legs wrap around his waist. He walks you both to the bed, his mouth only leaving yours to dip down and suck a mark onto your skin.

He lowers the two of you down onto the bed, calling on all of his training not to simply tear your clothes off and rut into you like an animal. He’s worked for this, for you, for this reward.

But then you grind your clothed cunt up against him and he decides there will be time to savor you later.

He pulls back just enough for him to shed his clothes and watch you scramble out of yours too. Your eyes trail up his body ravenously, and his trail down yours in delight. You look better than he ever could have imagined.

You’re practically dripping when his fingers find your clit. He rubs a few quick circles around it, trying to get you just wet enough for him to slide into you. Your back arches off of his bed, offering your chest up to him. When he takes your nipple into his mouth you melt into his touch.

“Hurry up!” You sound as impatient as he feels, grabbing onto his shoulders to pull him closer into you. “Waited too long already!”

“Yeah?” He lines his cock up with your entrance, presses himself completely inside with one thrust. You don’t- can’t- answer him now, not if the way your cunt fluttering around him is any indication. He grips your chin, making you look at him and says, “Tell me you want me.”

“Fuck!” You moan out, shaking underneath him, “Wanted you since the first time I saw you!” His hips snap into yours, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Your nails bite into his shoulders, leaving little crescents of red behind. His hands twist at his sheets around your head, so tightly they rip a little but he doesn’t slow down.

He continues like this, driving you into orgasms until you’re sobbing underneath him. Even then he doesn’t slow down, not until your eyes are drooping, threatening to pass out on him completely. He pulls out quickly, cumming over your stomach and chest. Kylo collapses on the bed next to you, staring at the tremors that wrack through your body.

“Well, that was certainly worth the wait,” your voice is rough from screaming underneath him, but your comment brings a smile to his face. He gets to study you now, eyes tracing over the contours of your face, committing how you look now to his memory. You shift forward, delicately walking over to his bathroom to use the shower to clean yourself off. He knows he should too, but instead he simply lays on his bed and waits.

Once you’re clean and dry you dress yourself again, barely sparing him a second glance. Still he remains silently lounging on the bed. Finally you look at him, hands twisting nervously in front of you.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting?” You don’t even let him reply before you’re out his door, leaving him alone with another sting of rejection. Kylo slumps back onto his bed, but now his mind is reeling. Pulling out his own data pad he types a few inquiries into it before falling asleep.

————————————————————————

You try not to think about it all the next day.

You had hardly been able to sleep that night, body sore from the sex. It had been so long since you were with anybody, and Kylo Ren had been anything but gentle. You avoid looking at him during meetings, being the last one in and the first one gone from them so he can’t speak to you.

You manage to avoid him all day, making your way back to your room to hide away there until the urge to return to him passed. You stop in the doorway, taking in the flower on your bed.

A singular red rose waits for you, a note attached to it. You don’t have to guess who it’s from, though the note only says ‘For You’. You think for a moment about throwing it away, about putting in for a transfer, about getting the fuck off Starkiller before you can make any more poor decisions.

But then you think about the past few weeks, not just the previous night.

You think about the time, the effort Kylo Ren had shown for you. How he had saved you. How he hadn’t made a move until you did. His gestures had been a bit awkward but the meaning behind them seemed genuine. You take the rose and place it onto your desk, right there it will be the last thing you see at night, and the first thing you see in the morning.

Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance.

But for you he might give it a try.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #remember when i wrote star wars? good times

33 notes · View notes

zettabita · 5 years ago

Text

RIVALS: Thunder

Rivals Master List

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

a masaki ichijou x fem reader fic

Genre: action, romance Warnings: none! Word count: 2.6k+

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

“Shiba-san, I think I’m going to throw up.”

You clutch the shoulder of Tatsuya Shiba, First High’s best technician and the one currently servicing your CAD. With a mildly concerned look, he steadies you and walks you to the stage riser.

Around you, students hustle to and fro, working on computers, tinkering with CADs, and typing hastily on tablets—other technicians for First High. You see, it was the 2095 Nine Schools Magic Competition, and you, a bright-eyed magician hailing from a distant country, was chosen by your First High teachers and upperclassmen to represent the school for Ice Pillar Break. Not much surprise there—even amongst the Blooms students, you were considered one of the best: you learned ridiculously fast, your casting speed rivals that of Miyuki Shiba’s, and, although it wasn’t known to many, your Psion count was very, very high, making for a good starting set of talents for the flashy event. To top it off, you worked hard to keep your place in the prestigious school (one time, you had to explain to your Japanese classmates how and why you, a foreigner, topped the exam for Modern Japanese class). Unfortunately, though, your technical skills weren’t anything to write home about; you could barely calibrate a CAD to save your life. Well, that’s why you had Tatsuya with you.

“You’ll be fine. (L/N)-san. You just need to take your time.” Tatsuya reassures in his usual monotone voice. He pauses, as if thinking what to say, before adding, “Just don’t draw attention to your casting.”

Welp. Aside from the fact that it was your first match of the tournament, you were also horribly unlucky in that your opponent, Suzuki Mutsuba of Third High School, is the current shoo-in to champion Ice Pillar Break for the Newcomer’s Division. Her casting speed and aggressive tactics made her an extremely difficult opponent as she would be able to destroy the ice pillars quickly before you could even cast an offensive spell.

To overcome this, you and Tatsuya had agreed on using your speciality in Ancient Magic which would give you great burst damage and some stealth. It would, however, take a lot of time to cast, and so you had to constantly run a modern counter magic sequence to prevent getting slaughtered in the first couple of seconds while preparing for your Ancient Magic spell. The thought made you want to hurl your breakfast on Tatsuya’s shiny black shoes.

“Thanks.” You smile weakly at him. “Well, if I lose today, at least I look cute.” Tatsuya, who, as expected, barely reacted, giving you a small smile. Well, it was true. Saegusa-senpai had insisted that the Ice Pillar Break event had also become a mini-fashion show in recent years, so she and some of the other female upperclassmen took a lot of pleasure in dressing you up. You wore a modernized version of your country’s traditional garb (“I absolutely insist! You’ll be a standout,” Saegusa-senpai exclaimed one time after a meeting, imploring you to send for traditional clothes), your face in light makeup, and your hair in a bun. You knew that with your outfit, you’d surely be a standout amongst the sea of competitors in kimono and hakama.

To prevent yourself from throwing up, you had let go of Tatsuya and preoccupied yourself with fiddling with the stitching on your top, when a disembodied voice booms over the speakers in the holding room. “Mutsuba Suzuki, Third High School, versus (L/N) (F/N), First High School!”

You take a deep breath. You look back to your weeks of training: the tingle of electricity prickling your skin, the feeling of power dancing at the ends of your fingertips, the mental exhaustion from practicing deadly magic for hours on end. You remember the day you first boarded the plane for Japan at the behest of your government, scared that you wouldn’t make it in the suffocatingly competitive atmosphere of First High. You breathe in this moment now: you, who has made it this far and who will make it even further. Suddenly, you don’t feel like throwing up anymore.

“Go on and show them.” Tatsuya hands you your device, slender and silver, and your talisman, a pair of black gloves with a red inscription on the palm. You look into his blue eyes and see absolute certainty. In you, perhaps? There was no time to contemplate, so you take the device and put on the gloves, shooting him an eager grin as the platform begins to rise. “Yes, yes.”

You emerge into the light, your chin held high.

-------

“Oi, Masaki, it’s the foreigner girl!”

“Mm.” Masaki Ichijou, scion of the Ichijou clan and freshman ace of Third High School, looks up from his device to George and then to you at the center of the stadium. You were something of a spectacle at this year’s Nine Magic High Schools Competition, because foreigners were so rare at magic high schools, much less at a contest of Japan’s best up-and-coming magicians.

You emerge from the riser, your stance self-assured. Judging from the large screen flashing yours and Mutsuba-san’s faces, Masaki thought you were pretty, yes, but not in that demure Japanese way. Your wide eyes were intense and serious but a little restless and some strands of your (H/C) hair loose from your bun were fluttering in the wind. You were wearing some sort of unique outfit; probably from your home country, Masaki notes, and a pair of gloves. He eyes the CAD in your hand. General-type. General-type CADs can hold a lot of Activation Sequences, but it’s taxing for the caster. You using one meant you have some skill.

“Ooh. General-type CAD. Still, she doesn’t look particularly tough.” George pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. “Do you think I should still have the others take stats?”

Masaki was certain you weren’t a lightweight: after all, your home country sent you to First for a reason, and First sent you to this competition. First High is not a school to be taken lightly. He nodded. “Yes. Just to be sure.”

Still, as good as you may be, Mutsuba-san was probably better, Masaki thought. “But I don’t think she can win against Mutsuba-san,” He adds. “She tied with me in practice once or twice, you know.”

George nods slightly. “Yes. Her control and cast speed are above average. And her specialty really is suited for this—“

The siren sounds, cutting off George and shushing the crowd. It’s time. After two counts, a screeching noise fills the air, and the match between First High and Third High begins.

On the far right, Mutsuba-san, dressed in a pink kimono, outstretches a gun-shaped CAD and begins her offense. Masaki knows what it is from his practice matches with her: Phonon Maser, an A-rank spell. A bright beam bursts forth from the barrel of her CAD and vaporizes one of your pillars. Masaki’s eyes dash to the left of the field. You wince a little, your left hand gripping your CAD tighter and your right hand tucked behind your back, but you quickly resume your steady gaze and continue casting. A sequence forms over your pillars and a dull light begins to pulse over your own ice field. Soon, Mutsuba-san’s Phonon Maser only makes dents.

“Data Fortification.” George makes a yawning motion. “Effective, but boring.”

“Hey! I use Data Fortification.” Masaki says indignantly. “And her defense is decent.”

Third’s best engineer regards his friend dryly. “Mm. But it’s not your only spell. Miss First here isn’t even attempting an offense.” He gestures to the field. He was right. You were holding your CAD high over the ice field, as if commanding them to stay frozen—and they did for the most part, receiving Mutsuba-san’s onslaught of lasers relatively well. Still, Masaki thought, you weren’t making any moves to destroy Mutsuba-san’s pillars.

“Yeah. As good as she is at defending herself, it’s useless if she doesn’t attack.” George nods in reply.

A few more seconds of the standoff between you and your opponent pass. The young Ichijou takes a quick glance around. George looked like he was getting more bored with each passing second, and he wasn’t the only one losing interest. Many other Third students in the stand who waited eagerly for you a couple of seconds ago now whisper impatiently amongst themselves, bored and unimpressed by the seemingly one-sided battle. To Masaki’s right field of view, the First High students in their stand shift uncomfortably in their seats, visibly worried about the outcome of the match. It seemed that even they didn’t know what was going on.

Masaki fixes his attention back on you who still kept up with your ironclad defense. Why did First High even bother to send someone who won’t attack, Masaki wonders. He tries searching your face, your figure, your magic for any indication of anxiety, uncertainty, or whatever one was supposed to feel whenever they were about to lose a match. With your steady gaze, (E/C) eyes fixed on the field before you, your defense magic constant in its impenetrability, you seemed too calm for someone about to lose, Masaki observes. And then it hit him.

“It’s not calmness.” He murmurs.

“What?” George gazes at Masaki quizzically. With all their years of friendship, George has pretty much gotten used to his best friend’s mutterings, especially during training—he’s heard I have to get this perfectly or I need to adjust the hydrostatic pressure far too many times in simulations—and even learned to take some of them seriously. He’s written them off as telltale marks of a genius (because he himself does the same things when he’s zoning out in his lab).

“She’s waiting for something.” It’s not calmness, Masaki thought. It was something more predatory. Staring at your face on the megascreen, he realizes that you, in all your non-aggression, were fighting back a smile.

Prompted by Masaki’s fixation, George studies your figure with the I-discovered-a-new-Cardinal-Code look on his face, the look he uses when scrutinizing a research article or examining Akane’s new outfit (It’s a well-known fact that they like each other. Masaki long ago conceded to the fact that his live-in best friend and his younger sister Akane are practically dating.) As George looks over you, his eyes widen. “Look at her right hand.”

