#i went a bit heavy handed with the noise filter

[momo-shut-the-fuck-up]

I did buy the makeup pack yeah 😔 i ve been prayin for dark lipstick for decades. (Also this is edited the lenses dont have the white pupils)

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 V

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Is this rushed? Perhaps short? Yes, yes it is. And that’s okay.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams

TW// Minor Blood, Angst? Yandere thoughts?

The town was a lot more quieter today. There was no one in a rush, no Karen wanting someone to be at her beck and call. Even the Astartes that were in town were gone, probably just passing through.

It was like this day was either made for a nap, disaster, or surprise for how quiet it is, and I don’t know if I like those odds. Considering how… sneaky Hydra could be.

I wonder if that’s a trait of all Alpha legions? Being all sneaky, and tricky like? Cuddly too.

Though, sometimes… I also wonder if anything that happened that night was real? If those events really happened from the next, and next. God, I can feel my face going on fire just thinking about it, but I almost dread it too.

Did Hydra think it was real? Was it real? What if he actually found someone else that he was actually bonded to?

I sat in my car a little while longer after that. That thought hitting a little harder than expected.

What if he found the person he was actually bonded to?

I know they supposedly couldn’t bond, but that doesn’t mean they still can’t. They were Astartes, another being capable of feelings, and desires. They are sentient. Not just some pet.

With a heavy sigh, I prepared myself to go inside my own home before exiting my car. Trying to rid of those lingering thoughts.

It was eerily silent inside the house too. Nothing made a sound. No movement was being made beside my own.

“Hydra?” I called out, expecting some noise of movement as I made my way through the house. Looking for the big, bright blue armor.

Finding nothing in the living room. I went to the kitchen next, finding it untouched too. I looked at the spare bedroom, laundry room, bathrooms, even closets, finding nothing. Not even the hint of his aquatic scent.

Confusion, and worry went through my brain as I headed up to check the last two rooms I had yet to check. The first room being the streaming room, which looked pretty regular itself.

My bedroom was a whole different story. Blankets were ripped, and thrown everywhere. Curtains also ripped, and hanging out the broken window. Closet door thrown open with the other half barely hanging on with clothes spreaded everywhere. It was a absolute mess.

“Hydra!” I nearly cried, seeing him hanging half out of the closet. His own blood running from his wounds that penetrated his armor.

Rushing to side. I wanted to touch him, but at the same time I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already was.

“Hydra?” My voice came out weak, my hands coming up to his helmet that no longer held the powered glow to them. Not wanting to believe such a horrid thing that could happen to him.

Warm tears ran down my cheeks. Form wrapping around his helmet. I didn’t care if I heard a much louder noise within the room. I didn’t care if it stalked closer. I didn’t care if it did anything. I just wanted my Hydra back. I just want him back.

I woke up with a start. Tears running down my cheeks as quickly I sat up in my bed. Heart beating heavily, the feeling of heavy dread filling my chest. The dream- nightmare replaying inside my mind while I registered where I really was. No messy room greeting my sights.

Wiping my tears off with the palm of my hand. I threw off my covers and hopped off my bed. The cold, midnight air bitting at my exposed skin, giving me goosebumps as I made my way down stairs to the kitchen. Thinking a good glass of water would calm me down.

Taking a glass out of the cabinet. I took some ice cubes from the freezer and put them into the glass then poured some filtered water into it. Not the “dirty” water from the tap.

I could still feel my heart beating in my chest as I leaned on the island in the kitchen. Occasionally taking sips the cup with my eyes closed, still a bit sleepy.

The events of the nightmare were slowly fading, but still felt very vivid to remember. It felt so real. So…there. Unbelievably true even. Ugh, just barely thinking about it gives me a migraine.

Rubbing my eye with my hand. A quiet coo came from the other side of the kitchen. My eyes opening to find Hydra walking in. Leaning over slightly to get through the archway.

Another coo, Hydra kneeled down to my height, his helmet lightly touching my head. The glow of his red visor shining brightly against my skin.

I stayed like that for an awhile. Basking in his safe return. His presence calming my poor, human heart down.

—

He sensed her. He knew was close, and he bet she knows too. She was hiding from him after all. Probably in plain sight too.

A mix between a growl, and a rumble came from his throat. Scaring a flock of birds from their trees.

He was getting frustrated, but he was a warrior of patience. He could wait for an millennia if he had to. Or perhaps, he could switch his tactics?

Yes, that might work.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 VI

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 IV

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

[judeswhore]

the first drag of smoke filtering into your lungs had an immediate effect, your shoulders slowly relaxing, head tipping back against the wall as you held it for a few seconds. your once overcrowded mind went almost silent, the stress of cramming for your college exam fading into the distance, your sole focus on the nicotine rush about to swim through your system. you let your eyes fall closed, basked in the silence of the apartment and your mind, the only sounds the soft padding of steve’s bare feet in the kitchen and the distant hum of traffic.

you slowly puffed the smoke out, head tilted so it would blow out of the open window from where you were perched on the sill, tendrils disappearing into the night. the lit cigarette was balanced between two fingers, held just outside in order to keep the smell from infiltrating your bedroom. you weren’t a casual smoker, more of a social smoker on occasion or a stress smoker when things got to heavy because the smell made your nose wrinkle and your throat close up. but these were overly stressful times and slow drags of steve’s secret stash were the only thing you could think of to help unwind. well, it wasn’t the only thing but you didn’t exactly want to bother steve for the thing you really wanted.

you were too caught up in watched the cars pass by on the street to notice steve had entered the bedroom, two cups of hot chocolate in hand, a packet of cookies gripped between his teeth. he let his gaze wander over you, stood silently in the door way for a few seconds, took in your obviously tired body which was wrapped in one of his shirts and a pair of fluffy socks, head tilted to expose the expanse of your throat and neck. the streetlight just outside the bedroom window cast a glow around your figure, made him want to mark every inch of your skin with his tongue and lips and fingers. he arched his brows at the glowing cigarette between your fingers, dropped the biscuits to the bed and made towards you.

“what’re you doing?” you startled slightly, almost dropped the cigarette and steve grinned wickedly as he settled on to the wide windowsill opposite you, careful not to spill either of your drinks. he placed them to the side of you both, just out of harms way and close enough to the open window to let it cool quicker.

“destressing.”

“snooping through my drawers?”

“what’s yours is mine, remember?” you took another drag and steve was momentarily caught off guard by how angelic you looked. bathed in a gentle yellow, features soft, eyes a little droopy and tired. “might wanna hide them in a better place if you don’t want me taking them.” he only hummed, wrapped his fingers around your ankles, thumbs grazing over your soft skin and pulled your feet into his lap. your legs were bare and he took to drawing patterns over your leg, affectionate and almost absentminded because he was yet to take his gaze off your face.

“thought you hated smoking? could have sworn you told me it was shit and i had to throw my pack away.” you grinned, gave a little shrug and made a noncommittal noise, resting back against the wall so you could watch steve through lowered lashes. he was tracing the tip of his finger up your leg, writing and re writing his name, from bold to cursive to block.

“yes,” it was a drawl, teasing and light, cigarette dangling a little from the corner of your mouth. “i also think men are shit but here i am, awfully in love with one.” steve’s snort of giggled laughter made your ears perk and your chest tighten, flutters rising from your stomach up the length of your spine.

“touché,” he squeezed your ankle lovingly, bent his head to kiss your knee, lips warm and just a little bit chapped but still your favourite feeling in the world. his hair fell over his forehead and his eyes sparkled as he raised back up, his attention like liquid heat over your body. “you at least gonna share?”

he thought you were going to take another cigarette from the pack by your side but you simply took yours from your mouth, half smoked and stained from your lips, and held it in front of his. eyes locked, the gesture somehow insanely intimate, steve wrapped his lips around it and took a drag, held the smoke in his lungs as you pulled it back. and for the next ten minutes that’s how you sat, in the open window, night traffic a low background noise, sharing a cigarette and soft glances with fleeting kisses between.

[undead-merman]

Day Twelve: Possession

Ivory Wraith and GN-Pc

Contains dubcon, possession, tentacles, fucking of holes not meant to be fucked, mind break.

You could never run. It always managed to find you, always creeped around waiting for its chance. An invisible predator always at your heels. You tried the farms, the woods, even under your own bed.

So you find yourself at the beach surrounded by people you don’t know just to have some kind of shield, or at least that’s the hope. The people filter around you, drinks in hand, as they chatter and fluff about. Some have their eye on you, but you can’t spend the energy to care about a few stray looks. You had to keep your eyes out for one specific gaze, a crimson stare that always manged to spot you. Always. You held a red solo cup, though it was still full. You didn’t touch it at all. You had used it as an excuse to keep people from talking to you as you scouted the party. Eyes, so many eyes.

You brushed off a few people, some that gotten more grabby than others, but when you stomped on their foot, you might have also scared them with that look on your face. It was probably unhinged. You couldn’t really find a fuck to give.

A breeze blew past, colder than most. The chill sent a paranoid shiver up your spine. Doubt then suddenly flooded your mind. Your plan wasn’t working, was it? Even surrounded by people, you still couldn’t hide yourself? When you heard the whisper of your name on the wind, it all but confirmed it for you. You threw down your cup, you didn’t even hear the man yelling at you for staining his pants, you simply pushed your way through the crowd. You shoved past dozens of people, not sparing them another glance until your bare feet hit the sand. Until you could no longer see the lights of the seaside social.

Your breathing was heavy, you could feel your heart racing, sweat leaking down the back of your neck. Yet you could still hear it. It simply had to be the wind, right? With how faint it really was, could you trust your own ears? Even with how much you were stricken with terror? The Blood moon hung high in the sky casting a ruby light on everything, the shadows were even deeper there.

“I will always find you.” like it was your lover’s breath in your ear.

Your fingers twitched and suddenly went cold and numb. The feeling crawled up your arm as you fell into the sand. Your arms were suddenly not your own as they reached up and started gropping you. One hand a bit too rough on your crotch and the other shooting up your shirt and scratching at your nipple, bring a tear to your eye.

“You and I are inseparable.” you could feel their long hair around you as if it was your own, violently masturbating with hands that are ice-cold on your own body. It was shameful that it was bringing such lewd noises out of you. Had you really been that pent-up from the paranoia? You caught yourself grinding into those numb fingers.

Fuck, it feels so good. The entity behind your alien hand syndrome knew your most sensitive spot, even more intimately than you knew your own body. Pinching your swollen buds, pulling them, even flicking them, making you gasp and whimper. Your fingers slipped into your undies and start stroking feverishly. You were so vulnerable, your clothes were being wiggled out of without your knowledge, simply too focused on the pleasure. It was wrought out of you, milking you as whispered threats were sung into your ear with jubilation.

You came with a scream that was eaten by an ice-cold mouth. Lips collided with yours and you saw their face. Ivory pale with no color anywhere besides their empty red eyes. Even that long wavy hair felt like a cage as it framed the both of you. Your entire body went numb, surely the wraith had sucked out your very soul.

A prisoner in your own body. You could feel every grain of sand against your back but could not even blink, your body was theirs to puppet. They prep your body, spreading your legs, opening your lips. The scream you wanted to let out didn’t even squeak when you felt the cold slither of snakes against your flesh. You knew far too well those tendrils were not mortal. They pressed against your stomach, wiggling into your bellybutton, your lips, every hole it tried to slither inside, not even your ears were safe.

With a hive mind rhythm they all pushed in at the same time. Your body provided no resistance as they invaded your innards. Each push sent a static of ecstasy that sent heat from your holes up your spine into your brain stem and into your Parietal lobe, turning it into goo. Even the tiny pseudopods that fucked your ears, which made deafening squelching sounds, felt like they were working you to orgasm. They weren’t even organs anymore, just fuck holes.

From your overly wet eyes that were spilling fat globs of tears, you could make out two more, and your heart sank. Where else could they possibly violate? Turns out, your nose was another prime sexual organ. It tickled all the way up to your brain, you could even feel the pleasure behind your eyes as the explosive force of euphoria. You wanted to scream, needed to, but your mouth was not your own and was occupied.

Even when you reached your peak, they drew out the feeling more and more as each orifice was thrust into more and more, making your nerves burn with pleasure so deep it felt like pain. Your guts were filled with a clear fluid that you could see squirt out of your hole. You could feel your stomach bloat from both ends. Shot after shot you could feel each appendage cum inside each hole, leaving a sticky yet warm sensation. It slowly heated, adding to a sudden need to keep going, to cum over and over again.

Slime dripped out of your nose, ears, and mouth in thick gooey clumps as they pull away. But with their tanks empty, you were able to briefly take control of your limbs once more. You seized it. Pulling back a pale tentacle, you licked up the drooling spend pouring out of your mouth and pulled the smallest little tendril back. You stroked it lovingly, offering it a place to be warmed and to fuck once again by your snotting nose. You offered a loving smile up to that sickly monster.

And it returned the kiss with its own sinister smirk.

[capricioussun]

Underfell Papyrus with the prompt "Can’t stop shaking," please

Hope you feel better soon ^^ 💜

This one got away from me a bit so I'm sorry if it's a little janky but also ty ;; 🩵

Ao3

CW, sick fic, sick character's pov, hospital stuff

Prompt list

—

A strange sound filtered in through the darkness. Fuzzy and ticklish, distant in the back of his skull. When it happened again, pain bloomed there, bleeding down his cervical vertebrae to ache through his ribcage.

Feeling began to register as that pain traveled further. Every limb drawn taut like a wooden doll held together with too little string. Tremors held him in a vice grip, unable to think beyond the radiating soreness weighing him down like lead, stifled further by a heavy weight laid atop the length of his body. Not only heavy, but hot, smotheringly so, yet doing nothing to reach the chills shivering up his spine, exacerbating the aches further.

That sound happened again, muffled, but more familiar, a voice. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to question, when that tickling sensation jumped, right to his throat, jolting fully awake with a vicious bout of coughing.

"Oh-!" a large, furry paw smoothed over the top of his head as that sound came again, closer, words, but none clear enough to parse over his own choking. He could hardly open his eyes enough to see the distorted shapes above him, let alone make sense of them.

Something cloth passed across his teeth, and instincts abruptly urged to push his attacker away before they could gag him, but his arms were useless, weak and buried at his sides. As the coughing finally subsided he could hear the stifled rattling of his own bones beneath the thick fabric restricting him.

"It is only me, Papyrus-" still cloudy, but discernible at last, "Toriel. Calm down," her gentle voice finally clicked into alignment with everything else. Toriel, his...friend? His mind grappled for a word or phrase to define what she was to him, but thoughts seemed to jumble together, clinging uselessly to the inside of his skull.

"Do not strain yourself," she soothed again, brushing the side of her paw against his cheekbone. As disoriented as he felt, he could still hear the strain in her steady tone.

Blinking slowly, the stale magic lining his sockets prevented his vision from focusing, but the rest of his unease passed recognizing Toriel's silhouette. When the cloth pressed to his teeth again he made no move to struggle. Not that he could've – he'd become acutely aware he felt awful.

Soon enough, the light pressure disappeared, his eyes fighting exhaustion to squint back open.

"There," she sighed, and then went quiet for a moment. The battle was quickly lost, his eyes drifting back shut, when he heard the floor creak. "I will get you some water." She spoke so softly, not dissimilar to how she spoke to Frisk...it felt disarming to hear it directed at him.

As her steps faded, his own noise became emphasized in the silence. Any white noise of the house settling or Toriel's movements elsewhere went entirely drowned out by every wet, rasping breath drawn, the unrelenting rattling tremble of his bones. Dizzy and nauseous, unable to so much as sit up, dully he remembered what was wrong with him. He was sick.

Very sick.

Without warning, the nausea heightened, coiled below his ribcage and he shuddered, swallowing thickly as much as he could before a sweeping chill wracked him, gasping into another, weaker coughing bout. Even his mind would not cooperate, feeling like his head had been stuffed with static and cotton.

Back underground, pain was simply a facet of life. Being stabbed, broken, bruised and beaten; especially in the guard. Seldom a day went by he returned home plagued only by weariness. But it had always been his brother prone to illness. He could probably count the number of times on one hand he could remember being sick himself, and it had never felt like this. Like his own body trying to exorcise him.

A strange lightheadedness possessed him, whatever few thoughts he could cling to slipping rapidly from his grasp. Only distantly was he aware of Toriel’s return and her attempting to get him to drink, raising his head in a strong, careful grip. He tried to tell her not to, his body was disgustingly soaked in his own sweat, it would matte her fur, surely, but all that came out was a strangled groan as she finally lowered him back to the pillow.

Were it not for lingering common sense, he would've worried his bones were on the verge of rattling apart. His focus had nowhere else to tether as wakefulness loosened from him further, drifting back and forth often enough to keep him miserably aware of his own discomfort, but no more, not enough to *think.

Time lost all meaning between snatches of consciousness, if it could’ve been called that. Every brief moment of awareness lost upon every lapse. He wouldn't remember catching whispers of two voices, one he knows better than any other, tense and worried. Wouldn't remember cringing weakly as he was moved, carried by strong, shaking hands to a cool vehicle, trembling hard enough to whimper at the pain of it. Wouldn't remember strangers’ hands replacing trusted ones, or how they caught him as he convulsed, getting sick on unfamiliar tile floors.

None of that remained, nor the days that followed.

Nothing made sense by the time his mind feebly made its way back to him. A low beeping beside him, the warmth of sunlight on his hands. When he managed to pry his tired eyes open, clean, white, unfamiliar walls greeted him. The bed before him less unknown, a hospital bed, with clinical white sheets outlining his body underneath. Wires that must've been attached to him snaked out from beneath – he couldn't feel them, but he couldn't feel much of anything beyond an overwhelming fatigue.

The air brought into his ribcage with every breath felt oddly cool, eyes drifting closed to focused what little energy he had on recalling what had led him here. Nothing came back before that beeping changed, only once, two staccato chirps seamlessly flowing back into its prior rhythm.

Automatically, he tried to look to the source, neck stiff and unwilling but managing enough to see a screen displaying stats he couldn't make sense of. He was in a hospital, of course, but what would he need to be monitored for? Why-

"rus?"

Turning his head too quickly, he flinched with a sharp inhale, "whoa whoa, take it easy, papyrus, s'just me."

Vision clearing from the unexpected jolt, his brother came into view. Outlined in the early morning, or perhaps late afternoon light filtering in from the window behind him, Sans stood beside his bed, obviously looking worse for wear in spite of the easy grin plastered on his features.

"What-" the dryness of his magic choked him, coughing as Sans fussed, pulling a cup of water off a tray he hadn't noticed with a flick of blue magic to force upon him with a mild scold. The surreality of it made him question if he was actually awake.

Clearing his throat more properly, any questions fell to the wayside as exhaustion frustratingly took hold again. He laid back, half-breathless just from drinking, and watched as Sans moved to set the cup back down by hand, aimlessly picking at the few other items on the tray. It didn't seem he to actually needed to ask, watching Sans deliberately find things to do, carefully avoiding meeting his eyes. The blanket was his next target, returning to the bed to fix it, smoothing it, brow bones fixed in an unusually tight scowl.

He said nothing, perhaps too tired to be annoyed by the prevarication, or perhaps understanding something bad must’ve happened to upset his brother this deeply.

It wasn’t long before the tension cracked with a sigh. Sans stuffed his hands back into his pockets as he stared down at where a wire was surely attached to his brother’s soul under the sheets. What he was really seeing was anyone's guess, but the string was fully cut when Sans took another, deeper breath, clearing his throat and shuffling the few steps back to the chair he must've been sleeping in.

"you uh, you really don't do nothin' halfway, do ya, kid," he breathed a humorless laugh as he slowly lowered into the chair. That single working eyelight drew up to the gaze rested on him, his own weariness now plain as day.

Papyrus held the attention steadily, hoping the slight furrow of his brow bone asked well enough for him. A shadow passed over Sans' expression, gone again in a flicker as he looked away for a moment before returning, but he didn't miss the tightness of his brother's voice as he answered.

"you got sick, papyrus. really sick." His hands fidgeted where they were clasped in his lap, wringing each other sluggishly. "scared the hell outta tori. wouldn' even let the kid visit 'cause she..."

One hand moved to his knee, clearing the shakiness from his voice and making a poor attempt to cover it with a chuckle. "don' matter now. got a little outta hand ‘cause of a secondary infection, but the doc said yer improving real well so it don' matter."

A small measure of sincerity lightened Sans' smile, voice low and calm, "now ya just gotta rest, got it?" He didn't even realize his sockets were sinking shut as he listened.

"just gotta relax, 'rus, i ain't goin' nowhere. s’gunna be alright."

Of course it would, he didn’t say. He didn’t have to. This time, sleep claimed him much more gently.

[nctsjiho]

On Time

cw: none; this is a little bit of a continuation to "Can't Stay Awake For This" but you don't necessarily have to read it for this to make sense || era: August 13th 2022, Jaemin's Birthday

❀ As the clock starts nearing the end of what is Jaemin's birthday, he feels a little disappointed about the lack of the presence of a certain someone

The laughter in Jaemin and Jeno’s shared room started to die down as soon as their other dormmates started to filter out the room and headed to their own. “Goodnight hyung! And happy birthday again!” the youngest had yelled through giggles at something Sungchan had told him.

Jaemin smiled at the closing door softly, finding his members—especially Jisung— really cute and being thankful for them to celebrate his birthday so well. Jeno, however, noticed that Jaemin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, nor did his eyes hold the same sparkle it always did in those kinds of situations. “What’s up with you? Aren’t you happy with how today went?”

Jaemin turned towards his best friend with wide eyes before shaking his head, barely any movement visible. “No, I am happy. It’s just that…”

“Just that what?”

“JiHo hasn’t even told me ‘happy birthday’ over text.”

Jeno let out a little chuckle seeing his friend pout, but he understood Jaemin’s disappointment. If anyone were to wish a member a happy birthday, it would be JiHo. She always has a birthday message ready so that when the clock hit midnight she’d be the first—or second since Mark was always pretty fast with these things also—to wish the members a happy birthday.

Jaemin’s birthday started almost 24 hours ago and midnight was about to strike again, heading into the day after his birthday. JiHo still hadn’t messaged or called him.

“I’m sure JiHo has been busy—”

Just as Jeno started to try and console his friend, a pretty loud ruckus sounded from outside their room. It sounded like hurried footsteps and knocked over, or at least moved, furniture.

Jeno and Jaemin shared a confused look with both of them shrugging as to tell the other they didn’t know what the origin of the noise was. Hushed whispers started to increase in volume until suddenly a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Jeno spoke in almost a questioning manner. The door opened soon after and, at last, JiHo appeared in front of the boys. Her hair was slightly dishevelled, her shirt sat crooked on her torso and she was a bit out of breath. But what the two boys noticed more was the goofy smile on her face.

“What?” Jaemin asked almost bitterly. He couldn’t fool JiHo however. She took a few steps into the bedroom until she reached Jaemin’s bed and sat down.

Through a heavy breath she smiled, “happy birthday.”

Jaemin’s response came in the form of a scoff. He grabbed his phone and read the time when the screen lit up. “My birthday is over in about 10 minutes.”

“So should I not say ‘happy birthday’ and just leave with my gift?”

Jaemin didn’t care about gifts that much, but knowing JiHo he knew that the gift would be something he’d treasure a lot. That’s exactly why he couldn’t hide his curiosity and grabbed JiHo’s hand when she stood up to try to leave. “Show me.”

A grin formed on JiHo’s face as she grabbed a hefty yet small box out of the bag she carried in. “Happy birthday,” she told him once again, her smile widening when Jaemin thanked her quietly.

Jeno had joined the two, intrigued when Jaemin started to open the box. The following moments went by as a bit of a blur for the birthday boy, until he watched JiHo turn his arm after securing a watch around his wrist. Her fingers adjusted the watch until it sat perfectly, and that’s when he noticed.

Three little gems, a green one, a white one and a blue one sat inside the watch that matched with the gems on her ring. The ring he gifted her on her birthday and the same ring she was wearing right now.

JiHo smiled shyly at Jaemin’s stunned face before turning her gaze back on the watch, still adjusting it, even though it already sat perfectly.

