#SORRY SORRY UGH today has been the worst day ever let me tell you

[kavehater]

Hearing some lady on tiktok saying alhaitham staying up late at night thinking about how he fumbled so hard and should’ve kept his mouth shut cause canonically both kavehs parents had admirers and that meant that kaveh “was getting them hoes” WAS NOT SOMETHING I THOUGHT ID HEAR REGARDING MY WIFE HELP 😭

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[busycloudy]

hii if that's okay can I take a coffee mixed with tea with a muffin and a dragon? Thank you so much in advance!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

A Comforting Dragon

Coffee + Tea(Comfort) Muffin(They walk in to see you crying) Dragon Lollipop(Malleus Draconia)

A/N: Hello Lilian! Sorry if this is ooc, I haven't really wrote for Malleus yet! I do hope you still enjoy this!

You slammed your room door in Ramshackle shut. The dorm shook. You hopped onto your bed and laid there, just staring at the ceiling.

Today was a frustrating day. You were on your last straw, but even that had been taken from you.

You had the worst headache ever after taking care of the first years and making sure Grim didn't burn anything. Grim had nearly burned your whole dorm down a few minutes ago actually. Then Crowley had sent you to do some things, and now you have to study and do some homework.

You did not have the energy to do that right now. All you wanted to do was relax for once. But then again, everything was due tomorrow. "Better do it now then...." You mumbled, grabbing the papers.

You took a seat back in your bed, looking at a sheet of paper. Your frowned. You read it again. "What?" You read it another time. This made no sense. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't make any sense. "Ugh, I'll just move on to the next paper" You muttered.

You moved on to the next paper. Still, it made absolutely no sense. You moved on to the next one, and next thing you know you're back at the first paper after looking through all of the papers. Nothing made sense right now.

All you wanted to do was cry with how frustrated you were now. Nothing made sense, but they were due tomorrow. What the hell were you supposed to do? All this frustration was starting to get to you.

You started to think about everything that has happened to you every since you came here. One thought only lead more. You couldn't stop thinking.

A salty tear rolled down your cheek. One tear turned into more. Your thoughts started consuming your head.

Time started passing. Maybe minutes later you heard your door open. You looked up, wiping your tears. "Oh.. hey Tsunotarou..." You sniffles. Malleus then had a bit of a frown, and you could hear lighting strike.

Malleus then walked over to you, sitting beside you on your bed. "My love, what happened?" He said, a worried look on his face.

You just sniffled. "Nothing... " You muttered. "Do know you can speak freely with me" Malleus reassured you. " You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but now I'll always comfort you and be by your side" He sympathetically smiled.

You gave in. Telling him your frustration about all the work, and how thoughts started going through your mind. How ever since you had arrived here it had felt like hell. Sure, there were good moments! But those bad moments made everything shit.

Malleus comforted you while you said this. Staying quiet, and letting you talk. He rubbed your back to try and calm you.

You finished talking, then looking at him. "I.. I'm sorry. I'm probably just overreacting..." You wiped your tears. "Dearest, your not overreacting. I'm glad you decided to tell me this. I'll help you if needed" Malleus answered. You shook your head "Please do" You sniffled. "Anything for you, my treasure"

Malleus would help you live in this world. He'd help you every step of the way. No matter the cost. As long as you're happy.

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: Harassment, canon violence. Word count: 8K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Shells Town, 153 Marine Branch.

Y/N, huffing and puffing, speeds walk through the townspeople, she was late for her shift at Food Foo and all because of that absolute idiot.

That little fucking weasel, he is. Ugh!!! just thinking about it makes her blood boil even more. Whatever, it’s her own fault, she should have known better than to get close to Cygnus or any man really.

She scoffs to herself. ‘She’s no good’ As if he was any better. Both of them had their own things, their own faults, Y/Nthought that was part of why they connected in the first place but it seems she was mistaken. And Y/N would have believed that was his reason for 'dumping' her but she has heard the rumours. She has heard the whispers of him charming up the daughter of one of the lieutenants...

It doesn’t matter anyway, she has been in Shells town for about 6 months now, and she should probably leave soon.

When she finally arrives at Food Fo, Y/N sends Ayana a guilty look when the owner of the restaurant sends her the ‘warning’ look.

Y/N didn’t wait for her to start scolding her, she quickly walked behind the counter, left her guitar there and grabbed her apron, wrapping it around herself and muttering as she did. “I know I know. I’m sorry, Ayana,”

“At least you're here. It seems today is going to be a busy day,” the woman said from the bar, nodding at the plenty of marines, most already falling in their cups.

“Lovely,” Said Y/N with no enthusiasm.

The Marines are the worst. The very fucking worst, they are vile and foul.

Ayana hums in agreement as a cook passes a platter of dumplings, she takes it and then passes it to Y/N before pointing at the table on the back. “Table 5, then take these drinks to 11.”

“Got it,” Y/N nods and quickly makes her way to it, smiling at the customers, a couple, charmingly. “A plate of dumplings for you, a couple of peanuts. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

With that, she left to take the drinks to table 11 whilst greeting her coworkers with a smile as she walked past them. Hours pass and Y/N continues her shift, ignoring the shameless flirting and other hiccups…

“Here are your pork chops and Oden Soup, and not to be biased but our Oden Soup is the best in the whole town,” Y/N said as she softly laid the plate on the table before smiling at the couple and parroting, “Okay, let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said the guy.

“I wasn’t aware they hire about any skank from the streets,” the girl says under her breath before glaring up at Y/N.

“Bree!!” The boyfriend looks at his girlfriend With exasperation.

The girl, scoffs crossing her arms, “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way she’s parading herself around? Everyone here notices it,”

“Bree, please can you not?”

“Can I not what, Laurent? Can I not call her out for her attitude, huh? Why are you defending her?”

Y/N purses her lips, holding back the words that want to escape her lips and takes a couple of steps back, “I’m going to go now…”

“Yeah, you do that,” sharply said the girl, once again her narrow eyes on Y/N.

The girl simply turns and makes her way back to the bar. She leans against the bar and closes her eyes, a tired sigh leaves her.

“Bad table?” Asks Asimi, one of her many coworkers and friends.

Y/N shrugs turning to her, “Nothing unusual, but today has not been my day…”

“I’ll switch mine with yours,” said Rei, another waitress, as she passed a new order to the cook. “I have the most entitled Marines right now, they had me return their meals 3 times already because it's just 'not like what they’re used to' like one would think they got their swords stuck up their ass or something,”

Y/N and Asimi laugh.

“I’m being serious, Y/N, switch tables with me. They’ll be less dickheads to you thanks to that pretty face of yours.” Rei said pinching Y/N's cheek.

Y/N shakes her head, moving away from the girl's fingers, “Thanks for the compliment babes but I’ll take my chances with the match made in heaven,”

“Worth a shot,”

Ayana places two cups in front of Y/N and points at the group in the back, “Table 3, please Y/NN,”

Y/N takes the cups and walks to the table of Marines. She once again smiles at the men as she sets the drinks down. “Here you are! Two beers for the gentleman’s.”

“Hey sweetheart, can I get another round of sake?” Said an older Marine from the next table to them.

Y/N nods, “Sure thing, sweets, anything else you want?”

“Is a kiss from you on the menu?” Laughs the old Marine earning chuckles from others.

Ugh! Disgusting!

“Not on this one, fortunately for me!” Y/N said as he picked up a few empty cups. “However, If you read the menu closer there’s your captain's number in there somewhere maybe you can call it so he can give you that kiss you want? Hope you don’t mind steel, though,”

The Marines around them laughed and so did the older man, Y/N was slightly relief because there had been instances where the Marines did not enjoy her… sense of humor.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response she simply took the last empty cups and made her way back to the bar. She turns to Ayana “A bottle of sake for table 4”

Ayana nods as she looks for the bottle, and Y/N lets her head fall back. She pressed her hands on her shoulders.