“Huh.” Masaki studies your right arm tucked away behind your back, away from everyone’s attention. Your hand, covered by your glove with the red seal on the palm, was making some sort of small, rapid fingering motion, like you were weaving a thread or plucking multiple strings on an instrument. It was so slight and so seemingly random that even the announcers and Mutsuba-san did not even recognize.

Masaki raises an eyebrow. “That’s Ancient Magic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Her glove is the talisman.” George leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, as if waiting for something to unfold. As he did, he glances up at the sky. He then grips Masaki’s shoulder tightly.

The young Ichijou tries to slap his best friend’s hand off. “Hey, you’re going to ruin my uniform.”

George didn’t seem to hear him. His gaze, now bewildered, was fixated on the sky. “By Kami-sama...” He whispers.

Masaki glances up with him. The sky was dark, much darker than it was minutes ago. Clouds seemed to form quickly, almost too quickly, overhead. George‘s grip on Masaki’s shoulder tightened. “Masaki, don’t watch the field, she’s casting a—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you whip out your right hand and snap your finger. A streak of pure white floods everyone’s vision and a deafening clap thunders overhead. The stadium erupts in surprised yelps from the audience. The light soon disappears, revealing you standing there on your podium, gloved right hand outstretched and a wide grin spread over your face.

Masaki hastily surveys the field, rubbing his eyes from the sudden flash of lightning. Half of Mutsuba-san’s pillars had exploded, boiling hot water sizzling on the grass around the ice field. The other half were melted to varying degrees. The ground underneath what used to be the center pillar, where the light struck, was scorched.

“Well, well.” He clicks his tongue in amazement. “Thunder Cloud.”

George’s red eyes widened. “That’s…that’s the A-class Ancient Magic that copies the natural lightning generation process...”

“Yes.” Masaki let out a sigh. He’s seen the spell before when his father worked with foreign magicians from the tropical southern regions of the Asian Union, but he’s never seen them do the little motions you did. “Father used to know a few who could cast it. They literally create cumulonimbus clouds and separate the electrons in such a way to make the lightning strike an exact point. It takes a lot of Psions but it’s highly lethal. To cast it while casting a modern spell...”

George started typing on his phone furiously. “That’s next-level. Gotta have the team take note of this.” Masaki could only nod in reply. “Now that’s why First sent her.”

Mutsuba-san looked shocked that she only had half her pillars left within a fraction of a second and scrambled to cast a defensive spell, to no avail. You had already snapped your finger again, causing a large Sequence to form in the sky, and lightning strikes the pillars, this time stronger, brighter, and hotter than the last.

The pair manage to just avert their eyes in time. There were deafeaning cheers on the right side of the stadium—probably First audience—and then they were drowned out by a crack of thunder like a whip. When the light cleared, there was nothing left of Mutsuba-san’s pillars, just the scorched ground upon which they once stood and steam rising from her side of the field. All ice and water had been vaporized.

The siren screeched loudly. “The match goes to (L/N) (F/N) of First High School!”

The stadium erupts in cheers, except for the pair’s stand, which consisted of Third students. Third High sat in stunned silence. No one had expected that you would defeat Mutsuba Suzuki, a member of the Ten Master Clans and a favorite to win the Newcomers’ Division for Ice Pillar Break in a complete wipeout. And in such a rapid and unexpected way, too.

George clicks his tongue in amazement. “Now, that’s one way to get everyone’s attention.”

“And the Clans’ attention, too.” Masaki says in a soft voice.

George glances at him and raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “Could it be that the great and super-single Ichijou Masaki is expressing his interest?”

Masaki glares at him incredulously and rolls his eyes. “Yes, George, I am extremely interested in this girl whom I’ve never met and whose background I have no idea about. What I’m saying is that defeating a member of the Master Clans is—“

The star engineer lets out a small chuckle. “Yes, yes, I know what you mean. Still…you never know, right?”

Masaki exhales loudly through his nose. “I know a lot of things, George.” He takes a quick glance back at the megascreen, which shows you practically beaming as you wave at the First High crowd, as if you didn’t just cast very taxing and very deadly magic seconds ago. ‘(L/N) (F/N)’, it says on the screen. He thinks of you, you in the moment, smiling with the thunder. He tries to speak your name in his head, pronouncing the individual syllables the way he’s heard people speak names of your descent, seeing how each sound would fit in his mouth. At the back of his mind, he thinks it fits well, but he keeps this information to himself.

George didn’t seem to notice his best friend’s thoughts wandering. “Uh-huh. Well, I should go check on Mutsuba-san’s hardware. Catch you later.” He moves towards the exit with the leaving crowd but pauses at a notification from his phone. He scans it, eyes widening for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past couple of minutes.

”What is it?” Masaki asks, just barely having snapped out of his reverie of you.

George turns to him, a wicked grin on his face. “Just got word from the team. She’s going to sub for Monolith Code.”

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

Next: Spark I

#mahouka #ichijou masaki #masaki ichijou #masaki ichijo #shiba tatsuya #tatsuya shiba #mahouka koukou no rettousei #irregular at magic high school #irregular

85 notes · View notes

writing-in-april · 5 years ago

Text

Last Name

Vague Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral reader

Starring- Reader, Hux, Poe (mentioned)

Warnings- Torture, blood, swearing, guns, normal Star Wars content just a little bloodier

A/N- This is a new fandom for me to write for so here’s to branching out! I’ll still post for Spencer Reid hopefully once a week but I have a bunch of other things I’d like to write for as well!! Thank you Discord for helping me with this especially my beta readers @agntprentiss @fanficlibrary82 and @onedirectionfansarelegends (This was the only way I could tag her for some reason) This idea literally came to me in a dream and I just had to write it down (it was supposed to be a blurb then came out to be 2k words 🤷‍♀️) Requests are open!! @april-14-blog is my main blog where I reblog smut and fluff.

My head felt like it was on fire, that was the first thought that shot through my head as I came to. I struggled to pry open my eyes, it felt as if I had the weight of a starsystem pulling them closed.

Slowly my senses started coming back to me, I could tell I was strapped to a metal chair with binders around both of my wrists. They were bound tight, tight enough that I could feel the harsh metal digging into my flesh. I must’ve been captured from my latest mission for the resistance, though I could barely recall the details. All I could evoke from my memory was landing on the planet Kashyyyk, I was supposed to meet up with a spy who had critical information for new hyperspace lanes.

Suddenly the metal panel slid open snapped me out of my memories. The harsh scraping of metal on metal setting my teeth on edge. The anticipation of who was going to walk through was like sitting on needles and the hairs of my neck where standing straight up. My eyes were still adjusting to the harsh lighting that was casting varied shadows throughout the room. A silhouette came into my view and I could immediately tell who it was even without being able to see the details of his figure.

General Hux, a smarmy high ranking officer of the First Order. Well at least it wasn’t Kylo Ren.

“Y/N Y/L/N data analyst for the resistance.” Hux sneered from the shadows. “We have a whole file on you, you hold key information about resistance tactics and locations. Resistance is futile, just give us the data” he stepped forward which allowed me to take in his slimy appearance. His eyes looked dead, no emotion was given away, I knew there was no weaseling my way out of this. I’d have to fight my way out.

I completely blocked out Hux’s voice, letting it play in the background like a broken audiobulb, which helped me absorb the blows that started coming at my stomach from a stormtrooper. Eventually they moved up to my upper shoulders and face when it was clear they were getting no reaction from me.

My mouth was steadily filling with crimson blood, which gave me an idea to further goad the general. I spit the blood at Hux spraying his face scarlet and delivered a devilish insult.

“Eat my shit, you flaccid son of of a street whore” I said with a bloody smirk, he was going to have to try harder if he wanted to get me to speak.

“You rebel scum” he spat out at me. Then with a raised fist he punched me in the nose with a sickening crack. “You’ll never leave here, you’ll rot in a cell. Even if you do attempt to escape it’s not like you know how to fly. We’re in the middle of deep space and you’re just a simple analyst.” He taunted at me, this was subtle confirmation that the pilot I came with was dead, at least it wasn’t Poe I thought selfishly.

Through the threshold of my cell a probe droid came through, I started to unconsciously squirm, I knew what was coming next. The black floating sphere droid hovered over to me and shot out a syringe which was surely filled with something they were sure would make me talk.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way” Hux sneered out- Kriff I wish he’d just shut his mouth. “What where you doing orbiting Kashyyyk?”

I shook my head in defiance, I didn’t care about pain, I just cared about the survival of the resistance.

“Very well” he grumbled before waving the torture droid towards me. The needle pricked my right forearm giving me a slice of the pain that was to come. It didn’t creep up on me, but hit me with full force, making me feel as if fire was running through my veins. Hux started screaming at me again to try and pry out the information, even though whatever they injected into me didn’t let me form a single thought. My eyes started to give way- I didn’t know if I was going to pass out or die- just that I needed to do something to escape the burning pain. Relief flooded through my veins as the galaxy around me faded to black.

———————

When I came to again my head was pulsing harder then before, plus there was a sharp ringing in my ears. Pushing my pain aside I promptly started to look for an escape route. Then I remembered how Poe and I had gotten out of being captured by Weequans on Felucia. I prepared myself to scream out to the troopers, I’ll fake being sick and hopefully they’ll let their guard down.

“Help please!” I shouted in the most convincing scream I could managet. “I’m going to throw up! You’ll have to clean it up if you don’t give me a bucket or something!!!”

The two stormtroopers stationed outside finally relented and opened the door with another whoosh. They clambered in obviously miffed that they would have to deal with me. One unlocked the binders and forcefully pulled them off me, giving some relief to my already bruised wrists. They shoved me out of the cell out towards the refresher that was reserved for prisoners.

“Hurry up.” The second one snapped at me in a brusque tone while they shoved me through the door.

I assessed my surroundings trying to find anything to gain the upper hand, sadly it seemed as if I would have to use brute force to escape. I hunched over the toilet pretending to make a gagged sound and called for one of them to help me again. Swiftly I kicked the trooper’s legs out from under them and grabbed his blaster, the second immediately put his hands up knowing that I had the upper hand. I decided to spare the two, by knocking them out with the butt of the blaster.

My legs were burning as I ran out of the detention block with black spots dancing around my vision but, I wouldn’t let myself stop for anything, I needed to get home. The Star destroyer I had gotten myself stranded on had an unnecessary amount of seemingly useless hallways. I was certain I had gotten lost in the deep dispensable cesspool, I had barely even run into any troopers, seemingly signaling that I was off course. Finally I saw the light of a hangar bag coming into view, then of course the alarm went off painting the col clinical hallways a deep red. They must’ve realized that I had escaped, my poor legs were close to giving up, the stress of being tortured had nearly beaten me into submission. Yet I willed myself further as I came in through the hangar doors, troopers were running around looking in every nook and cranny trying to find their lost prisoner. I hid my frame behind a stack of crates and peeled my eyes for a ship to pilot.

My pupils fixated on a tie fighter around the bend that luckily had no troopers snooping about. I made a mad dash towards the open hatch of the ship and hopped inside. Buttons and switches adorned the small ship looking slightly foreign to me. Instead of worrying about taking off I tried to apply basic flight knowledge that Poe taught to me and I got the ship hovering off the ground.

The troopers finally realized what was happening and started to fire at the ship, even though the tethering cable was still attached I grabbed the controls to swerve around incoming fire. I swung around until the end of the tethering cable came into my sights, I quickly swiveled over to the blaster controls. Aiming expertly I shot down the only thing holding me back from leaving this Sarlacc pit. I made my way back to the piloting controls and quickly passed through the exit out into deep space. Several tie fighters followed me trying to shoot me down as a crackling came through the comms.

“You’ll never outrun us!” Hux shouted through the comms, they must’ve still been connected through the enemy ships.

“Are you so sure about that Hux?!” My shaky hands were attempting to program the coordinates of the D’Qar base into the navicomputer which was harder without an astromech to aide me.

“Even if you did escape the star destroyer Y/L/N you wouldn’t get very far- you’re no pilot” his voice like steel scraping through the comms.

“ Did you know my name isn’t Y/L/N anymore Hux?” I mocked as I prepared to jump into hyperspace, I had him right where I wanted him.