When JiHo woke up that morning after Jaemin had dropped her off at home, her body felt insanely heavy. She didn’t want to even think about moving, which is why she only opened her eyes. At that moment her eyes noticed something sparkling on the pillow in front of her.

She twisted her hand so she could take a better look, an unknown object caught her attention. Although unrelated to her sense of sight, a scent very familiar to her filled her nostrils. Her memory had been a bit cloudy before, but the unmistakable scent of Jaemin’s cologne and the sight of the most delicate and beautiful piece of jewellery on her finger put all the pieces in the right place.

JiHo vaguely remembered Jaemin’s voice wishing her a belated birthday, and when she picked up her phone which sat a bit further on her pillow she read another belated birthday wish from the same boy a warm feeling filled her chest. Even though she didn’t understand the reason behind the ring, she knew it wasn’t just a because-it-was-pretty type of gift. And once Jaemin would tell her the meaning behind the ring, she’d treasure it forever.

“Do you like it?” JiHo didn’t even make any eye contact with the boy. He didn’t say anything, but she got her answer nonetheless. “Jaemin—” she groaned when the boy pulled her into the most bone-crushing hug he had ever pulled anyone in. And even though she could actually feel her own elbows digging into her sides, she didn’t fight the boy’s hold.

“I love it,” he whispered into her ears and JiHo could almost hear the tears of joy and gratitude fill his eyes. “I love it so much.”

When Jaemin finally pulled away, he and Jeno started to inspect the watch closer, in awe at how pretty yet cool and sleek it looked. “I”m happy you do since it took me a while to get it.”

Jaemin’s expression fell suddenly. He looked almost troubled and JiHo knew he might have started to feel bad at the thought of JiHo putting in so much effort for a gift for him.

“No, no, no! Don’t worry Jaemin—”

“What do you mean with ‘a while’?”

JiHo sighed, but smiled at the boy softly. “I ordered and worked on the design with a professional maybe 2 or 3 months ago. But that process wasn’t troublesome at all. I had a lot of fun!” Jaemin smiled with relief. “It’s just that I had to leave early to go to Busan and come back, but I had an online meeting and there were some troubles and…” JiHo stopped talking as she noticed Jaemin’s smile fall again.

“Did you drive yourself?”

JiHo nodded hesitantly. When she noticed Jaemin was about to scold her she interrupted. “But! I wanted to. Since you got me such a meaningful gift for my birthday I wanted to be the one to get it myself and be part of the whole process. And I enjoyed it a lot. You know how much I like driving around. It wasn’t any trouble at all. I was just in a bit of a time crunch to get here on time.”

Jaemin sighed once again, giving the smaller girl a glare for a few seconds before breaking into a smile again. “Thank you so much, I really love it. But don’t go to such great lengths for me ever again.”

“Only if you don't either. I only did this because you got me this,” she countered with a playful smirk as she held up her hand with the now matching ring.

“Well I don’t think I can promise that.”

“Then I don’t think I can either.” The two wore playfull grins while holding a mini unofficial staring contest.

Jeno, who had just silently sat next to the two friends kind of moved from side to side in his place before speaking up. “You know, maybe you guys could do something like that for my birthday next year…”

The two friends looked at Jeno, who held a sheepish grin before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Are you jealous, Lee Jeno? Are you jealous that I'm matching with your best friend?” JiHo teased, leaning in closer to the boy who’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red whilst he denied her words.

Jaemin cooed loudly bringing his two friends in another bone-crushing hug as he sang, “ah! Our jealous baby. Maybe we’ll buy something for you to match on your birthday.” He pulled away now only looking at Jeno. “However, I don’t know if you deserve to match with us since you didn’t participate in JiHo or my gift… We’ll think about it.”

Jaemin looked at JiHo questioningly, as Jeno continued to deny the innocent accusations of jealousy and declined the offer, saying he didn’t “mean it like that”. JiHo chuckled before turning at the blushing boy and giving his hair a ruffle, “we’ll think about it.”

---

S/N: Bonus update ^^ happy b-day Jaemin <3

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

[royalhouseofcarrington]

All the Things That We Left Unspoken

Transcript below the cut

The mid-morning sun filtered in past the heavy curtains in the hotel room, shining onto Ben’s face. He groaned, head and chest still pounding from the night before. He glanced at the sleeping man beside him and smiled gently, memories floating back from the night before. They had danced and danced and danced all night, stepping on the other’s toes, yes, but dancing nevertheless. They had downed rounds of shots, for both liquid courage and because Will and Nico refused to let them leave until the entire bridal party (minus Tom and Gia’s kids, who had been hurried off to bed once the party really got going) had a shot together. They sang karaoke at the after-party (horribly, and Ben knew that he had butchered the lyrics to “Love Story” beyond recognition and undoubtedly disappointed Taylor Swift in the process) and then giggled like schoolgirls on their way up to Ben’s hotel room where they were now, waking up from one of the best nights of Ben’s life thus far. 

Ben looked back down on the sleeping man's face. "You're still here." He whispered. "Are you awake?" Ivan groaned and rolled over in the hotel bed. "Ivan?" Ben asked gently, hoping to every god above that he was still asleep and they could go their seperate ways without another word. However, that didn't seem to be the case. "What time is it?" Came Ivan's mumbled voice from the pillow. Ben froze. "I dunno." He eventually said. "After sunrise." Ivan made a noise that sounded like a cross between a groan and a yawn. "You're still here." Ben managed. Ivan looked back at him over his shoulder. "I fell asleep." He admitted bashfully. "I can see that." Ben replied.

Ivan turned back to face Ben. "You didn't have security kick me out?" He questioned. Ben turned beet-red. The thought hadn't even begun to cross his mind before he went to sleep. He paused before he spoke again. "No. I didn't." Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Why?" Ben hesitated. "I..." He began. "I don't know." Ivan sat up in the hotel bed a little bit more and raised his other eyebrow. "Yes." He said firmly. "You do." Ben felt himself starting to melt under Ivan's gaze.

Ben took a deep breath before he spoke. "The press is going to be all over you." Ivan blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. He suspected that there was more to it, but didn't push. "I can handle the press." He assured Ben, but Ben shook his head firmly. "No. They’ll be all over you the second they see you leave this room." Ben looked at Ivan sadly and Ivan immediately got the feeling that he was speaking from personal experience. "Is that why?" Ben nodded grimly, although Ivan suspected that there was more to the story that Ben wasn't sharing. He wasn't going to push it any further unless Ben offered more. "Yes. I didn’t want you to deal with all that. Not without warning." They looked at each other solemnly before Ivan spoke. "I appreciate it, but I can handle it.I appreciate it, but I can handle it." Ben turned away and looked up at the ceiling before he turned back.

"Do you remember what happened to Luca after we were photographed together?" He asked. Ivan's facial expression turned stony. Of course he did. They both knew, they both witnessing the centerfolds of everything that had happened. It had been horrid on Ben's side, that much Ivan was sure of, but it had excruciating on Luca's side too. Ivan nodded grimly. "Yes." Ben sighed. "All that happened when we were kissing. This… they’ll lose their goddamn minds." Ivan knew immediately what he meant and he reached towards Ben's hand to reassure him. "No." He said firmly. "They won't." Ben released another sigh. "The press have already picked up on the fact that my family is here and they are waiting for us to show our faces." He explained. "They’ll definitely notice when you leave my room."

Ivan squeezed Ben's hand and both men tried not to turn shades of red and pink. "I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me." Ben released a short laugh and squeezed Ivan's hand tighter affectionately. "I don’t think my anxiety will let me."

[goblin-spider]

Deadlander

Chapter two

Mer's hover blades clunked upon the smooth tiled floor as he powered off his gear, placing his helmet under his arm as the back doors sealed themselves shut behind him, their familiar whirring sound easing his nerves a little, as nostalgia of his childhood filled his being, remembering that this was once home. No amount of potential judgement from his co-workers could change the connection he had with this place.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh, filtered air within the building, he started to detach his hover blades from his steel capped boots, holding them firmly in his free hand once he was done.

He scanned the corridor for a map of some kind, hoping that he could somehow find a locker room to put his stuff in, thinking to himself that carrying around his hover blades and dust helm all day would be impractical.

He wandered for a bit, feeling the helmet start to get heavy in his arms as he continued to walk down the hall.

"This doesn't look right."

Mer was definitely lost now, despite the familiarity with the corridor, the rest of the building had been renovated, the changes so drastically different that he had to stop and pull out his tablet to call his mother for help. As he leaned against a nearby wall, punching in the numbers to her ai goggles, he noticed a large sign across from him that said 'BEWARE OF RADIATION' in bold lettering. His eyes narrowed as he noted the direction the arrow was pointing and went back to typing in the number, hitting call and waiting as the phone rang out.

After what seemed like forever, his mum answered, his screen filled with the image of test tubes as she filled them with green liquid,

"Hey sweetie, whatcha need?"

Relieved, his lips curled into a smile. It'd been so long since they'd last talked. The sound of her voice was comforting to him against the anxiety he felt just moments before.

"Hey ma, I'm kinda lost. Can you give me directions to this observatory I'm supposed to be working in?"

"Sure, where are you right now?"

Mer looked around and chose to turn the camera on the tablet towards the large sign in front of him.

"I'm wherever this is. Came through the back but everything has changed."

Nadia read the sign as it displayed in the lenses of her goggles and went silent for a bit, thinking about what the best course of action should be, figuring it'd be easier just to give him a tour and then show him to his office.

"Ohh I know where you are. Just take a left at the end of the corridor. You'll find the doors to my new lab there. Head on in and I'll give you a tour."

"A tour eh? Guess I'll see you soon then. Bye."

Hanging up, he started hauling his belongings to the end of the hallway, stopping and glancing back over his shoulder at the room that the sign was pointing to, noting to himself to go check it out later.

Oscorp hadn't worked with radiation before, not that he knew of at least, so the idea of possibly being able to see what they were doing with it piqued his interest greatly. Perhaps he'd be assigned to that area one day, he thought, but only time would tell. 

He finally came to the heavy double doors of the lab and the door automatically opened without him having to scan his chip, which surprised him, thinking that the lab should have been secured like everything else but it just simply wasn't.

A wall of eye watering odours hit him as he stepped in, making him cough and wipe the tears welling up from the corners of his eyes. The air inside the lab stunk of patchwork venom and rats fur mixed with the distinct scent of disinfectant that made him sick. His stomach churned watching as the scientists sat at their stations, dipping each rat into some mystery serum before pulling them out, blistered and squealing. They looked almost bloated before each were bitten by irritated patchwork spiders, the acid coursing through their veins only making their pained noises louder.

Nadia spotted him and rushed over, placing a pair of Normtech goggles over his eyes to protect them from the fumes, taking his dust helmet and hover blades from him before raising her voice over the noise.

"Mer! By the trees! Look how big you've gotten!"

He stiffened, not used to her being so close or caring, watching cautiously as she started smoothing his long fringe back so she could see his face better, noticing all the grazes on his skin.

"What's this from?"

Choosing not to answer, he pulled away from her and gestured to the mass experimentation going on below the platform.

"Eugh! What's all that about?"

Nadia grabbed his shoulders steered him away from looking at the scene and ushered him into a more calm area of the building, not wanting him to see their current project,

"It's nothing. None of your concern at the very least. Come, this is the computer lab."

He hesitated to follow for a moment, glancing behind him at the closed lab door, the sound of muffled rat squeals still emanating from beyond it as they walked away.

"Uh, right. So I'm guessing i'll be working here to write about any new planets I discover?"

She shook her head and led him through the computer lab, a big smile plastered across her face as they entered the waiting area, right up to the front desk, gesturing for him to sit in the comfortable chair there.

"This is where you'll be working."

Mer looked at her skeptically. There was no way she was that out of touch with him... Was there?

"You're joking right? You want me to be the receptionist?! What happened to the astronomer job I studied so hard for? Dad wanted me to explore the stars, not be a receptionist."

Nadia only shook her head in disapproval of his attitude, placing her hands back onto his shoulders and sitting him down,

"You would work much better here, greeting visitors and filing things than being in the observatory with all those stuffy galaxy heads. Remember when you were 4 and-"

"-ah, yes... Four... Of course. I was an outgoing kid, I get it but Mum, I can barely hold a conversation with people I don't know now, how do you expect me to do this at all?" This had to be a joke right? Mer sat there both annoyed that she'd lied about there being a position open in the observatory and also that she'd only remembered what he was like as a very young child.

She smirked, stubbornly sticking to her decision, "I expect you to greet our customers well and book appointments for them efficiently. Now, I've got to get back to the lab. I'll see you at lunchtime sweetie."

Mer sighed and sunk into the chair, defeated. "Great. See you then, I guess."

Exasperated but more so anxious with the situation he was in now, he thought about how he couldn't stand the idea of sitting there, terrified and under pressure, as a stranger asked him important questions that he might not be able to answer.

"Just say 'welcome to Oscorp! How can I help you today?' like a normal person."

He muttered to himself, trying to push down the nerves bubbling up even higher.

There were a few moments of him sitting there, tapping away at the table, before the front doors conveniently opened and a tall man walked in, his scuffed protection gear covered in a thick layer of dirt.

"That was quick-"

"-what?"

"I-uh..."

The stranger's voice was muffled by the dust helmet he wore, it's red and black accents gleaming in the fluorescent lights above them. Mer stayed silent for a beat, mainly out of nerves that the man would chew him out if he repeated his sarcastic self talk. He had a sort of menacing aura to him that irked something deep within mer's gut and unnerved him.

The man gruffly nodded once at him, as if to try and seem more friendly than he actually was, watching as Mer nervously adjusted his glasses and uttered "err hi, Oscorp welcoming? I mean-"

Raising a brow at him, Kirk took off his helm, hoping that if he showed his face, that it'd calm the poor guy's nerves. He could tell that mer was new there, not just by his nervous demeanor but also by his crisp uniform, his lab coat barely touched by the chemicals or oil he'd seen on the last receptionists uniform. Dusting off his death hawk, he couldn't help but snort,

"Yeah, g'day to you too mate. I've got an appointment with that miss osborn doctor. She in today? Appointment for Kirk Connelly."

Mer nodded sheepishly and pointed to the seating area "please uh...wait. I'll-"

Before mer could finish, Kirk was leaning against the desk staring him down in a manner that intimidated him more, before he quickly continued, "-I'll just call her up then."

Kirk remained where he was, not moving an inch to sit in the designated seating area, "Cool. Don't mind waiting right here."

Mer's mouth twitched a little in irritation, picking up his tablet from the desk as he started to dial Nadia's number, trying to stay as polite with kirk as possible, "I'd prefer it if you went and sat down... Mr. Connelly."

"Mr Connelly?!" He tapped his fist on the desk and laughed as if 'mr Connelly' was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Haha, Nah, just call me Kirk. Mr. Connelly makes me sound like some uppity important person."

It was obvious by the way he was trying not to screw up his nose in irritation, that mer felt mocked by his laughter,

"Okay... Er... No problem kirk. Just don't lean on my desk then, please. You're getting dust on it."

He proceeded to sweep some of the sand and dust away with his fingers as Kirk stared down at him some more with his sharp dark eyes, somewhat offended by this action.

"You're in the Deadlands' and you're afraid of a little bit of dust? C'mon mate, grow a backbone."

Mer gritted his teeth and smiled the biggest, fakest smile he could muster,

"A backbone eh?,"  his face immediately dropped again, "You're so unfunny, get your filthy gear off of my desk and wait like a normal person."

Stifling a laugh, Kirk backed off only a little bit from the desk, as if to reward him just a little for his frustrated reply,

"Ooh! Now that's better. I think you have some bite in you after all. Still not moving til she comes out though."

He groaned in annoyance, the irritation written all over his face, clear as day, as he called up Nadia and told her about the irritating man waiting to see her.

After a short amount of awkward silence and Kirk drumming the rhythm to some unknown song on the desk, Nadia came out and guided him towards the back of the room and through the computer lab, leaving Mer alone in silence again.

He eyed the pile of paper that seemed to be for notes and haphazardly tossed them in the nearby recycling unit before shuffling through the messy pile of files left on the desk from the previous receptionist, waiting for the next customer to arrive.

He skimmed over the titles of the files and got to organising them into alphabetical order, grimacing occasionally when he came across files with what had to have been blood drops or paint dried into the paper. He knew nothing about the previous receptionist or what must have happened to him for Oscorp to have chosen mer to fill in his role within the company but now that he looked at things carefully, it all seemed just a little bit too convenient and made him feel a bit uneasy.

Opening the filing cabinet next to him, he noticed more old blood dried up in spatters along the metallic handle and files. Hesitating to touch the handle again, he decided he'd discuss this with his mother at lunch, sliding each file into its correct area carefully.  Mer shuddered at the thought of the last receptionist bleeding over his own files, wondering what exactly had taken place for blood to even be on them in the first place.

"Wildlander attack?... No... Couldn't be. Maybe his head was bitten off by my mother for doing a bad job? Hahaha now that I would like to see."

Bending over, he dared to look at the filing cabinet closer, opening the second drawer to find that to no surprise, there were bloodied fingerprints all over the inside. He followed them to a file all the way at the back and poked it with his pen, rustling the files, just in case there was something in it that could bite him. He waited and when nothing emerged, he cautiously reached in and pulled out the file.

There was nothing distinct about the file on rats, as he opened it, besides the bloodied fingerprints and scatterings of  weird notes scribbled in the corners about chemicals mer didn't understand a lick about.

The contents of it were mostly filled with the ethics of using rats vs humans for experimentation, using alchemax's 'wildlander project' as one of the biggest reasons not to use humans until the final trials of an experiment and even then, it stated you needed to be cautious.

The whole thing read like a propaganda leaflet against the previous corporation and although he was used to hearing about it through stories from his uncle's youth, seeing something directly referencing one of alchemax's mistakes only intrigued mer into delving further into it.

Just as he was getting to the meat of the file, the front doors slid open again as someone dressed in a complete, old timey cowboy outfit, competed with Spurs and an interesting kind of mask, stepped in and just sat down in one of the chairs.

Mer side eyed him, both cautiously and utterly stunned by his choice in clothes and the way he didn't come up and ask him anything about an appointment, at all. It gave him time to gingerly close the file and place it aside to greet him.

Clearing his throat, he said in a low, nervous voice,

"Welcome to Oscorp.... How can I help you today?"

Mer's quiet voice caught the man's attention and he took off his cowboy hat to place it upside down on the chair beside him, leaning his head back against the wall, as if tired from whatever he'd been doing before he came inside.

"Nothin' sir. Just waitin' for my partner to get out from seein' your lady doctor."

His accent and way of talking really caught him off guard. It was as if this guy was randomly plucked from the past and was just sitting there in front of him.

The idea of calling his mum a 'lady doctor' made him chuckle lightly, lifting his nerves just a bit, until he saw that the cowboy actually carried guns on his hips.

Pointing to them, mer couldn't help but ask about it,

"Are...they real?"

"Course' they are. Never seen a real revolver before?"

Shaking his head, he went back to reading the file, still thinking about the fact that there was - indeed - a whole cowboy in the waiting area.

"...where are you from? We don't get very many people... Er... looking like you... Or any cowboys really, in the Deadlands. Maybe a few Bush Rangers and farmers but none that carry... guns."

The cowboy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not liking being asked so many questions and adjusted his poncho to snuggle into while he waited for Kirk.

"I'm from all around darlin'."

He hoped that'd be a sufficient enough answer for him.

Mer on the other hand, wanted to pry him for more information about himself, really curious about him now.

"I'm guessing you're waiting for that Kirk Connelly fella right? Is he your kindred?*"

Pat froze, still getting used to the fact other dimensions were perhaps a little too open about prying during small talk than what he was used to,

"What's a- no, he's my work partner. Help's me catch things."

"Oh! Gotcha. What do you catch?"

"None of ya business."

His gruff answer made mer immediately shut up and decide to stop pestering the eccentric stranger with his questions, instead focusing back on the file and only occasionally glancing at the man, still so confused about his outfit.

As the day went on and the more that people came in, the more he got used to his job. It started to feel comfortable almost, having a set of lines he'd made up in his head helped the most and come lunch time, he had them nailed down.

It was when he got up to close the front doors down head to the lunch room, that he noticed the cowboy still sitting, alone, waiting for Kirk.

"Hey, mate, you might want to go outside while we close for lunch, your friend's probably going to be in there a while. Dr. Nadia is very thorough."

Patrick stirred from his nap, too comfortable in the cool, air-conditioned building and soft chair to want to move.

"Can't. Gotta wait for him in here in case somethin' goes wrong."

Mer sighed, deciding it was reasonable enough to let him wait there and decided to skip lunch anyway, since his mum was too busy with Kirk to answer his questions about the file and former receptionist anyway.

"Okay.... but no leaning on the desk or getting dust on it like your mate, alright? Just do whatever you're doing now until he comes back."

Pat nodded once in understanding and closed his eyes again, snuggling back into his poncho.

*kindred is the word for spouse in mer's dimension

[myyoungroyalsblog]

HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO THIS BLOG AND MY BELOVED HYPERFIXATION

Here have a fic, as a treat💜 also buy me a coffee? pls?

all of these thousand miles

AU where Wilhelm tells the truth about the video during the interview, but the queen buries it behind his back

Word count: 4.600

Rating: Teen+

AO3

Wille (13:08): I did it!

I came out!!!!!!

Well sort of, I said I didn’t want to put a label but that I’m definitely not straight :)

I also told them about you and to respect your privacy

It felt so fucking liberating, I couldn’t have done this without you <3

Wille (14:52): The article will be out this afternoon

Just to let you know!

Wille (20:37): Hey I tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you must be having dinner or hanging out with friends!

No worries, just call me when you can, okay?

Wille (23:16): Simon?

XX

Simon felt numb.

Hearing the words Ayub read out loud into the lively living room was like a knife straight to the heart. “The Crown Prince says ‘that’s not me in the video.’...”

What happened to “they didn’t do anything wrong”? That they were in this together?

Numb.

After Ayub left to go home, he turned off his phone and laid down on the sofa, the TV in front of him playing a show that he couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to. “Mi amor?” called Linda from the other room.

He saw his mama enter the living room and kneel down in front of him, a hand rubbing up and down his arm in comfort, “Qué más quieres? Quieres galletitas, zumo, soda…?” she asked with a smile, trying to cheer her son up. “No, gracias,” he answered, sending her a small smile of his own, too exhausted to even think about food. “Estás seguro?” He nodded, feeling his heart fill with warmth from her support. “Eres fuerte, Simon, todo va a estar bien.”

She went back into the kitchen to finish the washing up, leaving Simon in the living room, once again alone with his thoughts.

What happened, Wille…

A lone tear fell onto the plush cushion beneath him.

XX

Lightning filtered through the living room window, waking Simon up from his deep sleep.

He could hear the heavy rain outside fall against the house, thunder soon filling the silent walls surrounding him. He squinted and saw the TV in front of him still playing, illuminating the room in a light blue light. He reached for his phone that was on the floor –with no cracks on the screen, thankfully– and tapped on it.

But it didn’t turn on.

Oh. Right. He turned it off after hearing the news.

He looked up and saw the clock on the wall, its hands pointing at the numbers 6 and 10, making it almost seven in the morning.

He tightened his hold on the fluffy blanket on top of him, not letting it fall off his body as he stood up. He silently walked towards his room, trying not to make any noise, even though the uproar of the rainstorm outside would be more disturbing than his sock cladded feet on the hardwood floor.

Once he was inside his bedroom, he turned his phone on and threw it on the bed, basking in the yellow glow from his fish tank.

He took a deep breath, picking up the small cylindrical bottle resting on his desk containing the food for his pet fish and threw them a few bits and pieces for the night.

“Olle.” A chin on his shoulder.

“Oski.” Movement behind his neck from one shoulder to the other, leaving a feather-like touch on his skin, setting a raging fire inside him.

“Felle.” Arms wrapped around him, followed by a soft kiss against his neck.

He shook his head, rubbing his hands against his face furiously, trying to get rid of any thoughts of him. Taking another deep breath, he changed into his pyjamas and got into the comfort of his own bed…

and saw the phone on the pillow next to him light up.

He knows he shouldn’t, that it would be better if he rested for a few more hours before checking his phone, but he was nowhere near sleepy and in a state of mind to not think about it.