Gods, she hates working. Why does she continue working in this job?

Then, as if on cue, Y/N felt two tiny arms wrapping themselves around her middle. Ah, yes, because she’s a softy…. And money.

“Y/NN!!” Rika, Ayana’s daughter, looks up at her.

“I was wondering when you’ll show up,” Y/N laughed as she leaned down to return the hug. “How was school, Rikis?”

“It was alright,” Rika shrugs stepping back, she grins. “I practised the cup trick you showed me,”

“Did you? Well, in that case, you have no choice but to show me, little miss,” Y/N smiles at the girl, she nudges the girl with her elbow teasingly as Ayana places the bottle of sake on the bar.

“Nooo…” Rika chuckles hiding her face under her hands.

“Rika, go change,” Ayana tells her daughter motioning the door that leads to the kitchens.

“We’ll talk about it,” Y/N takes the green bottle and winks at Rika as she moves to take the sake to the Marines.

A couple of more hours pass and the bar thankfully the customers flow in and out with ease. Y/N was glad that her shift would soon be over so she could finally play with the band.

“Take the orders from 16, Y/NN, then you're off,” Ayana says with a nod at the two boys who had just sat down at a table.

“Right on,”

Y/N makes her way to the two boys, one of them has pinkish hair, and round glasses and the other a dark curls under a straw hat and a red vest.

“Hello guys, welcome to Food Foo!” Y/N smiles at them like she does with all her customers. “Can I get you, handsome gentlemen, some drinks to start before deciding what to order?”

The boy with pink hair turned a shade of deep red, a shade Y/N had never seen very little in her life, it was kind of funny. “Uh… I- I…”

“No need, I want one of everything and a milk, please.” Said the boy with the straw hat, smiling back at Y/N.

Y/N was slightly surprised but nodded nonetheless, “A big appetite you’ve got there sweets.”

“Ah, I just love food,” the boy said, tapping his stomach with a grin.

“Who doesn’t?” Y/N nods, writing on her pad, “Food is the best part of life, I’ll say.”

“Right?!! It’s just amazing,”

Y/N laughed at his excitement, he was like a puppy. He was cute. She then turns to the boy in round glasses, “What can I get you to drink, pretty boy?”

“Uh… a- a water would be nice, thank you,” the bright red was still displaying itself on the boy's cheeks.

“Alright, everything will be ready in a few minutes, boys,” She told them, “If you want anything else, please don’t hesitate to call for me,”

With a last smile she left them. She then went to do a few more rounds, cleaning away the dishes and cups, collecting money and such before she was called to pick up the food for the two boys.

“Alright, here you are!” Y/N places the plates on the table. “One of everything,”

Before she even finished putting the plates on the table the boy in a straw hat was already almost finishing his first plate.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his muffled by the food in his mouth.

The boy with pink hair sends her a small grin, “Thank you, miss.”

“No problem boys, call if you need anything else,”

As she left, she glanced at the clock and let out a sigh of relief. Her shift is over, thank the gods. She walked behind the counter took off her apron and took her guitar before walking through the kitchens, where she greeted the cooks.

“You playing today, Y/NN?” asks Gunny, one of the cooks, offering her a plate of chips.

She grins at him as she takes one chip, “Yeap, and I better see you at least once, dumpling. Even if it's peaking.”

“Y’know I never miss your performances,” said the man returning her grin.

Y/N walks to the back of the bar where there is a small room for employees, to change into her clothes. She put in a bit of makeup, some light colour over her eyes, a bit of pink in her cheeks and painted her lips a soft red shade.

“You look so pretty, Y/NN… can you paint me too?” asks Rika, she had slithered her way into the small room a few minutes ago and was watching her do her makeup.

“Last I did, your Ma wasn't happy about it, Rikis,” Y/N told her looking at the girl through the mirror as she twisted her silver locks in a loose braid. “And considering she's the one I'm renting my room to and my boss, I’d rather not risk it.”

Rika huffs in disappointment, leaning against the wall. “You think one day I'll be as pretty as you?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N smiles at her and pulls Rika to look at herself in the mirror next to her. “You are the prettiest girl I know, Rikis.”

“Really?” asks the young girl.

Y/N stands from the old vanity table and sits the girl on the chair. “You so are, sweet girl,” She takes the girl's hair to pull it on a half-up style. “See? You have the prettiest face, and a pretty smile and pretty eyes… and most importantly a pretty heart."

Rika smiles at herself in the mirror, and a giggle escapes her. Rika was such a good child, so very kind. As she stares, Y/N wonders with longing if she has grown to be kind and nice, she should be a couple of years older than Rika if Y/N recalls correctly…

“Are you going to play a love song?” asks Rika, snapping Y/N out of her train of thought.

Y/N wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, “Don’t think so, Rikis.”

“Why?”

“I’m just not feeling it,”

“How come? Did something happened with Cygnus? Did you broke up with him?” The young girl inquires, her eyes twinkling with intrigued.

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “You are very noisy, sweet cheeks.”

“I’m just informative,” Rika shrugs innocently.

“Of course, you are.” Y/N scoffs a laugh, she nudges Rika’s shoulder. “Come, let’s go out.”

“Oh, please Y/NN,”

“Nope. How about you go make me something sweet for after the show?”

They walk outside, Rika complaining about Y/N not telling her but the older girl simply ignores her and leaves her near the counter before walking to the bar band.

“Hello, dears, ready for tonight?” Y/N said as she approached the three older gentlemen, they had been letting her play a few songs a night with them since she arrived, always practising new songs on the slow days and late nights.

Duke, the violinist, nods as he takes a large gulp of his beer. “As always, lovey.”

“Never expect any less,” Y/N grins, she moves to the small wooden stage, guitar on hand and her charm full on.

As soon as she did, a few cheers echoed around the bar.

Using a Den Den Mushi, Y/N’s voice rings out through the room, with a charisma and ease that speaks of years of practice. "Why, hello everybody!" she exclaims, gazing at the growing crowd of Marines and civilians. "How’s the day been treating ya lot? Better than me I hope.”

The audience cheers, and Y/N’s smile grows wider and lets out a laugh. “Very good, very good.. but how about a song to better it, aye?”

She launches into her first ballad, her voice rising with the rhythm of her guitar.

“I've been sleepin' in my mind

But now my heart is risin'

Risin' with the tide

Floating on a wave

Buoyed by the sea

Carry me away 'cause the world is not for me”

The crowd claps along, lost in the music and the charm of the girl on stage. It's a moment of pure joy, as Y/N’s voice fills the room with sweet melody and a spirit of celebration.

As she continues her song, Y/N noticed someone in between the crowd, a blonde pain in the ass. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes at the sight of Helmeppo.

Out of everyone, the son of the captain (as he always likes to remind everyone about) was the most spoiled, disrespectful, persistent and annoying guy she had come across in her short years of freedom and best believe she had met some annoying people but no one can compare to the blonde with the bad hair.

No matter how many times Y/N has asked him to fuck off, he simply refuses to. It’s as if he couldn't understand the words that come out of her mouth… honestly, she’s never one for violence but she’s getting to a limit.

“No matter where you land or how far you may fall

You have heart, you have hands

And the highest calling of our lives

Is to find the grace at the very place we stand”

With the final chords of her song, she finishes with a flourish and a cheerful smile. The crowd erupts in applause and cheers, ready for more of Y/N’s enchanting performances.

“How’s that for starters, eh?” Y/N’s chuckles at the cheers.

She gives the crowd a cheeky grin and strums her guitar with an extra dose of gusto. She launches into another lively tune, her fingers dancing across the strings as she belts out the words. The crowd is absolutely hypnotized, swinging their heads and tapping their feet to the beat. Y/N’s energy is contagious, and it's not long before the whole bar is rocking with cheer.