“The name’s Dameron, Hugs” I slammed down the hyperspace lever and blasted off ready to go back to my husband who taught me how to fly.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe #Oscar Isaac #hux x reader #fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars #imagine #y/n #clone wars #finn #rey skywalker #kylo x reader #kylo ren #poe dameron imagine

101 notes · View notes

liitlesunshiine · 5 years ago

Text

Little Sidekick

(Bakugo x Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, sfw

Prompt: Y/N takes up an internship at the Ground Zero agency. With her luck, she ends up a sidekick to the Pro hero himself- Bakugo.

Prelude: While this chapter is smutty free I can guarantee you the future ones wont be ;) Now I haven’t written anything in a FAT minute so forgive ya girl for the grammar errors you see. I’m a marketing major not a literature one. Just horny and motivated enough to write a full-blown fic on a fictional character, that I am currently obsessing over. Hope ya sluts enjoy :*

Y/LN= Your Last Name

| Chapter 1

In a desperate last-minute attempt to leave your toxic home, you took up a hero exchange program in Japan that you found online. While this wasn’t exactly the smartest thing you’ve done, it definitely didn’t stop you from applying to a sidekick position in an agency called “Ground Zero,” not aware that you’re getting more than what you had originally bargained for; you secretly packed a bag with a few necessities and slipped out of the prison you called home.

“Good morning Ms. Y/LN, to start you off we’re going to be putting you in a training simulation to better analyze your quirk and combat skills. This is to see which hero you’d be most compatible with as a sidekick.”

It was your second day at the agency. You spent a week settling in the apartment that the agency offered you for the internship program. It was a humble setting, nothing flashy which you had preferred anyways. You finally step foot in the agency yesterday mainly going over the basics and signing paperwork, today you assumed was going to be a bit more hands on.

You were used to this type of routine, being top class in your high school years meant a lot of colleges were constantly throwing themselves at you. Which in turn led to a lot of situations with you in training and battling on other heroes. Especially with your father owning and running multiple agencies, you were constantly being forced to get stronger, it was practically expected of you to become a high-ranking hero in America and take over his business. Something you honestly didn’t care much for. Maybe it was the constant pressure being put on your shoulders to become a hero but after so many years of being subjected to that, you’ve come to secretly dislike the hero industry in your own twisted way. You only took this internship program because you were unknown here, there were no expectations of you, no one constantly breathing down your shoulder; here you were nothing but a nameless sidekick and that thought alone brought you some peace.

You stepped into the training simulation. It was an all-white room but seemed endless. On one wall there was a glass window where you supposed they watched you from but couldn’t see through from your side. You were wearing a one-piece track suit with lines running all throughout the outfit. The suit was ingrained with tech that would monitor your breathing and usage of your quirk.

“Hello Y/LN” you heard through the speaker phone “if the training gets too intense for you or if you want to take a break just yell out STOP and we will immediately halt everything. I also forgot to ask since I didn’t see it on your application: what is your hero name?”

That question lingered in your head for a minute or so. In America you were forced into living a persona behind the title of a false name. Everything in the hero industry was so theatrical, from the costumes, to even the name you represented yourself with. It was all so scripted and fake. You refused to take any part in that this time, here in Japan you’re starting with a clean slate. So, with that in mind you sternly responded:

‘Y/N. it’s just Y/N.” and thus the training began.

About 15 minutes went by with no trouble or fuss. Your air quirk allowed you to move fast and efficiently. You’ve dodged every attack thrown at you by the fake automated dummies and even destroyed a handful with such ease and precision. You were taught a variety of attack and defense forms, all with and without the use of your quirk. You also knew how to dual sword fight; but since the training has been so pathetically easy you haven’t even found the need to use your swords yet. Picking up on this attitude, the speaker came on once again.

“It seems like the simulation is a bit too easy on you Y/N, were going to be skipping up a few levels and see how you do on level 7: which is where most of the pro heroes train at.

You only responded with a nod. A smirk slowly creeping in your face. About time they got serious. You were hoping for a challenge, you couldn’t deny the bit of pride you felt effortlessly blowing through this training. With that, more mindless dummies appeared, all in different shapes and sizes this time, some even carrying weapons and shields. There was one dummy in particular that caught your attention. It had four arms all holding a sword. You immediately drew your swords out and instantly ran over to it; all while you smoothly cut and sliced through all the others in your way.

Once you reached the four handed dummy, it instantly became a dance among swords hashing and daggering at one other. Even though you were outnumbered by two swords you kept the upper hand by being faster. But with every given slice the dummy was beginning to match your pace and speed, it was becoming slightly more difficult to stop every single hit; so, you cartwheeled back to give yourself some space.

You jumped to one of the corners of the walls staying off the ground to think of plan. You figured if you kept going back and forth with the dummy it would get you nowhere and eventually just tire you out. Frustrated by how the dummy was able to match your speed you prioritized cutting off two of its arms. That way it be more manageable than trying to defend yourself against four swords attacking you simultaneously. You instantly retreated back once you had given your failed plan an attempt. Back on the corner of the wall, you were losing more patience.

Maybe I should wait for an opening and cut its head off, maybe with my quirk I can push it back and have it fall, you thought to yourself. Maybe I’m just overthinking this, it’s a fucking lifeless dummy.

With that you activated your quirk and blew air towards the dummy with such force it rolled back. You took this opportunity to jump on it, but it immediately drew out one of its swords to defend itself; it forced you to quickly rotate midair and land it behind it. This gave you about 3 seconds to rack your sword across its neck before it was able to even register you were behind it. Its lifeless head fell onto to the floor and about a minute or so its body just disappeared altogether. The room was slowly returning to its white appearance and all the evidence of a battle scene was replaced shiny tiles. The lady walked through the door “wow Y/N that was great! You don’t even seem to be worn out. I’m sure you could’ve even reached level 8 easily but we gathered enough data already. Why don’t you come into my office so we can go over the details of who you’ll be paired up with”

You’ve trained tirelessly for years on end, of course this simulation was going to be a breeze. At least compared to what you’ve faced in the past. You shuttered at the thought, quickly trying to think of something else. You thoughtlessly followed her as she led the way, you looked around the impressive building with curiosity; it wasn’t the fanciest one you’ve seen but it must have been one of the biggest. After heading up in an elevator and making a few more turns you ended up in the speaker’s office taking a seat across her. A bit of guilt creeping up since you had completely forgotten her name.

She pulled out some papers giving you more things to sign and fill out. She briefly reminded you of the benefits that the agency was going to be offering you: an apartment complex 5 minutes away from here, a flexible schedule and fixed meet up times, and a small allowance for food and necessities.

“Do remember this program is for a year, while we can’t guarantee you a permanent position after that, if you do show promising resolve, we can offer you a contract making you an official member of the agency. This program is highly competitive though, we have about 8 other exchange heroes that we will be working with this year. And out of the 8 only one or possibly two, candidates will be accepted.”

“yeah that’s fine,” you casually responded.

You weren’t planning on staying here forever, regardless you were hoping by the end of the year you would land a spot in Shoto’s agency. You’ve always secretly admired the half and half hero after watching an interview of him speaking about his father. You couldn’t help but relate to him and what he felt; on top of it he seemed like a genuine and down to earth person. The opposite of what you’ve usually seen among heroes. You were absolutely intrigued and fascinated by the icyhot hero-

You were pulled away from your thoughts when the door behind you was slammed open. You jumped slightly from the noise and sharply turned with an irritated look on your face to see which asshole would just barge in like that. When you did, your eyes met with a pair of red curious ones. The man who barged in had spiky blonde hair protruding out in every angle, that would’ve been his most noticeable feature if it weren’t for the fact that he was fucking huge. His presence alone held such intimidation and power and that tight black shirt with a red X on it did little to no job in hiding every curve and muscle from his body. From the sharp V line on his lower abdomen, to his biceps which made your head look small in comparison, you were certainly caught off guard but pulled back into reality when the woman broke the silence.

“Y/N, this is Bakugo, Katsuki, also known as Ground Zero. You will be his sidekick from this moment forth.”

There was a moment or so of awkward silence that made the air around you feel heavy.

“tsk. Like hell I need a sidekick. I don’t need dead weight on my fucking shoulders, set her up with shitty hair, or dunce face.”

“Now, now Bakugo. We discussed this with the PR team already, don’t be difficult. We need to bring up your ratings. Having a pretty sidekick can distract the audience from that explosive personality of yours. We’re already in a rough spot from your last meltdown.” Speaker lady said with the calmest tone you’ve heard her use since you’ve met her.

“I was in the middle of a fucking battle how else would you have liked for me to get the public out of the way eh?”

“threating them with an explosion and cursing them off definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“tsk. Whatever. I’ll have to train her then. Wouldn’t want a liability on my hands now.” He looked over to you “Ya heard me freakshow?”

You bit your inner lip, drawing a tiny ounce of blood. There was a lot of information to digest here but fuck this, you thought. You ignored him for a few seconds, unraveling everything you’ve just heard. The balls on this guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Last thing you needed was to deal with some asshole trying to down talk you. You stood up and pushed your chair back. You looked up at him with unsettling coldness. You weren’t having any of this shit today.

“My name is fucking Y/N.”

His mouth slightly gaped, it almost looked like he wanted to respond but couldn’t form any words. You assumed he wasn’t used to people talking back? You could careless at the moment, you took his delayed reaction to walk out and slam the door closed. You felt offended and belittled. So, they partnered me up with that punk not based off of my skill or anything but because I’m simply a pretty face that can distract the crowd from his unhinged personality? The fuck. A wind whirl of emotions went through you. Wasn’t this in some way demeaning, maybe even sexist? I’m being reduced to my looks now; this was definitely a first for you. His words rang in your head “dead weight” “liability,” “shitty hair,” “dunce face;” he not only spat on you but on his coworkers as well? Man, if that’s how he talks about his peers you could only imagine what he had in store for you, seems like “freakshow” was your new nickname already. A chill ran down your spine, maybe coming here was a bad idea.

No. no. no. You quickly stopped your train of thought. I’m not going to have this wannabe scare me off on the first day. I left America for a reason, I can deal with this, I can deal with him-

Your thoughts were interrupted once again.

“Oi, I wasn’t finished talking!” he stomped his way behind you and pulled your arm back, forcing you to face him.

“well I am.” You responded sharply with an attitude rolling off your tongue.

“Like hell you are.” He growled, gripping your arm tighter this time, tugging you closer to him. The muscles on his biceps becoming veiny from how tight his grip was. The air stiffened and everyone outside the office walked slowly pretending not to notice you both. This time with more courage and vigor you pushed his shoulder, which to your embarrassment did little to nothing considering he didn’t even move an inch.

“What’s your problem?” you asked genuinely confused from why he was acting out, the pain on your arm becoming harder to ignore. He held an intense gaze with you, it was now registering how small you were in comparison to him. With his free hand he pushed the hair on your shoulder to the side gently, throwing you off completely. He leaned into you, insanely and uncomfortably close with his hot breath hitting your ear. Chills were running all throughout your body and you couldn’t bring yourself to move way this time. It was if you were completely frozen.

“Don’t go thinking you’re hot shit just cause you reached level 7. I’d hate to put you in your place so soon on your first week here little sidekick.” The pet name rolling off his tongue. You practically choked on air, not sure with what to respond with, still frozen. Slightly terrified, now slightly turned on; you made a feeble attempt in creating some space only to be pulled in closer. Now he had both of your arms pinned to the side.

“Not so brave now eh?” He pushed his body onto you, you practically felt like you were sinking into him. A light unintentional blush crept in on your face and he smirked at the sight. He pulled your chin up forcing you to meet his eyes, glaring down at you with a smug look on his face. He was taunting you.

“Our training sessions will be every Thursday and Friday after 4. Make sure you’re on time little sidekick, I’d hate to have to go look for you and trust me, the last thing you’d want is to play a game of hide and seek with me.”

With that he let go of you and shoved you off to the side. You regained your balance by grabbing on to the table near you, trying to register what the fuck just happened. Everyone was looking at you. While Bakugo walked out of the room, you stood there absolutely floored. It was until a tap on the shoulder brought you back to your senses.