It was the only thing he could think about.

Entering the password, he waited for a couple of minutes before the notifications finally came to a stop, nearly heating up his phone during the time. He looked over them, only interested in the ones that mattered. He removed the Instagram ones, not caring for them, and then saw a few messages from his, Ayub and Rosh’s group chat, asking if he was okay, even though Ayub already saw him earlier.

His eyes then caught on another name.

Wille

10 messages and 3 missed calls

He sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against his phone, getting mentally prepared for this.

Lord, give me strength

But that was apparently not necessary, or at least not for what he thought he needed strength for.

Because once he opened the messages, he instantly felt confused. What the hell?

He went to google and opened the online article that was published almost twelve hours ago, trying to make sense of everything, but the same damn words that his friend read out loud were staring right back at him.

One thing was clear, something wasn’t right.

He pressed the call button before he could second guess himself, and in less than three seconds, a panicked voice travelled through the device, “Simon? Simon, are you there? Are you okay?”

“I-” His voice got caught up in his throat, not sure how to answer that question. Was he okay? “I honestly don’t know,” he finally answered in a small voice, “Simon?” Wilhelm tentatively asked again. “I just… I-I don’t understand, you're telling me a different story to the one the article says.” Deep down he knew that Wille wouldn’t lie, that wasn't him, so there was something obviously very wrong here.

There was silence from the other side, and after a few seconds, he could hear deep breathing, “What do you mean?” He could feel the anxiety spiking through the phone, wanting nothing more than to be beside him and comfort him, but he first wanted to clear all this up and find out what the hell happened between the interview and the publishing of the article. “Wille, have you read it?”

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to hide the emotions from his voice, “Yeah, they showed me a preview a few minutes after the interview. Miss Rosenqvist the interviewer congratulated me for being brave and honest about everything once we finished, she was really nice, and then I saw her speaking with mama when I went up to my room.”

Once Simon knew that he had finished, he assured him to remain calm, “I’ll send you the article that Ayub showed me.”

God this had to be a fucking joke. He was 99% sure that the queen was behind this… this… he didn’t even know what to call this situation.

Fucked up would be an appropriate description though in his opinion.

He took a deep breath to slow down his heartbeat, trying to calm down, for his and Wilhelms' benefit. It would be no good if he got angry right now, even if it was with the goddamn ruler of this country.

Once he found it again, he quickly sent Wilhelm the link and waited for his response, knowing that he would need time to process it.

“Fuck.”

Fuck was right.

“Wille-”

“But I... I didn’t…” his breathing was getting harsher, making Simon wish even more that he was there with him, able to hold him in his arms, “these aren’t my words… I didn’t say any of this!”

“Wille, take a deep breath, please.” He thought he listened, but after a few seconds his voice travelled through the phone once again, “Simon… Oh my god Simon this wasn’t me, I swear I told them the truth!”

“Wille! Relax! I believe you, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.” A muffled sob came through the speaker, his heart constricting when hearing it. “Wille?“

After a few seconds it seemed like he had calmed down, but still sounded like his mind was racing a hundred kilometres per hour. Could he blame him, though?

“She wouldn’t,” it was so quiet that Simon barely heard it, his voice sounding even more devastated now, “Oh my god she… she fucking would.”

“Wille? Are you okay?” he asked, worried about his comments. “God Simon, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know they would do that,” he heard movement, probably him getting up from his bed, “I- I need to make this right, I will make this right, Simon.” He felt his heart fill with warmth when hearing those words, knowing that Wille cared so much for him. “Thank you, and I meant what I said yesterday, you are really brave, mitt hjärta.” He knew that Wilhelm’s cheeks were probably getting red from the pet name, making him look adorable.

Then, he heard Wilhelm laugh, “Thank you,” his voice still sounded a bit rough after crying, but his laughter made Simon feel hopeful that he was going to be okay, that they were going to be okay, “And thank you for believing me.”

Oh, Wille…

“No need to thank me, thank you for telling the truth,” and he really meant it.

“But I failed,” he sounded so dejected in that moment, talking as if all this was his fault.

And he couldn’t be more wrong.

“No, Wilhelm, this isn’t on you, okay? This is not your fault.” He really wanted to hug him, make him feel better and realise that he wasn’t the problem, he was never the problem, “I just wish I was there with you right now.”

“Yeah, me too.” Another laugh. Good. “Or better yet I wish I was there with you in your cozy room, and not in this shell of a palace I have to call home.”

Hearing him talk about his “home” like that, like he had no emotional connection to it, broke his heart. “Yeah, you’re right about that, that would be much better,” he agreed with him. “Although, I am curious about what your room looks like,” he added seriously, but with a smile on his face, “do you perhaps have a diamond chandelier above your bed?” he teased, trying to make Wilhelm laugh again.

He felt relieved when he succeeded, “No, but I do have a thousand thread egyptian cotton sheets,” he teased back.

Oh

It showed that he knew his audience very well. “Goddamn it, Wille, you better take some to Hillerska so that I can try them.” He imagined he would sleep like a baby on those sheets, and with Wilhelm beside him, it could probably become his best sleep yet.

“Okay,” Wilhelm agrees, “for sleeping or…”

Oh my god

“No!” he whisper-screamed, trying not to wake up his mum or sister this early, “get your head out of the gutter, Your Highness.”

“Sure,” it was obvious he didn’t believe him. He knew him too well.

“But, if you want, we can try that too,” Simon added nonchalantly, shrugging even though Wilhelm couldn’t see him.

“Sounds good.” He said quickly, probably with a deep red blush on his cheeks once again.

He laughed, feeling the anxiety wash away from his system after clearing the air with him.

“Simon, I’m sorry but I need to go. I need to talk to Kristina.” He didn’t sound pleased at all, dreading the talk he would have to have with her. Simon couldn’t even begin to imagine what Wilhelm must be feeling in that moment, knowing that your own mum chose to reassure the people of this country that The Crown Prince was “straight” instead of letting her son be who he actually was.

He prayed that it would go well. “Okay,” he had so many things to say, too many things for the little time they had, so he let him go, knowing that he needed to talk with her as soon as possible.

He could tell him later anyway, “You are so brave, Wille, remember that.”

 He heard a shuddering breath on the other side, “Tack, älskling.”

Wille,

I love you, I hope you know

“Talk to you later.”

I do know

“Yeah, bye Simon.”

“Bye.”

He heard more thunder in the distance, and then, silence.

XX

Kristina usually got up at six in the morning, so it wasn’t a total surprise when Wilhelm saw light filtering underneath the doors leading to her office, probably signing some papers that she read thoroughly. Which also meant that she was in Queen mode, and that was how she was going to respond to him once he entered; not her son Wilhelm, but the young Crown Prince who still needs to learn how to be perfect and hide his flaws.

He knocked once, out of little respect that he still had for her in that moment, knowing full well it was all going to disappear after this talk.

Without Kristina's permission to enter, he opened the door and walked towards her desk, furious, which made her look up, “Wilhelm, you’re supposed to be going back to Hillerska, what are you doing here?”

He ignored her question. 

“How dare you?” His voice was hard and cold, not a tone Kristina had ever heard, at least directed towards her, “How dare you change the article, you had no right!”

Her face changed from shock to recognition, now fully understanding why Wilhelm was there at seven in the morning on a Sunday, “I did what was best for the Crown, which was supposed to be your duty during yesterday's interview, I gave you your chance and you didn’t take it.”

Wilhelm scoffed, not surprised by the answer, but still wishing she would change for just a moment, for him, for her goddamn son. “You didn’t for a second think what was best for me? For Simon? For the people who are like me!?”

She didn’t say anything, just kept staring at him, a look of pure disappointment and discontent.

He turned towards the window, the dark sky lightly graced by the morning's sun, a fraction of the light entering the big windows of the office, “Good to finally know I mean nothing to you.”

She sighed, standing up while patting down her skirt, even though she knew it didn’t have a seam out of place, “You know that’s not true, Wilhelm, I did this for you.”

“No,” he said in a broken voice, shaking his head, “No, you did it for The Crown Prince, for the future king, not for me.” She still stood there, hands clasped in front of her, as if this was a useless meeting with the prime minister and not her only child.

“So what was the point of the interview? You could’ve just fed them lies along with your bribes and left me out of it, why involve me?”

This seemed to wake her up and show emotion, glaring straight at him, “Because we agreed on what you were going to say, and then you decided to throw all of that away for a meaningless crush on a boy!”

A meaningless…

“Simon means everything to me! He made being at Hillerska bearable, he was there for me when Erik died even when I was pushing him away!” he screamed, not caring if he shared too much in the moment, “He saw me for me, not my title.”

The silence was deafening, making him feel even more tired after trying to reason with her, trying to make her see that what she did was wrong.

She took a step closer, stopping at the edge of her huge wooden desk made of agar, golden accents running along the intricate legs. “You wouldn’t be able to rule this country with a man by your side, you know that, especially with someone with his… background.”

Wilhelm saw red. “You did not just say that.”

“Oh I don’t mean his skin colour, Wilhelm! I meant his involvement with drugs. What kind of image are you setting up by going out with a boy who has a drug addict dad.”

He caught himself before he responded with something he might regret, like saying he himself has taken drugs in the past, mostly courtesy of August. “His dad doesn’t define who he is.”

“But it does if he’s going to be in the media! They will dig up his life just like I did because it is that easy.”

Wilhelm knew that. He knew how the media would try to find the next best scoop and dig up every single detail on the prince's new “fling” –just like how they liked to call it–, they would find every photo, every detail and then publish it for all the public to see, with no shame whatsoever.

And Simon didn’t want that, nor did he.

So he did something that he had been thinking about for quite some time now, making The Queen become speechless once again, “Then I’ll abdicate.”

The shock on Kristina’s face was like nothing he had ever seen before, her pale skin turning even whiter, “You’ll what?”

“I’ll abdicate.”

“You aren’t serious?”

“Very.”

“You cannot abdicate!” she raised her voice, taking another step towards him.

“I have every right to,” he retaliated, lifting up his chin and moving his shoulders back, trying to convey that bravery that Simon saw in him, “Just like I have every right to be with the one I love, regardless of who they are, and I will publish my correct answers from the interview in some way or another, whatever the cost.”

That made her pause, worry flashing through her eyes, but not for him. Never for him.

She took a step back this time, trying to distance herself from the boy in front of her, “Fine, abdicate.”

What?

“What?”

“Abdicate.” She said again, strangely calm considering the bomb that he had just dropped on her, “because if this silly little interview is causing you this much trouble, it is nothing compared to what you will have to endure for the rest of your life as a royal, and especially as king.”

He didn’t know how to answer, still processing the fact that his mum is letting him abdicate.

She sighed, turning towards her desk, “I’ll get the paperwork ready for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.”

Of course, of course there was something else that mattered more.

Did she ever really care for him? Or was he always Erik’s annoying little brother? The spare to the throne? The fuck up?

He tried to hold it together, feeling his eyes start to water, “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.”

He thought that she would fight him more on this, that some small part of her trusted him to run the monarchy, that he would be a good ruler, but he was obviously very wrong. And a twisted part of his brain was upset because of it. Why did he feel so sad when he got exactly what he wanted?

Because it still felt like he lost.

He walked to the door, grabbing the handle and ready to flee the room he hoped he never had to step foot in again.

“Wilhelm,” for the first time that morning, her voice sounded soft and warm, making him stop and hear what she had to say, “I really do want what's best for you, even if you don’t see it now, I hope you will one day.”

But once again, it was nothing worthwhile. 

So without wasting another second, he turned the doorknob and left.

XX

Simon was pacing.

He hadn’t heard from Wilhelm for a couple of hours now, making him more than a bit worried, even though deep down he knew that he was okay.

He sat down on the sofa again, his mama already awake and watching a cooking show on the TV where they were making paella. “Remember how much you liked the paella you ate in Spain when we went last year?” Linda asked, nothing but fondness in her voice.

“Yeah, I remember.”

She leaned over and ran her hand through his curls, comforting him, “We could make it next weekend if you’d like.” He hummed, liking the idea.

Right outside the window, lightning flashed again, the rain pouring heavier than when he woke up a few hours ago. The sky was grey and full of clouds by now, not letting a single ray of sunshine through. “Hey,” his mum whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

He knew that, but anxiety was running through his veins, despite his useless attempt at trying to calm down, “I just worry, his mum is just so-”

“I know,” she interrupted softly before he started spiralling, “but once all this is cleared up and resolved, you can invite him over for dinner, okay? Maybe even teach him how to make this delicious rice dish,” she adds with a laugh, making him smile, “You can also invite Rosh and Ayub, we can have another game night like yesterday.”

Simon felt so much love from his mum at that moment, not even resisting the urge to hug her tightly, “Te quiero, mama.”

Linda squeezed back, kissing his head tenderly, “Yo también te quiero, mi amor.”

Everything was going to be alright

After a few seconds of being in the comfort of his mum's embrace, he let go, sending her a small smile to show her that he felt better than before and that she helped.

He left her on the couch to go get a glass of water, checking his phone on the way for maybe the hundredth time that day, still with no new notifications from Wilhelm.

Just tell me you’re okay, Wille, please

He looked out the dining room window, seeing big droplets fall against his and Sara’s potted plants that they kept outside, holding under the strength of the falling water.

Please be okay

Just as he was about to go back into his room, he saw a tinted black car appear in front of the house, a car that he recognized.

The same one that picked Wilhelm up yesterday morning at Hillerska, along with The Queen.

“Wille…” He ran to the door, nearly ripping it out of its hinges when opening it with his full strength, even if he wasn’t that strong.

He ignored the water falling on his curly hair, his flushed face and his purple hoodie, catching a cold being the least of his concerns, and just kept walking towards the SUV.

He then saw the back door open, revealing a blond prince stepping out of the sleek car and into the pouring rain, eyes already locked with his. 

He stood there, watching Wilhelm approach him in the blue coat, the same one he wore when they last said goodbye, when Wilhelm said that he was going to tell the truth.

And he did.

In just a few steps, he was right in front of him, with a radiant smile matching his own.

“Hey.” Finally hearing his voice, he hugged him. He held him as close as he physically could, the rain around them drenching them to the very core, the cold biting into their skin, but neither of them cared.

Wille is here, he’s okay…

He squeezed him harder, burying his face in his soft coat, trying to lock the feeling of having Wilhelm in his arms away in his memories.

Thunder roared above them, startling the boy in his arms, but fully relaxing again when Simon let go and held his cheeks in the palm of his hands, stroking them affectionately. “Wille…” he whispered, his eyes darting all over that beautiful face he loved so much.

He then felt him move closer, his breath warm on his cold lips, delicate hands moving across his waist, and…

He smacked him across the shoulder, making the prince wince and cry out, “Ow! What-?”

“Why didn’t you call, you asshole? I was worried sick!” he screamed, no venom lacing his voice, even though he was a bit pissed that Wilhelm didn’t even warn him that he was coming.

“Sorry, I really am! I just wanted to tell you everything in person, and maybe also… surprise you?” he added in a questioning tone, still holding his mildly hurt shoulder.

Simon laughed, moving closer once again and holding the back of his neck, “I stupid love you,” he said before leaning forward and kissing him, hard.

A surprised noise came out of Wilhelm, but soon melted into the kiss and held onto his waist once again, the purple fabric soft under his fingertips.

His lips were soft and warm, lighting up a fire inside him with every sigh he breathed into his mouth, the hands that were once on his waist moving slowly along his back, bringing him closer and completely closing the gap between them; chest to chest, heart to heart.

He could feel their heartbeats sinking, as well as their breaths.

After a few seconds, his lungs started to burn, begging for oxygen, making him reluctantly separate from Wilhelm, but he still kept his hands running through the blond strands, now fully drenched from the rain. “I stupid love you, too,”  he heard him say, bright brown eyes and long lashes staring right at him, noting but love and sincerity swimming in those deep irises.

He giggled, relieved that Wilhelm was on the same page as him, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Wilhelm reached down and grabbed his left hand, bringing it up to his lips and leaving a scorching kiss on his sensitive palm, “Me too,” he whispered, tenderly rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, “even though it’s only been a day since I last saw you, I missed you.”

He kissed him again.

It wasn’t fair that he looked all handsome and adorable and ready to devour him once they were inside, it wasn’t fair. So he kissed him to shut him up.

He knew they still had to talk; Wilhelm needed to tell him what happened with Kristina, and if there was anything they could do about the –quite frankly– fake article.

But dammit he missed him, too.

Biting his bottom lip, he pulled back and saw Wilhelms' flushed face, a faint smile on his face, “We should probably head inside,” he managed to say, trying to reason with his brain even though it felt a bit foggy.

“Yeah,” he sounded out of breath, but that’s what making out with your… Boyfriend? for a few minutes will do to you.

Yeah, they definitely needed to talk.

“Common, let's get you out of those clothes before you get hypothermia,” he said without missing a beat, the dirty implication flying over his head completely. But it still made the other boy burst into laughter, still holding his hand and squeezing it in comfort, “I didn’t know you were that impatient, Simon.”

He then realised what he said, the words not sounding as innocent as he meant them, now feeling his own cheeks burn with embarrassment, “Oh my god, not in that way!”

He laughed again, turning towards the car and seeing Malin step out, an opened umbrella over her head and a black bag slung over her shoulder, “I brought a duffle bag for Hillerska, I have a few clothes in there I can change into, not that I wouldn’t mind wearing your clothes,” he winked, making him blush some more.

They started making their way towards the warmthness of his home, Malin trailing behind them, when Wilhelm suddenly stopped and leaned close to his sensitive ear and whispered, “I also packed the sheets you are oh so eager to try.”

Yeah, he stupid loved him

[lostlittleturret]

The Mishaps of Time Travel || Closed RP with @timetakeover

Silence.

Silence was deafening....sure, there was the occasional hum of the facility, sometimes the sound of some lonely construct far away, almost sounding like a phantom, calling someone forward to its grasp...perhaps it was. The whispers were always present ..but even then, the silence struck hard.

Aperture Science Enrichment Center, in it's prime, was lively, filled with music from the very structure of the facility to fully capable AIs, the panels humming their harmonies in the song that was Science....

......but it has been far too long since any music has been heard....but...at least...for a moment, there was some kind of light in the dark.

A bright splash of blue made contact to the concrete of a panel, the blank canvas coming to life with a simple brush stroke, texture added with white with a dab of a brush...red light following along with each mark, each stroke, transfixed in its work.

Alone in a darkened hallway sat a small girl, using bright colors as an escape from the aching loneliness that felt crushing within her chest...a flicker from a broken optic on her chest as her hand slipped, bringing paint with it, turning her head to a possible sound she heard....

...was it a real sound? Or just a fabrication of her mind, the reality it creates for her in the empty science facility...

After the pause, she slowly went back to her art, glowing eyes locked back onto her task.

Did you hear something?

The child paused, glancing behind her, staring at the soft comforting pink glow of her only companion...the glowing heart in the center giving her some comfort.

"....there was a sound....but it was probably my mind..."

Are you certain?

"...no...." She started painting again. "...but it doesn't matter...it's probably just crumbling structures..."

Perhaps... The pink seemed to brighten. Or it could be him. Could be him...GLaDOS-

"no." The humanoid's voice was dull but firm. "There's no one left here....just you and me.".

They could still be out there.

"no...they can't be. I've looked everywhere."

Perhaps if you investigate -

"they're not here!"

Snap!

The 10 year old glanced back at her hand...a paint brush now snapped in half rested in her palm...hesitantly, she gently laid it upon the ground before looking at her unfinished painting...she didn't have another brush around..not in this hallway.

With a heavy sigh, she dipped her paint crusted fingers into the paint and continued onward.

"....even if it was something, why would I risk myself getting hurt?"

You know you will regret it more if you don't try.

This caused the small turret to pause...her chest piece flickering with conflicting emotions....but slowly, she let out another sigh, wiping the paint onto her dress before standing up and walking over to her companion.

"....I don't know how I let you talk me into these things...."

With a bit of adjustments, her friend now rested on her back in a sling, a small crossbody sachel bag now on her person as well. And with a heavy sigh, she ventured towards the noise.

Soft blues and oranges trailed off the tips of her fingers as she walked, dragging her hand against the panel walls, mind troubled...but Chibi let the soft hum from the companion cube on her back to soothe her.

"....are you sure you don't remember what happened to him...?"

Positive. He went looking for you. But never came back.

Chibi's hand tightened around the strap of her bag. "....he...shouldn't have looked for me....maybe....maybe Chell found him and brought him to the surface....or....or maybe Mom let him go?..."

She didn't want to be too hopeful...the familiar crushing weight of disappointment always hung around the corner, just waiting to crush her spirit...

Perhaps.

"....I'm glad I found you..."

Me too.

After taking a shaky breath, Chibi came to a stop, peeking around the corner of an abandoned overrun testing chamber, only lit up by the filtered sunlight from the broken ceiling above...chancing to see if the noise was truly something that existed in the real reality...the disgusting amount of hope slowly starting to build in her chest as her heart raced in anticipation.

[melodyofthevoid]

Zib turns into a dragon for some reason and he finds little dragon children in a medieval world and has a knight boyfriend

You bastard you knew I did this already. *sigh* fine.

Fine, you can have it.

Honestly I'll dig up the snippets you insatiable heathen. (affectionate).

Now to make sure I actually send the right one...

Twim ran a hand along the deep gashes in the ground, letting out a sigh. There were perks to his helpful nature, his desire to go above and beyond to provide for others. Then there were times like this where he really wished he were a worse person.

He should not have agreed to track down a dragon on his own, but here he was, deep in the middle of nowhere with more abundant clues coming by the minute that the woods held more life than the tranquil scene implied. But it was strange, many of the reports indicated that this dragon was at the very least somewhat intelligent. Why then were there so many clear signs of occupation?

Was this a trap?

Oh gods this was absolutely a trap.

Twim slowly drew his sword, creeping forward through the brush. A branch snapped, directing his attention to the noise, coming from a thick bush. He steadied his breathing, readying for an attack. At the very least he’d go down fighting. The rustling grew louder, spiking Twim’s heart rate with each oncoming step.

A small rabbit jumped from the bush, making Twim laugh. Honestly he spent too much time worrying.

“Hey little guy,” Twim knelt down, holding out a hand for the animal to sniff, “you frightened me a bit. Almost thought you were a dragon of all things…”

“I don’t believe that I’m that small, but I appreciate the effort.”

“What-“

Before Twim could finish his thought, something heavy collided with the back of his head, and in a flash of white it all went black.

The knight came to painfully, vision swimming with sparks and colors. The warmth of the midday sun had left, the air much cooler. He stuck a hand out underneath him, expecting grass and dirt, but finding stone instead. More details filled in as Twim tried to focus on the area around him, dark stone and stalagmites lining the floor, the glitter of what appeared to be glass shining in the little light that filtered through. Dread pooled in his stomach as he reached for his sword, only to find it missing.

“So, you’re the poor sap they sent out to kill me?”

Twim jumped, turning to yell at his captor before falling short, the words dying in his mouth. He’d expected a… well. A dragon. A beast. This was… almost human. The creature resembled a man, bipedal, two arms, a head, hair, but he (Twim at least assumed he was a he), was just as inhuman. His skin was lined with deep purple scales in vein-like patterns, pair of black wings, with bright violet membranes stretched behind him, a tail laced with spines lashed and writhed behind him. Almost hidden by hair, but not quite, a crown of horns rose, and a lazy smile revealed sharpened fangs, spiking Twim’s heart into overdrive once more.

“What, no witty quips? No threats? Cat got your tongue, oh brave knight?”

No thoughts came to his mind, sheer panicked adrenaline clouding any rational thought. Though how much help rational thought would be when faced with a dragon was dubious at best. So Twim went with what he did whenever he was at a loss.

“I- uh- hello?“

The menace faded slightly from the dragon’s expression, replaced by bewilderment.

“Hello. That’s what you’re going with?”

Twim flushed, “Well it doesn’t hurt to be polite…”

The laugh he got in return was almost mocking, but there was a levity to it that at least made Twim think he wasn’t going to be immediately eviscerated. Which was a plus. He’d like to keep his organs intact today.

“I suppose that it doesn’t. Most people would either run and scream or try to attack, but you didn’t. I’ll admit I’m curious.”