The vibe is electric, and it's clear that Y/N is the star of the show. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long because just as she was making her way to the second verse there was the loud distinguish sound of a sword being drawn and the loud pompous voice of Helmeppo ran through the bar.

“Oh, come on, tough guy. Three swords?”Y/N saw him pointing his sword at a green-headed guy who didn’t seem to care as the spoiled blonde teased. “I only need one.”

Y/N tried to keep going but it was almost impossible when the guy with green hair deflected Helmeppo's attack and easily pushed him down, and soon after, a brawl between five or so marines and the one green-haired guy with… what looked like three swords. The guy fought them with ease, he never even drew any of his swords only using his hands as a defence.

It would have been impressive… if he hadn’t thrown one Marine towards her drummer, knocking him back onto the floor.

“Holy- Stu!!” the band gathered around the man who was under a groaning Marine officer.

When Stu is being helped by the other meme era of the band, Y/N turns to glare at the green-headed guy only to see him grab Helmeppos from the floor and pin him against the bar.

“Don’t kill me, please.” Helmeppos pleads with the guy, showing his true colours. “My father will give you anything you want.”

The green-haired guy asks “Who’s your father?”

“Captain Morgan. He’s in charge of the Marine base.” Whimpers Helmeppos.

“Then he owes me money.”

And with that, the green-haired guy dragged Helmeppos and a sack… of something out of the bar followed by a few other Marines.

“Fuck, am I bleeding?” The voice of the Marine woman. She wasn’t bleeding but there was a big red spot in her head.

Y/N helps the woman up and sits her on a near by stall. “No, you're alright.”

“Hey, Y/NN bring some ice for Stu, looks like he got a bump.” Said Duke.

“Yeah,”

As she made her way to the kitchen, she came across something more interesting… an orange-haired girl taking the uniform off a knocked-out Marine and hiding it under her clothes, nothing subtle about that.

The girl didn’t seem to have noticed Y/N, much to her surprise, until she spoke. “Y’know if you walk out of here with that uniform you’ll get arrested, right?”

The girl jumps up and turns to Y/N. “My boyfriend, he got hurt fighting off the drunk guy, I'm just taking it off to prevent it from getting dirtier.”

Y/N looked down at the middle-aged man with receding hairline and then at the orange-haired girl who was definitely too pretty to be the fallen Marine anything but… she’ll play along.

“Right, well, in that case, let me bring you a bag so you can put it there instead,” Y/N said, she turned to leave but was stopped by the girl. She grabbed her arm and turned her back around.

“I don’t need—“

“Believe me, pumpkin, you do!” Y/N motions to the bar exit which is surrounded by other Marines who seem to have already forgotten about the fight. “And unless you don’t want to get dragged to the cells I’ll recommend you wait for me here and let me bring you a bag, I promise it’s not a trap or anything.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s planning a trap would say,” the girl with bright blue eyes said, still not letting go of her arm.

Y/N shrugs, “Maybe so, but I don’t have any reason to do that.”

“And you don’t have any reasons to help me either,” the girl replies instantly.

“Ah, but I do,” Y/N got closer to the girl and whispered without breaking eye contact, “Fuck the Marines,”

With that Y/N backs away from the girl's hold and moves to the kitchens. She swiftly takes some ice from the freezer and wraps it around a napkin and then a paper bag. She only hopes the girl actually listens to her.

Why are you helping, you might ask well, Y/N has a history with them beyond her interactions with them in the bar and knows their lack of morals. They are good for nothing and always abuse their power… so, fuck them.

Thankfully, the girl did listen to her. When Y/N went back to her she was met by the sight of a pant-less Marine. “Oh, no honey. You do not want to use his pants.”

“Can’t you just give me the bag and move on?” Said the girl, clearly annoyed.

Y/N sighs as she passes her the paper bag. “Sure but I’ll just say that if you wear his pants you’ll look like a clown.”

“Why do you care what I look?” The girl says ripping the bag out of her hand.

“I’m just helping a girl out, that’s all.” Y/N shrugs glancing at the girl's legs. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business—“

“— you’re right, it’s not.”

“— but whatever is it that you’re planning will be ruined because of a pair of pants. So, if you need some pants that go with that shirt, I might have something that could work for you.”

The girls look at Y/N suspiciously “What do you—“

“Y/N, what’s taking you so long?” Duke shouts earning the girl's attention.

“Yeah, coming,” Y/N turns to the girl with the orange hair, “I’ll be out in about an hour, if you want you can meet me in the fountain just a few houses from here,”

With that Y/N makes her way to the stage and gives the napkin to Stu. “Here! Press it firmly because it seems like you're growing a horn, dear.”

“Quit messing with me, girl!”

After a few more minutes of helping Stu out, it was more than decided he couldn’t play anymore so, they cut the show short. Unfortunately.

So, to kill time, she ordered herself water (Which she dumped a large amount of salt when no one was looking) while listening to Rika theatrically replay what happened with Helmeppos and the guy with green hair, a pirate hunter. It seems Helmeppos finally meet the ass-beating he’s been looking for…. Good.

She should give the guy in green her gratitude.

“And he also said my chocolate cover rice balls were delicious,” Rika blushes.

Y/N chuckles, placing a hand on her head, “Don’t tell me little Rikis has a crush on the pirate hunter,”

Rika blushes even further, she swaps Y/N’s hands off her head. “Stooopppp, Y/NN, it’s not funny,”

“Right, sorry.” Y/N chuckles, and she takes a sip of her salty water. “So, are you going to let me taste those delicious chocolate rice balls or those are only for the hunter?”

“Mom said I can’t do that anymore,” Rika said with a huff of dissatisfaction.

“Shame, I really wanted to try it.” Y/NN pouts.

“I can make you something—“

“You should go home and get ready for school tomorrow,” said Ayana from behind the bar.

“But mom-“

“No, go home, Rika. It’s getting late.”

“Fine,” Rika huffs as she stood up from her seat and turns to Y/N, “Night, Y/NN.”

“Nighty sweet girl,” She said back, waving as the young girl leave.

Y/N sighed taking a sip of her water and looking around the bar, it wasn't her first time working as a waitress but this one bar, she had become accustomed to. It was a nice place, she’s never really appreciated it but it was, people here were friendly, caring, kind… Y/N almost does not wish to leave but she has to, she has to keep moving otherwise the past will soon come knocking banging her door down.

“Y/NN,” calls Ayana, making the girl turn to her. The older woman places an envelope in front of her. “This month's pay plus tips for the performances.”

“Thanks,” Y/N takes the envelope and looks in it. A happy amount of berry…. This should be enough. “Hey, Ayana,”

The woman hums in response as she passes a bottle of rum at a Marine before moving to wipe something off the bar.

“I think it’s time for me to go,”

That made the woman stop and turn to her with a frown. “What? Why?”

“It seems now the time,” Y/N smiles at the woman, “I did tell you I’ll be here temporarily,”

“Yeah but… I thought you’d stay a bit longer, it’s been what two-three months?” Ayana moves to face Y/N.

“Six but y’know what they say, time flies by when you’re having fun,” Y/N grins at the woman who in return rolls her eyes. “But, I do need to leave, Ayana. I’m sorry.”

She regards Y/N for a moment she purses her lips before nodding, “If it can’t be helped, I suppose I let you go.”

“You’ve helped me immensely, I really don’t know how to thank you for all that,” Y/N tells the woman honestly.

“Don’t,” said the woman as another waitress came to give her something, “You’ve been a delight to— what do you mean they won’t pay?”

“I reckon the boy with the straw hat said he’ll come back to pay you once he’s king of the pirates.” Said the waitress.

Ayana huffs, and she shakes her head. “Bring him here because I swear to the all four blue seas today it’s not the day to fuck with me.”