“You good? I wouldn’t worry much about Bakubro, he’s just like that.” A rather handsome red head stood in front of you. He was slightly bigger than Bakugo but around the same height. There was this energy radiating off of him that felt really comforting and soothing. He smiled at you and you caught sight of his sharp teeth, but gentle look on his eyes.

“I’m Kirishima. Welcome to the agency.”

#bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugo #my hero academia #bnha boys #bnha smut #pro hero bakugou #ground zero #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha boys #mha kirishima #mha bakusquad #kirishima

51 notes · View notes

austarus · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 1 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell.

Word Count: 2177

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

***After finally getting caught up this week, I just have to say it’s been a roller-coaster of feels that I’ve been riding from the beginning all the way to episode 15. I refuse to believe we can’t get Harry back! Or that the multiverse is gone! And… I’ll just let my fic speak for what’s been on my mind for the past couple days. Hopefully, the writers are going to treat Harrison Wells kindly and stop breaking our hearts every so often. Tired of it and how they write off certain things with no legit explanation or just being plain forgetful. Sorry about the little rant, but this needed to be down. Comment down below if ya’ll think the content makes sense and if I should be a CW writer lol! Also please remember to reblog fics, that way more people able to see them and it gives us support too!! We are also content creators!

You fidgeted with your hands, playing with the ring on your finger. You were leaning back against the monitor close to the center of the cortex that had faced the main monitors. You nibbled on your bottom lip every so often as you waited for everyone to show up. Your brain mulled through what’s logically left, the crazy theory you had come up with in the middle of the night as your mind oddly recounted moments with team flash through the years. I really hope they don’t think I’m insane for this. You attempted to calm your nerves, and it worked for a few moments, but it only spiked when several sounds of footsteps made their way to your ears. Looking up, you gave everyone a smile as they shuffled into the Cortex.

“Hey,” you made a little wave gesture to everyone. You took in a little breath.

“Hey, we got your call. Did something happen?” Barry furrowed his eyebrows in question as he walked in. Standing with his hands in his pockets, the Scarlet Speedster stood beside Iris, who automatically took her place at the main monitor.

“Is it about Eva?” Iris asked right after Barry, running her hands on the desk. Cisco took the spot beside Iris, chewing on a Twizzler with a bag in hand, Kamila stole one from him when he wasn’t looking. Ralph strolled in with Frost, he probably was giving her another life guidance lesson earlier, who only raised his eyebrows when Nash strode in after everyone.

You opened your mouth to answer, but got cut off by Ralph, “You invited Indiana too?”

“I’m as clueless as you are, for once, stretchy,” Nash piqued up, rolls his eyes at the Elongated Man. All eyes were back on you.

“I’m calling a Flash meeting and no, nothing happened. Nothing about Eva either. But…” You licked your lips and pocketed your hands into your jeans. “I, for some reason, came up with this crazy idea and I don’t know if it’s going to work.” You pushed off the monitor and walked around to stand behind it, as if hoping it can be a little barrier. “But maybe if I run it through you guys it’ll make some sense because something’s not right.”

“No kidding,” Cisco inserted with a little scoff, but you knew he didn’t mean to be rude, “ever since post-Crisis, nothing’s been right.” He made eye contact with Nash, who only gave him a look and crossed his arms. “No offence, Indy.”

“Stop calling me that!” Nash protested.

“Guys,” Barry caught Cisco and Nash’s attention, shaking his head at them. “Let her finish.” The speedster turned back to you, “Please.”

Taking in another breath, you crossed your arms and glanced down, collecting your thoughts before looking back up at them. Each and every one of them. They can tell you’re nervous and honestly, yes, the silence is killing you momentarily. But it’s now or never.

“I think,” you started, “I know how to bring the boys back.”

“The… boys?” Cisco asked. Barry tilted his head while Iris looked interested yet confused.

“Very specific,” Frost did not look amused. Ralph did that little confused nose crinkle. “Not gonna lie, but all the boys are here. In this room. Unless you’re talking about the Backstreet Boys, in which case I would understand.”Everyone looked back at Frost, “What? Their songs are good.”

“I’m talking about Harry.” The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, all attention back to you. Your eyes weaved from each of them, gauging their reactions, especially Nash’s. “Sherloque. All the other Wells. Don’t you- Don’t you guys feel that something’s off?”

“(Y/N), listen-”

“No, Barry, please let me finish. Let me explain.” You licked your lips. “Don’t you guys find it weird that Nash is the only one with all his doppelganger’s psyches in his mind? We have doppelgangers too. Why isn’t Echo in Cisco’s head? Earth 2 Barry and Iris in our Barry and Iris’ heads? How come it’s just Nash?”

None of them could answer you. Nash, himself looked lost, but had glanced off to the side.

“Even Eobard was in his head and he wasn’t a Wells, just in a Wells’ body- Besides the point- No, I think this is a clue,” You continued with determination laced onto your features, standing up straight and exuding confidence. “A clue that The Monitor left behind. For us. A clue that can help us find all the earths, all our friends. And this is where my theoretical, but probably not, theory comes in. Iris, you’ve seen Eva control the Mirror Dimension, her “Mirror World” as we call it. Kamila experienced it firsthand.” Both ladies nodded in agreement. “What if all the other earths are hidden in dimensions like the Mirror Dimension? Scattered in different parts of the city, maybe even throughout all of earth. What if Jesse and Harry and Jay are just hidden in a pocket dimension? Yes, post-Crisis erased the possibility of the multi-verse existing, but that doesn’t include multi-dimensions.”

Cisco’s eyes lit up, walking around the main computer monitor and a bit closer to the center of the Cortex. “You’re talking about-”

“Dimensional Manipulation,” You and Cisco said simultaneously. A smile crossed your lips as you saw the gears in his head turning. Barry’s eyes also light up, his speedster brain in overdrive. Everyone else snuck peeks at each other, except Nash, who’s eyes only narrowed slightly.

“Like Edwin Gauss, Folded Man, the bus meta that DeVoe was after that could-”

“Open up dimensions and close them.” You finished with Barry. You let out a shaky breath, seeing realization dawn on all of them. You were beginning to feel giddy, things were making sense.

“Oh my god,” Iris whispered, running hand through her hair before resting it on her right arm. “But this is all theoretical, right?” She looked to Barry and Cisco before locking her gaze back onto you. “I mean we- we haven’t done anything involving dimensions?”

You shrugged your shoulders and walked a few steps towards the group, “We’ve done the impossible. Proven the theoretical, multiple times. Barry, you allowed your cells to quickly regenerate Ralph’s when you did a blood transfusion after Ramsey had attacked him. We have metas running around the city with theoretical powers, with our dashing hero in his red onesie-”

“-Hey, it’s not a onesie!-”

“-With superspeed. How many times are we going to let the word “theoretical” discourage us?” You pursed your lips. Barry nodded as you had spoken, everything making sense. Something is off. Frost and Cisco glanced at one another, agreeing that they’ve crossed the line of what’s possible and impossible before. “What’s once more Team Flash?” A smile played on your lips as you dared to say that.

Nash cleared his throat, your eyes locked onto his and you noticed a little glint within his blue irises. “So, you mean to tell me- tell us, that I can have my mind to myself again? The guys- I won’t have to see them or hear them?”

“I think so,” you folded your arms, “I know I’m just the team medic, but I really think I have a good idea on how to go about this. And what things to use- I just… I just wanted to run my theory by you guys. Especially Barry and Cisco, maybe we can tag Chester along to help. You three are the main tech guys here so…”

“What about me?” Nash raised an eyebrow at you along with a hand, to which he pointed to himself, and you inwardly cursed knowing that stubborn Wells trait was gonna show up anytime soon. “I can-”

“Are you requiring a bargain out of this too?” You smirked at him, jokingly. That shut the multiversal explorer up. You just looked at him as he let out a few words in a stutter. “You can help. One because if I told you not to, you were going to do it anyway.” Nash just sheepishly smiled and nodded to himself, because he knew he was anyway. “Two, you’re just as stubborn as all the other Wells men I’ve met. I just want you to not physically or mentally strain and/or harm yourself, doctor’s order.” Nash made a face knowing that statement followed with a “because”. “I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t if what we end up doing physically or mentally taxes your body, but I do have a backup plan since this is my area of general expertise.”

Nash seemed satisfied by your answer and smirked to himself, eyes looking off to the side before focusing back to you and the group. I wonder if Harry can hear me. Harry, I’m coming for you.

“Okay so,” Cisco started up, finishing a twizzler and walking over to stand beside you, “we’re going to find all these earths which could or could not be hidden in said pocket dimensions, yank out each Wells from Dusty’s head over here, meanwhile being able to catalog everything and being on the lookout for Eva and her two-face mirror clones. Do you have any idea how many earths there were? How many Wells there are in Nash’s head? Hell, how are we even going to manipulate dimensions-multiple dimensions-if we don’t have any leads?”

You snapped your fingers at him, “Well, here’s where the fun starts for our resident genius mechanical engineer.” Cisco smiled at your words. You walked around the main Cortex monitors, pulling up data and schematics, everyone crowds around you. “I’m thinking that there has to be some sort of fluctuation in this new world, whether it’s on the level of varying frequencies or on a subatomic-molecular level that’s distinct, but not too expansive that a person from Earth Prime can just find themselves in an alternate dimension.”

You took a drink of your water bottle as Cisco looked at the satellite schematics, nodding his head, “It’s possible, I may have to go over some algorithms and adjust them according to what we find. But nothing’s set in stone just yet until a trial is done.”

“What about hijacking Nash’s head?” Frost speaks up, pointing a thumb back to the geological myth-buster. “How are we going to do that?”

“Wait, back up. Does this mean that you guys are all on board with this?” You asked, taking a step back and looking at them all. You thought you’d have to do more to persuade them with everything going on.

“Well, yeah.” Barry shrugs, “It’s worth a shot and until we can find a legitimate reason not to, we can always try. Plus, no matter what happens, Harrison Wells is an essential part of the team. Especially Harry and Sherloque. So, what you got for us?”

You smiled widely to yourself, hope swelling inside your heart. “We’re going to need a couple of things that we’ve used the past couple of years. First, the MAD 2.0. I’m going to use that to enter Nash’s mind to find Harry and Sherloque, hopefully run this entire shebang all by them. A fresh set of eyes to see if there’s any holes we could fill.” Running a hand through you hair, you continued, “We’ve literally got a wells of information in Nash’s head, we could also use that to pinpoint how to get back at Eva.” Everyone, especially Iris and Kamila were more than satisfied by that idea. Eva’s Mirrorverse and Joseph’s Blackhole organization have been wreaking havoc since the post-Crisis events, harming more people than any other regular meta. “Second, we’re going to have to bring out the Mindscape device and Harry’s Cerebral Inhibitor. I think if we hook them up together, we’d be able to create a bridge from Nash’s mindscape to another Wells’.”

“But how are we going to separate them from my neural wavelengths?” Nash asked the million-dollar question.

“That’s where your Neural Splicer comes in! We connect that up to the Cerebral Inhibitor, which could allow us to simultaneously return each Wells to their respective bodies without going back and forth for every individual mindscape. Effectively separate their psyches from Nash without harming him. We’d just need to make sure everything is calibrated correctly.”

“And then I can have my mind to myself, finish going on my adventures.”

“No more voices, no more hallucinations.” You put your hands together. “The last thing we’d need is a dimensional extrapolator-”

“-Which won’t be possible unless we find a dimension and analyze its coordinates to create safe passage between our friends and our earth dimension.” Cisco adds glancing to Barry, who only rubbed the side of his face. It was a lot to take in, it took a while for your mind to wrap around every detail, every idea in order to fully make sure you knew what you were proposing.”

“So, what do we think?” Your eyes darted to each and every one of them. They looked to each other then to Nash, back to each other.

“When do we start?” Barry grins at you who’s currently leaning against the railing, seemingly speaking on behalf of the team as they nod at each other with confidence and determination.

#harrison wells x reader #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #nash wells #The Flash #the flash imagines #the flash fanfiction #post-crisis #harrison wells #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells imagines #earth-2 Harrison Wells X reader #team flash x reader #team flash #team flash imagine #DCTV #harry wells

237 notes · View notes

epic-potato-crisp · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship - Part 2 (AjinWeek2020/7)

Notes:

Part 2 is here after...a year?