“W-well you could’ve killed me when I was unconscious, but you didn’t. So- so I figured that I could at least… try?”

Twim’s captor hummed, “I think I like you, so “sir knight”, do you have a name?”

“T-Twim. May I ask your name?”

“Zib,” amber eyes looked Twim up and down again, “You don’t strike me as much of a fighter, what brings you here? If you really aren’t planning on killing me I would like to know why.”

“I was just supposed to be tracking you… the locals were getting a bit upset with the loss of livestock so they asked for help. I didn’t really expect to uh- well. Find you.”

“And now you have, so what do you plan to do?”

That made Twim pause. What would he do now? It wasn’t like he could just hand Zib over, Zib was a person, just as much as anyone else. Sure he had wings and fangs but who cared? He was also rather handsome but that was besides the point. He couldn’t exactly bring him back in handcuffs, they’d kill him. Twim couldn’t… he couldn’t live with himself.

“Well, I don’t want to turn you in, but those farmers need their flocks. It wouldn’t be right to-“

Zib let out a snarl, flaring his wings out.

“Excuse me for needing to survive, Twim. Most people aren’t exactly lining up to trade food with someone like me.”

“What if… what if they traded with me?”

“Excuse me, what?”

The gears started turning in Twim’s mind, connecting the dots of what could charitably be called a plan. This could work.

“Yeah! I mean, I work in the capital but I could, I don’t know, transfer somewhere else, somewhere quieter. I could buy food and supplies for you there, and you’d never have to go hungry again!”

Zib’s tail swished slightly against the ground, a blush spreading across Zib’s cheeks. Gods why did the dragon have to be cute- He was a dragon. Still, Twim wanted to see that blush again as soon as humanly possible.

“You… you would do that? For me? I don’t understand.”

“What can I say, I like to be helpful. Obviously you don’t have to or anything this probably sounds really suspicious-“

“I could… have food… real food… do you think I could have one of those little… what are they called, they have the white covering, sometimes fruit…”

“Cakes?”

“Cakes! Yes! Could I eat one of those?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Yes!”

Conversation turned to the logistics, and Twim for once, couldn’t help but be glad he was helping. It would be worth it. He hoped.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Learn to Fly

CW: Self-loathing, some internalized victim-blaming, references to parental death and grief, VERY vague reference to past noncon once or twice

Note: I made a decision to switch a little of the timeline around, so Laken and Chris’s breakup at this point happens after the original conversations about the Speak Out Arc start happening but before the Olympics themselves. I’m folding this bit into the larger Speak Out Arc.

Follows Time Apart and It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped

-

He curls up on the couch in the coffeeshop, sipping something warm he barely tastes. It might have coffee in it - he feels a little drowsy, and that usually happens when there’s just a little caffeine.

Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t slept since Jake was hurt, not really. And he’s slept even less since... since he and Laken broke up.

Outside, there's unseasonable heavy rain. The clouds are low and heavy, a deep gunmetal gray that blocks out the light and has the streetlights on at 9:30 in the morning. The raindrops seem less to fall than to slam into the ground with terrible violence. 

The baristas talk in low voices about how grateful they are for the rain, burying the wildfires outside the city in a deluge the heat can’t overcome. Chris likes the rain, too, if only because it reflects the inside of him, suggests that the world can tell he is a storm within himself and reflects it to him.

He takes another sip.

He hasn’t showered in three days. His hair is dulled with it, like a penny left too long in the dirt.  He’s dressed himself like he used to, back before when he was still learning he was a person and not a pet - in one of Jake’s hooded sweatshirts over his compression shirt, so oversized on him it’s nearly a tunic, and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. His knees still look knobby, he thinks.

He can see the ghosts of the bruises there that used to never quite heal before his Sir sent him to his knees and made new ones to lay over them. He can see a couple of scars, some from training when the baton would crack into the backs of his legs and send him dropping like a stone, some from gymnastics, some from just being a kid.

Chris’s eyes lower, to look at his own hands holding his coffee cup. He put star stickers on his nails last night, and a few of them have already peeled off. Those that remain glitter, just a little. 

Something about the sight of it - the memory of when he put star stickers on Laken’s cheekbones at a concert until they sparkled under the starlight, laughing, a blur of bright eyes and dark hair - makes his throat nearly close, sends a new rush of tears to burn hot behind his eyes.

He has to close them to hold them back.

“You’ve had a hard time of late, have you, then?”

The voice is a rumble, cracked with decades of cigarettes and too much liquor, but Chris remembers it, anyway. At least, he remembers it now.

He turns to look up at the old man, in his shirt and slacks, a bit bent with age. There’s a merry twinkle in his slightly rheumy eyes, though, that shows that a young man is still there, under an old man’s experiences. There’s a slight smile on his face, warm and welcoming. 

Chris swallows, struggling to find the words. They flit away from him, he has to chase them down, but eventually he manages to clear his throat and says, “I, I, um. I know you. You, you, you knew my dad.”

“I did, at that. Worked with him for years.” The old man settles onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space, a nice wide berth for safety. “What’s got you looking like a television commercial for depression, hm, Tristan?”

No one calls him that. 

Chris feels his heart twist, a little. 

By the time they saw the meteor, Tris, it was already too late for anything but a blink or two. When it touched down into land, it was so big the end of it was still in space. Can you imagine anything so big? Can you?

No, Dad.

 The earthquakes alone would have been immense thousands of miles away. Imagine, you’re eating leaves, living your life, and you see a shadow - and then in an instant, the world is shaking and you’re breathing glass. How does life go on after that?

I, I, I don’t know, um, um... how how does it?

It just does. That’s what’s amazing, Tris. It just goes on.

“Nothing. I, I, I broke up with my, my partner is all.”

“Hm, that nice young person who comes with you to the shops?” The old man nods, slowly. He’s got his own cup of coffee, plain black, steaming gently into the air-conditioning. Outside, the rain creates a curtain that walls them off from everything else. Chris can’t even see all the way across the street. He can barely see a woman with an umbrella racing from her car into the nail salon place off to the side. 

“Yeah, them. I’m, um. It wasn’t anything they they they did.”

It’s something I did.

It’s something I am.

It’s something I’ll never stop being.

“Well, breakups do happen now and again. Usually the one who does the leaving isn’t the one who does the moping about and staring at rain, though.”

“I didn’t want to.” Chris sits back, keeping his coffee cup in one hand. The other drops to his stomach, to tap, soothing his nerves at being so close to a man he knows and doesn’t-know. His memories are there, fuzzy and hazy from being overwritten by fear and pain, but they’re there. He knows this man, Mr. Malley, who would watch him sometimes when his parents went out, or when his father needed to stop by work.

The memories are there, but they still hurt. 

His head starts to throb, a pulsing pain behind his temples. 

“I didn’t-... I, I love them, I d-didn’t want to.”

“Well, now, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it? Are you moving, then, Tristan?”

It hurts to hear his name, but it hurts in a way that feels good. He was that person, too, before he was Chris. He hums, low under his breath. “No. I, I, I just… you know, um, I’m just. I’m… hard. Difficult. To, to, to, to be with, to, um, to-... there’s a bunch wrong with-... with me.”

“You sound like your dad.” Mr. Malley laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles more in his chest than out of his throat. “You know that? You sound just like him.”

Chris ignores the pain in his head and he turns, now, to look fully at Mr. Malley, blinking rapidly. “My, my, my dad?”

“Yep. Paul was a good man, and a good dad, but before he was that he was a scared boy with a baby on the way and a plan that might not work.” Mr. Malley sighs. “A scared boy who’d always had it a little rough, trying to make the world work for him when it did nothing but work against him. You were always his spitting image. He’d probably be tickled to see you still are.”

There is a sense, in Chris’s mind, of a blurry man with short red hair, sitting near him but not quite touching him, speaking with animation about how there are dinosaurs that lived closer to human beings than they did to other dinosaurs.

He remembers a man whose eyes sparkled with animated focus when he talked about the world millions of years ago, who loved him by sharing the information he held within his own mind.

He and his dad had understood each other, in ways that no one else did but his mother, and Chris was beginning to see that it had been her determination to know him that had fueled his mother’s actions, her endless support. The same way Jake and Nat were determined, and stubborn, and kept trying even when they got it wrong. 

Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying. 

Maybe he got it wrong.

“He never broke up with your mom, but oh, he thought about it. You know, when he came to work with us, he had a plan. But plans… they have a way of going off the road and into a ditch. He worried he couldn’t make it work, he worried that it would be too hard for Ronnie to be with him and have a child, too.”

Ronnie.

Chris’s throat closes up, and he closes his eyes. 

All right, Tris, I got you these so the noise won’t bother you so much. We’re going to have a good day at the parade, okay?

“Her family never liked him, for one. That’s a rough spot to be in, I think.” Mr. Malley is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee and watching the rain fall. “Ronnie didn’t see it that way, of course. That woman was a freight train and God help anyone who got in the way. My late wife, God rest her soul, helped Ronnie with some things when her own family wouldn’t. She’d come over big as a house, eyes sparkling. You were a kicker, she used to say, kept her up all hours of the night. Just a girl, still, your mom, but she had a steel spine and she wasn’t going to live any life but the one she wanted. But your dad… he worried, that it would be too hard on her.”

“Having, um, having me would?”

“No. Having him. Paul was a smart man, you know. He knew his job would be trouble. He gave her chance after chance to go, if she wanted. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t.”

Chris looks at his phone, lying on the little table in front of the couch. There’s some text messages he hasn’t looked at. Couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to. 

“Maybe he, he, he didn’t want to keep hurting her,” Chris whispers. 

“Hurt’s a part of living, lad, take it from someone who’s given out his fair share of it and more.” Mr. Malley hums. Outside, a car pulls up, almost bumping the curb. “Perhaps you’re meant to separate from your young partner, Tristan, perhaps not. It’s like I told your dad, way back in the Stone Age. You choose if you love someone, to be sure, but they choose if they love you back. You can’t decide that for them.”

“But, but I’m-... but, but I’ve been… what I am, it’s-”

“I know what you’ve been made to do,” Mr. Malley says gently. “You don’t have to explain, lad. We knew.”

Chris’s lips tremble. He doesn’t want his coffee any longer. He sets it down next to his phone, on the little table. The baristas talk quietly about a date that one went on the night before, there’s a low sound of machinery. It all filters into Chris’s mind, a cacophony of sound he picks apart or doesn’t. Right now it’s hard for him to think around all the sound, but he tries. “Then, then, then why… if you knew, um, why… didn’t you-”

He can’t finish the question. 

Why didn’t you save me from it?

“We couldn’t. It’s shite, is what it is, but we couldn’t. And by the time we could, you were with that nice young man who you live with now. I’m sorry for the time you lost, Tristan, and sorrier still I can’t give it back to you somehow. You’re your dad’s child through and through, but you’ve got your mother in you, too. You know what Ronnie did when there was something she couldn’t get through?”

Chris turns to look at this man, who knew his mother and father in ways he never could have. He swallows. “What?”

“She went over it. Or around it. Or blew it to smithereens and went through the wreckage. Whatever it took. They tried to kick you out of school when you were a wean, she fought them ‘til they realized they’d never win against her. They tried to tell her you wouldn’t read, she told them to go, well, to go sit on a thing or two and not to tell her what her boy could or couldn’t do.”

Chris thinks of Nat sitting next to him on the floor, patiently encouraging him to keep trying to turn the letters into words, despite his headaches, his tears, his certainty he’d never get reading back.

You will, Chris. I know you will. Just keep fighting for it. They won’t take anything from you forever, I won’t let them and you won’t let them either.

Don’t let them keep you from yourself.

“They told her she’d never have a happy life, having a wee one so young, but she built that happy life anyway with her own two hands and dared anyone to try and knock it down.”

“Someone… some, someone did, though.” The gunshots, his mother’s eyes going dull and blank, her whispered I love you so much, Tris…

“Sure. Yes.” Mr. Malley’s expression goes serious, and sad. “But it took breaking into her house at midnight and bullets to stop her. You’ve got plenty of your mom in you, lad. Plenty of your dad, too, he was always a stubborn git himself. Do you love this person you’ve broken up with? Hm?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, even though his voice shakes and his heart races. “I, I, I do. That’s, that’s why I don’t want to-to keep hurting them by, by, by by being messed up from what, um, from what happened to me, I don’t… I don’t want to keep h-hurting them-”

“Let them decide how they feel about that,” Mr. Malley says, voice gentle and low. “Plenty of people are hurt and find their way forward together after.”

Jake and Kauri, laughing in the kitchen as Jake spins Kauri around in a circle, dips him backwards, presses a kiss to his nose that has him giggling. 

Antoni at the stove, sighing but with a smile on his face, watching them. Being pulled into the hug not quite against his will, all three of them laughing then. Kauri bright and sparkling, Jake a deeper harmony, Antoni soft and genuine. 

“Maybe it won’t last, maybe it will - but don’t let a hard past keep you from the people who love you. I’ve seen many ruined by believing you may only be loved if you’ve no pain inside you. We’ve all got pain, lad. Carrying it together’s a sight easier than trying to go it alone.”

From the car parked right outside, an elderly man unfolds himself, opening an umbrella to shield from the driving rain. Mr. Malley looks up and smiles. “Ah, right on time, must be ten sharp. That’ll be Cilly. D’you remember Cilly, lad?”

Chris looks as the man shuffles his way inside, pushing open the door. The little bell over the top jingles and the baristas cut off their conversation, standing up straight to call out a familiar greeting to a regular customer. 

He squints.

“Not… not very well,” He confesses, a little ashamed.

“Ah, well, that’s not a problem. He and I’ve known each other a long time. I was an angry man for a while after my wife died, you know. Seemed a crime that I should outlive her, when Christa deserved to live to a hundred and six if she so wished. Cilly helped me carry that anger when I needed to be angry, and he helped me put it down later on.” 

He gives a wave to the man - to Cilly - who looks at Chris and then back to Mr. Malley with clear surprise, then heads towards the counter to make his own order. 

“Be angry, Tristan,” Mr. Malley says, a little heavily, leaning over to him on the leg as he pushes himself, with a grunt of effort to his feet. “You may need your anger, in the days ahead. But if you’ve a love to help you carry it, who wants to help you carry it and who will be angry right there with you, and you love them back… well… don’t let the wickedness of others keep you from the happiness you could have. You’ll be a poorer person for it.”

Mr. Malley walks away without another word, leaving Chris by himself again on the couch, tapping at his stomach, thinking. He keeps looking at his phone, thinking about all the texts he hasn’t read, the way he’s refused to call them back when Laken kept trying to reach him.

He leans over to reach out.

He stops, hand hovering just above the plastic with its colorful case, the sensory sticker on the back of it that Laken had bought him. 

What happened after all the dinosaurs died, Tristan?

I, I, I don’t know, Dad.

Trick question, buddy. They didn’t. Paul’s eyes, bright and vibrant, gesturing to a bird in a tree nearby. Nothing stays the same and lives forever except alligators and sharks.

Right because, because they’re perfect.

Exactly. Dinosaurs died, sure, but they didn’t die, too. They just changed to suit the world after the one they knew how to live in was gone. Imagine, Tris. 

Imagine what?

Imagine the world destroyed and in darkness, buried in ash. Everything you know is gone, ruined, wrecked beyond repair. And imagine… imagine that you learn to eat seeds and little mice instead of big animals and leaves. Imagine you become smaller and smaller. Imagine that your arms turn to wings, that your bones hollow out to carry you higher above the piles of ash that turn to grass and to life again.

What? I, I, I don’t, um, I don’t understand-... Dad, um, I don’t, I don’t... know what you mean.

Right, sorry. Just... imagine you’re a dinosaur.

He’d laughed. Okay.

Now imagine your dinosaur family is gone, and you have to become something else. What do you become? Being a dinosaur means dying, right?

Um. Right.

So imagine that you look at death and say, no thanks. No, you’re not going to be over. This isn’t it for you. Even a meteor the size of the entire sky can’t end you. Instead of dying out, no, you look at history, at geological time, and you say…

Paul had trailed off.

Say what? What, what do I say?

Don’t tell your mom but-... you look at the end of the world and you say... fuck this, I’m going to learn to fly.

Chris picks up his phone, finds Laken’s name and photo in his contacts. It’s a photo of the two of them together, Chris and Laken smiling and laughing as he smears whipped cream on their nose and they smear a cross of fluffy white into his forehead. 

He dials.

They pick up on the third ring.

“Chris? Oh my God, Chris, are you okay? Are you-... are you okay, baby?” Their voice shakes, and he closes his eyes. 

This time, he lets the tears slip out and run down his face. “H-Hey, Laken, um, I, I, I-... I’m… I wondered if you, um, if you could, uh… are you busy?”

“Am I-... Chris, where are you?”

“The, um, the coffeeshop-”

“I’m on my way. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

At their usual table, at their usual time, Cilly and Sean Malley start to talk amicably about the week ahead. But he keeps an eye on Paul’s boy, where he speaks a few sentences and then hangs up the phone, looking out the window at the rain.

It’s twenty minutes before a new car pulls up outside, and umbrella-less, the partner Sean has seen with Tristan before comes racing inside, a blur of black clothes and black hair and brown skin. Paul’s boy stands, and his partner throws themself at him so hard the two of them fall backwards onto the couch.

They start laughing, and shortly after to cry. 

Their hands come up to either side of Tristan’s face, and they lean forward to kiss the scar on his forehead. He can’t hear what they say to each other, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ronnie, he thinks, would like this spitfire person that Paul’s boy is so in love with. 

That’s one wrong put right, at least for the moment.

One more to go.

Sean smiles and sips his cooling coffee.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Just Go On from Kimmy Schmidt

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 2. Manic Pixie Dream Bitch

A/N Make sure you read the prologue and other chapters first! Things are starting to pick up - I hope you stick around for the ride.

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 5374

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Domestic abuse mentions

The evening was cool, and a breeze hung in the air.

The midday Georgia heat had all but melted away, leaving behind tepid winds that rustled leaves on the trees — and the canvas tents. They fluttered around you as you walked, like the beating of butterfly wings, or ripples atop the ocean.

It was peaceful. It felt safe.

All eyes were on you as you followed Daryl to the firepit, taking a seat on a low log beside him — but not too close.

The night was still too young to turn in yet, so the man had begrudgingly led you out of his tent when the silence became stifling. For some reason, conversation didn't come as naturally to the two of you as it once had.

There was tension there. You could feel it.

But you didn't have the slightest clue why. The last time you had seen Dixon, it was in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm. The two of you had laughed, and ran through the rain until your clothes were soaked through, and your skin was cold.

It was one of the best nights of your life.

Yet, here you were — sitting beside the man in stagnant silence as he kicked at coal embers with his boot, and pretended not to feel your stare seeping into the back of his head.

Across from you were the people you had briefly met earlier — the two officers by the names of Shane and Rick, or helicopter boy — the asian man named Glenn, and Carol who was sitting beside her husband. Their individual conversations were low, barely audible against the crackling fire, but one-by-one they seemed to filter off, until there was nothing but silence once again.

Shane stood up.

He stoked the fire a little with a branch, careful not to let the flames rise too high. "So, tell me," the man spoke, his voice wide and assertive,"how's a sweet young thing like yourself figure out how to fly a Sikorsky Hawk?"

His presence was big.

It made you shuffle in your seat as his eyes dragged down you, resting on your arm — which was bound by a sling. "Well, minus the landing part," he murmured below his breath.

You didn't like the way he smirked when he said that, like it had been amusing to him — funny to him that you'd almost died. Daryl let out a sound beside you, a low rumbling noise from the back of his throat that only you could hear. But you didn't bite to his words.

After all, men like that could only bark.

"I was in the military," you answered, meeting his eyes and not breaking the stare.

Your throat was still sore, but your words rang out clear, atop the thrum of the evening air, and flickering flames. Shane stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on the balls of his feet — as though he was putting on some type of show.

"Air force, then?" he questioned, but it was starting to feel more like an interrogation.

You caught the whites of Carol's eyes across from you, as they darted between the officer and yourself, and to her husband, then back to the other officer. She seemed as skittish as a person could possibly be — just watching, waiting, for something to happen.

You cleared your throat and forced a smile. "Training to be," you clarified.

For some reason, the exchange didn't feel like a conversation. The mood was too tense, too untrusting. It reminded you of the few minutes you'd spent alone with Dixon, back at his tent.

Something felt wrong.

Shane stalked around the firepit, his police boots crunching against the leafy bed, and kicking up dirt where he walked. He stopped directly in front of you, looming a shadow down onto you and Daryl — and making the other man scoff as he looked up.

"So not actually a pilot yet?" Shane smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your smile faltered, he was asking too many questions.

The other officer, Rick, took off his sheriff's hat and tracked his partner's movements with his eyes, as though anticipating something that hadn't happened yet. It made you feel a nervousness you were ashamed of.

You never did play well with men like Shane.

"And tell me this," he said, lowly, as he crouched down to your level, "why aren't you at Fort Benning?" He looked back over his shoulder, at Rick who was sitting stiff as a board, before cocking his head back to you."Or were you part of the group that showered Atlanta with napalm?"

The word hung heavy in the air — even though he had practically whispered it.

Your mind flickered back to the day it rained fire down upon the city, to the sounds of screams, and the charred remains you'd stumbled across on the occasions you wandered too close to the centre.

You shook your head immediately, feeling the pain shoot up your shoulder. "I had no part in that," you hissed — much more viciously than you anticipated.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you curled in on yourself. You didn't miss the way the man recoiled slightly from your face, and you'd even caught a fleeting glimpse of your reflection in the blacks of his irises.

You wore a look of pure disgust.

"I was discharged," you whispered, after taking a few moments to collect yourself. "Couple months before all this." You glanced to your right, to where the former mechanic was sitting — trying to pretend like he wasn't watching you. "Got sent to Georgia afterwards, which is where I met Daryl," you explained, noticing his eyes narrow at your words. "Briefly."

He looked away. He didn't seem to like that choice, either.

Shane stood back up, stretching out his knees, and then his neck. He rolled his head back in a circle, before glancing to and from you and Daryl with a smirk.

"Makes sense," he murmured, before turning on his heels to walk away, "dropouts tend to stick together, no?"

And for the second time today, Dixon went wild.

The tension finally snapped, like an elastic band having been stretched to its limit, and Daryl shot up to his feet, lunging for the man.

But you reached out for him at the same time, trying to grab his hand so that the night didn't end in the way you were almost certain it was going to end.

After all, you'd only seen Daryl go off once before — back in the old world — which had left an aftertaste of bloodstains over your bar, and maroon-tinted bruised knuckles that needed tending to well after your closing time.

But now he seemed even worse — more tightly wound than a coil beneath your boot, always ready to jump up and spring.

He was playing the part of a man far more angry than you had ever known him to be.

Although you still couldn't figure out why.

The ticking of the wall clock was stark against the silence. Joe's Bar had been cleared out more than an hour back, but the two of you remained — like ghosts haunting whiskey bottles and looming around the jukebox until it played a song you liked.

Dixon hissed as you tipped alcohol over his knuckles, watching as it seeped into the cuts and spread over his bruises like a clear film. They weren't that bad, really — only a purplish hue to them.

After all, you'd seen the other guy.

But you'd never seen Dixon get so riled up before. He'd always been a cocktail of shy glances and dumb wonder around you. That was until tonight at least, when a drunken customer slapped your ass at the bar, and the mechanic beat him bloody.

He'd probably seen how rattled it had made you, and how you looked ready to either snap or break.

"Ya don' have to do this," the man rasped, purposefully avoiding your eyes. "Save the vodka."

Your hand stilled over his knuckles, as you breathed in the strong, sharp scent which made your lungs burn. You laughed, pointing back over your shoulder at the shelves atop of shelves — stacked with an array of bottles, all different shapes and sizes.

"We've got plenty to spare, don't you worry," you hummed, before tipping more Smirnoff onto a cotton pad. "And you didn't have to do that, either," you chided, narrowing your eyes at a particular cut — which had already begun to crust over. "I could've handled him."

The mechanic scowled, glancing back over his shoulder to the place where it had all gone down — as though watching the scene play out once more in his mind.

He shook his head. "Ya could'a lost yer job."