The waitress leaves to bring the poor soul who’s about to get their ass handed today. Ayana scoffs crossing her arms, waiting which she hadn’t had to do for long because the waitress returned not seconds after with two familiar boys in tow. One looking oblivious and the other nervous.

“Hello!” Said the straw hat guy.

Ayana narrows her eyes, “Don’t hello me, you little punk, where’s my money?”

“You see, I don’t have it yet but I promise I’ll come back once I find the one piece to pay you. With interest.”

“The one piece?” Scoffs Ayana, “Who do you think you are, boy?”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy and I will be king of the pirates.” The boy, Luffy, said with pride and too much conviction that if Y/N didn’t know any better she’d actually believe him.

Ayana shakes her head in disbelief, “Well, Mr future King of the Pirates, unfortunately, I can’t let you leave without paying so either give me the money you practically inhale in food or I’ll have to call the Marines to take you, your Highness.”

“I do need to get inside the base—“ Luffy was cut off by the pink-haired boy.

“No, please, listen is there something we can do to make up for it?” He asks, fidgeting where he stands, obviously nervous under the woman’s gaze.

As Y/N watched the two boys she couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something about this Monkey D. Luffy… he is so unique. So, she decided.

“No need to do anything, pretty boy,” Y/N said earning everyone's attention. She puts a few berry bills on the table. “That must cover it, right?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to pay for them,”

Y/N smiles at Ayana who was frowning back at her. “Call it my last good deed on this bar,”

Ayana huffs, she stares at the Berry before shaking her head. “Keep it, kid, for your travel.”

“No, honestly, Ayana—“

“I won’t hear anything else,” Ayana sighs, massaging he sides of her head as she walks Into the kitchen. “I need a drink,”.

After a moment of silence, as Y/N was reluctantly pulling the Berry back into the envelope Luffy speaks.

“Hey, thanks for that,” he said causing Y/N to turn her head to him.

“No problem, Monkey D. Luffy.” She grins at him.

The pink haired boy walks forward cheeks comically still red, “W-why did you offered to pay for us? It was quite a lot.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’ll scratch your back you’ll scratch mine, right?”

“You want us to scratch your back?” Luffy tilts his head making Y/N laugh.

“No, stud,” Y/N shakes her head as she moves to her feet, she smirks at Luffy placing a hand forward. “However, I do hope you remember my name when you become the King of pirates,”

Luffy takes her hand in his and shakes, “Why don’t you join my crew? We’ll need a musician on board to keep the spirits high, you’ll be perfect.”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “I’ll swallow my own guitar before becoming a pirate,”

“What? Why? Being a pirate is awesome,” asks Luffy, the boy was still shaking her hand.

“Because I have had bad experiences with them, so, I’ll much rather not be part of that life,” Y/N said, looking down at the hands that still shake. “You can let go of me now, stud.”

“Oh, right!” Luffy let’s go of her, “But just because you’ve had bad experience with Pirates doesn’t mean they are all like that, we can be different.”

Y/N smiles and looks behind the boy at the clock in the wall. “Maybe but I’ll rather not find out the bad way again. I’ve to go now, Monkey D. Luffy, it was nice meeting you.”

She turns to the pink hair boy with round glasses “You too…”

“Koby,” the boy informs.

“Koby. It was nice meeting you lot,” Y/N says before moving to the exit, ignoring the cat calls from drunk Marines.

As she walks to the fountain, she can’t helped but scoffs at the thought of her being a pirate out of all things. Pirates took everything from her, in what world would she ever become in the thing that almost destroys her?

“Took you long enough,” The familiar voice makes her head snap up.

Y/N grins as she approaches the girl, “I know, sorry. Would you believe me if I told you I just met the future king of the pirates?

The orange-haired girl scoffs, "Another fool who believes they can find the one piece? Right."

"Ha!" Y/N chuckles, shaking her head. She does share the sentiment. "He seems very determined, perhaps he’ll actually do it, though I doubt it,"

"I'll belive it when I see it," The girl scoffs again, she then seems to sober up to ask Y/N, "So, the pants you mention?"

"Right, they're in my room, it's not ar from here just a few houses down," Y/N tells the girl who narrow her eyes.

"Convenient,"

"You can stay here if you want?" Y/N offers, with a tilt of her head, "I have no problem in getting them for you, pumpkin,"

The girl stares at Y/N for a moment, trying to figure out if she's lying or not. "... Fine, I'll wait."

"I won't be long," Y/N calls as she continues her walk to the space just in between a shoe shop and a gardening store.

As soon as was inside her room, Y/N lit up a few candles to light the small room. She puts her guitar down and goes to the dresser to search for a pair of pants, she did own quite a bit of clothes so it would take her a minute. Ever so often, Y/N comes across the few vials of poison she stacks in her clothed for safety and a few of her modified hand fans reminding her that she has to buy a few more vials just before leaving Shells town.

After another minute she finally found the black pants and was on her way back to the girl with orange hair.

"Here! They should fit,” Y/N said, leaning against the fountain and watching as the girl unfolded the pants and placed them over her legs.

When she was satisfied she nodded before folding it back again, narrowing her eyes at Y/N "Why are you helping me? And don't bullshit me with that fuck the Marines excuse. Even as someone who hates the Marines, you're going out of your way to help, why is that?"

"Is it too hard to belive some people just like to see them burn?" Y/N chuckles, she sighs, stiffing a little as she speaks. “The Marines fucked me over, more than once… I just want to make their life miserable even if just a little,”

“And what do you want? Nothing ever is for free in this life, so tell me. I’ve got berry-“The girl huffs crossing her arms.

“I don’t need Berry,” Y/N interrupts, she shrugged thinking for a moment, “Unless you have a boat I don’t think there’s anything you can give me,”

“Say I do, what do you need a boat for?”

Y/N gazes at her, “A ride to the next town,”

“Fine, be at the docks by 12, and not a minute late or I’ll leave you,” the Orange-haired girl said sternly.

“Deal,” Y/N holds her hand out, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nami,” she shook her hand once.

Y/N nods with a wink and starts to walk away, “Right, well, good luck tomorrow, Nami. I’ll be thinking about you,”

Y/N thought she saw a smile on Nami but it was gone as soon as it came.

When morning rolled around, Y/N, with her one bag packed and guitar in hand made her last errands, which included saying her goodbyes to Riki and the employees of Food Foo, it was a teary one but it was better than leaving without saying goodbye. She then needed to get some poison…

There is where everything went to shit.

She needed poison and to get it she had to buy it from Cygnus, unfortunately. Cygnus owns a fish shop in the market street but it was a cover for other more illicit sells.

When she got there Y/N was met with her ex-fling and his new and very hostile victim. Y/N knew who she was, the girl was the daughter of an influential lieutenant of the base, and she like Helmeppos made sure to use it as a threat.

The girl was known for getting people she didn't like in jail for the stupidest things and out of fear most people rather stay out of her way or let her walk all over them.

Y/N, in all honestly, didn't care about her but it seems she should have at least been a bit careful because it wasn't even 10 minutes into the awkward and tense negotiation when she was being dragged to the marine base because the girl started screaming that Y/N was trying to rob them. And for what? Because she told the girl to mind her business after being spoken over once again.

Foolish on her part, because now, she's in Captain Morgan's/Axe hand Morgan’s office when she ought to be waiting for Nami in the docks.

"Trying to rob someone, I heard?" Said Morgan, a large man with a steel jaw. "Didn't think a pretty girl like yourself would commit that petty crime."

Y/N purses her lips, "Because I didn't. Either way, I didn't think the Captain of this entire Marine base would oversee the case of a petty crime, which once again, I didn't commit."

"Only on special circumstances. Take a seat,Y/N," Axe's hand told her, and he motioned with his head to the chair in front of his desk.

Y/N didn't move her gaze from the man with the steel jaw, "I'm okay standing,"

Morgan laughs, "How stubborn of you but I respect it."