Originally, this was supposed to be posted for Ajin Week 2020 Day 7: Anything goes. The whole story was just supposed to be two chapters, however I want to expand it a little and now we're at looking at 3-4. Stay tuned for further updates! (I'm considering whether Twilight is the right choice for their movie night. It's very temping. There are five (5) movies and so very little of Kei's patience.)

———————————————-

“I’m sorry, what?” Tosaki says.

Yeah, Kei probably shouldn’t have agreed to this. On the other hand, the look of pure bewilderment on his team leader’s face replaces about a month of entertainment for him. At the very least. It’s a fair deal.

“We’re dating.” Kou explains sheepishly, for the second time, scratching at his neck.

“Since when?” Hirasawa asks, appearing just as invested as he is amused.

Izumi hasn’t said anything yet, instead observing them in silence.

“Since like right now.” Kou says, laughing awkwardly, “It was pretty spontaneous. Right, Kei?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Kei responds briskly.

“Hey, you just said yes!” Kou argues, his brows furrowing.

“And I’m regretting it more and more.” Kei snipes back.

“Oof, boys, 20 minutes in and trouble in paradise already. It’s not looking good, huh?” Ogura comments.

“It’s just a…trial.” Kei says, anxiety still spiking up in him months later at the thought of the any kind of experiment, “For a week. More for research purposes than anything.”

“Research purposes, now we’re talking.” Ogura chimes in, “What’s your hypothesis? Are you going to need help evaluating the data?”

“Can you even evaluate a relationship that way?” Hirasawa argues, “In numbers? That sounds strange to me.”

“Well, plenty of psychological studies say yes, so.” Ogura shrugs, “So Nagai, what’s your deal?”

“The hypothesis is that seven days of close interaction will not lead to me murdering him.” Kei glares in Kou’s direction, “And that he will shut up about my dating life.”

Kou coughts out something that suspiciously sounds like “what life”, for which Kei elbows him in the ribs, hard.

“Yeah, what he said.” Kou wheezes, returning the glare in kind.

“And we’re not really going to write a report about it. We’re just letting it run simultaneously. Would that be with you?” Kei asks.

Tosaki stares at them for a full minute and then leaves the room without another word.

“I’ll just be-“ Izumi says, apologetically, hurriedly following after him.

“You boys have my blessing.” Hirasawa says, winking at them and toasting in their direction with his barley tea.

“Mine too, with a little extra sprinkle of blessing on top if you do take a few notes about it.” Ogura says, “From a sociological perspective, it’s pretty hilarious. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Fine, I can do that.” Kei says, “I’m bored as it is.”

They take their leave.

“Well, you’re not going to be bored for long with me around.” Kou says, once they’re out of earshot, grinning at him brightly.

Kei grimaces. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

Kei hadn’t believed that dating Kou would be difficult- to be truthful, he hadn’t considered the situation at all, but here they were. But reality is a whole different obstacle.

First, there’s the hand-holding. It’s been a good while since Kei had held hands with anyone, frankly, when he was in elementary school and crossing the street with Eriko, and that had been more of a safety precaution than anything. It’s an unnecessary amount of touch in his opinion, the sweaty entanglement of fingers grossing him out in theory. In practice…it’s not really that bad.

Kou slips his hand into Kei’s, that evening as they’re taking a walk around the forest. It comes as a surprise to him. They had just been strolling around aimlessly for a while, trying to clear their head from a day of training and the awkward conversation earlier. Lost in his own thoughts, Kei startles a little at the sudden physical contact.

“The cicadas are really fucking loud, aren’t they?” Kou says, almost nonchalantly. Kei notices that his grip, although confident at first, loosens a little in hesitation, giving Kei the opportunity to pull away. He considers it. However, instead of sticky and oppressive, the touch is comforting somehow. Which is weird, considering there is no purpose to it. But then, there is no purpose to this entire trial run, Kei concludes, which makes up his mind. He hums noncommittally and squeezes back. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how the other’s face lights up in surprise. “Maybe they just have a lot to talk about.” Kou stumbles to add. “Maybe they’re just as chatty as you.” Kei replies sarcastically. Kou laughs. “Yeah, probably.” he agrees, grinning. They continue walking until dusk approaches, coloring the sky in shades of purple and blue.

Izumi’s waiting for them when they get back with two glasses of chilled water. They say their thanks, Kou gulping down his water in a flash and wiping his mouth with his arm.

“Ah man, thought I was going to die of thirst.” he says, sighing blissfully as he goes in for a refill.

“Literally impossible in that short of a time span.” Kei corrects him, but he too can’t help a small sigh of relief. August brings about a heat wave that makes him even more grateful for the air conditioning at the hideout. He regrets to think that he “voluntarily” signed up for a training camp during this very time of the year when he could have instead spent his days in his room doing practice questions. Pure insanity. He’ll definitely get Sato back for this.

“By the way, Tosaki-san is okay with you… dating.” Izumi explains, “He was just a bit overwhelmed at the situation.”

Not only him, Kei thinks grimly.

“Well, it’s just for a week!” Kou interjects, with an embarrassed laugh, “We’re not sure about anything yet, you know?” Kei side-eyes him hard. His attempts at preserving his chances with Izumi-san are obvious enough that it’s almost pitiable. “Well, I am. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dating someone like you.” he scoffs, which should serve Nakano’s agenda well, ignoring the slight constriction ins his chest. The walk must have tired out his muscle more than he realized.

“So he is okay with it?”

“Well.” Izumi bites her lip, “He said that by your mere existence, you’ve ruled out his two biggest concerns, so after that he doesn’t really care what happens. Unless it jeopardizes your training, of course.”

Yes, that does sound indeed like Tosaki.“And those concerns are?” Kei asks, genuinely curious.

“You can’t get pregnant and you can’t die.” she says, matter-of-fact. Kou chokes on his water.

“In that particular order, in case you were wondering.” she adds, rolling her eyes.

“Wow.”says Kei, any other words temporarily not coming to mind.

That’s one obstacle removed.

For some strange reason, having a boyfriend doesn’t magically remove Kei’s above average exhaustion after what the others refer to as one instance of basic interval training.

“I can carry you the rest of the way.” Kou grins, kneeling beside Kei who is currently wheezing into the ground, fingers digging into the earth. Thirty situps, followed by half an hour of jogging? Give him a break. He’s been through 15 and already wishes he were six feet under.

Permanently, that is.

“Are you dumb?” Kei coughs out, “How on earth would I benefit from that exercise?”

“Well, you could rest- you seriously sound like you’re gonna pass out any second.” Kou pointed out, “And I could get some strength training in. Win-win. I know I’m strong enough to carry you.” He has the audacity to wink at Kei.

“Hirasawa-san!” Kou yells and runs over to where the older man is standing and timing them. With Kou gesturing broadly while explaining, and Hirasawa nodding eventually, Kei knows his fate is sealed.

“Pick me up.” He says, lethargically stretching his limbs skywards once Kou comes back for him.

“Just get on my back like a normal person.” Kou laughs at his purposeful display of weakness, “Unless you really want the bridal carry?”

“Hell no.”

“Your choice, Nagai.”

Remarkably enough, riding on Kou’s shoulders is not as bad as an experience as Kei had imagined it to be. He gets a ride across their training grounds, coupled with brilliant view of the clear blue sky and puffy clouds that drift by without a care in the world, and his only physical exertion is reserved for clinging to his teammate just enough so that he doesn’t fall off.

Which is to say minimal. For all his bragging, Nakano really does have profound upper body strength.

“See? Told you I could easily carry you!” Kou teases.

Easily.

Kei doesn’t know what does it, the confidence emblazoning his tone, the mere fact that Nakano was right or the reality of the situation where he picked him up and carried him around like it was nothing.

Kei’s heart starts to beat a little faster.

“I’m not sharing a bed with you.” Kei declares, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What’s the big deal? Couples do it all the time.” Kou says.

It’s close to midnight and he’s standing at Kei’s door, armed with his phone and a pillow.

“Yes, but we’re not a couple.

“We are for this week.” Kou points out and damn, he is right. He pouts at Kei.

“So we only have a week. Please, Nagai?”

“You know how I feel about physical contact.” Kei glances back at his bed, which looks perfectly designed to host one person, and one person only. As it should.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to cuddle. Unless that’s…something you want?” Kou throws him an inquisitive gaze, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Of course it’s not, you moron!” Kei snaps back, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“Well then what the hell is your issue?” Kou says, slightly frustrated.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you, that’s it. Good night.”

Kei slams the door close in his face.

He hears his teammate/boyfriend-for-the-week groan and the head of to God knows where.

Kei fortifies his resolve – he doesn’t even need to give a reason, and yet he gave perfectly acceptable to deny his overnight stay.

Perhaps that’s his only issue.

Perhaps he also doesn’t want Kou to be able to listen to his steadily accelerating heartbeat whether they’re in close proximity.

But that’s something Kou is better of not knowing about.

Little by little, the hand-holding is integrated in their daily routine. Not when anyone can see them. And only if there’s nothing immediate that needs to be done. A brush of fingers as they pass each other in the hallway. Kou’s hand naturally slipping into Kei’s as they’re watching a video on his phone. Kou’s fingers grasping for Kei’s in the middle of a team meeting, right under the table, and Kei holding on for just a second too long, a scene that he will replay in embarrassment in his memories later.

Sometimes Kei wishes it wouldn’t feel as comfortable as it does, because this too is something that he will have to erase once their week comes to an end.

“Oh yeah, can we use the room later?” Kou asks, three days into their trial, barely swallowing down his food in time to ask the question. Which is directed at Tosaki, an unspoken agreement that comes with trying to sort out most hideout-related issues. Because the man really is the only person that would find a problem with that, Kei thinks grimly, and isn’t disappointed.

“For what?” Tosaki asks, suspicion setting into his features. Or perhaps that’s just his default look these days.

“Like, for a movie night?” Kou says, “The screen in here is really big.”

There is dead silence. Kei picks at his soba and tries to stave off his oncoming headache.

“Why?”

“Dunno, cause we want to have one?” Kou tilts his head curiously, “If you guys aren’t gonna use it, we can have it, right?”

Ogura tries to turn his laugh into a cough, failing miserably.

“Yeah, Yuu, don’t be such a spoilsport. Let them have it.”

“What are you calling me?”

“I already said I’m cool with Ikuya, you’d just have to stop being so uptight about it.” Ogura shrugs, gesturing at him with his chopsticks.

“This room is reserved in the evenings.” Tosaki grits out between his teeth, ignoring Ogura’s third consecutive attempt that day to get under his skin, if Kei is keeping count correctly.

“Damn it. “ Kou sighs, “You can’t make an exception?”

Tosaki’s eyebrow twitches.

“Wouldn’t a couch be more comfortable than chairs?” Hirasawa interjects, right before Kou can continue in what Kei knows is a losing battle, “There’s one in the storage room. It’s a little battered, but it will do the job.”

“Yeah, I actually think there’s a projector in their too.” Manabe says, “You won’t need a screen. We’ll just get the laptop hooked up. Kind of like a home cinema.” He smiles nostalgically at the prospect: “Haven’t been to one in ages.”

Tosaki sighs.

“Hell yeah.” Nakano says, pumping his fist. He grins at Kei: “What do you say, Nagai?”

“Whatever.” Kei says, despite feeling strangely excited at the idea, taking another bite to avoid further conversation.

Izumi appears thoughtful. “I might be subscribed to a streaming service, if I remember correctly.” she says, “So make use of that if you will.”

“It will be better than risking a computer virus.” she adds, awkwardly, as Tosaki shoots a glare in her direction.

“Izumi-san, Hirasawa-san, Manabe-san, you’re the best!” Kou proclaims loudly, his body positively vibrating with excitement, “This will be the most amazing movie night ever!”

Hirasawa chuckles. “You’re welcome. We’ll help you set it up right after dinner.”

“And I’ll check the wifi and my login details.” Izumi says, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her boss.

“I’m glad everyone has their priorities for the evening sorted.” Tosaki says icily.