"I'm used to that by now," you bit back, not once looking up from his bruise-splayed knuckles. "But Dixon," you cautioned, "don't go doing that again."

A car drove by outside, its headlights streaming in through the window and illuminating the dark husk of the bar — the pool tables that had been otherwise cloaked in shadows, and the expression of the man sitting opposite you, studying your every word.

"Joe might bar you next time," you whispered, screwing the lid back onto the bottle.

But Dixon only laughed.

"Barred from a bar?" he scoffed, stretching out his fingers to inspect your work, "he ain't gonna do tha'."

The stool squeaked as the man stood up, dusting off his jeans and retrieving his jacket. It was long past midnight, and you knew you'd be catching a ride back with him as he sped down the streets, reminding you to hold on tighter.

"What makes you so sure?" you teased, untying your apron and leaving it at the end of the counter.

Daryl held the door open, and fished around in his pockets for something that jingled — pulling it out to show you.

It was a set of car keys, with a tacky coke-bottle charm hanging from them.

"Still got his truck sittin' in the shop," he smirked.

The scuffle between Shane and Daryl was interrupted before blows could even be exchanged. Rick grabbed a hold of his partner, whilst you pulled the former mechanic back down to his firepit seat, trading places with him until you were face-to-face with the other asshole — a few inches shorter but a whole lot more pissed.

Daryl tried to stand back up again, but you flashed those eyes at him — the ones that made him immediately second guess the action.

"Sit down," you seethed, punching out each word as you spoke them.

And surprisingly, Dixon did as you said.

You weren't angry at him, exactly, but you didn't want him fighting your battles for you anymore — especially not whilst he had a chip on his shoulder more noticeable than the sling on yours.

Then you turned back to Shane, looking up at him as he stood with his chest almost flush to you, completely ignoring Rick's pleas behind him. He knew exactly what he was doing. That comment wasn't off-handed — he made sure you could hear it.

"I don't like you," you said lowly, not backing down from the glare he shot your way.

You didn't want things to turn out like this. There was nothing more you hated than making a scene.

Well, there was one thing, you thought.

You couldn't fucking stand men who abused their power.

"Don't have to like me, princess," Shane retorted, reaching out a hand in your direction. "I'm just here to keep you alive."

You smacked his palm away — as though it were a fly buzzing much too close — before he could make contact with your skin. And you saw red.

Daryl would have punched a man for less, if you'd so much as given him the right look. But this time, you shot a warning glance at him, telling him to stay put.

"Don't fucking touch me," you whispered, but your words held more weight than if you'd screamed them — and Shane retracted his hand. "I can take care of myself."

Except, he made a point of letting his eyes drag over your injuries, lingering on the makeshift sling, before settling on your stomach — as though he could see your stitches underneath the material of Daryl's shirt.

"Clearly," he remarked, before turning on his heels once again.

Nobody stopped him this time — not even Rick — as he stalked around the fire, and into the night. You caught a glimpse of his metal dog tags as he did, glinting off the light of the flame and jumping around his neck with every step he took. You thought it was ironic for him to even wear them.

Or maybe not.

After all, he seemed the same as every other military man you'd encountered — a goddamn animal.

"Make sure you take care of your manic pixie dream bitch," he yelled, probably directed at Dixon. "Wouldn't want anymore helicopters fallin' from the damn sky."

And so Shane disappeared into his tent — into the shadows you couldn't quite make out — and Daryl stood up straight after, heading in the opposite direction. The remaining group was uneasy, tentative almost, as they watched your head whip back and forth between them and the mechanic as he left.

Dixon stalked away into the brush, despite the shouts and warnings not to stray too far from the campsite.

And you followed him.

With each step further from the flickering flames of the bonfires, it became harder to navigate the night. Your injuries had slowed you down, and you flinched every time a twig snapped, or leaves rustled near your ear. You didn't even have a weapon anymore — since it had burnt up with the rest of your gear in the crash.

But it didn't take you long to track down Dixon. After all, his smoke trail gave him away.

He was sitting on a grassy bank, over facing the quarry waters. There was a full moon out, and you could now see it peering above the tops of the trees — ghostly white against the stark, black sky. And cigarette smoke swirled around it, leading back down to the shadowy figure on the ground, legs tucked up to his chest as he breathed deeply.

You approached, wincing as your shoulder caught on a low-hanging branch.

"Yer gonna bust ya stitches messin' 'round like tha'," Dixon spoke, not even turning around to confirm it was you. But still, he outstretched a hand, helping you sit down beside him.

The moonlight was beautiful. It drizzled over the treetops in the distance, and the spindly branches that reached up to the sky. It even reflected off Daryl's skin as you glanced at him in the corner of your eye — watching as the smoke poured out from his lips and settled in the air.

You tucked yourself into his side just a little, missing the heavy feeling of your jacket which smelt like him — and was almost just as warm. Part of you expected him to shrug you off, or make some remark in-keeping with how withdrawn he'd been throughout the day.

But, he didn't.

He let you sit beside him, as he blocked you from the breeze — as though you weren't the one person who would be used to it.

"Got a spare?" you asked, eyeing his packet of cigarettes.

Dixon hesitated for a second, before placing them down in the space between you. "Thought ya didn't smoke," he replied.

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't."

In truth, you'd only recently taken up the habit — smoking much too scarcely to even call it a habit, really. It had all started when you'd stumbled across a rundown convenience store, and looted a packet of cigarettes without thinking — just because they were the brand that Dixon smoked.

The first time you lit one, you'd cried. They smelt like him.

They'd smelt like your only friend, and reminded you of just how lonely the end of the world was. So, you started to smoke — only when you missed him — and you continued because, even though he was now sitting beside you, for some reason you still felt empty.

Neither of you said anything after that, but you could hear his thoughts — those questions he wanted to ask but didn't. After all, he'd voiced them once before, back before the world ended. Except, it was you who wasn't willing to answer.

"What'd ya do tha' got yer ass sent here?" Dixon asked, one day whilst you were hanging around at the auto-shop, watching him scrub down that Honda bike. "Y'know, locked away in rural Georgia."

You laughed at his words, taking a swig from the ice cold cola you'd skimmed from Dean's fridge.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I was training to be a helicopter pilot," you admitted into the air, answering that question truthfully for the first time.

But he'd already guessed — after the day you'd both had.

"Why didn't it work out?" Daryl mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke the words.

You watched as the smoke formed white clouds against the black night, before finally reaching for the packet yourself.

"Fear of heights," you told the man, letting out a breathy chuckle that blew out the lighter's flame.

It was a lie, but the truth was much more bleak.

Though, perhaps that was what nights like this were for. Out here, there was no one else to hear you speak your thoughts, or even see the two silhouettes sitting in the dark. Maybe you could even start trusting the man called Daryl Dixon, since he'd done nothing but pick you up and set you back onto your feet ever since you fell from the sky — and even some time before that.

"No matter how long I would fly for, I always had to land at some point," you explained, though it didn't really sound like much of an explanation. "But the people on the ground made me wish that I never had."

Daryl met your eyes, and in that moment you swore you saw a glimpse of that former mechanic — the one who was street smart but still clueless to people.

"That was until I met a man at a garage who promised to show me the world on his bike," you smiled, before letting the smoke trail from your lips, "but we ended up watching the stars instead."

Dixon didn't smile back.

And somehow, the smoke on your lips tasted more familiar — felt more like Daryl — than the man sitting beside you.

"Ya can take the tent tonight," he mumbled, snuffing his cigarette butt out on the grass.

You pulled a face, but he didn't retrieve it like he normally would — he probably thought there was nothing left in the world worth preserving anymore.

"And what about you?" you asked, making an expression he couldn't even see. "You should rest up before tomorrow."

But the man shook his head in the dark, pushing back on his knuckles to stand up — and offering you his hand once more.

"I ain't none of yer concern," he dismissed, whilst his palm was still warm in yours, "'m gonna sleep out under the stars."

The stars were bright overhead, with no light pollution, or mysterious blinking flickers that could have been mistaken for planes of satellites. But somehow, you didn't fully believe his story.

You laughed, but it wasn't the warm kind. It was the kind that felt foreign on your tongue, because it was a far cry from the fits of giggles the man normally had you in.

"Well, enjoy the view," you replied, shortly.

But you failed to notice the way Dixon watched you the entirety of the way back to camp — as though he already was.

Once Daryl had walked you there, and left you at the tent doorway, he did indeed roll out an old blanket over the grass, to lay back underneath the stars — just as promised.

He was far enough away that he didn't feel like you were right beside him, but still close enough to make out your silhouette against the lamp-lit canvas walls of his tent. That way, he didn't have to worry about walkers — but he didn't have to worry about you, either.

The night was quiet. The full, bright moon beamed down on him like a streetlight and the stars blinked in the sky like peering sets of eyes — staring back at him whilst he looked up. Daryl sighed, and crumpled his packet of cigarettes in his fist, crushing any left inside.

He needed to stop smoking them, because now they'd become tainted by you — and had become another thing that inescapably reminded him of you.

The lingering scent of them on his fingertips alone made him remember just how intoxicating you were. It made Daryl feel like he'd gotten a high from the scent of unbottled moonshine, or from that smile of pure starlight which could make a man go blind.

Though, he'd only had the pleasure of seeing it once today. The rest of the time you'd been pissed, confused, hurt.

He'd probably caused a lot of that — he wasn't that oblivious.

But you were the type who could break his heart without even knowing, and then offer to mend it like it had been someone else who'd done the damage.

He didn't understand how you could act so nonchalant, so blasé, as though you hadn't nearly died, and as though you hadn't just come back from the dead — where Daryl had thought you'd been this entire time.

He laughed, and it almost sounded as cold as the one you'd directed at him earlier.

Merle always called him naive, but Daryl often overcompensated for the fact with blind curses and bruised knuckles from butting heads those who suspected him of being as much.

But it had been the truth.

He was naive — especially when it came to you.

But, Daryl was also angry and hurt. And he didn't know how to fix that without bruising his knuckles — or his ego.

He bit his lip, wetting away the dryness with his tongue, whilst trying not to focus on how dry his throat felt, too. Then, Daryl rested his arm over his eyes.

He didn't feel like watching the stars anymore.

When you awoke, light had filtered into the tent through the mesh netting, speckling over your face like glittering gold as you blinked.

But when you awoke, the man was gone — leaving only another shirt behind in his place.

It almost made you cry, because of how familiar it felt. It smelled like Joe's Bar, of Marlboro cigarettes, of Georgia, and of home.

But you couldn't cry; you hadn't done since the day everything fell apart. So instead, you pulled on your big-girl shirt — the one belonging to the man twice the size of you — and grit your teeth as you threaded your bruised arm through the sleeve, and caught your stitches on the buttons.

You spent the whole morning trying not to notice the glaringly obvious absence in the camp — the men who'd left in search of Merle Dixon. But at the same time, you grimaced at the sight of the ones who hadn't left, the ones like Shane, and Carol's husband — who leered at the women as they washed his fucking underwear.

"Carol, why don't you ask Ed to come and help us," Andrea remarked, glancing towards the man resting languidly by his jeep, "make himself useful instead of just standing there smoking cigarettes."

Beside you, Jacqui laughed a high-pitched laugh, as she wrung out another damp t-shirt in her fists. You had only been formally introduced to her this morning, but her smile was infectious — and for a minute, it made you forget about the anxiety deep in the pits of your stomach.

Carol was quiet, but eventually chirped up once she mustered enough confidence.

"If I knew how to get him to do that, I would have done it years ago," she muttered, and shyly rolled her eyes.

Andrea boomed out a laugh, whilst the others chimed in at the appearance of Carol's unexpected humour. You tried not to let the chuckle wrack up your body, since every slight movement sent shockwaves to your injuries. But at this moment, you didn't really mind.

Carol had a pretty smile, and an even nicer laugh.

Except, her husband didn't seem to think so.

He stalked over with the same bravado Shane had mastered the night before — probably taking inspiration from the other man who wore boots three times his size. You could make out the sneer on his face before he even got within a few steps of you all. It was just that deep.

The man flicked his cigarette in your direction, and it barely missed the toe of your boot.

"What's so funny, hmm?" he jeered, but his tone was anything but light. You didn't have to hear them twice to recognise those words as a threat. "Gotta be somethin' if it's got you ladies so distracted."

Each of the women stayed silent as a grave — as though in some secret pact Ed was unaware of. He sauntered around, weaving in between Jacqui and Andrea, until the latter eventually snapped.

"Is it really any of your business?" she remarked, frustration clear in her voice. "After all, we're the ones doing your laundry."

She thrust the damp clothes she was holding at the man's chest, before letting them fall to the floor. The moment you heard them hit the ground, your hands were already shaking with adrenaline. You knew that look — the one Ed wore — and nothing good ever came from it.

He stepped up to Andrea, his pride damper than the shirt at his feet. "Know your place, little bitch," he hissed, shoving her back with his shoulder.

And chaos broke out.

Jacqui's screams sounded very much like her high-pitched laughs had done, and Lori called for Shane like a broken record that only knew a single name. You wanted to get everyone to calm down. You wanted to diffuse the situation like how you'd been trained to do.

But all you saw was red.

Carol interjected, lacing herself around her husband's arm as she begged for him to stop. "Ed, please don't-"

The man backhanded his wife, sending her to the ground with a single strike.

And that was your queue.

You rushed over, feeling your feet sink into the pebbles deeply with each step. You had a dozen stitches in your stomach, but you would rather pop every damn one open than let him get away with that.

"You dare lay your hands on her?" you roared, approaching the man — the monster — from behind as he loomed over Carol like a shadow of cowardice.

Ed reacted out of instinct, flailing his arm backwards and hitting you across the jaw with his elbow as you tried to pull him away. Immediately, your mouth pooled with the taste of copper, and you spit it out onto the pebbled stones beneath your feet.

You looked over at Andrea, who was dumbstruck as she watched blood drizzle from your lip, before you wiped it away by the sleeve of Daryl's shirt — with your one good arm.

"Get Carol out of here," you said, so quiet that it might as well have been a whisper.

You looked at the man, sizing him up as he stared you down.

"She isn't gonna want to see this."

The evening sunset was a vibrant salmon, tinged with deeper, darker hues the further you got from the sun. Those parts of the sky were the same maroon colour as your jaw — you'd caught glimpses of it in Andrea's compact mirror.

You'd spent the latter part of the day avoiding Shane's lectures, and the women who meant well but fussed over you far too much. So, you retreated back to Dixon's tent — icing the ripe bruise on your chin with a pack from Dale's RV cooler.

The scent of Marlboro cigarettes lingered around you — faint but still present in the fibers of the blankets beneath you, and in your shirt which was now bloodstained. You tried to ignore the pull of it, not wanting to smoke.

The tent puckered as someone fumbled with it, and soon the entrance flap was unzipped — revealing Carol, who timidly ducked inside.

"We meet again," you greeted her, thinking back to how she'd tended to your wounds in this very spot, not even a full day before. "I was going to apologise for beating your husband into the ground, but I couldn't bring myself to say that I'm sorry."

You grimaced as the words left your mouth. They sounded a lot more sharp than you'd intended.

But she still smiled warmly at you, a smile that you didn't think you deserved, and shook her head. The woman sat down on her knees opposite you, coaxing the ice-pack away from your skin for a second to inspect the damage.

"I don't blame you," she said, as gentle as her touch. She smelt like citrus, and summer days as her palm ghosted over your face. "I came to thank you, actually. For being the first to stand up for me."

Your gaze dropped down to where her sleeves had risen up, revealing the yellowish bruises dotted over her arms — in the shape of fingerprints.

"Well, someone had to," you noted, sadly.

She caught the way your eyes lingered, and quickly adjusted her shirt, pulling it back down to her wrists.

"Was it really that obvious?" she chuckled, nervously.

But you felt like she already knew the answer.

Her stance was practiced, even sitting down. She wasn't at all relaxed, hovering on her knees like a small rabbit, ready to dart to safety at a moment's notice. You felt like you were looking into a mirror — one that only reflected the past.

You nodded. "When you know the signs, it is," you admitted, sitting back against Dixon's pillow. "I had my suspicions before."

She hummed in return, acting much more casually around you than she had done a mere moment before. "What gave it away?" she asked — curious more than anything.

Light streamed in through the little plastic windows on the tent, falling in a stream between you — warm against your lap.

"Your hair, for one thing," you confessed, gesturing with your free hand. "You shave it yourself? To stop him grabbing it during fights?"

She remained silent at the accusation, but her eyes gave her entirely away.

You nodded. "They always tend to stoop that low."

And Carol bit her lip in response, not pointing out how you'd done the same with your braids — keeping them tight to your scalp, not even a strand out of place.

She excused herself then, making some remark about how she best ought to go check on her husband, before letting you catch a glimpse of the brave scowl which made its way onto her face as she said it. The sun hung high in the sky as she ducked back out, almost as bright as that full moon had been the night before.

"Hey, Carol," you said, loud enough for her to still hear it, "if he gives you trouble again, don't hesitate to come find me."

The woman nodded once more, and waved you off.

"Just you wait until my good arm heals," you called after her. "My right hook's even better than my left."

Then, you winked — watching as she debated letting out the laugh she had stifled — as you recalled the actual reason that got you hauled off to Georgia in the first place.

Dishonourable discharge, my ass.

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[busycryin]

Disinhibition

Pairing: Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller x Reader 

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex. 

Summary: Benny gets injured and loses his filter.  (Not that he had much of one to begin with)

Note: This is self indulgent fluff. I regret nothing. I am in love with all of these men. 

It was never your idea of a fun Friday night - watching Benny get the ever living shit beaten out of him. 

Until six months ago you’d never have even set foot in an event such as this, but here you were, beer in hand watching the brother of your best friend take an uppercut to the face in a fight you think he was winning. 

To you Benny was the gentle giant; a sweet guy who topped up the window wiper fluid in your car when it got low or the guy that gave you the last hot dog at the barbeque because he knew you secretly hated Frankie’s burgers. In this ring he was one hundred percent the warrior you’d heard stories of as a mask of icy calculation had descended across his features. 

The outside world was shut out; it was just him and his opponent in the ring.

His opponent just so happened to be a gorilla - there was no other way to describe the mans body as his arms were thick chords of muscles covering bone - somehow managing to make Benny look lithe. 

You were still new to this but you weren’t quite sure how he was even in the same weight class.

Christ, this was bad for your blood pressure.

You couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering around your stomach despite the fact that for every hit Benny took he landed two. The two were locked into a hold on the ground, you didn’t quite understand what was happening, but Ben had somehow got the upper hand. It was as he held the man down that the bell finally rang and you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding; the round was over. 

Santiago, another friend of Will’s who was standing beside you and Frankie, blew out a heavy breath. 

“This is a fuckin’ close one.”

“Guys fuckin’ huge.” Frankie echoed your thoughts whilst taking a sip of his beer. 

Will was bent over Benny talking into his ear as the younger of the duo desperately chugged his water bottle. He looked absolutely exhausted, your heart was beating madly in your chest; you decided to remain silent. 

All too soon the break was over and the mouth guard was back in place protecting those pearly whites that were often directed at you in a half-smirk/half-grin concoction that always signalled he was up to no good. 

“Don’t worry, Guapa! Ben’s got this, he’s one tough sonovabitch.” Frankie patted your back reassuringly. Somehow you weren’t convinced but you smiled at both of the men, nodding enthusiastically and draining your half full beverage. 

You knelt to place your cup under your seat, rising finally as the bell rang, signalling the beginning of a new round of torture. Your hands interlocked nervously in front of your mouth flinching at every hit the other man landed on Benny. 

You felt Santiago pat your shoulder and shoot you a smile whilst he cheered for the younger Miller. “He’s got this, Y/N.” He spoke, repeating Frankie’s earlier reassurances.

Benny did not have this. 

As was made evidently clear a couple of minutes later when the two were grappling on the ground, his opponent had got the upper hand and was above him trying to get him to submit. But Benny being Benny wouldn’t give in, despite being banged to rights. 193 pounds didn’t seem so heavy right now as his opponent twisted his arm to the ground, his thick legs wrapped around Ben’s torso. 

Your heart dropped as you could’ve swore you heard the crack of bone over the crowd. Finally Benny tapped. 

The fight was over, he’d lost. 

Santiago had thrown his hat off raking his fingers through his hair in disappointment “Mierda! I thought he had it!”

“That guy was fucking massive, I hope he’s okay.” You mumbled when you realised Ben was still sitting on the padded ground. 

“Let’s go see, eh?” Frank gestured towards the ring where a medic had now entered, tailed closely by Will. You had to stop yourself from racing to his side as sat injured in the ring.

You see, you and Benny had a complicated relationship.

Well it wasn’t that difficult, simply put Ben was a bit of a slut, now you didn’t judge him. Live and let live, you say, but casual sex just wasn’t your thing. Especially not with the brother of your best friend. You’d come to rely on your easy friendship with the older Miller brother so you avoided your relationship with Ben going beyond flirting - your friendship wasn’t something you wanted to fuck with on a whim. 

So, a strange friendship in limbo was where you and Benjamin Miller firmly remained. 

Benny was pulled up into standing, his face was pale as the MMA medic inspected his arm. The man shook his head at Will as they walked, both supporting the injured man. 

“-dislocated, he’s gonna have to go to the ER.” The three of you caught the end of the conversation as you followed the trio. 

“He okay?” Frankie questioned first “Going to the hospital?”

“Yeah, the idiot pushed himself too far. Popped his shoulder out of the socket instead of submitting.”

“Shit, Ben! Are you okay?” You asked, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He grunted ever the hard headed soldier, his face was laced with pain even as he tried to be impassive in his agony. 

You backed off at his clear dismissal, not wanting to push him whilst he was in such pain.

“We’ll meet you there, yeah?” Santiago questioned.

In the end, you and ‘Pope’ sat in the hospital chairs for an hour or two waiting. Frankie had waited for an hour before he had to get back to his family, the two of you had insisted he get back. It wasn’t fair on Mama Morales to have to look after the baby on her own. 

Santiago was the friend of Will’s you knew the least. He was always kind but he simply was never around. He came and went as he pleased much like an outdoor cat, but in the short time you’d been around him you knew he was a nice guy. Two, going on three hours alone talking about nonsense had pretty much cemented that as you now sat in the waiting room playing go fish, waiting desperately to hear some news about your - What exactly was Benny to you?

Your crush? No. You weren’t in Kindergarten.

Your friend? No. Not enough.

The guy you had incredibly strong feelings for - the kind that made that tingle in your stomach when he laughed at your jokes but you can’t tell him because he’s a man whore who can’t commit to one woman? No. Abit long, not to mention a complete overshare. 

Your person.

You were waiting desperately to hear some news about your person when finally Will rounded the corner. You stood before you realised what you were doing.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Asking about you Y/N, come and see him?”

“Of course.” You reply picking up your purse. 

Both you and Santi follow Will through the winding hospital halls. You hear Benjamin before you see him.

“I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday! ” His usually melodious voice is hoarse and slurred, he sounded somewhat drunk as he butchered the rock song from his favourite band.

“I love you too, man.” Will says with a small smile on his face as he sits on one of the chairs beside the bed. 

“He’s had some anesthesia. He’s pretty high right now, so brace yourselves.” He’s sitting up in the bed arm wrapped in a sling, staring up at the ceiling as he sings (shouts) when you round the corner.

“Will, you’re back!” He lights up as he sees his brother “I love you.”

However Will is forgotten instantly as soon as Benny catches sight of you. “Will! This is her, Christ, its the angel I fuckin’ told you about!”

“Calm down, Ben.” Will still has the smile on his face but he tilts his head to the other patient behind the curtain being subjected to his younger brother's lack of an indoor voice.

“How are you doing, Brother?” Santi questions, sitting on the chair to the other side of him. 

He looks at Santiago. “Pope! Have you seen her? She’s so gorgeous, man. She’s here.”

You chuckle as you walk to stand beside him on the bed. He instantly takes your hand in his good one and pats the bed beside him. You can’t help but acquiesce despite the cloudy look in his eyes. It’s like the lights are all on but nobody's really home.

You hop up, facing him sideways on. You’re not about to cuddle the man in front of Will and Santiago, no matter how desperately you’d like to.

“How you feeling, Soldier?”