His eyes shone with something Y/N had seen many times before and didn't like at all. Desire. Shit, she should’ve known when she was allowed to keep her belongings.

“So, care to tell me why were you attempting to rob the fish shop?” The man asks.

Y/N jaw clutch as she held back an eye roll, “I wasn’t.”

“Then why Kaori accused you of it?” Morgan inquires, his eyebrows shooting up in expectation though, to Y/N it felt as if he was mocking.

“Because she’s insane and a spoiled brat,” snaps Y/N, narrowing her eyes at the older man.

“We’ll, she does has the tendency to exaggerate,” Morgan said as he slowly got up from his seat and made his way around it, “Buy still, it’s her word against yours, a girl that’s been in Shells town for around what? Six months? You see how I can’t simply ignore the statements of my lieutenant’s daughter. However…”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t falter as the man stood in front of her or flinched when his axe hand moved a piece of hair away from her face. It was all very familiar, unfortunately.

“It would be a shame to string you up in the yard… good thing for you I’m willing to come to an agreement that can benefit us… that is if you manage to convince me, pretty girl,”

Y/N glared up at him, her eyes hardening as she prepared to send him away but thankfully for her, before she could, there was a knock on the door.

“I’m busy.” Scowls Axe hand Morgan.

The door opened and a meek Marine girl peeked through. “I-I’m sorry, Captain Morgan but this situation needs your immediate attention.”

Morgan sighs tiredly, he nods at the girl waving his normal hand dismissively. “I’ll be there,”

The Marine girl nods and closes the door, leaving Axe hand to look down at Y/N, “I’ll be back in a minute so we continue where we left off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Y/N didn’t respond she simply watched him leave and of course, he locked it behind him.

“Shit,”Y/N sighs, still stiff feeling her heart pound in her chest.

She takes a deep breath, not knowing how much time she has until Morgan comes back, she quickly looks around the very… ugly, self-centred office. No wonder why Helmeppos is the way he is.

Y/Ntried opening the windows with all her might but the damned thing didn’t bulge. She tried the door, despite knowing it was futile. She tried and tried but there was no way out.

When she heard the sound of the keys unlocking the door, Y/N tensed as she reached for her War fans that were hidden into her waistband and waited. It wasn’t until she saw the familiar Orange hair and straw did she let herself calm.

“Nami?”

The girl's eyes widen as she enters the office, “Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Calls Luffy a smile gracing his face as he follows Nami inside the office. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Nami asks, locking the door behind her. “You know him?”

Y/N looks between them, and sighs. “Long story. What are you doing here. Is it part of your plan?”

“We’re here for the map,” Luffy exclaimed excitedly as he looks around the office mumbling “woah, this guy really likes himself.”

“No, I’m going to find the map.” Nami said as she moves near Y/N, where Captain Morgan desk is. “Let’s pretend he’s not here.”

“But I am here.” Luffy says.

“Wait, what map?” Y/N asks looking at Luffy and at Nami who was scooping through Morgan’s things.

“The map to the grand line,” Luffy said, a grin on his face.

Y/N blinks, ignoring the bickering of the two as the information processing. The grand line? They’re going to steal the map to the grand line… her hearts starts to pound again but for a different reason.

"Every idiot dreams of finding the One Piece." Nami's voice snapped her out to another piece of important information.

Looking at Luffy, Y/N asks, "You're planning to travel to the Grand Line?"

"Yeah!" Exclaims Luffy with his usual grin, "To find the one piece,"

"People like you believe in something and you don’t even know what it is." Nami huffs as she continues to scoop through Morgans's belongings.

"Well, yeah. Don’t you?" Luffy fiddles with the telescope, pointing at Nami, "So why did you decide to become a thief?

Nami spares him a glance, "I didn’t decide. I needed to eat. You do what you have to, to survive."

"Ain't that the truth," Y/N mumbles as she as well gazes over Axe-hand Morgan things.

"You’re right. Nothing more important than food." Luffy moves around, touching just about everything in his way before he turns to Y/N. "And why did you decide to become a singer?"

"I've always enjoyed singing," Y/N shrugs as she decides to help Nami and opens a drawer. "There was a time when I couldn't, so, I made it my mission to sing all I wish anywhere the sea takes me,"

"Is that your dream? To sing around the world?" Asks Luffy.

Y/N shrugs, opening another drawer, "For the most part, I suppose,"

"Can you all just shut up and find the map?" Nami scowls looking through the pages of a book.

"Where you reckon he has it-"

Y/N was cut off by the desk suddenly sliding out of place, displaying a large hidden safe. They all looked at each other before Nami dropped beside it and placed her head near the lock.

Suddenly, an alarm started to blast, echoing all around the base.

"Shit," Breaths out Y/N, she moves to the window again, trying to pull it open.

"Uh… Do you think they know we’re here?" Luffy asks as he lowers himself next to Nami.

"No, I think they’re after the other thief and idiot pirate trying to steal a map." Nami scowls sarcastically.

Luffy grins, "What are the odds of that?"

Both Y/N and Nami, stop their doing to stare at the boy in a straw hat.

Luffy looks between the girls before uttering with an innocent chuckle "Kidding."

"Nami, not to stress you or anything but can you work a little faster?"

As soon as those words left her there was a banging on the door making the three of them jump.

"Open up!" Morgan's voice rang through the door along with the bangs "By the authority of the 153rd Marines!"

"You need to hurry," Luffy stresses.

Nami grunts, her ear still near the lock, "I can’t rush this!"

Morgan was now using his axe hand to get inside the office.

Y/N moved next to Nami, "There's no time for that,"

"I have an idea," Luffy tells the girl forcing Nami to move as the straw-hat boy grabs into the safe and starts to pull.

"Are- are you trying to pull the safe out?" Y/N asks in disbelief, trying her best to ignore the growing hole Axe-hand Morgan was creating on the door.

"Yeah," Luffy grunts as he continues to pull and pull and much to her surprise his arms were starting to... stretch?

Y/N tilts her head in confusion and amazement. She and Nami shared a look when the safe actually seemed to bulge.

The door bangs again and Y/N doesn't waste a second, she grabs Luffy's waist, Nami following her after her. Before Y/N is aware of what is happening, she feels her stomach rise to her throat. They were falling out the freaking window.

"Fucking..." Y/N grunted when they reached the ground, she felt her side hurting from where she had landed but there was no time for that. She quickly dropped the annoying bags off her shoulders and stood up, shaking off the pain.

"How did you do that?" Asks Nami as she rips the Marine's shirt off.

However, before Luffy could answer, they were surrounded by Marines. Y/N quickly pulled out her two war fans and took a defensive stand next to Nami who was holding onto her staff.

She used her quick reflexes and agile movements to evade their attacks while landing swift blows with her fans. With a quick flick of her wrist, she knocks one Marine to the ground and uses the momentum to twist her body, dodging another. Her movements are as graceful as they are deadly, and she slips through the chaos of battle with remarkable ease.

Meanwhile, Luffy and Nami are in their own battles, each utilizing their unique skills to take down the Marines. Luffy, with his fists and legs, dodges and attacks at will, while Nami wields her staff with expert precision, taking in multiple Marines at once.

However, more and more Marines kept coming. It was starting to get overwhelming. Y/N suddenly felt a sharp pain in her back making her stumble, she turned to fight off the Marine but to her surprise, someone else had joined the fight and sliced the Marine off of her.

With a final fierce strike of her fans, Y/N takes down the remaining Marines and is quick to meet with Nami, Luffy and-- "Hey, aren't you the guy from the bar?"

"The drunk?" Nami added to the question.

"Glad I made an impression." The guy said, sparing the girls a glance.

They turned their attention to the man who had just entered the yard. Axe-hand Morgan.

"The imposter, the pirate hunter, the thief and the prisoner." Called the Captain as he approached them, looking between each of them. "Fancy that. The four of you working together."