Kou gives Kei a winning grin, which seems to say: “I promised you a movie night, and I made it happen.”

For all intents and purposes, Kei is the slightest bit impressed. Which is yet another tidbit of information Nakano doesn’t need to possess.

“You better not make me sit through one of your dumb action movies.” he mutters, instead.

This is going to be a long night.

#ajin #ajin demi human #ajinweek20 #ajin fanfic #courtship

5 notes · View notes

saokpe · 5 years ago

Text

HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 2: Pillow Fort

More siblings! I’ve always wanted to write a political drama, glad I was able to fit it in. Enjoy!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

Comfortable Negotiations

The synchronized steps, bouncing across the overwhelmingly muffled walls of the McDuck Manor, follow the figures of an arrogantly joyful Louie Duck and a stoically serious Huey Duck. Their trenches lead them to one of the few areas of the house yet to fall victim to the rampant colonialism these shrewd visionaries spear head, a solitary wooden desk, two equally simple chairs stationed on both sides. They take their seats.

“Hubert Duck, President of Pillowvile.” The hoodie wearing triplet acknowledges.

“Llewellyn Duck, holder of the title of Current and Forever After Ruler of Cushion Island.” Huey responds. “How have you and your partner’s endeavours fared following your sudden departure from Pillowvile? A severing I did very little to oppose, might I add.”

“Yes, very little.” Louie’s previous smile turns into an almost sarcastic imitation of thoughtfulness. “Well it seems that my business partner’s ingenuity and my business savviness has brought us quite a bit of success, as clear when you compare our charts here.” The confidence oozing duck raises both his arms to reveal two staunchly different pieces of cardboard. Both demonstrated crudely drawn line charts, one with an elegant example of calligraphy spelling out Cushion Island while the other, spelling Pillowvile, could be described as anything but. The former diagram demonstrated a staunch uptick following a point labelled “When we got smarter and left Pillowvile.” The former followed a similar pattern, the line taking a steep dive after a period called “Our smarter halves leave Pillowvile.”

“Uhm…” The self-appointed president of Pillowvile attempts to assess the borderline illegible data. “Very… interesting. But, you can’t run a country like a business dear sibling of mine, way more goes into it.”

“Yet you’ve called ME to discuss negotiations.”

Huey bites his lip, the concise retort robbing him of his high ground. “Well, I wanted to talk to both of Cushion Island’s political powers, yet I see only one.”

“You seem one partner short as well.” Louie correctly assesses.

“Dewford had other businesses to attend to.”

“I’m sure he does.” A grin carves itself forcefully onto a self-assured Louie. “So what did you want to discuss?”

“Well I thought-”

“Pfft- Sorry I just can’t keep it a secret!” The previously reserved negotiator bursts, his body slamming and rolling as his lung expands into a chuckle, “We caught Dewey sneaking through our blueprints, Webby’s currently trying to get a confession from him. I was supposed to lead you on for a cooler reveal but it’s just TOO funny!” He continues between his glee infused snorts.

“Oh…” Huey attempts to speak, left paralyzed in his brothers all consuming laughter.

“You better start talking unless you want to go on another trip into Mr. Cuddles’s play place!” A high pitched demand pierces.

Dewey hung from a collection of patched together blankets, one end tied tightly on his ankle and the other on the insurmountably tall ceiling of this pillow comprised room. Poorly lit and suffocatingly warm and dry, the restrained friend cackles and hacks, coughing wildly as the rope pulled tighter on his body. His feathers filled with lint and tangled plushies, all courtesy of the deep and dark alleyways of the play place. A pool of dolls and toys which hide their bloodlust in their disarmingly soft fur.

“NO! NO! PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO MR. CUDDLES ANYMORE!” The prisoner whines wildly.

“Are you sure? Cause he sure wants to talk to you!” Webby, her expression contorted with malice, drops her prey closer to the pit.

“I’LL TALK, I’LL TALK, PLEASE JUST DON’T DROP ME ANY CLOSER!”

For a second the tensed and thick air is complemented with horrid silence. But slowly and surely the rope is reeled back higher.

“Man I’m good at this job.” Webby congratulates herself.

In between his terrified gasps for air, Dewey is able to speak, “I don’t remember exactly what I came here to do, but if you give me my phone I can read off what Huey wanted me to do.”

“Hmm…” The prison guard contemplates the statement a bit longer. “Yeah that seems believable. Here you go.” The girl chipperly walks to the hanging duck, allowing him to clutch the device before retreating.

“Thanks.” Still hanging upside down, Dewford lets the bright light of his electronic’s screen envelop him, slamming his finger across it until opening the previous chat log he had shared with Huey. He scans through it, reading the last message. “Did u find the weak point? Waiting for your signal” Dewey sighs as the options placed before him thin out. Without thinking, the cornered duck types as fast and haphazardly as someone could, sending the following message: “THE STRINGS BEEN TIED, DO IT, DO IT!” Just as his thumb forces send, his body clutches, his eyes slamming shut waiting for the sudden impacts and his inevitable fall into the pit. Instead, the shime of a new message received echoes.

“What was that?” Webby notices, a particular doll turning in her hand, causing the tied duck to flinch.

Panic stabs through the already hindered operative, his eyes darting to the message which oh so terribly inconvenienced him. “You’re still inside, the plan was for you to escape.”

“It looks like you DO want to spend more time with Mr. Cuddles!” The threat curses with the power of a million witches.

“DO IT NOW, JUST DO IT NOW!” The message sends in the moment of panic, his finger pushing over the final button just as it’s stolen from his hand by a ravenous Webbigail.

A moment of anticipation follows as the messages are read back to Webby’s unknowing eyes. Them widening in horror as the realization washes her.

“You deal with him Mr. Cuddles! I have to go!” She hardly finishes her sentences as her feet trail off.

“NO! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM!”

A notification rings across Huey’s phone, his body still stunned from the sudden reveal his youngest triplet cast over him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to replicate Cushion Island, it’s perhaps the most perfect pillow fort ever created.” Another, of the plentiful, boasts Louie has thrown in the last couple minutes. “I mean look at it.” He directs attention behind him, walls upon walls of multi-colored furniture and cushions hoard the view. The wooden walls that previously housed now rest infected by the stuffing of these misused decorations.

During the monologue, Huey lends a peek at the message Dewey had left for him. Dread befalls the brother, all of his soul used to avoid any sorrow. “You’re the bravest man I know, Dewford.” He whispers.

“What was that?”

Hubert readies his left arm, an arm which had yet to be seen by anyone since arrival. He sighs. “You say that Cushion Island is perfect?”

“As perfect as they come… why?” The creeping suspicion the question arises prevents any hubris.

“I ask because you and Webby actually left your blueprints back in Pillowville, and I wouldn’t really call it perfect.”

The snarky response Louie had planned catches itself at his throat, a worried gulp tossing it back under.

“There was a little design flaw I doubt you knew about in your infrastructure. Poor Webby had a tall order building the whole pillow fort by herself. Especially when you left such a glaring issue in the foundation. All of Cushion Island is being supported by a single sofa cushion.” Huey raises his right hand, revealing a beautifully drawn blueprint, a red circle signalling the sad truth that, yes, one cushion balanced the whole country wide fort. “You’re a shrewd businessman, sure, but when it comes to ruling a country…” Huey finally raises the elusive left hand, clutched between his fingers was the end of an elongated piece of string. “-you need a little bit more.”

A combination of shock and hatred form in the previously egocentric Llewellyn, that manic gaze following the string which, as he feared, led directly into his beautiful Cushion Island. Additionally, as he stares bitterly to the entrance of his magnum opus, the distant figure of his business partner runs frantically towards him. Her arms flail as she attempts to catch the attention of Louie, who already knew it was too late.

“FOR PILLOWVILLE!” Huey screeches as he pulls the string, the movement creating an orchestra of falling pillows and walls. Destruction as far as the eye could see, pain resonating in the echoing screams of those that lived in its warm housing. A domino effect of crumbling dreams and desires. As the final blanket floats over, Louie crumbles to his knees.

Pity does enter the victor’s heart, his body moving in satisfied strides towards his grovelling competitor. Huey lays his hand over his fallen brethren. “May this be a warning to all others who dare defy the power of Pillowville.”

Louie stares back towards him before solemnly returning his view to the ground that used to house his home. “I spent my whole allowance building that.”

“In war we all lose.”

Huey’s illustrious Pilloville was soon discredited and destroyed as punishment for its president’s multiple breaches of the Geneva Conventions.

His second in command, Dewey Duck, was eventually found retreating in the remains of Cushion Island, hiding in the rubble. When asked on the matter, the former ruler informed our reporter that he was fleeing from one “Mr. Cuddles.” This figure has yet to be found.

When asked about the demolition of what he had previously called “the love of his life,” Louie inquired “The what?”

Webbigail, the labeled business partner of Llewellyn Duck, has since been spotted waterboarding various stuffed animals. Some theorize she is training for something bigger.

#HDLW #ducktales #Huey Duck #Dewey Duck #Louie Duck #Webby Vanderquack #hdlw sibling week 2020

37 notes · View notes

thanksjro · 5 years ago

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #4- Man, Talk About Timely, Huh? It’s Time for the Plague Storyline!

Issue #4 opens up with First Aid writing in his diary about the less-than-stellar working conditions at Delphi medical center, and it’s not because Ambulon caught him reading Wreckers fanfic during office hours for the eighth time this week.

So, here’s the thing: you can’t be demoted from doctor to nurse. That’s not how that goes, because doctors and nurses aren’t on the same career path ladder. A doctor can have certain accesses and privileges taken away if their performance slips, or can be moved to a different ward or transferred to another facility, but outright demotion to nurse status isn’t a THING. If anything, First Aid would be performing nurse duties to cover for the fact that Delphi seems to have a grand total of three staff members for the entire outpost. Hell, they’ve had to outsource their mental health checkups to a guy who was in orbit over Cybertron until a couple months ago.

But anyway, something’s up at Delphi, and it all started when they let a couple of Decepticon surrendering combatants inside. These two dudes were running from the Decepticon Justice Division, a group who basically super-murder any Decepticon who’s decided to do a runner from the Cause. The DJD’s base of operations is in the same general area as Delphi, which seems like maybe not the best idea for the Autobots when it came to outpost placement, but it seems to be working out pretty well for the surrendering combatants.

Pharma shows up, and is ready to throw them back outside- he’s the big boss, so he can make that kind of call- but after a little detective works they figure out that the two don’t have their t-cogs anymore, having had them removed for religious purposes. Ambulon sees them as the exact opposite of a threat because of this, not to mention him having a soft spot for surrendering ‘Cons, and manages to convince Pharma to let them stay, and also not violate the Autobot Code, Article 7, which states that all surrendering combatants must be granted safe haven. Ultra Magnus would be proud.

They lock up the Decepticons, slate them for a patch up, then things get complicated as it turns out, they’ve got a branched spark. The last time we saw a branched spark, things didn’t turn out so hot, and it looks like things have started going similarly downhill.

But enough about the horrific deaths of dozens of robots on a frozen planet, it’s time for bar shenanigans!

While Skids prepares to commit an act of violence on a droid that’s done absolutely nothing to him and is just trying to do its friggin’ job, Swerve reveals to Ratchet that he’s decided to follow his dreams after all and open a bar. He doesn’t have all the paperwork turned in yet, per se, but he’s working on it. He hands Ratchet a free drink to celebrate the off-panel event of the Lost Light having found itself on the map again, and Ratchet, who’s apparently never heard of a shot, gripes about the portioning.

Of course, he might have a bit of a point, as the drink seems to shrink more and more as he talks to Swerve about the fact that they’re both giant nerds who were subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified.

Was non-war-related entertainment just not allowed for the last four million years? No wonder the war went on for so long- everyone was so steeped in it they forgot how to function like regular people. Since the logs were beamed directly into the brain, I can only imagine the amount of physic damage that last entry caused.

The reason Ratchet’s brought up everyone’s favorite podcast is that there was a new entry last night- odd, considering that Ironfist’s been dead for a couple years at this point. It was just a series of seemingly random numbers, or at least it would have been, if Ratchet wasn’t a good doctor who kept up-to-date on his medical news.