“Better now you’re here, Angel.” You can’t help the snort that comes out at his words. 

“I’m glad I can help.”

“You could help me in another way y’know Y/N.” He smirks in a way that is so completely Benny you almost forget he’s delirious. 

“I think you might regret this when you have a filter, lovely.”

“You hear that Will?” Benny’s whisper isn’t quite as stealthy as he believes as his voice is barely quieter than a shout. “She fuckin’ called me lovely, I’m fuckin in there man!”

“...No way...” Will replies simultaneously trying and failing to keep a straight face.  “Y’know Ben you might want to calm down, you might be making Y/N uncomfortable.”

“Y/N… Oh god Y/N. She's gorgeous man, inside and out and her tits -Man her tits are-” He makes a growling noise. 

“Ben!” Will admonishes whilst Santiago is looking on, his hand covering his mouth desperately trying to contain his chortles. “I think you should get some rest buddy.”

“I’ma do that. I’ma put my arms down, my head back and get some rest.” Benny tells his brother resolutely all whilst nodding his head and in his defense he does just that… for a grand total of ten seconds before his blue eyes reopen and fix on you. 

“Y/N?” Benny ‘whispers’ whilst tugging on your hand that is still firmly locked with his good one. 

“Mmh?”

“I think we should have a baby.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We can have like 6 babies and I’ma’ fuck you so good every single night for the rest of our lives and we can have our own barbecues and I’ll cook you up the hamburgers special.” You can’t help it as your eyes widen exposing the whites in their entirety. You’re trapped somewhere between laughing and mortification as you know there’s no way in hell Will and Santi didn’t hear that.

“I’m not a baby machine dude, six kids is alot for my body to handle.”

“You’ll think about it?” He asks his eyes heavy as they lock on yours.

“Moron,” You chuckle whilst raising the hand which is not currently his prisoner and push the strand of dirty blonde hair from his eyes “You get some rest and I’ll give you all the babies you can handle, big guy.” 

“If I go to sleep am I going to die?”

“No, Ben. You won’t die.” You can’t help a final giggle at his expense, apparently Benjamin Miller without a filter is quite the character. Finally he closed his eyes, his strong much larger hand still wrapped around your own as he drifted off.

A few moments passed and nobody seemed to know what to say. Every suspicion they’d had, had been confirmed. You hoped to god they weren’t going to tease him about it.

“Don’t make fun of him too badly when he wakes up, fellas.” You mumble awkwardly, your eyes not leaving his face. 

“That’s my line.” Will pipes up from his seat when you finally meet his eyes. “My brothers a stubborn guy, he’ll see this as a screwing things up with you Y/N/N.”

“He never said anything. The guy’s impossible to read.” 

“Nah, you’re just too close to it, is all.” Will supplied - ever the guiding light in your world recently.

“Well. We’ll see, won't we?” The guys start discussing the fight, about where Ben went wrong - something you didn’t really want to think about for a long time - or in the very least until his shoulder was healed. 

Finally during the lull of conversation as they’re both checking their phones you go to ask Will when they’re releasing the giant moron when Santiago finally speaks up. “So, Y/N. You and Ben mind naming one of the kids after me? I figure with 6 of em’ you can spare at least one for the namesake.”

Tag List:

All - @benakenalove

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Seven]

Summary: An unexpected attack cuts the final tethers of restraint for Poe and the reader.

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, mentions of attempted assault, choking, injury description (note RED cuts to skip past uncomfortable parts if preferred), Smut—PiV, fingering, squirting, oral. W— +14K.

A/N: If there was ever a chapter I would beg for feedback/thoughts, this is it. Please tell me you like it. Oh god, soothe my worried mind.

It was tempting, the urge to roll your eyes as the man before you moved to stand too close. You smirked, waiting to see if he was serious in his attempt to corner you or if he would scamper off the moment you pulled your knife from your thigh holster where it was hidden beneath your dress.

There was a darkness in his gaze that made your hand twitch at your side, and here you had thought Canto Bight would be relatively uneventful. But it appeared you caught his eye and your disguise as just another casino patron worked because he had followed you unexpectedly into the foyer off of the main ballroom, where you had gone to wait for Poe and Temmin to return.

The three of you were here for intel promised by a very wealthy ally, so dressing the part was important for blending in with the privileged crowds. You were sure the man before you thought you weak enough to bully, a rich girl he could take advantage of.

You were annoyed, wishing you’d gone with Poe instead of Temmin, that you hadn’t offered to keep watch for any signs of your enemies because you felt you were the least suspicious of the three of you. BB8 stayed with you, but when you’d seen the man following you over your shoulder you told the droid to hide and it had zipped behind a potted plant in the corner of the foyer, beeping coyly.

You had first assumed he was a guard, perhaps about to tell you that you were in the wrong place if you were looking for a fresher, but when he stepped around you and blocked your path you quickly realized he was something else entirely. His suit, you could tell now from close up, was immensely expensive and he reeked of cologne.

There were two hallways over his shoulder, one which Poe and Temmin had gone down to meet with the contact, and the other which branched off to various parts of the greater building. Both were quiet, and so you knew not to expect any sudden interruptions that might save you the trouble of having to incapacitate the man.

But, you could easily handle one lone wolf who bit off more than he could chew.

Which was why it came as a very great surprise to you when you felt another presence behind you, but before you could do more than stiffen you felt pressure against your spine; a second man had snuck in and was pressing a knife to you. Now you understood that the first man wasn’t blocking your path; he was distracting you.

So less of a lone wolf, more of a predator with a partner. Bile rose in your throat and you glared at the man in front of you. He smirked now, taking another step toward you so that both men were almost pressed up against you, sandwiching you between them. “You’re a pretty little number.” He hissed, one hand shooting out to grab your throat.

You wanted to fight, but the knife at your back was a heavy warning of what could happen and you knew you needed to play your cards right. No pun intended. You’d been cornered before, of course, but always by First Order officers. Rich men who wanted what they couldn’t have were not on your list of experiences before this, and you wondered how best to deal with them.

“Fuck you,” You seethed, and the hand at your neck tightened fractionally. More of a threat than anything else.

His words though were a clear threat. “No, we’ll fuck you, doll.”

The way they got you onto the floor, the ease and swiftness of it, told you they’d done this together before. It sickened you, made fury rise inside of you and you wanted nothing more than to pull the knife from your holster and drive it into the hand at your throat. You made a noise, a growl, and the man with the knife finally spoke up.

“She’s a wild one, probably best to knock her out.”

You were going to kill them. Whatever happened, their blood would be soaking into this plush carpet before the end of the night. The first man moved so that he was straddling your chest, his weight on his hunches, and grinned down at you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have our fun and be on our way. We aren’t going to hurt you so long as you don’t struggle.” He immediately contradicted himself when the hand at your throat tightened, pressing at the sides in a way that cut off airflow without completely crushing your throat. They wanted you to pass out.

You went limp, conserving your energy as you scowled up at the man. The reality of your situation was now enough to cause panic to bubble up; Poe and Temmin hadn’t been gone long. The contact would invite them for a drink, chat with them briefly before passing along the intel. They would find you here, after.

No, that couldn’t happen. It would kill Poe, and he wouldn’t be able to leave until he found the men. You whimpered, black spots started to dance in your vision and you saw, from the corner of your eye, a blur of orange and white zoom down the hallway your squadmates had ventured not long ago.

The second man was already getting excited, his free hand brushing over your face, touching your lips. Even without any air coming in, you tried to bite him. He jerked his finger back, cursing, and the man holding your throat threw his head back to laugh loudly, the pressure releasing in his distraction. You think he started to tease the other man, but everything was confusing now and instincts overtook your body, pulling in air-too much air, too quickly.

Scream.

Yes, you needed to scream. One good, long one that someone would hear, or at least loud enough to scare them off of you in case someone did come looking for the source. You kept pulling in air and it was painful your vision blurring, and you think you were about to pass out. Faces appeared in your mind. Two very distinct, very familiar faces; Charlie and Poe. Your protectors, your family, your love.

Just like that, you had what you needed to find the strength to scream.

It came out in one long, very loud wail, the sound of it echoing off of the walls and back to you before you passed out.

“POOOOOEEEEEE!”

+

The Martell family moved off, having given their words of sorrow and sympathy, and Charlie tightened the arm he had secured around his mother’s shoulders. She was the strong, silent type like him; whereas you always took after dad. He was keeping close to mom today, providing her with the support she needed and knowing that you were being well taken care of by the one person who could provide the tender love you required.

Charlie glanced around the room as mom took a sip of water, seeking you in the crowd. His eyes landed on Dad's green armchair in the corner, where you were curled up in Poe’s lap, face pressed into his neck as you shook with sobs. He could see his best friend whispering to you, his hand rubbing up at down your back, no doubt repeating words of comfort. He must have felt Charlie’s gaze, his eyes flicking up suddenly before he smiled sadly.

In many ways, it was a beautiful thing to behold the love which you and Poe had for one another. Even as young as you all were, no one could doubt or question that you were both made for one another-except, of course, for yourselves.

Charlie could almost be jealous if he hadn’t spent years around you and seen how natural it seemed to come to you both. He couldn’t be angry that his best friend loved you so deeply, that he knew what to do to comfort you, to care for you, knew when it was needed without Charlie even needing to ask. Hell, even dad had noticed, mentioned it to Charlie during that last visit...

Dad was smiling at Charlie, who sat in the chair next to his bed in the medical facility. It was a nice private room, the kind that the staff made a little homier because it was where the terminal patients came to live out their last days. Mom had taken you and Poe with her to get tea in the nearby lounge, leaving Charlie alone with dad one last time. He sighed, admitting to dad now that they were alone that it didn’t feel fair to lose his father at sixteen. And you were barely fourteen!

Dad chuckled sadly, “I want to stay more than you know, son. I have to tell you, Charlie, that I’m already more than proud of who you are and I know you’ll continue to be a remarkable person. I told your sister the same, but she’s still young, she’ll need more reminders,” Dad paused to take a breath and Charlie waited patiently, taking hold of one of his hands. “I know you’ll always take care of her, put her before anything else. Even the fight, it comes second to her. Though I expect you’ll have help. Wish I could have been around to see those two get married one day.”

Charlie grinned, “You noticed them too?” His father nodded, eyes bright despite the sickness. “How could anyone not, I suppose. Except them.” Charlie added, rolling his eyes fondly.

Dad laughed again, “They’ll realize it when they’re ready. You’re all too young for love anyway,” He joked, giving Charlie a mock stern look. “Just make sure that whatever they do, you focus on your own happiness too, son.”

He squeezed Charlie’s hand weakly, he smiled at his father, “I promise I’ll take care of her, dad. And mom, she’ll need me more.” Dad nodded, his eyes a little wet but so filled with love that Charlie could only stare at him for a few minutes before continuing. “You want me to beat him up when they do finally kiss, though?”

Another weak laugh, followed by a wink, and then Charlie spent a few more minutes talking with his dad for the last time, before eventually mom, you and Poe filtered back in.

He felt a lot of love and joy despite the fucking misery of it, until Dad's eyes slipped shut the final time and you all kissed him before stepping out to leave mom alone with the nurse. You were wrapped around Charlie, who had carried you out of the room, and he passed you over to Poe, asking his friend to take you home while he took care of mom. Poe pressed his forehead to Charlie’s before doing just that, his own eyes leaking tears.

Now, Charlie wondered if Poe had stopped touching you since that day. Perhaps he simply switched between carrying you and keeping his arm around your shoulders, anchoring you down in safety and love, letting you grieve while keeping you from falling too far into the darkness.

Poe met his eyes across the room, wordlessly asking ‘do you need me?’ And Charlie smiled back, shaking his head. Because Poe was already doing exactly what he needed him to, cooing softly in your ear as you trembled and cried quietly, protecting you while Charlie held up his mother and in turn, she held him up, thanking him for being strong, for loving so hard.

Charlie thought he could love as much as he wanted, it would still never compare to the love between Poe and you. It made him smile.

+

Poe was walking with Temmin at his side, the contact leading them through the extravagant hallways to the room where their source would pass over the intel promised to the Resistance. Intel that could help track down a man that had something the General needed. He was an ally to the Resistance, not a neutral or ‘for profit’ type but a true ally who pushed through funds for them as much as intel. Coming in person to the casino he owned, dressed to the nines in finery that felt foreign, sitting over a glass of champagne-it was the least they could do.

And Poe had to admit, the moment you’d stepped out of the fresher on the small ship Black squad had taken to come to Canto Bight, he’d become gleeful over the necessity to dress up. Because you were gorgeous, dazzlingly so in a golden, glittering dress, your legs bare, hair styled loose, a touch of make-up on your face. He thought you were so beautiful, and he wanted to tell you but didn’t trust himself to say it right, so he’d grinned before turning away and letting out a low whistle. Calling ‘looking good, sweetheart’ over his shoulder.

They were approaching a large, ornate door that the man leading them gestured toward, indicating their contact was on the other side. Poe thanked him for his help, but before he could move the final steps to the door a familiar sound suddenly entered the hall; BB8 was zooming towards him, beeping frantically.

Exchanging a curious look with Temmin, Poe dropped down to one knee as the droid rolled to a stop before him. Despite Poe’s fluency in binary, he was only catching words due to the panicked, too-fast rate at which the droid communicated. He gathered ‘attack’ and ‘knife’ and wondered if BB8 was telling him you had stabbed someone.

It wouldn’t have been the first time on a mission you’d done so.

“Buddy, slow down, I can’t understand you,” Poe hushed the droid, “Say it again, slower.”

The droid repeated itself, slowly.

Poe was moving before he finished. “Captain, go in without me. BB8, stay with him.” He ordered over his shoulder. He heard Temmin’s worried affirmative reply. And then he was running, faster than he had in his entire existence, blood roaring in his ears. Poe ran because the message was clear.

You were being attacked.

And he didn’t like how BB8 had phrased it, saying you ‘couldn’t breathe'. He didn’t know if he was about to find you with Storm Troopers or undercover First Order fighters, but regardless being unable to breathe didn’t sound like their usual treatment of suspected Rebels. It only drove him to run faster through the twisting hallway, forgetting his expensive clothing or even the importance of remaining undercover, his focus solely on you now.

You had offered to stay behind. Because it was the best option, and Canto Bight was an easy enough place to blend in. So who had made you?

Poe half expected to round the final corner up ahead and find you waiting for him with your enemy incapacitated, or otherwise in a standoff he would have to join in on the fight with.

He never expected anything like what was about to happen.

Before he reached the end of the hall, an ear-splitting shriek filled the air and Poe’s veins turned to ice, his breath catching.

“POOOOOEEEEEE!”

You had never made a sound like that before in your life, and blind, all-consuming rage overtook every facet of Poe’s being-whoever, whatever, made you scream like that was about to fucking die. He came tearing around the corner and his eyes fell on the most gut-wrenching, heart-stopping sight-you, laying still on the floor as a man straddled your chest, one hand wrapped around your throat. A second man stood next to you; both men had their backs to Poe and appeared to be watching you...

Were you dying? Dead?

They didn’t hear Poe coming, neither of them even turned around when he pulled the knife from the inner pocket of his jacket and leapt at the standing man. He slit his throat without thought, already looking toward the man still straddling you, who had released his hold on your neck to peer around curiously. He looked just in time to see his friend collapse to the floor, had enough time to jump back in fear, mouth opening in horror.

It didn’t matter, though. His futile attempt to block Poe only served to aid his aim, so that the knife he slashed out could be thrust down and into the soft flesh between his collarbone and throat. Poe snarled, slamming him back into the wall to ensure he didn’t fall onto you, before yanking the knife out and finishing him off with a firm swipe of the blade over his throat, cutting through the tendons and blinking when a spray of blood landed on him.

Stashing the knife back into his pocket and glancing up at the closed door, Poe stumbled forward and dropped to his knees next to you, adrenaline coursing through his body and keeping his hand steady as he sought out your pulse point. He could already see bruising bleeding over the soft skin of your throat, darkening it, and he felt his rage ebb away into a panic so severe that he almost missed the steady beat of your heart.

“Oh fuck,” He gasped out, a modicum of relief seeping through the panic. He scooped you up quickly, spinning around and making his way toward the hallway opposite the one he’d just come from. He groaned when he realized he wasn’t sure where to go, which door led to an exit-you had the entire place memorized. But you were breathing steadily in his arms, still passed out, and Poe needed to follow his gut on this because you’re life depended on him getting you to the safety of the ship.

He couldn’t cut through the casino, so he opted to simply try each door in the hall ahead until one of them lead to a room with a window he could climb out of. Kare was waiting on the ship, he could send her in as backup once he was out. It was the second door that he shouldered through that lead to him gasp in relief-it led onto a patio, on the ground floor. He glanced around, confirming no one was in sight before tearing off at a run, holding you tight in his arms. Everything was happening in such a blur.

He tapped on his comm, “Kare! Please tell me we have bacta shots on the ship.”

Her voice crackled through in alarm, “What’s happened? We only have spray-“

“Shit!” He growled, “I’m coming back with the Major-she was attacked, get out the medkit and prepare to head to the casino and wait outside for Temmin, he needs to have a backup-“

“You got it, Commander!” She replied swiftly before the line went dead and he knew she’d have switched over to Temmin’s channel to give him the update.

When Poe boarded the ship a few minutes later, Kare was waiting at the top of the ramp and gasped at the sight of you in his arm, passed out. She paused, eyes on Poe “Whose blood is that, Commander?”

“It’s not hers,” Poe replied, setting you down on the only bed the tiny ship had and picking up the medical kit Kare had left out for him, “I killed two men. Make sure Temmin and BB8 get back here with the intel, I’ll have the ship ready to depart.” She confirmed she heard him before running down the ramp and out of sight.

Poe set to work quickly, first tugging a rolled blanket from the end of the bed and covering you with it, then seeking out your pulse to confirm it was still beating steadily. He then uncapped the bacta spray and gently tilted your head back; exposing your heavily bruised throat, and carefully opening your mouth.

“Oh my sweet girl,” He sobbed out, first spraying into your open mouth so that the spray would drip down into your throat and reduce the swelling, then again to the outside skin. It would help, he comforted himself, “My sweet, sweet girl, I’m here. I’ve got you, please, please be okay.” He pleaded, his voice a strained whisper as he stroked your hair gently off of your face, waiting for the spray to do its work. He thinks he kept talking, while his eyes watched your face, every second torture until he saw movement behind your eyelids.

“Mmm,” You moaned out a strangled sound, your face tightening as you registered the pain. Your eyes suddenly snapped open and he saw panic flash there, a fear he’d never seen on your face before that shattered his heart right in his chest.

“Baby,” He whispered, bringing his face over yours so you could see him clearly, “It’s me, I’ve got you, sweet girl. We’re on the ship, we’re safe.” He promised you, dropping his hand to hold yours under the blanket. You gazed at him for a second, then dropped your eyes to search over him and he glanced down, realizing he was...still covered in blood.

“Ah-okay?” You wheezed, your voice was scratchy, but your brows pinched together in an expression that cleared up your meaning.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, leaning down at pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t try to speak until we get you looked at, okay? Does anything else hurt?”

He drew back to watch your face, but you shook your head slightly to indicate you were okay. He cupped your cheeks then, needing to touch you, to feel you alive and warm under his now trembling fingers. You noticed his shaky hands, one of your own coming out from beneath the blanket to reach up and stroke his jaw.

A shuddering, retched sob tore out of him as you did this familiar comforting gesture, attempting to ease his pain when you were the one that had been harmed. Tears no longer threatened, but spilled from his eyes as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, “My sweet girl, y-you scared me, there, thought I-I-“ He broke off, unable to even say the words. You kept caressing his jaw, the motion soothing to you as well, he gathered from the expression on your face. “I killed them. Both.” He admitted. You responded by merely widening your eyes slightly, then shutting them in understanding.

He watched you for a few moments, then let his own eyes shut as he lowered his head and pressed his forehead to yours, trying to reign in his emotions so that he could get the ship ready to go home. He pulled back when you attempted to speak again, your voice a little clearer thanks to the spray.

“L-love you.”

Poe ran his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears that spilled, “I love you,” He replied, turning his head and pressing his lips to your hand, “So, so much, my lovely girl.”

+

When Tahla had first walked onto the ship after Temmin and Kare had successfully landed back on base at D’Qar, his expression was so fraught with concern you’d squeaked a little from your spot on the bed, wanting to tell him you were fine despite your voice box rejecting the attempt. Poe had disappeared into the cockpit with Temmin and Kare when they finally boarded the ship on Canto Bight, BB8 in tow, and you think he must have overstated your injury when he’d called into base.

“Well, that sounded extraordinarily wretched, let me take a look,” Tahla joked, his features relaxing, and he sat at your side on the bed. Poe was behind you now, his body acting as your pillow, a comforting position he’d taken up the moment the ship landed and the rest of Black team had departed to get the intel to the General. “This is going to be uncomfortable, but try not to make noise, okay?” His eyes were on Poe when he spoke at first, dropping to you when he posed the question. You nodded your understanding and decided to lose yourself in thought as he gently started feeling along your throat.

When you first came to, the only thing you had been aware of was the pain in your throat. You’d felt movement at your side and panicked, thinking you were still under attack, only when you opened your eyes you instead met the most heart-wrenching sight of your life; Poe covered in blood, looking down at you pale and panicked, his eyes wide with fear. Seeing him like that hurt worse than the pain in your throat, though that was certainly in a strong second place.

When he admitted he killed the men, you regretted only that you hadn’t been able to fight them off yourself, or at least been able to help him take them down. You didn’t want all of that to sit on his shoulders. You comforted yourself at the moment by telling him you loved him, testing the words on your tongue, despite knowing he would take them at their usual meaning and not how you truly meant them now.

But you could wait a little longer to tell him properly.

“Alright, Major. The good news is that you’re going to be okay and the spray will combat any long-term damage to your vocal cords,” Tahla was looking into your mouth now, a light shining in his hand as he inspected your throat. “Bad news is that I can’t administer a Bacta shot this far into the injury, so you’ll have to allow it to heal on its own over the next couple of days.”

“F-fuck.” You stammered, and Poe’s hands, which were clasping your shoulders, tightened fractionally in response. A silent, loving, admonishment. Tahla laughed, stowing away his light before giving you a final once over.

His eyes moved up, meeting Poe’s instead, “That’s not your blood, right?”

“No,” Poe replied, his voice quiet, “No. I killed them. BB8 found me, told me (y/n) was being attacked. They were...I didn’t hesitate.”

Fuck, he sounded so dark and haunted, you wanted to take away his worry, take away whatever memories he had now from the attack. You were tired though, your eyes beginning to droop now that you were home and safe and in the clear of any permanent damage. Tahla gave Poe a nod that suggested his approval over Poe’s handling of the men who attacked you, his eyes darkening for a moment, and then your eyes closed completely.

Poe’s hands immediately moved, adjusting you in his arms. How he was able to tell you were ready to sleep you’d never know. He was lifting you before you could even consider offering to just walk since your legs worked just fine. But you let yourself curl into his hold instead, your face pressing into his neck. He began to walk and you let the gentle motions soothe you further, lulling you towards sleep.

Tahla spoke from somewhere behind your head, where he walked next to Poe, “I’m going to give her a few days off, pull her from the field for a week minimum-I’ll check on her in five days, see if her voice is good enough for the field.”

“Listen, man, thank you for coming. I know it’s overstepping to demand a specific Healer-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Tahla interrupted, “I’m glad you did ask for me. Scared the hell out of me though, Poe.”

Poe sighed, “Sorry about that.” He didn’t elaborate even though you wanted him to explain why he’d caused Tahla to panic, what he’d said to have your friend run into the ship like he thought your head was about to fall off.

You also wanted to thank Tahla for coming, but you were too sleepy. Instead, you let the way Poe carried you to ease you closer and closer to the blissful release of sleep, not realizing until you heard a door whoosh open that the Healer was gone. Poe lowered you onto something soft and you peeked out beneath your eyelashes to find you were in his room.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” He murmured, pulling his blanket from where it was folded at the base of his bed to cover you, his hands still shaky. You reached for him then, grabbing hold of his hand, and Poe stilled, gazing down at you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You cleared your throat carefully and kept your voice as low as possible when you spoke. “Sta-y with me.” You saw the words hit him, his tension releasing so quickly that you think he nearly collapsed as he joined you on the bed, laying cautiously next to you. The only part of him that touched you was where your hand had grabbed him; now, you tugged him closer and shuffled, burrowing into his side and tucking your head into his neck.