"Yeah. We’re a crew!" Luffy declared to which the three others were quick to deny.

"Nope, not a crew."

"Nah-uh,"

"Not together."

"No enemy has ever escaped my wrath. I alone defeated the Black Cat Pirates." As he brags, Morgan begins to take off his Marine vest, displaying his scars from past battles, "I alone captured Kuro of the Thousand Plans. And I alone keep Shells Town safe from the scum of the East Blue."

He takes a fighting stan and so do the four others.

Y/N held into her sharp war fans, hoping some of the paralyzing poison she had covered the blades with hadn't all worn off.

Morgan's first strick was met with the guy with green hair swords but was thrown off, then Luffy tried to strike him but was unsuccessful. Y/N was going to slice his face off but a grunt from Nami stopped her, noting she was fighting the upcoming Marines off herself Y/N decided to help because even if all her impulses were yelling at her to cut Morgan's dick off she wasn't about to leave Nami to fend for herself.

Nami uses her staff to block the Marines' attacks, while Y/N uses her fans to deflect and dodge their strikes. The two work in unison, their teamwork making them a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Nami strikes out with her staff, taking down one Marine after another. Her strikes are powerful and precise. Y/N uses her fans to take down the others, she strikes with precision, her movements fluid and graceful and when all of the Marines are down, Y/N turns to Nami, both girls sharing a look of respect for one another.

"Gum Gum Whip!" Luffy's voice rang through the yards forcing them all to turn to watch as his leg stretched inhumanly before kicking Axe-hand Morgan, knocking him off.

"Whoo!" Luffy celebrates his victory.

Y/N shares yet another look with Nami as both girls put their weapons away.

"Gum Gum Whip?" Asks the green-haired boy.

Luffy nods excitedly as he approaches the other guy, "Yeah! All the great fighters call out their finishing moves."

"No, they don’t."

"Some do," Y/N breathes out, turning to him, "What's your name, Hot Shot?"

"I'm Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter," The guy, Zoro, said as he put his three swords away.

"And the future greatest swordsman in the world," Luffy added with conviction.

"Well, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet ya,"

Nami interrupted, looking over at the safe, "Hate to break up this beautiful moment, but we need to get this safe out of here."

"Some rope might be useful." Y/N hums, looking about while taking back her disregarded things.

But then, as if it were nothing, Zoro grabbed the safe and hauled it up into his shoulders.

"Or we can do that." Y/N mumbles, gazing at Zoro, impressed. It was kind of hot.

Soon, the four of them were jumping into Nami's small boat. She gave Y/N instructions to pull up the anchor as she unfolded the sails

"Careful with that!" Nami scowls Zoro when the guy all but throws the safe down.

"Whatever you say." Zoro tells her as he continues to roughly move the safe into the small boat, "Oh, wait. I don’t work for you."

Nami glares at Zoro prompting Luffy to speak. "I’m sensing a little bit of tension amongst the crew."

"Not a crew!" They all rebottle.

Ignoring them, Luffy stands on the dock looking around, "I can’t leave without my friend."

"Koby?" Y/N asks as she finishes pulling the anchor up.

Luffy nods, "He should be around somewhere,"

"Can’t wait,” Zoro tells him, "The Marines will be here."

"The Marines are here already." The annoyingly familiar voice of Helmeppos made the four of them turn to him, he was holding two guns up, "You’re under arrest."

"What happened to you?" Y/N, unfazed by the guns, laughs.

Luffy nods, laughing with her. "Yeah, what’s wrong with his hair?"

"Yeah, I might’ve done that," Zoro informs them, proudly.

"Nice work, Hot Shot" Y/N chuckles approvingly.

Helmeppos fires a shot near Zoro forcing a shriek out of Y/N, however it seems that she was the only one to have a reaction to a gun being fired because not even that fazed the pirate hunter, Nami or Luffy.

"I won’t let you make a joke of me. I’m taking you in and handing you over to my father." Helmeppos said, an air of superiority oozing out of him. "I’ll be the hero. I might even get a medal or something--"

Helmeppo's rant was cut short by Koby, who had satisfyingly punched the blonde down.

"Koby?" Luffy exclaims, impressed by his friend's actions.

"God, that hurt!" Koby looks down at his fist but then he smiles, "It also felt really good too."

Luffy swiftly urges Koby near the boat, "No time to explain, but we gotta go. This whole island is trying to kill us."

"I’m not coming with you," Koby said causing Luffy to halt his steps.

"You sure?" Luffy asks.

"Before we met, every choice was made for me. But now I’m gonna do what I want to do." Koby said with determination making all the others stare at him, "I’m gonna be a Marine. I want to help people that can’t help themselves."

Y/N smiles at him. She can tell he has a kind heart which is more than what half the Marines will ever have. She can only hope that he protects it.

"Next time we meet, we might be enemies," Koby tells Luffy but the straw hat boy didn't seem bothered by that.

"But for now… we’re friends."

Luffy nudges Koby in a friendly manner before getting into the boat where Y/N, Nami and Zoro are working to unravel the remaining sail to begin their travel.

And the boat finally starts to sail, leaving the decks and island behind. Y/N looks back at Shells Town, what was her home for six months, half a year, is now a memory. Usually, leaving a town leaves her with a bittersweet feeling until she gets to the next one to do it all over again but now, knowing that the Map of the Grand Line is within reach, she has a new plan in mind.

Find her sister.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love, be safe.

Divider by @cafekitsune 3

[staawberru]

My Childhood Friend Wrote A Gay Omegaverse Fanfic About Me! Chapter 1

hiiiiiii welcome to the first chapter in this series whooo. A couple. things mc homophobic (he will get over it) but if you agree with anything he’s saying get out 😛

Chapter one | next chapter | past chapter | masterlist

—

The bus rides always sucked, if you had no friends it sucked even more. Lucky for you, you don’t have those problems. You have many friends, cool friends. Unfortunately, none of them ride your bus. Well, you have one friend but he’s your weird childhood friend, Jobie You’ve lived right next to him for years, and, sadly, that somehow means he’s attached to you, like a parasite which you would be fine with if he wasn’t gay! You know how that sounds, but you're not homophobic! How can you be homophobic and have a gay friends? That doesn’t make sense. Fortunately, he was too engrossed in his little online comic to notice or talk to you right now. 

      You look out the bus window, it’s going to rain. You already knew it, the sky was cloudy and this morning on the walk to the bus stop you could smell the rain. You love rain, you do, but you have soccer practice later today, and you really can’t miss it. Well, you can, but you’d prefer not to. Missing it would mean taking the bus home, and that would mean talking to Jobie, and that’s one of the worst things ever. All he talks about is his stupid new bl obsession and blah blah blah. Maybe you can convince a real friend to drive you home. God, you just wish you could get away from his rants about his newest fixation. 

      You sigh. You hate the bus, but school is even worse. You don’t have any classes with any of your friends. Well that was a lie, you have one class with Jobie but he definitely doesn’t count. You feel a small pale finger poke your shoulder, you turn your head and glare. How dare he ruin your train of thoughts. You see his pale blue eyes widen just ever so slightly and you soften your [eye color] eyes faintly. As much as you want to tell him that you hate him and his clingy attitude you can’t. Why not? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to get rid of him? Unfortunately he has the hottest sister possible. You can’t let such beauty go.  

    “I was wondering if you wanted to come over…?” He asked quietly. Your eyebrows furrowed. You saw him looking down at his lap, and you assumed he was expecting the worst. 

    You paused. This could be an excuse to see his sister! Wait, she won’t be back until spring break, and that’s next week. You can’t just tell him no, he’ll go complain to his little mommy and then his precious mother will talk to your mom. You need an excuse.

   “Can’t, sorry, I have soccer practice today.” You say. Hopefully that would be a good enough excuse. You see him look up with a frown plastered on his face.