My my, I do wonder which Wreckers: Declassified subscriber could have sent those statistics on Delphi out into the aether.

As luck would have it, the Lost Light isn’t terribly far away from Messatine at the moment, which is the planet Delphi is on. Ratchet decides it’s time to check things out.

Over in Rodimus’ very pink room, Ultra Magnus wants to have a discussion about Tailgate, and the fact that he wants to be a Decepticon. This is, obviously, a problem, considering the fact that everyone on the ship, who wasn’t stuck in some sort of hole or alternate dimension for the last six millions years, is staunchly anti-Decepticon. Magnus laments on the fact that now that the war is over, he has to start seeing people as people, as opposed to cogs in the machine. Magnus is one of those guys who functions better with structure, which the Lost Light doesn’t really have a ton of.

Rodimus tells Magnus to lighten up a bit, before he pulls something trying to bring military regulation into civilian life, and says that he’ll handle the whole Tailgate thing.

Back down on Messatine, Ratchet’s dragged Drift and Pipes of all people into his little visit to Delphi, and they’re rocking up to the scene on the MARBs- Mobile Autobot Repair Bays. This is Pipe’s first space adventure, and he’s really happy to be here!

We’ll see how he feels a little later in the day.

As the boys make their way over to the plot, Drift and Ratchet lay a bit of groundwork down for future storylines, then arrive outside Delphi to find the door locked and spray painted with a big ol’ X.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet. Let’s see how that pays off.

Pipes decides to do a thing and crash through the entrance like a hooligan. It goes about as well as one could expect, though we do a pretty sweet and unnecessary flip from Drift out of it.

We’re going to need to soak Pipes in rubbing alcohol for a good hour.

Ratchet yells at Pipes for busting into a medical outpost that clearly wasn’t meant to be cracked open like a cold one, not to mention knocking over at least three hospital beds.

Then a sick guy shows up and Drift flips the hell out and slices up a guy so hard Pipes has to remove his visor to watch the insanity unfold.

The whole “sword murder” thing doesn’t really gel with the idea of “do no harm”, so Ratchet and Drift get into it a bit before First Aid shows up and starts drawing on Pipe’s face.

Back on the Lost Light, Rodimus is keeping his promise and dealing with Tailgate, with the help of Rewind, resident historical archivist and the guy who’s about to rock Tailgate’s fucking world in under 12 seconds.

Okay. So.

The thing about recorded history is everything has a bias. No matter how impartial the recorder attempts to be, no matter how detached, there will ALWAYS be at least a little bleedthough. Now, while it’s unlikely Rewind’s been in direct combat, because he’s friggin’ tiny and turns into a data slug, and while he doesn’t seem the patriotic type, he’s still an Autobot. He’s only been on one side of the war, so most, if all all of his archive, is built from the framework of being surrounded by Autobot mindsets and propaganda. It would appear that this isn’t the first time Rewind’s done something like this, if he already has the upload time committed to memory down to the tens decimal. If he’d been asked to do this prior to the conclusion of the war- very likely, considering it ended a few months ago- what are the odds that he was asked to frame things a little more in favor of his own team? Pretty good, I’d think.

Guys, I don’t think Tailgate is having a good time with the history lesson.

Needless to say, any concern over Tailgate wanting to be a Decepticon is pretty soundly quashed after this.

Back over with the plague plotline, First Aid gives Ratchet the rundown on the symptoms they’ve run into at Delphi.

You fucker, you got that line from Wreckers: Declassified.

Delphi hasn’t been able to call for help, because even if they didn’t have their hands full of liquified robot, communications have been out since something went off and broke pretty much everything in the outpost, general health and well-being included. First Aid suspects a dirty bomb, curtesy of the DJD. The tour of the facility ends in the medical bay proper, where Ambulon is hard at work trying to keep folks alive.

Ratchet looks over the scene, and notes that the older patients in the ward aren’t crying their literal eyeballs out. Weird, that.

Ambulon shows off their super-secret patient, who is kept in shadow for the reader, to keep the suspense going for a bit longer. Mystery patient’s been in an “everlasting coma” since he got here, and while Ambulon and Pharma don’t think anything can be done, First Aid’s willing to get weird with it.

Earlier in the issue, it was mentioned that Ambulon didn’t think First Aid took any initiative. Turns out, First Aid does, and has, just not on things Ambulon agrees with.

It was at that point that Ratchet decided he rather liked First Aid.

Back with Tailgate, he’s returned to his room to confront Cyclonus, who’s busy doing something on the computer. What exactly isn’t revealed, and never will be.

Tailgate is really cross about the fact that Cyclonus let him walk around on a ship full of Autobots claiming he wanted to be a Decepticon. Of course, it’s not like Cyclonus knew he was going to be such a loudmouth about it, otherwise maybe he would have told him to maybe NOT do that, if only to prevent his life getting further muddied up by a war he wasn’t even around for.

Tailgate’s gotten really worked up over this, because that’s just how he is as a person, and even goes so far as to punch Cyclonus in the arm in his frustration. He apologizes almost immediately, but the bear’s already been poked, unfortunately.

Oh, honeybunches, you are going to be regretting that move for the next five years.

But not before the customary “pulling away from the one guy who’ll even talk to you because you don’t know how to properly react to anything anymore" thing.

Back on Messatine, we find out where Pharma got to- he’s been locked into the quarantine room by accident, and will remain there until all technopathogens are completely dead. This will take millions of years.

That seems like poor planning for such a room.

Or, at least, it would be, if Ambulon was still running the show.

How the fuck has Ambulon survived this long without dying of stupidity?

As Ratchet starts trying to get Pharma out of his glass case of emotion, Pipes is starting to not have so much fun on his first-ever field trip.

Yaaay, space adventure!

Ratchet warns Drift not to kill Pipes- repeatedly- and Drift manages to do that, though it looks a little dodgy for a second, as he bonks the little guy on the head and knocks him out. Ratchet’s managed to get Pharma out, and Pharma immediately runs for the prison cells, saying he’s figured it out.

Ambulon carries what’s left of Pipes back to the emergency ward, and Ratchet holds the little dude’s hand while they get him hooked up to some feeds. Drift starts bleeding from the eyes. Awesome.

Enter Pharma.

Today just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

Turns out those two Decepticons from earlier got out of their cells somehow, and they’ve got guns. Things aren’t looking too good for the Autobots.

Well, I mean, if he says it’s fine, then I guess…

Yep, our mystery patient is none other than Fortress Maximus, warden of Garrus 9, victim of Overlord, and glorified lock-pick for the Aequitas chamber. He’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got some limbs attached to that torso of his, and also eyeballs. Good for him.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 4 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots

115 notes · View notes

otterknowbynow · 5 years ago

Text

T’as de la place sur le canapé

Sometimes the others need a nap; Hunk is more than happy to provide comfort for his paladin family.

Written as part of Gentron Week 2020 for the prompt Cuddle Pile | Literal Sleeping Together. Also on ao3

Keith falls asleep on him first. Hunk wouldn’t normally expect it, but the guy’s been up for three days straight at this point, probably, between all they’ve been doing for alliance-building since Shiro’s been back and zipping off on Blades missions left and right. He’s focused on going over the notes from his last few sourdough biscuit attempts -- it seems like the space yeast, or whatever it is, is more sensitive to temperature than the Earth variety -- when Keith slumps over sideways against his shoulder. He tenses for a brief moment, worried something is very wrong, and looks over carefully without moving anything apart from his eyes. Keith’s mouth is slack, but his eyes are still open and as they focus on Hunk’s face, they widen, and Keith sits back up again quickly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking away. His shoulders tense quickly and resettle as he leans against the back of the couch, as if he’s felt a chill. “Didn’t mean to…” he trails off, one hand waving vaguely in front of himself.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hunk says with a shrug. And it is, of course, now that he knows nothing’s wrong. “We’re all family here.” Keith looks back over at him and blinks.

“...we are?” He doesn’t sound upset, just bewildered.

“Aren’t we?” Hunk asks, and thinks he’s probably just as confused as Keith is. He’s pretty sure there isn’t a better word for the five of them -- seven really -- than family at this point, considering.

“I…” Keith trails off and picks up his tablet again, and Hunk shrugs as he goes back to his notes. He’s just worked out what he thinks would be an ideal ending point of temperature for the yalmor fat in the biscuits and has started to factor in the ambient temperature of the kitchen to know where it needs to start when Keith speaks again, so quietly he’s not sure he’s supposed to hear. “I guess we are.” Hunk nods without adding anything to that, still mostly focused on the numbers in front of him. Keith shrugs and leans to the side again, tentatively resting his head against Hunk’s shoulder.

“This okay?” That question he knows is meant for him to hear, and Hunk nods again without really looking up.

“‘Course,” he says.

As he finishes writing out the new procedure for his biscuits, Hunk slowly becomes aware that Keith’s body is vibrating softly against him. He frowns, almost opening his mouth to speak, and then closes it as he looks down and realizes the vibrating is accompanied by a quiet rumbling sound, and Keith is out like a light.

“He’s purring,” says a voice, and Hunk looks up to see Pidge leaning against the doorway to the lounge, carrying her tablet in one hand and a shoebox-sized container under her other arm.

“He can do that?” Hunk asks. “That’s…”

“Something he’s done for a long time,” Pidge says with a shrug. “He makes a lot of noises, if you listen for them -- extraverbal communication and all that. I noticed the trend a while ago -- that his tends to be cat-adjacent.” Hunk thinks back over the past several months and nods slowly.

“Yeah, I guess he does. I never really thought about them being cat noises...thought they were just, I don’t know --” it’s Hunk’s turn to wave his hand vaguely in front of himself, carefully avoiding moving the side Keith’s leaning on “-- him noises.” Pidge shrugs again and crosses to sit on the couch on his other side, the shoebox thing between them. “What is that, anyway?”

“Couple of broken communicators. I’m pretty sure they’re just old Altean walkie-talkies,” she says, lifting the lid so he can see two sleek white things that look like exactly that. “The thing that’s cool is they don’t use the same long-range frequencies as our suit communicators or the intercom. As far as I can tell, they’re just run-of-the-mill handheld two-way radios -- maximum communication distance should be something like five miles, but it seems like they might come in handy if I can figure out how to reload their power source..”

“Nice,” Hunk says, looking them over and taking in the dual antennae and impossibly delicate-looking speakers. "Do they not just run on quintessence…?"

"Oh, they do," she says, nodding rapidly, Hunk assumes to offset how low they're still keeping their voices. "It’s just not in a form I’ve seen before, and I’m not sure how to recharge them, or really how they discharge." She flips one of the units over as she's speaking to show him a little catch on the back, which she slides open to reveal what looks like a small bag full of translucent blue gel -- it reminds Hunk more than anything of those little packs of dishwasher soap, but nearly drained.

"Oh, wild," he breathes, careful not to let his shoulders move and jostle Keith. "Is that like...quintessence goop?"

"Looks like it! How they got it in this form is still a mystery, though, and I think I'm well past having the level of focus I'd need to figure it out -- nearly fell asleep in the lab. I thought the change of scenery might help, or you might have some ideas, but..." She glances over at Keith -- head still resting on Hunk's shoulder, arms folded in front of his chest, and soundly asleep -- almost longingly. Hunk grins.

"Tell you what -- why don't you get some rest and let me think on it?"

"You sure?" She asks, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, I’m sure. You deserve a break, kid.” She grumbles a bit at that, but when he moves the box to the floor and picks up his tablet again, she doesn’t object. Instead, she faces the door and curls up against the back of the couch, resting her head on top of it. It doesn’t look like an entirely comfortable position, but Hunk shrugs and pulls up the data they’ve collected about the different matter forms of quintessence so far.

Halfway through reading about its liquid form, however, he’s interrupted by a highly irritated-sounding Lance, who’s standing in front of him having apparently just come from the pool, if the combination of the smell of chlorine and his wet hair is any indication.

“Oh, sure, no one bother telling me we’re taking a group nap, just don’t try --” he breaks off into a yawn, and Hunk takes the opportunity to shush him as emphatically as he can considering the sleeping forms on either side of him, but Lance continues just as indignantly as soon as he can draw a normal breath. “Don’t try to include Lance; he doesn’t need to know about local comfy gathering, more at 11!” His hands are on his hips, glare so sharp it could probably cut glass.