You didn’t care that he was bloody or you were both still dressed in the fancy clothing-you just wanted him close. Needed him, not only for yourself but also for him, so that he knew you weren’t upset with him in any way, so that he couldn’t lick his wounds alone and convince himself that he messed up.

You needed him to know that you still trusted him. Always would.

He shifted so that he could circle his arms around you, holding you tight against him and breathing steadily, hard enough that you knew he was fighting off tears again. Your poor, kind-hearted Poe. He took things so hard, loved so fiercely. You didn’t understand how you deserved him when you were young or now. You just felt so fucking safe now, he was all-encompassing safety and love and you wondered again how you could have thought badly of him, to ever have run away.

“Sweet girl,” He started murmuring again, whispers as he stroked one hand over your hair soothingly. You weren’t sure if he knew you were still awake, it had been so long. You remained still, hoping he would never stop speaking so sweetly to you, letting his words lull you. “My brave, beautiful girl. So strong. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I love you, maker I love you...”

You wanted to say it back, but you fell asleep to the soothing rumble of his chest as he caressed you in the night, rocking away your nightmares and keeping you every bit as safe as he promised.

+

Poe woke early, light only just filtering in his thin window because he was too warm. At first, he was confused as to why he felt so restricted, so heavy until he looked down.

Stars.

You were tangled around him as he lay on his back, your arm hugged around his waist, head resting just below his sternum, legs entwined with his own. And he was still wearing his suit, the fabric not as breathable as his flight suit, and tighter too. As he gazed down at you, still peacefully asleep, further warmth pooled in his chest and belly.

‘Stay with me.’

Maker, three words and you knocked him clean over and he was ready right then to tell you he would never leave your side again if you asked him not to. But he’d managed to reign himself in slightly before curling around you protectively, unable to keep himself from touching you in gentle, soothing motions. He’d fallen asleep faster than he’d thought he would.

Now, he realized that if you woke up you would find him still covered in the blood of the men he’d killed. He needed to get himself into his fresher and clean up. With slow movements, he was able to extract himself from your grip and climb from the bed. He covered you in the blanket so the temperature change wouldn’t go as noticed and wake you up. He watched you for a minute as you slept, then quietly grabbed a pen and piece of paper, jotting a note down in case you woke up.

‘In the shower. Don’t leave, please.’

He set it next to you on his bed, then grabbed some clean clothing and stepped into his fresher, the door closing behind him silently. He bypassed his mirror, not interested in seeing how he looked, and went straight into the shower, turning on the water and flinching at the brief burst of cold before the temperature evened out. He scrubbed himself clean and avoided looking at the floor, at the swirling blood and grime disappearing into the drain. He had enough images in his head. It wasn’t that he hadn’t killed before, because he most certainly had-both from his x-wing and in ground combat. But he had never taken a life so viciously, so intimately. And it wasn’t how quickly he’d done it that scared him, it was how okay with it all he was.

They were hurting you, at the time he’d thought they’d killed you, he had no choice. No option but to end them.

He considered working in the field with you now, what that would look like. Would he start throwing himself in front of you and breaking protocol as he had in the woods of Takodana? Like he’d gotten angry at you for doing all that time ago when you’d first come back to D’Qar and had taken out that Stormtrooper with his gun levelled at Poe’s head? Was the fight...

Maker.

Was it worth losing you for?

The answer came fast; no, no it wasn’t. And that scared him because he’d always been ready to die for the cause, for the Resistance, to abolish the tyranny of the First Order. You and Charlie and he had all grown up with that single mindset, to get old enough to join and then fight until the war ended or you died.

And now all he could think was that he would rather lose the war a thousand times over than lose you.

When he stepped out of his shower and dried off, Poe was reeling. He was going through the motions-pulling on his socks, his shorts, his favourite tee. But internally he was reminding himself of everything he’d accomplished as a Resistance fighter. Of everything you had. Even after losing Charlie, you both kept fighting without question, for him, for yourselves, for the cause.

But...wasn’t the saying in your family that family came first, then the fight, and then everything else? When had he lost sight of that and forgotten that with great love came the equally great threat of losing it? But he couldn’t just leave, would never even consider it, no and he knew you wouldn’t, not for him or anything. There was nothing in the entire galaxy that would make you stop fighting. Which left Poe with the greatest question of all-what the hell was he going to do?

He didn’t have an answer, not even a vague idea, so he tabled the internal battle he was waging and stepped out of his fresher to check on you. His heart stuttered in his chest when he found you splayed across his bed, head hidden under his pillow, one leg kicked out from under the covers. You had always looked so peaceful when you slept, and memories surface of the countless times growing up, waking in your bed and watching you sleep. He’d usually wake up before you, sometimes he’d sneak out to hang out with Charlie, other times he’d enjoy the quiet and calm of your room.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was to wake you up, and so Poe made his way to his dresser to search through options for you to wear. Even the idea of you going alone into your room to shower and change made his heart drop, his need to keep you safe and close was so great. He picked out one of his shirts, a pair of athletic shorts you could tighten the waist of, and after much debate with himself, a pair of his briefs. He’d let you decide if you were going to wear them-he just wanted you to have the option.

He went into his fresher and set the clothing on the vanity, starting a little when he emerged and found you watching him with bleary eyes. He smiled tentatively, suddenly nervous under your gaze, but after a small pause your face lit up, eyes brightening and smile wide, melting his heart in his chest.

“Good morning,” Poe sat down on the bed next to you, brushing a hand over your face to wipe away stray hairs, “Try not to speak too much, sweetheart.” He gently reminded you, his eyes dropping to your darkened throat.

You made a face, scrunching your nose, and Poe chuckled softly. He watched you yawn before pushing yourself up, moving to sit next to him and raising your hand to tentatively touch your throat. You winced before flicking your gaze up to meet his, offering a small smile, “Hi,” It was raspy and quiet, dry enough that he realized you needed some water. He leaned over and grabbed a glass bottle from his mini-fridge, handing it over to your waiting hand.

He watched you gulp the water down in small bursts, happy to see swallowing didn’t appear to cause you too much discomfort. “How do you feel?”

“M’fine,”

“You up for a shower?” Poe asked, and your eyes widened slightly in response and he started sputtering immediately, heat flushing his cheeks, “I mean-you can shower, I uh, that is, I put some clothes in there for you-and I will wait here. I showered already.”

Stars, he felt about fifteen all of the sudden, embarrassment flooding him over his unintentionally suggestive phrasing. He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, glancing at you to find you holding in your laughter, amusement evident in your expression.

Poe rolled his eyes, recovering himself, “Very funny,” But he laughed, cheered by the smile on your face as you climbed out of his bed and made your way into his fresher. Your dress was crumpled and flat from sleeping in it, and your hair a tousled mess.

Even still, you were truly beautiful.

You looked over your shoulder at Poe before closing the door to the fresher, and he patted the bed, “I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He assured you, and a wave of relief flashed over your face as you shut the door.

Poe got out of bed, taking the time you were showering to tidy his room, including making the bed. He thought about everything that had happened and realized he wasn’t even remotely aware of whether the intel had proven as useful as the ally had claimed, having passed it off to Temmin and Kare to get into Leia’s hands. The fact that his droid hadn’t returned however told Poe that BB8 must be helping to decipher the intel, and Poe reasoned he could find out once he’d taken care of you.

When he heard the water shut off in the fresher, he started to fret over how to best do just that. He supposed it would be ideal for you to remain in the quiet space of his room, where you could avoid speaking too often or loudly. He wanted to keep you close...but then the doubt crept in and he began to question whether you would even want to stay with him, or if he was already being too overbearing. Maybe you were right now looking at the clothing he left out for you and shaking your head.

The fresher door opened a few minutes later, as Poe was tying on his boots, eager to get food from the dining hall and bring it back to the room for you both. “Anything you want from-uh...” He froze, eyes landing on you dressed in his clothing, his shirt much too large and-and you’d decided to only put on the briefs, the tighter fabric only just peeking out below the hem of his shirt.

Poe hadn’t thought of a chest band, not until this very moment when he could see your full breasts outlined against the light grey fabric. He swallowed, dropping his eyes to the floor as heat crawled up his neck.

If you noticed his reaction, you didn’t comment. You crawled back onto his bed, pulling a throw blanket over your legs before settling into the cushions happily, “Pancakes. Definitely pancakes, please.” You whispered, voice slightly improved now that you had some water.

It was entirely without thought that Poe leaned across his bed and placed a gentle kiss to your temple, before jumping up and promising to return with all the pancakes he could carry.

+

Poe sat with his drink held firm in his hand, his eyes flicking around the crowd before he sighed and settled back into his seat. The usual table, though this was the first time he’d been back to the Cantina since the funeral. Tommy and Rico had asked him a few times, of course, but he’d refused, never feeling quite ready to return.

Today though...he’d come because it was your birthday.

He’d have a drink for you. Even though he had no idea where in the fucking galaxy you’d gone.

And it wasn’t for lack of trying, but no matter who he went to, no one could or would give him your new assignment. You’d been clever and covered your tracks enough that you made sure anyone who would have helped Poe couldn’t see your assignment.

He’d never been more miserable in his life, never more angry with himself. He’d said awful shit to you and then disappeared for a few days to collect his head, thinking of how he’d apologize.

He’d wanted to tell you he loved you.

Instead, he broke your heart.

And you up and left before he could even begin to start making amends.

He was on his last possible source at this point, a person he hadn’t even wanted to go to. But Vanya had been kind to Poe, said she could try and see if anyone she was close with had the access needed. He told her he’d be here tonight, having a drink in your honour, if she wanted to stop by and let him know how she’d got along.

He just needed to find you, and then he would say everything he should have before, apologize to you and promise to make it up to you for the rest of his fucking life. He missed you so much it hurt, it hurt more than losing Charlie. You had disappeared in a way that almost made it feel like you had died as well.

He was starting to feel dead inside.

He glanced up, seeking Vanya out, and met the eyes of a woman at a nearby table, who shot him a friendly smile. He gave her what was probably more of a grimace in return, dropping his eyes to his drink. He wasn’t sure he was ready for...anything like that.

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Vanya walk in. She spotted him and waved, beginning to make her way over. As she grew closer, Poe could see the hard set to her jaw and felt his heart sink into his stomach-he could already tell she’d been unsuccessful.

When she sat down across from him, she heaved a great sigh, her eyes casting downward to look at her hands. “I’m sorry,” She looked up at him after a moment when he made no reply, “She’s smart, didn’t leave a lot to chance.”

Poe waved his hand, “It’s not your fault in the least, Vanya. I appreciate you trying.”

“I’m sure she’ll come back, once she’s grieved enough, had a chance to think things through.”

He wanted to laugh, but instead only grunted, “You didn’t get a chance to know her, but she’s more stubborn than...” He broke off and rubbed a hand over his face. Vanya’s face had fallen as the unspoken name sat between them, and he felt a surge of sadness for her-she had really loved Charlie. “I said...well, I don’t blame her for leaving. It’s already been a couple of months, she’s not coming back. I just wish one person in this fucking place could tell me more than ‘she’s alive.’.”

Vanya leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she bobbed her head in agreement, eyes kind, “Poe I saw you-both of you-that night when we first met here. I saw the way you looked at each other-“

Poe tried not to glare, frowning into his drink, “Yeah? And what do you think you know now?”

Vanya ignored his tone, unbothered, “I saw how in love you both were. That kind of love...it doesn’t go away. Not forever. She’ll come back.” And with that, Vanya dipped her head and let loose a wave of fresh tears as thoughts of how Charlie was never coming back sat in the air.

He reached across the table automatically and took her hand, squeezing. “I’m sorry, Vanya. Look, thank you for everything. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, alright?”

She smiled then, her eyes misty, but remarkably already recovering from her emotional moment, just the kind of tough lady Charlie loved. With a farewell hug, Vanya departed and left Poe alone at the table again. He sat for a minute, his drink nearly finished, and thought of all the times he sat here and took for granted what he had. Silently, he wished you a happy birthday wherever you were in the universe and hoped you weren’t even half as lonely and miserable as he was.

When he finally looked up again, the pretty woman at the table not far from his caught his eye again, and this time he smiled more broadly at her, tilting his head in question. She gestured at the seat next to her and after only a brief pause, Poe decided it was time to give himself a break from the monotony of grief and pain and loneliness and just escape for a few hours.

He joined the woman, Smiling in a way that didn’t feel real at all.

+

“This is nice, me getting to talk and talk with absolutely no interruptions-“

Tahla flinched when you kicked him under the table, and you stifled a giggle. Stars, it wasn’t as painful as when you’d woken up last night, but your throat still hurt. It was stinging, scratchy sort of pain when you made too much noise, but you found you’d been able to hold a low conversation with your friend over the past hour with minimal issues. It was just the laughing that did you in.

Poe had reluctantly dropped you off to the dining hall for an early dinner after you’d spent a good ten minutes convincing him you could handle going to dinner. He’d then been called away by BB8 to see the General, and you’d watched him actually contemplate what to do. It had almost been funny, but it also made butterflies erupt in your stomach-not for the first time that day. You shooed him away with the promise that you’d seek out Tahla or Temmin so that you wouldn’t be alone.

He’d been so attentive since you woke up, setting out clothing, then by bringing you breakfast and lunch and confining you to lounge on his bed all day. Despite your injury, it had kind of been one of the best days you’d had in years. It had felt a lot like old times, curled up in bed with Poe. The silence was comfortable as you read and he typed up his mission report, though the emotions running through you were entirely new.

It was a lot, emotionally, the last twenty-four hours. As traumatizing as your attack was, you felt like you were being best-taken care of by Poe and felt a little overwhelmed at how good he made you feel. He sensed everything you needed, right down to catching you when you’d be stuck on a page for a little too long, your thoughts turning inward, and he’d press a soft kiss to your hair, run his hand over your jaw, whisper sweet words of comfort.

You wanted to comfort him, too, for having to do what he did. For having to suffer through the worry of how injured you were and if you would recover. You didn’t know how to make him feel better, exactly, but you sensed that the more he took care of you the better he felt in turn, so you allowed him to fret more than was necessary.

And every time he touched you? Well, that was the thing, now that you’d encountered darkness where, for just a few moments you thought you were going to die, you realized you needed to tell him how you felt, finally. You weren’t sure how to bring it up, though, and ended up going back and forth in your head all day trying to decide.

“Lost in your head again, kid.” Tahla’s hand came to rest over yours from across the table; you glanced up from staring into your soup to meet his gaze. He looked extraordinarily understanding considering this wasn’t the first time it had happened during this dinner.

“Sorry. I guess I-I’ve never been attacked like that before. I’ve had, you know, guys pinch my ass or whatever and had no problem kicking the shit out of them if Charlie or Poe didn’t get to them first, but this was...” You trailed off and ran a hand over your face, then sipped your water to help soothe your throat as you spoke. “This wasn’t enemy forces, this wasn’t some guy in a cantina too many drinks in with a shit moral compass. This was-“

“Attempted assault,” Tahla said bluntly, squeezing your hand again. You gulped, then nodded, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry that you went through that, (y/n), I really am. I wish I could say something more insightful.”

You sighed heavily, waving off his concern, “The worst part is that I passed out before I could...and Poe didn’t say what he did, but I saw Temmin’s face when he was getting off the ship last night. I don’t care how he killed them, I just hate that I couldn’t help, that I couldn’t take away some of the responsibility from him.” You had another couple spoonfuls of your dinner, eyes on Tahla as he thought over your words.

“You know,” He began slowly, tapping his free hand on the table, “Poe basically said the same thing to me when he got me on comms last night. That he wished he’d prevented you from being hurt at all, that he failed in protecting you. He was so worked up, so upset, I thought you were close to death. He really loves you.”

Setting down your spoon with a clang, you sat up straighter before, quietly, replying. “Of course he does, and I love him. We’re a team, one of the best. We get the job done, always have. That’s why I’m freaking out, Tahla,” You flinched as your voice raised too high and your throat burned. You switched to a whisper, “He dropped everything mid-mission to save me, then brought me to the ship. He still...He sent in Kare, but it wasn’t exactly protocol.”

Tahla suddenly grinned at you in a bright, knowing sort of way that made you want to kick him again. Your scowl gave you away, “Don’t kick me, I’m just...I can’t believe you don’t see it. Don’t you realize-aren’t you in love with him?”

You blinked across the table; were you that obvious? If Tahla was calling you out, did that mean others, Poe, had figured you out? “Kriff, Tahla, why are you always so fucking blunt.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You glanced around wearily to ensure you wouldn’t be overheard, “I am, but I just got him back so I’m trying to time it-”

“Maker, I bet he tells himself the same thing and that’s why you’ve both been so fucking blind. You realize he cut down your attackers with his knife?” You stared at Tahla in surprise, “Then he carried you back to your ship and freaked the fuck out until he got you here, not to mention how he told the Healer on call to go to hell and only send me to look at you?”

“I-I, but-“ You gaped. You’d known some of the pieces, of course, but hadn’t realized the extent of Poe's panic.

Tahla laughed, not unkindly, “You want to know what we all used to say back home growing up?” He didn’t wait for your reply, seeming to understand from the expression on your face that words didn’t exist for you right now, “We said, ‘never mess with Poe’s girl’. Remember when Gus broke up with you, said some rude shit to you? Well, he ended up with a black eye for it. Poe’s always loved you. And since I’ve been here these past few weeks, it’s like you two are already a couple.”

You still didn’t know how to reply, so you were incredibly grateful when his pager went off and he glanced down before releasing your hand. With an apologetic smile, he began to stand, and you joined him-no longer hungry-and met him around the table. He pulled you in for a hug, his face schooled to a more neutral look when you pulled back slightly to peer up at him.

“Thanks for everything, Tahla. I’ll be sad when you leave next week.” You admitted softly, and his smile grew.

Leaning down, Tahla pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek and then turned his head slightly to whisper in your ear. “I’ll come back for the wedding, of course.”

And with that, he pulled back, winked at you, and then walked off toward the far doors of the dining hall. You had half a mind to follow him and kick him just for the hell of it, the cheeky bastard, but instead, you pushed your seat in and turned to head back to your room, hoping Poe would be done with the General and would give you an update.

When you walked into the hallway and spotted Poe coming along, a weirdly decisive sensation seemed to settle in your stomach, solidifying the moment his eyes found yours from several feet away. His face broke into a relieved, wide grin and that was it, that was the final cord snapped.

It was almost funny.

You saw a modicum of confusion knit his brows together when you suddenly marched towards him, jaw set because you were trying to reign in the intense emotions now bubbling up inside of you. “Sweetheart?” He said, frowning further when you grabbed his arm and started toward the direction of your rooms. You didn’t speak, afraid of opening your mouth and just word-vomiting every thought you’d ever had, and so you pulled him along silently.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him assessing you, trying to figure out what set you off, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth as he considered. When you got to the first empty hallway, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You halted, releasing his arm and spinning to face him straight on. Poe opened his mouth, but before he could ask you a question, it just...came out.

“I love you,” You sighed it, lower than you’d have liked to say it because of your damaged vocal cords, but he heard you. You knew because he stiffened like a board and his open mouth slackened almost comically. “I-I’m in love with you, Poe Dameron, and I always have been and I can’t hold it in any longer.”

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from babbling, holding his wide-eyed gaze steadily. Finally saying it aloud was about a million times better than it had felt to simply admit it to yourself. You felt like you could float away just for getting the truth out, though a level of anxiety began to grow the longer he stood silent before you. But you knew his eyes, every expression they’d ever held, and you could see that he was processing your words, that they grew brighter and brighter until movement caught your eye and you glanced down to see his fingers twitch, and then he was moving.

Poe reached up and caught your face gently in his hands, closing the distance between you both so that your bodies were pressed together. He gazed at you in wonder for a moment. “Oh my sweet girl,” He crooned softly, and you were melting into his touch, your heart was surely about to burst now, and then- “I have loved you in every eternity that has ever been, and will ever be. You are everything, sweetheart, everything to me. I should have...should have told you so many times before this.”

And then Poe Dameron slotted his lips over yours and kissed you deeply like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. It was like coming home. You were rooted to the ground now, his kiss anchoring you, his gentle caress over your cheeks sending fire into your veins that conflicted with the euphoria in your mind.

Because Poe, your Poe, was kissing you. Handsome, tall, broad and strong Poe. Your best friend, your soulmate, was kissing you and you didn’t think you could ever stop now. Your lips parted for him the same moment he did for you, and then you were tasting him and Stars, did he ever taste good. Like home-warm, a smouldering fire on a rainy evening. You knew he liked what he found in kissing you when he groaned lightly, his hands settling at the back of your neck and pressing you closer against him, deepening the kiss as your tongues danced, and you whimpered in response.

With a gasp, Poe pulled back and you saw more than love and adoration on his face, now you saw desire too. Real, heated desire.

And fuck, that pollen had absolutely nothing going for it, you saw that now. Seeing just a sliver of what desire truly looked like on his face, you knew it had all been a huge illusion brought on by the poison, during that mission. You were burning under his gaze now, every cell of your body alight and happy to surrender, responding to him before he’d barely moved. His hands were still on you and you realized yours were in fists at your sides so you reached up and did something you’d always wanted to do-sinking them into his curls.

“Fuck,” He rumbled the moment you gave a slight tug, his eyes fluttering closed briefly, a twitch appearing in his jaw. When he looked at you again you swear you burst into flames. “We need to...talk. In my room.” Before you could reply, he stooped and clasped his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting, and you realized he wanted to carry you.

And you were going to fucking let him. You pressed yourself against Poe and allowed him to guide your legs to wrap around his waist, whimpering again when his hands gripped your hips tightly. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him. You could see how determined he was to focus, to get to the privacy of his room. You nipped along his jaw as he hurried along, grateful the halls were quiet but truly you wouldn’t have cared if he bowled people over at this point. His hands flexed as you kissed him, pressed you even closer against him when you lightly sucked on a spot on his neck that tasted as delicious as it looked.

“Stars, Poe,” You whispered, playing with his hair still. “I love you so much.”

“Let m-me show you, how fucking much I love you, sweet girl.” He panted in response, stepping through the doorway to his room and laying you onto his bed. The door shut and locked at his command, sealing you into the privacy of his quarters. He pulled back to gaze down at you, eyes wide, then reached up with one hand to very lightly trace along your neck. “And no one is ever going to touch you again.”

He said it with such strength and conviction you could only nod, even though it was a tall promise to make given the lives you lived. Because you believed him; that he meant he would do anything in his power to keep you safe. When he lowered himself down over you and started to kiss you again, you relaxed entirely for probably the first time in your life.

Burning never felt so good.

+

Poe was kissing you. You were kissing Poe. It was, it had to be, a dream. But if it was a dream how could it feel so intense and real and right? How could kissing you possibly be as perfect as this? He felt like he was whole again-like his heart tripled in size the moment you told him you were in love with him and then every moment with his lips pressed to yours only continued to make it grow.

Yesterday he’d almost lost you, or at least thought he had, and now you were tangling your fingers in his hair and moaning underneath him as you kissed, your body trembling. He’d never been as hard as quickly in his fucking life, could feel himself pulsing where he was pressed against your leg. He wanted to be embarrassed but the look on your face when he’d dropped you onto the bed told him you were thinking the same thing as he was now, just as overwhelmed and needy to get as close as possible, skin to skin. To finally tear down every single barrier-mental and physical-between you and come together, be together.

Which was probably why it seemed to take no time to rip one another’s clothes off until Poe was only in his briefs and you were left in the briefs he’d given you that morning to wear.

“Oh sweetheart,” He murmured, his eyes running over your every dip and curve and swell, the smoothness of your skin calling to him. He was laving his tongue over your nipple the first time you cried out, the sound strangled and broken enough that he pulled back and looked at you closely. “You can’t be loud, sweet girl. I want you to, trust me, but you have to be a good girl. We don’t want to hurt your voice any more than it already is, okay?”

“O-okay, I’ll try.”