    “It’s going to rain today, didn’t you read the forecast?” His quiet voice seems to ring around the silent bus. Ah, he got you. Ugh, how are you supposed to get out of this one? 

    “Well we can still practice in the gym,” you smile. He doesn’t seem completely convinced but he finally gets off your back, going back to his online book, You look at him you can see the small frown on his face. You hate to make him feel bad, but you just let your smile fade and look back out the window, toward the dreaded school.

——

    As the school day continues you can’t help but feel increasingly worse. It’s unlike you to feel this bad over other people. For example, you didn’t feel bad the time a friend broke an arm, or the time your dad lost his job, but yet you feel bad because you rejected a kid you don’t like. So you’ve decided to go home with him. It doesn't matter if his hot sister isn’t there, he still has an awesome gaming setup.

     As the last period approaches, so does your class with him. This is where you plan to apologize. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been thinking about this all day. What were you going to say? What were you going to do? Finally, you decided to just say sorry, and that you do actually want to come over. 

     Sixth period finally rolled around and you saw him, Jobie. He was looking at his phone like normal, unbothered by your staring. You frown slightly. He probably doesn’t care. It's understandable, but still kind of annoying. Is this what mom thinks when you ignore her? Whatever, you’ll just catch him at the end of class. You look out the window, it seems like the rain is finally starting. It was supposed to start earlier, around ten but here you are. You put your head down and wait for the class to end. 

                                                    ——

Biology class took longer than normal. By the end of the day it had already been long enough, but the added weight of talking to Jobie attached a whole lot of extra Stress. But it was finally the end and finally time to talk to him. You look outside briefly and start making your way to him. You pause. Is this really okay? You blew him off this morning and now you're apologizing. It makes it seem like you're desperate or something.

      Something’s wrong, you know it Jobie always rushed to the bus, tripping on anything and everything, but today he isn’t. He's just sitting, waiting. Maybe he’s waiting for your apology, your forgiveness. Your eyes narrow. It’s weird, but it’s none of your business. All you have to do is apologize.

     “Hey Jobie,” you say, walking the rest of the way up to him. He jumped, your voice scaring him. He turned off his phone and looked up at you, blushing. You were about to say something, but you paused. Not only was he acting weird, but he also seemed guilty. You can see it in the way he tries, desperately, to look away from you. It could be passed off as his normal behavior, but something was wrong with him. 

   “You good?” You ask, leaning over him. His face reddened and he looked down.

    “You’re, um, a little close…” He squeaks, fidgeting with his hand. Oh, you were, you were practically squishing him.

    “Oh, sorry,” you didn’t mean for it to come off so awkwardly, but it did. You back off and stand next to him, forcing him to turn to look at you. 

    “So, uh, how are you?” You decided to take things slow. “Aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

    “Ah no, someone's driving me home. Why?” He looked up at you. 

    “No reason, really,” you shrug. “Better get off to soccer practice if I don’t want coach up my ass.” You mumble the last bit as you walk off. Jobie is the type to report you for something as stupid as cursing. Well, that was a bust. You didn’t get to apologize like you wanted. At least it saves you the embarrassment of saying sorry to him.

      “Wait!” Jobie calls out “Can I walk you? You looked like you really had something to say.” How does he know that? Can he read minds or something? Now that you think about it, he always knows what’s on your mind. Could he be a mind reader? Or maybe you're just easy to read. Whatever, it doesn't matter.

     “Ah well, it sounds stupid so never mind.” You say, now that you think about it, who is this person driving him home. “So, who’s this friend?”

     “Oh! Um, well, it’s embarrassing to say,” Jobie looks off to the side, fidgeting with his coat seaves. Then he stops walking, takes a breath and looks at you. You almost ran into him, but stopped yourself just before. 

     “Tell me what you were going to say,” Jobie looks you right in the eye. “I want to know.” With how girly he looks, you never expected him to be so threatening. You look him in the eyes. Is he serious? 

[notsoattractivearenti]

Comfort Person (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 700+

Warnings: curse words

A/N: a quick and short one written for my girlies for a little pick-me-up, especially @swimmingismywholelife 🤍 hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 🫶🏻 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated ❤️

—

It has been a long difficult few weeks for you and you felt like the universe was punishing you for simply just existing. Bad things after bad things kept happening and made you feel like shit – the worst thing was that most things were out of your control. The helplessness you were experiencing was quite exhausting and a lot for you to handle.

You came home after work looking all upset and tired – you just wanted to lay in bed with your boyfriend, Christian, doing nothing until the day is finally over and probably have to go through another shit day all over again. You acted like you had no will to live anymore, though you kept wishing for good luck to finally be on your side.

Christian greeted you cheerfully the second you got home, your grumpy face caught his attention.

“Hello my beautiful lady, why so grumpy?”

“Ugh, another day another crap.” You grunted.

He pulled you in and gave you a kiss on your forehead and a big hug.

“Oh, my poor baby. Want to tell me what happened today?” He softly asked as he stroked your back.

“Maybe later, I need to change first. And eat. And watching a series.”

“Okay…” He kissed the top of your head. “Hope you don’t mind having Italian for dinner because I already got us some pasta and pizza.”

“Love it. Thank you.” You slightly smiled.

One of the things you love so much about Christian is that he knows how to give you the comfort you need. Somehow he always finds the right way to lighten up your mood no matter how terrible it might be – and this night was no different.

Now you’ve changed into your comfy clothes, you went to the living room and saw Christian was already there setting up the table in front of the TV and putting on your favorite show. He saw you coming over and his face lit up.

“Come on, dinner is ready!” He said as he pulled your hand and sat on the sofa.

He knew you just wanted to lay down and relax, therefore he brought the dinner to the living room so you could lay on the sofa and have your dinner there.

“So, do you feel ready to let me know what happened today?”

You sighed.

“Yeah… This day was terrible, again. Are you sure you want to hear shitty things all over again?”

He pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m all ears, my love.”

You then told him everything that happened to you earlier today. He was listening closely to you while you ranted about having to go through another difficult day – not once he let you out of his sight. He stroked your arms and your hair and gave you little kisses during. He really was empathized with you for what you went through, and he knew the only thing he could do was to be there for you – to comfort you in any way he could give you.

“Y/N, sweetheart… I’m sorry things have not been easy for you lately, but you know I’m here for you if you need anything.”

You sighed and slowly nodded.

“You know what, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Though life keeps throwing bad things at you, you’re still able to move forward. You should be proud of yourself! You and your resilience will never fail to amaze me.”

“Resilience? Do you mean me bitching about my problems?”

“I mean, that is the way you cope… And it is totally acceptable! I don’t mind hearing you, as you said “bitching about your problems”, because I’d rather you talk to me rather than keeping them to yourself!”

You let out a genuine smile and your eyes were already watery and red. God, what did I do to deserve a wonderful man like him? You thought to yourself.

“I… Ah, I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say…” You stuttered, your voice was breaking.

“You’ve said everything,” he chuckles, “don’t worry my love. I just said what I needed to say.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the lips. You couldn’t hold back your tears any longer, you started to cry.

“Chris… Despite all this shit, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, and I’m forever grateful to have you in my life…” You tearfully express your gratitude for him.

He wiped away your tears then kissed you.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 32 - Five Finger Flop

After everything is confirmed, Ophelia calls Penny to tell her, and to check in on her friend. She's furious, more for Miko's sake than her own. The poor thing hardly needed something else to stress about.

Penny thanks Ophelia and the team for their hard work and says goodbye.

Ophelia can't remember the last time she was this angry. Tiff had no right to ruin Penny and Miko's wedding day just to spite them for not letting her sing.

Hector can't protect Tiff from Hilary this time, so maybe that knowledge clouds Ophelia's judgement.

Ophelia storms into the dressing room, targeting in on Tiff's perfumes. It's not like Tiff's ever seeing this room again. That can be her overtime payment.