“Shush,” Hunk stage whispers, holding up his one free arm and trying not to laugh and disturb the others by shaking. “This wasn’t exactly a plan.” Lance narrows his eyes even further, looking down at the shoebox-y container on the floor.

“Then why did you guys move things off the couch, hmm?” he asks, and Hunk is just glad he’s brought his voice down a bit. “Checkmate!” Apparently it’s not quiet enough, though, since Pidge stirs, mumbling something about a crick in her neck. And resettles facing toward Hunk instead, all without opening her eyes or taking her glasses off.

“Lance, buddy, you are welcome to join us,” he says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Lance’s mouth is already half-open to continue his tirade, but he stops and closes it, blinking.

“Yeah, that’s...probably better,” he says slowly. “I’m pretty beat.” He plops down onto the couch between Hunk and Pidge, where there’s barely enough space even for him. Pidge grumbles half into Lance’s shoulder and shoves him slightly toward Hunk, who lifts his arm to wrap it around him so he can still get to his tablet. Lance settles against Hunk’s side and yawns once, eyes already closed.

“Wake me if there’s breakfast.”

“I can do that,” Hunk says, fumbling a bit as he gets his screen back in front of him. He didn’t notice exactly when Pidge decided that his bicep made a better pillow than the back of the couch, but she’s wrapped onto his arm now, her glasses balanced somewhat precariously where her head was resting before. “I can do that.”

#gentronweek #gentron 2020 #voltron #vld #vld fic #hunk (voltron)#keith kogane #pidge (voltron)#lance (voltron #I don't know what character tags people use RIP #anyway have some really cute cuddle pile times with the kiddos #scribbles #the title is from a french pop song bc I'm a nostalgic sentimental disaster

35 notes · View notes

virgilsinferno · 5 years ago

Photo

meet me in the middle || logince

chapter one — from the top, everyone!

summary: logan & roman are enemies. they get into a heated argument in the middle of the hallway and remus tries to put an end to the fight in a very remus way. no angst, just two boys bickering.

pairings: eventual logince (in a future chapter), dukeceit (if you squint)

tw: very brief mentions of alcohol, smoking, and violence (like all of that in one sentence)

word count: 2128

taglist: @dragonwithproblems

♡

The first time he saw Logan, Roman was working at his dad’s flower shop. Roman was busy trimming the newly-arrived flowers, and he wouldn’t have noticed Logan’s presence if it weren’t for Remus’s loud, boisterous laughter. If he were any other customer, he wouldn’t have cared and went back to trimming flowers.

He observed their exchange from a distance, wondering why the hell this guy looked like he was going to a fancy dinner with visiting relatives. His whole getup screamed “rich stuck-up nerd” and yet he appeared to be getting along well with Remus—his twin brother who is by far the most chaotic person Roman has ever met.

The second time he saw Logan, Roman was on the brink of falling asleep in Chemistry. To be fair, it was his last class of the day and he was running on 3 hours of sleep. His phone started ringing, startling him and causing everyone in the room to look in his direction. He stammered out an apology to their Chemistry teacher then put his phone on silent. It was embarrassing. For a brief moment, he made eye contact with Logan. He recognized him as the guy that bought a single sunflower and dressed like a rich stuck-up nerd.

The third time he saw Logan, Roman was at the cafeteria. He was sitting with Patton and Janus, his best friends since the first year of high school. Remus would sit with them once in a while, but more often than not, he wouldn’t even be caught dead in the cafeteria.

It was quite a shock for both the twins when Remus was invited to sit at another table. A few tables away, Roman gave his brother a thumbs up. That was when he noticed who his brother was sitting with. It was the rich stuck-up nerd from Chemistry class and some guy in a hoodie who had his back turned to him. Maybe he was wrong about this guy. Maybe he wasn’t some stuck-up privileged kid. If he befriended his brother just like that, they’d probably get along well, too.

The fourth time he saw Logan, Roman was at the library. He was studying for his finals and he figured that the library would have the least amount of distractions. He sat at the most secluded area he could find, which was somewhere near the Young Adult section. At some point, he had gotten bored and decided that he deserved a break, and what better way to relax than with a fun lighthearted story?

As Roman looked through the variety of books available, he spotted a familiar figure. From across the aisle, he saw the rich stuck-up—probably not a stuck-up—nerd. It seemed that Logan had felt a pair of eyes on him, seeing as he looked in Roman’s direction. Roman immediately turned away and pretended to be interested in a random book he grabbed. How embarrassing would it be if he had been caught staring?

The fifth time he saw Logan, Roman was at Espresso Feelings, his favorite independent little coffee shop. Patton’s parents own the place and Roman loves their coffee. He was craving for their chocolate chip cookies and wanted to get his caffeine fix as well before he went to work, so he stopped by and bought breakfast for both him and Remus. He was slightly surprised to see Logan sitting by the window with his laptop in front of him. For once, he actually had casual clothing on. Not a lot of people from their school knew about the place, but he’d see a few familiar faces here and there. Logan appeared to be busy though, so he didn’t try to bother him.

The first time he finally met Logan, Roman was running for student body president. It was during the campaign period. Roman felt awkward running against his brother’s best friend, but Remus assured him that Logan didn’t mind. He had been busy all week, making sure everything was going as planned. Remus helped with the posters. He was sure that he was going against someone equally as competent as he was, so Roman had to work extra hard. He wanted to win, but so did Logan.

It was at the main entrance of the school. Roman saw Logan speaking with someone on the phone, and he saw an opportunity. They hadn’t formally met or spoken to each other yet, despite Remus inviting him over often, and it has almost been a year. It must be because of how many plans Roman usually has on the weekends.

“Hey, I’m Roman. You probably already know that, but just to be sure.” Roman says as he extends a hand for Logan to shake. He seemed like the professional type. Or maybe it’s how he naturally dressed, but Roman wasn’t going to criticize his fashion sense on their first proper meeting.

Logan shakes his hand hesitantly. “Yes, I do know that. I’m Logan, but you probably know that as well.”

“Well, it was nice to officially meet you. I’d love to stay and chat, but unfortunately, I am quite busy. I’ll see you around, Logan.”

He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on people, but as soon as Roman walked away, Logan returned to his phone call, and Roman couldn’t help but hear it.

“Ah sorry, I was speaking with Roman. Yes, him, the one that’s also running for student body president. What do you mean ‘have I done the math’? Of course I have. I don’t even have to gather statistical data to know that. There’s no way he’s winning, you know I’m only pretending to be civil.”

Bitch.

And that was how it all began.

No one had any idea how it all started. One moment the Drama Club was doing a scene study, the next they’re watching their club president have a shouting match with the Debate Club’s president.

It happened often—the fighting. Most times, the other club officers of the two clubs would have to coordinate in order to make sure that their club meetings aren’t scheduled on the same day. It was bad enough that their rooms are literally across each other, even worse whenever Roman and Logan would catch a glimpse of each other in the hallway. They fought like two divorced parents who had to split custody among their many children. Or at least that’s how both clubs would describe it.

Those two fought over everything. From last year’s student government elections to who was the better club president. It had gotten so bad that even the teachers refused to try and intervene.

There was one time when Mr. Clements, one of the most feared teachers in the school, threatened to either give them detention or send them to the principal’s office. This was the only time anyone had ever seen Roman and Logan join forces. Logan destroyed him by pulling out a list that contained complaints from other students that could end his career. The list ranged from drinking alcoholic beverages in class, allowing students to buy their grades, to threatening students with violence. Roman, on the other hand, had voice recordings and video evidence to support the statements in Logan’s list.

Only a few people had ever attempted to stop their quarrels and succeeded in doing so.

“It’s your fault for starting this argument in the first place!” Logan shouts angrily at Roman.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? You were the one yelling at us from the hallway to keep it down! In the middle of our scene study! At least I didn’t barge in on your verbal duels to complain about how loud you all are yelling at each other!” Roman lashes out as he jabbed a finger into Logan’s chest.

“In his defense, you’re both verbally dueling in the middle of the hallway when we should be having our club meeting,” Janus says from the side claimed by the Debate Club. The students from both clubs have poured out into the hallway to watch their club presidents fight.

Roman glared at his friend. “So you’re taking his side now?”

Janus put his hands up in defense. “I’m doing no such thing!”

News traveled fast, and soon enough, even the Creative Writing Club from down the hall was watching the two argue.

“You know what? I’m done with this. Go do whatever it is you do in your club.” Logan says.

“Boohoo, are you going to start crying in front of everyone?” Roman mocks. The audience gasps.

Logan clenches his fist. “So now you’re calling me a baby? I am trying to end this fight and be the bigger person and yet you are being immature!”

The audience oohs at the retort.

Before any of the two could let out another insult, two frying pans were swung dangerously at their heads, which would’ve given them a severe concussion if it weren’t for Janus pulling them to the side just in time. The frying pans fell on the floor with a clang. Everyone was silent.

“That almost hit me!” Roman scolded his twin brother, who for some reason, managed to bring two frying pans to school.

The sight of Remus alone intimidated most of the audience, which was enough to send them all scurrying back to their respective classrooms. This left Roman, Logan, Remus, and Janus in the hallway.

“That whole…” Janus gestures vaguely at Remus’s outfit. “...punk look you’ve got going on is really something. You should wear leather jackets more often. Makes you look scary.” He left without another word.

“What?” Remus said dumbly.

“I don’t know? I’ll have to ask him about that later.” Roman replied, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Are you two serious? Janus simply complimented Remus’s outfit.” Logan said slowly as if he were talking to children.

They stood in complete silence for a few seconds. Roman and Logan seem to have momentarily forgotten about what they were arguing about.

“So, what’re my two favorite people up to?” Remus asked as he put an arm around their shoulders, pulling them close.

“You tried to kill me!” Roman screeched, pushing his brother away from him.

“Was it my fault?” Remus asked, dragging the vowels. “Y’all were fighting so loud, it was almost like being asked to be hit on the head with a frying pan.”

Logan hummed in agreement. “That is fair, I’ll give you that.”

“Now I see why you two are even friends,” Roman muttered. He picked up the two frying pans and handed them back to his brother. “Where’d you even get these?”

“I stole them!” Remus grinned.

“Yes, very good Remus, now if this is all settled, I have a club to return t-”

“You’re encouraging my brother to steal?!”

“He was honest!”

Before another round of fighting could occur, their respective club vice presidents had to pull them back into their respective classrooms. Roman huffed but allowed himself to be dragged back into the room, glaring daggers at Logan, who was also being dragged away, before the door was shut.

All eyes fell on Roman as he regained composure. With only 20 minutes left of their supposed “club meeting”, there was no way they were going to be able to finish their activity. Roman coughed awkwardly.

“So, ice cream anyone?” Roman suggested.

The room erupted with cheers. Roman happily led the group of 20+ theater kids, raising a middle finger to Logan, who opened the door to see what the commotion was all about. The Drama Club chanted “ice cream! ice cream!” as they marched through the halls, following the leader to the nearest ice cream parlor.

Ice & Virtue was Roman’s favorite ice cream parlor. Objectively, What’s The Scoop? had better ice cream than they did, but this one had sentimental value. This was where he and Remus would go to after school every Friday and they would try to guess people’s life stories based on their mood and outfit. Sometime last year, after the student government elections, Janus and Patton joined the twins on their weekly ice cream ritual.

It was a mess.

Janus caused a scene with Remus, then Logan walked in with some emo-looking guy. Janus immediately started attacking Logan, the emo guy walked out, and Remus stood there laughing at his best friend getting verbally attacked. They almost got banned from the establishment if it weren’t for Roman and Patton clearing up the situation.

The Drama Club crammed into the tiny ice cream parlor, causing a ruckus as soon as they entered the parlor. As club president, Roman felt that it was necessary to treat the club members once in a while. Also, it made him better than Logan, therefore moving him up in the leaderboard.

10 points to Roman for being cool.

#meet me in the middle #logince fanfic #logince #sanders sides #thomas sanders #enemies to lovers #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #high school au #patton sanders #virgil sanders #dukeceit #demus

44 notes · View notes