Poe hummed, “Tell me the moment you want to stop. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable-”

You slid one hand out of his hair and dropped it between your bodies as he was speaking, coming to grip his length over his underwear. Poe broke off with a hiss, automatically thrusting into your hold. “I’ve b-been waiting my whole life for you, Poe Dameron.” You sighed, releasing his erection and tracing your hand along the planes of his stomach and chest. “Never stop. I’m yours and I never want to stop.”

A possessive feeling, one that had always lingered in the background when Poe was with you, increased tenfold at your words, further driven by what had happened yesterday. He growled before capturing your mouth in another, more fierce kiss, his tongue exploring you as he ground his hips down a little.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping and even more flushed, your chest heaving as you looked at him. “You’re mine,” He repeated, bracing one arm on the bed and trailing the other down to tease over your centre, dipping below the band of his briefs. “I’m yours, too, sweet girl.” And he locked eyes with you as he pushed two fingers inside of you, gasping out at the blissed-out, contained moan you allowed yourself and the feel of how tight and wet you were.

Your hips bucked when he pressed in deep and curled his fingers, playing with you until he found a spot within that made you just about shoot off of the bed. With a wicked grin, he started to tease that spot and watched your face as you came undone bit by bit for him.

It was the most vivid, raw experience of his entire life. Every single moment soaked into his mind and became a permanent, detailed memory-your little whines and pleas, the roll of your hips, the heat of your slick and how he could smell you, just the right amount of sweetness. It was all so much more than the sex you’d had during the pollen exposure. Every other sense had been cut down and pushed back during that, but now they were all operating on full levels and it felt so right. It enabled Poe to work you through to your orgasm with ease all the while just about ready to cum in his underwear as he did.

“Shit, you are fucking beautiful, sweet girl,” He moaned, adjusting the arm he was bracing himself with so that he could clamp that hand over your mouth. He sensed you were close, could feel your tight walls clenching, and wanted to protect you from harming yourself if you forgot you couldn’t scream. “Cum for me-I’ve imagined it so many times, need to see you cum for real, for me. I’ll keep you safe, go ahead, let go.”

He felt your lips part behind his hand, then your entire body went rigid and you came hard, back arching until a significant amount of wetness soaked his hand, and the bed, and you started to whine and shake from the intensity of it all. Poe growled as you came, glancing down in wonder to see more wetness pool and realizing you were squirting, and he hadn’t known you could do that.

“Fuck, baby, is that for me? You perfect little thing, you are the hottest fucking woman. Holy shit!”

You slumped into the mattress with a huge breath, the warm air hitting his hand and he moved it so that you could catch your breath. With care he slowly removed his fingers from you, looking from your blissed-out expression to your soaked underwear, to your essence all over his hand. He quickly removed your panties, then shuffled down the bed, even more turned on now.

“I just, fuck I need to taste you real quick, sweet girl.” And he dove into your folds before you could respond, taking care to avoid your sensitive nub, and licked you like it was his last meal. You tasted fucking delicious and he didn’t want to stop, pushing your legs apart he cleaned up every drop you’d leaked while you whimpered for him.

“Sh-shit,” You cried, voice low, writhing against his hold on your hips. “Poe, please. Please!”

Poe pulled back, licking his lips, and grinned up at you. “You okay, sweet girl?” You nodded and he rose, eager to get you over the edge again so that he could lick up everything you gave him. “Please what? What do you need?” He crawled back up your body, chuckling when he felt your hands pushing desperately at his briefs.

You cleared your throat, “You. Always needed you, Poe.” You whispered, your voice so filled with emotion you nearly knocked him over. He took over pushing his briefs off and then reached under you with both arms, securing your body before lifting you, changing positions so that you were sitting in his lap. His length pressed against your thigh as you settled.

Poe stroked some stray hair out of your face and kissed you softly, holding you against him and savouring the moment. He’d never been so filled with emotion and pleasure before, every woman he’d been with over the years simply could not compare to the power and love between you and Poe, and it was terrifying. Sensing his apprehension, you drew back from the kiss and stroked along his jaw soothingly and Poe took a moment to simply drink you in.

“I never knew anything could be like this,” He admitted, now running his hands all over your body, pausing to squeeze his favourite curves. You smiled at him, pupils blown wide with lust, your expression telling him you agreed. “I’ve wasted so many years, (y/n). I’m so sorry.”

“No,” You shook your head, dropping one hand to seek out his length and holding it gently in your hand, lining him up. “No, we aren’t apologizing for our mistakes anymore. It’s you and me now, Poe, you, and, m-me.” You lowered yourself, your scratchy voice breaking off into a sigh of content as you slowly sunk onto his length.

Poe had pictured being with you like this many times in his life, certainly more than he’d like the admit. But even combined, none of those fantasies could come close to how it felt to bring your bodies together, the fucking ecstasy, the sight of his cock splitting you open as you slowly took him inch by inch. Your hands tangled in his hair again as a low, continuous whine fell from your lips. Your face was slightly scrunched as you tried to relax and accommodate him, and Poe was enraptured, watching everything with his hands at your hips.

You were devastating. And you were his.

Poe hurled headfirst into oblivion as you settled fully on his lap, a groan escaping as your tight heat clenched around him, and it was all he could do to speak, to just tell you how perfect you were. “Baby, oh fuck, I love you,” He leaned back slightly, dropping one arm to brace on the bed and then gripping your hip with the other. Poe set a slow and deliberate pace with his feet pressing into the baseboard of his bed. He rolled up, then back, his cock dragging halfway out before sinking back into you as you gripped his shoulders and whimpered above him.

It was sensual, soft, each movement like a slow dance, your hips rolling down to meet his in perfect harmony with his thrusts. You were biting your lip, eyes locked on Poe’s, and he could feel you flutter around him every time he groaned; so he let himself make noise, let you hear how good you made him feel, grunting and cursing with every blissful motion.

Even though the pleasure kept mounting Poe didn't want to rush this, so he moved at the same pace for a long time. Occasionally stopping completely when he was fully inside of you and relishing the sensation until you whimpered and he would move again with a grunt. It was divine, perfection...you. It was all you.

“Poe,” You whimpered as you moved one hand from his shoulder to push into his curls, urging him toward you as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his. He kissed you slowly as well, licking into your mouth, over your lips, drinking up your moans, until eventually it wasn’t enough for you and you made a noise in your throat, a little frustrated sound that made him smirk. Made him even fucking harder.

Without warning he sat forward, brought both hands to your hips and slammed you down onto his cock, using his strength to lift and drop you. ��Sweet girl,” Poe grunted as your head tilted back in a silent cry, “That’s it, cum for me, let me feel you, baby, please.” He was desperate to feel you cum on his cock, pulling out and then slamming you back down, meeting you halfway as you struggled to hold in your noises, and Poe let loose another round of groans that seemed to propel you straight over the edge.

Your body curved forward as you came, one of your hands shooting to cover your own mouth as you sobbed in pleasure. He kept moving, watching your face rapturously until a strong clench around his cock drew his gaze downward. He had a moment to recognize what was about to happen before roaring in delight as you squirted for him again, the hot wetness coating his lap. The room filled with the wet slapping sounds of your body meeting his and Poe had to actively work not to cum, setting his jaw and gripping your hips with almost bruising strength.

“Ahh,” You whimpered, your legs going limp. Before you could fully collapse into Poe, he flipped you onto your back and started to fuck you into his mattress while peppering you with soothing kisses, “Oh Poe, more!”

He was right there, nearing the edge and yet savouring every deep thrust into your tight cunt. His movements were getting sloppy now, and he wasn’t even trying to hold back his noises because you felt so fucking good and this was so perfect and he loved you so much.

“Oh baby, baby-” He slammed into you one last time, dropping most of his weight down onto you and filling you deeply as he began to cum, his hips stuttering. You were moaning for him, weakened legs hooking behind his ass to draw him closer as he filled you, “I love you, I love you, I love you-“ He couldn’t stop saying it now, his head dropping to your shoulder-careful to avoid your injured throat-he just kept repeating himself between grunts.

As he started to come down from the high, he realized you were speaking, your voice a whisper in his ear, hands stroking his hair. “I love you too, Poe, my Poe,” He was gasping now, everything that had transpired catching up to him in the clarity of post-orgasmic bliss and your words brought his emotions back to the forefront.

He made to move back, only you stopped him, keeping him close. He looked at you, “You okay, my sweet girl?” Stars, you looked fucked out in the best ways and he swore he could cum again just at the sight of you as drunk on him as he was on you.

You nodded, giving him a soft little smile, “Just stay inside me a little longer.”

Fuck, you were going to kill him, you were so hot.

As much as he liked the idea, he didn’t want to stay on top of you and crush you, so he considered carefully before rolling you both, settling himself into the bed as you lay atop him, whimpering at the movement before resting your head on his chest. He’d started to soften inside of you, but remaining in your warmth kept him semi-hard, not something he’d ever done before and yet he decided at that moment he wanted to do it all the time.

“That was...you are perfect, you know that? Dreamt of you my whole life and that was better than I ever could have imagined.” Poe beamed at you when you looked up at him, your eyes bright. He had never been so radiantly happy in his entire life.

You reached up and ran your hand along his jaw, “Says the man who made me squirt. Twice.” You gigged, and he gazed at you for a moment before responding.

“You’ve done that before, yeah?”

When you shook your head, Poe felt a mixture of both surprise and pride swell within him, and you read that in his expression. “Yes flyboy, that was all you.” Another throaty giggle, which then morphed into a full cough as you hit the limit on your poor vocal cords.

Poe was up in an instant, carefully slipping from you and hurrying to his fridge to get you water. He passed it to you and then went into his fresher to get a warm washcloth. You were gulping the water gratefully when he returned, your eyes raking over his body with a level of possessiveness that made his cock twitch. You wanted him to yourself as much as he wanted you to himself, that much was now abundantly clear.

“Alright, sweet girl, let me take care of you,” He whispered, running the washcloth gently through your folds and tidying you up. You cooed softly, relaxing into the bed. When he was satisfied, he lifted you into his arms and carried you into the fresher to set you on his toilet. “You pee, I’m going to change the sheets.” And he wiggled his brows at you, earning him another big smile that settled right down into his oversized heart.

A short while later Poe Dameron was laying in his bed with you held in his arms. This was not the first time in his life that he drifted off to sleep with you, but it was the first time you were both nude and satisfied and so wholly consumed with your love for one another.

It was the first time he would wake in the middle of the night, hard and aching, only to find you already awake and needy for him, moaning when he rocked his hips into you and fucked you slow.

It was the first time since Charlie’s funeral that Poe would sleep entirely at peace, wrapped around his soulmate.

+

If you thought making love with Poe Dameron was perfect beyond expectations, it almost made it unfair how fucking good he was at eating you out.

You’d both woken late the morning after coming together and felt ready for more-you wanted him inside of you again. Only he insisted he hadn’t gotten anywhere near his fill of tasting you last night. Now he was happily lapping between your folds with his skilled, hot tongue and absolutely wrecking you, one hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet because he knew how fucking good he was.

You saw it the first time he’d made you squirt and then watched it solidify when you admitted you’d never done so before. It was hot, seeing the mixture of passion and cockiness, skill and care. You fell more and more in love with him throughout the night, when you came together and fit so perfectly, and now you were about ready to beg him for his cock before he killed you with his mouth.

When you came again for him, you were spent and though you did get wetter, you didn’t squirt. He didn’t mind, eagerly drinking up what you did give him before moving to kiss your thighs, then eased your legs together and began to massage the aching muscles. “Such a good girl,” He praised, his muscular figure drawing your eyes. You hadn’t realized how talkative, how much noise he would make, and it was the hottest shit. His groans were downright sinful, were what sent you rocketing into your orgasms the night before. “I should keep you here all day, wet and ready for me.”

“Fuck,” You replied, the words shooting straight to your core even after all of the orgasms you’d had. You sat up, struggling slightly and Poe reached out and gripped your arms, lifting you in another show of his strength that made you kind of dizzy with lust. “You’re insatiable. But we’re having lunch with Tahla, remember?”

Realization flashed over his face and he glanced over at his wrist comm next to the bed, relaxing when he saw there was still time before lunch. “Shit, I forgot. He’s leaving soon though, right? So I don’t want to bail.”

“Next week,” Poe moved to sit next to you, both of your backs against the wall now. He pulled the blanket from where it had been kicked to the end of his bed to cover you both. “He said something...that sort of made me realize how stupid I was being, right before I saw you yesterday.”

Poe turned his head to face you, his arms circling your waist and tugging you close to his side, “Oh? What did our wise, filter-free friend say?”

You giggled, then cleared your achy throat, “I had said I was going to miss him when he left and he told me he’d come back for our wedding.” You thought Poe would laugh with you, or at least scoff, but instead, he’d gone quiet and his expression turned inward in a way you couldn’t read. You hesitated a moment before tilting your head into his line of sight, though his mind was clearly a million miles away, “Poe?”

He looked at you then, for what felt like the first time in your life because of how intense his expression was, filled with love and something you couldn’t get a read on.

“I’m sorry,” He began, shaking his head a little, “I just...you are the love of my life. I meant everything I said last night.”

Warmth filled you as he spoke; you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to him saying such perfect things to you. Saying he loved you. “I know, Poe, I meant everything too.” You assured him, brushing your hair over his forehead to push back some stray curls.

Poe nodded, his expression still intense, eyes bright, “We’ve lost a lot of time, sweet girl. But I don’t want to waste another minute. I-” He paused, and you were growing increasingly confused. When he suddenly pulled away standing up to cross his room, your curiosity spiked, confusion at an all-time high.

Until that is, you saw what he was doing.

He was pulling something out of the inner breast pocket of his flight suit, lifting a chain and then turning to you back at the bed. He glanced between his hand and you once, stealing himself before dropping down to one knee next to the bed.

“Maybe he won’t have to come back for our wedding,” Poe opened his palm to reveal exactly what you knew he kept in his flight suit, “Maybe he’s here just in time. Marry me, (y/n). I love you and I never want to spend another minute without you. You are my soulmate, so please marry me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes fell from the passionate look on Poe’s face to his mother’s wedding band that lay in his outstretched hand.

+

34 ABY - Aftermath of the Battle of Takodana - D’Qar

Climbing from his ship with his adrenaline running high thanks to the success on Takodana, Poe turned and gasped when saw his droid, the orange and white blur zooming over to him. “BB8 my buddy!” He cried, dropping to his knees, “It’s so good to see you!” He looked the droid over, happy to see it looked to be in good shape.

BB8 beeped, excitedly explaining what had happened to it, “What? Saved you? Where is he?” He asked, the droid responding quickly and Poe glanced up, eyes landing on the defected ex-Storm Trooper who had saved Poe. Holy shit!

Finn spotted Poe at the same time and began running forward, “Poe?” He called, and Poe rose to his feet and started towards him, still reeling in surprise that Finn was here, that he was okay.

Poe felt himself grin, “Oh no!”

“Poe Dameron, you’re alive?”

Rushing up to Finn, Poe gasped out, “Buddy!” He pulled his new friend in for a hug, “So are you!” And he looked well enough, thankfully, too. Poe had worried he’d been captured back by the First Order after he couldn’t find him on Jakku.

“What happened to you?

“What happened to me? I got thrown from the crash. Woke up at night-no you, no ship, nothing,” Poe released Finn, pointing to him and then to his droid, “Listen, BB8 says that you saved him.”

“No, no, it wasn’t just me-“

Poe stepped closer to Finn, needing the man to understand, “You completed my mission Finn, I-that’s my jacket.” His gaze dropped to the jacket-his jacket- that Finn was wearing.

Finn glanced down, “Oh,” And he started to take it off and suddenly, Poe realized he didn’t need the jacket back, that Finn needed it more.

“No, keep it,” He punched Finn’s arm affectionately, “It suits you.”

Finn stopped and straightened, his eyes roving over Poe once again, “I still can’t believe your alive, Poe.”

Poe laughed, grasping his friends' shoulders, “You’ve got no idea what I have to live for, Finn. Dying ain’t an option.”

Tags

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[the-midnight-slasher-official]

vincent sinclair-breeding

.

WARNING: SMUT. FORCED BREEDING. LYING

you have been in ambrose for awhile now. You cant really remember your life before ambrose. Your positive no one remembers you and or misses you. Yes bo is a huge asshole to you, and vincent is always your saving grace when bo is in a shitty mood. and lester would also be a huge saving grace as well, but hes always away doing god knows what.

Bo was huge on killing you because he didnt see any potential in you. but vincent wanted to keep you, and lester liked having you around also. So bo let you stay with vincent. Bo made it clear that your vincents pet and that your vincents problem. If anything bad happens to you vincent would be cleaning up the mess and dealing with your body. But vincent would never let anything bad happen to you. He always keeps you by his side and never lets you out of his sight.

He fell too deep in love to let you out of his sight let alone going to the bathroom. Vincent absolutely hated it when you sneak out of the room at night. He was extremely paranoid that you would leave the house and run away, and tonight just happened to be one of those nights. you were currently laying in Vincent and yours shared bed. you were locked in the bedroom in the house while Vincent worked away in the house of wax. you couldnt escape through the window because he had bo bolt it shut. you stared up at the ceiling determining whether you hated vincent or not. He kept you trapped here, and would never let you leave his side. But you deep down were very in love him, and you tried to hate him because you couldnt ever deal with the rejection from him.

while you were thinking away your worries and anxiety in the bed at 2:23 am. Vincent was also busy thinking about his worries and anxieties while he was drawing in his wax cave under the house of wax. He stopped drawing a long time ago because he began to focus on the thought of you leaving while he was trying to draw, and now thats all he can think about. So he sat at his desk and thought really hard about what could make you willingly stay without him having to force it upon you.  his biggest turn on's he had with you was your size. you were smaller than him and he found that cute and a huge turn on.

He wanted to take good care of you and give you flowers and give you baths. but he already does that. he already gives you a roof over your head and feeds you three times a day, and gives you baths and every morning he gives you flowers. But he also went to bo for advice on how to keep you close, and of course bo being bo said that he doesnt give a shit about what vincent does with you because your not his problem. But bo did suggest getting you pregnant so you could stay with vincent and it would also give him an opportunity to show you that he can treat you well even when your pregnant and be a good father to the child.

Vincent thought long and hard while he sat at his desk. And he chose that he will get you pregnant so you could stay close to him and rely on him. He wants to do it out of love. Because he loves you dearly. he loves you so much that hes willing to kill his own siblings that hurt you in any way or form. He huffed out of exhaustion and closed his sketch book and cleaned everything up, and shut off all the lights. He headed through the tunnels and made his way up to the trap door that opens to a room in the house. he opened the trap door and hoisted himself up out of it and walked through the house to get to his room.

he opened the door to your and his shared and room and noticed that the light was quickly shut off and you quickly got into a fake sleeping position. he sighed and closed the door and kicked off his boots. he walked over to the bed while taking off his wax covered apron and tapped your shoulder. you got scared and jerked and looked up at him, not expecting him to touch you in any way or form.

"what where you still doing up?" he signed to you.

"i was asleep" you said fake yawning.

"bullshit" he signed.

you rolled over facing away from his side of the bed. vincent got into comfy clothes and slid into bed and put an arm around you and played with your hair until you actually fell asleep. a few hours later you woke up and had to go to the bathroom but vincents hand was wrapped around your waist. you knew he hated it when you left the room at night. but you had to pee very badly.  

you very carefully moved his arm and slid out of bed. occasionally looking behind you to make sure that hes still asleep. you looked over at his night stand and seen his mask. It made your heart melt and you smile. He was confident enough to take off his mask around you. you looked at the ground and seen his discarded clothes, and that kinda turned you on a little bit, and you looked at him and seen that he was wearing plaid boxers and a korn shirt. his long hair was all over the pillows, and his body was wrapped up on the sheets. you admired one of his strong arms behind his head.

you quickly turned around and tip toed to the door. you quietly turned the knob and realized that he locked it. you felt stupid for forgetting that he locks the door at night as well. you tip toed to his nightstand and opened the little drawer it had and grabbed the key. He doesnt know that you knew the key was in there. you walked back to the door and quietly unlocked it and went to the bathroom. after going to the bathroom you walked back to the room. you stepped into the door way and seen vincent still sleeping. so you took this advantage to go downstairs and get a glass of water since you didnt get a glass before bed.

you walked pass a sleeping lester on the couch to get to the kitchen. you didnt want to wake him up either. not that he would hurt you or drag you back upstairs. you just didnt wanna wake him up from his dream. he looked extremely exhausted. you went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass and opened the fridge to get some fresh filtered cold water. you filled the glass, and took a few huge chugs. you walked passed lester again asleep on the couch and you noticed the front door. sure vincent would be awake for awhile. so you stepped out onto the front porch to have fresh air. and you didnt realize that you were out there for more than ten minutes.

you heard a noise and turned around and seen vincent fuming angry behind you. he was breathing heavy and his eye brows were furrowed. he grabbbed your arm and pulled you through the front door.  he dragged you up the stairs while thinking about what to do with you. because you just flared up his paranoia about you leaving.  as he reached the top of the stairs, he picked you up and carried you to the room. he set you on the bed and grabbed the key out of your pocket and locked the door. he angrily slammed the key on the dresser. he looked at you wondering what to do.

he thought about what bo said. But he wanted to do it out of love when you were ready and not force. But he realized that he had to get you pregnant in order for you to stay with him. Besides he really wants a kid with you, but he knows that you dont want any with him, at least he doesnt think.

you deep down wanted his kids but you never said anything to him. He stared at you while he thought about how to deal with this, but knocking you up seemed to be the only thing on his mind. fuck he wanted you to have his kids. he walked over to you and pushed you down into the bed.

"vincent. i wasnt trying to leave, i promise. i was just getting fresh air" you said. but he shut you up by kissing you. and lifting you shirt. you swatted vincents hand away. but he slid his hand right under your shirt and groped your chest. the small moan you made was all vincent needed to continue. he roughly slid off your pajama pants and stood back up admiring the way you looked so small and vulnerable for him. he loved how you were so much smaller than him. that makes him feel more confident. He bent down and kissed you passionately. he unbuttoned the crotch area of his pajama pants and took his cock out, without taking off the pants. and he plunged into your soaking wet cunt.

he began at a fast angry pace.

"v-vincent" you groaned. he only thrusted faster. grabbing your thighs and pushing them to your chest as he leans over you and pounds you into the mattress. after awhile he reached down to your cunt and began to rub your swollen nub. making you scream in ecstasy. when he thinks you've squirted enough, he pulled out and signed for your to get on your knees. once you did, he signed for you to open your mouth. you opened your mouth and he grabbed his cock and slid in. throwing his head back as he began to fuck your mouth like he did your pussy. pre cum and spit began to drool out the sides of your mouth and hit the floor and run down your chest. his wet balls were smacking against your chin. every moan you make, made him shove his big hard cock deeper down your throat.

after a few minutes of the wet sounds of his cock balls deep down your throat. he pulled out and laid you down on the bed with your head hanging off the end and he slammed his cock back down your throat. he absolutely loved the way his cock made your throat bulge. he wrapped his hand around your throat feeling the way his cock pumped in and out. he quickened his pace and you felt his balls smack your face over and over. you gagged out pre cum and drool out of your mouth around his cock. he slowed down just to hear the pre cum and drool hit the floor.

he pulled out and flipped you back around facing him and he plunged back in full force making you scream. he fucked you faster than ever before making you see stars. the only sounds filling the room was his balls smacking your ass and your loud moans. he looked down at you signed

"do you want my kids babygirl?"

"yes. yes please. i want your kids so fucking bad. knock me up good baby" you moaned. and that was enough for him to bury his cock deep in your sopping cunt and shoot his seed. he then leaned down and kissed you deeply.

"i love you" he signed.

"i love you too vincent" you said as your forehead pressed against his. he looked surprised that you said that you loved him. but kissed you deeply shoving his tongue down your throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~the next morning you walked down the stairs and seen bo and lester staring at you and vincent. you blushed and vincent held the small of your back as he walked with you to the kitchen. he sat you down at the table and went to the fridge to get you something. you know they heard you and vincent last night.

"fuck loud enough?" bo said shooting you both a dirty look.

"fuck off" vincent signed.