Her usual perceptiveness is gone, and she reaches to take them without even bothering to notice the incoming footsteps.

Xander: Hey, do you want me to make- What are you doing?

Ophelia: Huh?

Xander: Were you… trying to steal Tiff's perfume?

Ophelia: What? No, of course not! Come on, only a kleptomaniac would do that!

Xander sees right through her attempt to walk around the truth.

Xander: That’s your third trait, isn’t it? Kleptomaniac?

Ophelia: I…

Xander: Have you been stealing other stuff from here too? This place is what keeps a roof over my sister and her kids!

Ophelia: No, I would never!

Xander: Kleptos can steal autonomously! They don’t even think about it, they just swipe with no regard!

Ophelia: I don’t need your judgement, Mister Good, Self-Assured Goofball. Not everyone is lucky enough to have all nice traits.

Ophelia: I didn’t grow up with parents that support me! I did the best I could, but I have this one little vice. I’d never steal from my friends, or anyone I cared about. If I could change it, I would!

Xander: You can change it. It just takes some work.

Ophelia: Well I was a little busy working to get where I am to worry about that. Stealing a soap pump from a community lot every now and then is a victimless crime!

Xander: The people who uploaded those builds on the gallery worked hard on them and every little detail counts!

Xander: Look, I know you’ve had a rough week, but you make good money now. It’s not like you need to steal to survive. Maybe this is a wake up call for you to reassess some parts of your life.

Ophelia: Ugh, you sound like Father Winter

Xander: …what?

Ophelia: Why do you even care if I swipe something from Tiff? You hate her too!

Xander: That doesn’t make it okay! Tiff may have crossed the line, but stealing from her isn’t going to fix anything.

Ophelia: Her not having her perfume would make me feel a lot better, though!

Xander: So someone pisses you off, you take their stuff? What if you played for a bridezilla, and you got caught trying to steal from her? Not only would Hilary have to fire you, that looks bad on her. I’m not going to stand here and let you jeopardize my sister’s career.

Xander has a point. What was she thinking?

Ophelia: Xander, I’m sorry! I’m sleep deprived and frustrated and- you’re right, I shouldn’t have even tried it. Please don’t tell Hilary. I would never do anything to hurt your family, I swear. Not after everything they've done for me.

Xander: I’m not going to tell anyone. You were already in a bad place, tonight made it worse, and you made a mistake. Everyone deserves a second chance. I know you're a good person. But you need to work on this. It’s not cool. I expected better from you, Ophelia.

Xander leaves, and Ophelia has never felt so humiliated. She doesn't think he's ever called her by her name. This feeling isn't worth all the highs she's gotten from swiping in the past.

Ophelia thought the day she got dumped was the worst day of her life, but no. Today is.

[prismatranslates-cue]

Riko [An Angel that Enjoys Manual Labour] Part 1

Manager: At this point, I think I have no choice but to get her involved…

Manager: This may seem like abuse of authority…and it probably is. I can’t expect her to ever forgive me for this…but I have no other choice.

Manager: All I can do now is entrust it all to her…

Riko: Hey, Manager! Hope I didn’t keep you waiting!

Manager: What a beautiful smile…it’s angelic. Yes, that’s it…she’s like an angel…

---

Riko: Huh?! You want me to help you move? Today?!

Manager: I’m really sorry, I realize how sudden it is.

Riko: How does something like this even happen? Did you not hire a moving company like a normal person?

Manager: Well, you know how it is! Schedules are so hard to line up. I wasn’t even sure I’d have the time for this until two days ago…

Riko: Hmhm. …Go on.

Manager: And, well, I’m sorry again, but I really need your help here…

Riko: …Go on.

Manager: I have to be completely moved out of here and into my new house before the end of today…

Riko: …Uh-huh?

Manager: …So I’m really in a pickle here.

Riko: Ugh, hold up. You knew you had to be moved out by today, and you haven’t even started packing?

Manager: It’s just, I’ve been really busy these last couple days…

Riko: Sigh…Okay. And is there a reason it HAS to be done by today?

Manager: My lease ends after this month…and it’s the 30th, so…

Riko: …You really should have thought this whole thing through more. You know, made a plan or something?

Manager: …I have nothing to say for myself.

Riko: Ugh, geez, honestly…

Manager: So I figured I’d turn to you for help. You work part-time with a moving company, after all…

Riko: Right, I think I understand the situation. Still…

Manager: I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to work for free. I’ll treat you to dinner, a-and…

Riko: Well, let’s talk about that later. For now, let’s figure out how we’re gonna do this. We’re gonna need more hands on deck, so I’ll call in the others for backup.

Manager: Um. Are you sure that’ll be okay?

Riko: You think there’ll be a problem?

Manager: Won’t they, you know, think really poorly of me for this?

Riko: They probably will, yeah.

Manager: Guess I deserve it…

Riko: Well, it is what it is. You’ll just have to live with it.

---

Riko: …And so, that’s where we are now.

Aya: What the heck?

Mahoro: Aya, you’re still young. Don’t end up like this, you hear me? You have to do better.

Miharu: Now now. Manager’s always doing so much for us, I’m sure we can help them out of this mess, right?

Manager: Sniffle…thank you…

Riko: Honestly I’d love to give you a piece of my mind, but it’ll have to wait. For now, you’re a friend in need, after all!

Manager: I’m so, so, so, SO grateful to you all. I’m so lucky to have you all in my life.

Mahoro: Okay, okay, we get it. Cut it out already, it’s getting kinda embarrassing…

Aya: Yeah.

Manager: Now…you see…I, um, actually have one more thing I need to tell you…

Miharu: …Yeees?

Manager: I swear I didn’t intend for this to happen, it only just came up, but um…I have to leave for work…

Miharu: You’re kidding, right?

Mahoro: I think even a saint would take a swing at you at this point. Are you for real?

Aya: This is the worst.

Riko: Wait, and at first I was the only one you called. Did you think I could do all this by myself?!

Manager: I mean, you ARE pretty incredible, so I thought maybe…well. Anyway, I promise I’ll run back as fast as I can as soon as I finish this.

Riko: Like hell I could do this solo! And really? You know we all have things we’d rather be doing than helping you move, right?!

Manager: I know, I know. I promise I’ll work my tail off for you all in return!

Miharu: Um…Manager-san, what exactly is the work you have to do now?

Manager: It’s for you guys, of course!

Manager: It was very sudden, but we managed to coordinate a little meeting with a certain radio director today. If things go well, we might be able to get you all a gig as show regulars.

Miharu: …

Mahoro: …

Aya: …

Riko: …Just get going already!!

Manager: Thank you thank you thank you! I’ll be back ASAP!!

Manager leaves.

Mahoro: This is messed up, right?

Aya: I sure think so.

Miharu: Now, now. Manager-san is working hard for our sakes, so let’s believe in them for now. Alright then, Riko, where do we start?

Riko: Right, let’s see…I guess first we’ll need to get cardboard to box everything up.

Aya: Can we really get this done before the end of the day?

Riko: Not just the end of the day, we’ll want to have everything inside the new place while there’s still daylight. We wouldn’t want to bother the neighbours.

Aya: Do we even have the time to worry about the neighbours?

Riko: We’ll have to make time. We’ve got professional standards to maintain!

Mahoro: Uh, you’re the only professional here, remember?

Riko: Come on, let’s get everything packed up. We’ll think about what’s next after we’re done that.

Riko: Alright, ready? Here we go…!

To be continued...in Part 2

[familyvideostevie]

hold my hand through it

you're feeling overwhelmed, so you and steve go on a drive | 1.5k, fem!reader, fluff, life is hard and i am sad and if you feel that way too i hope this helps < 3

Sometimes life is just a little too much. You woke up this morning feeling it -- the weight of the day before it had even happened, your mood sour from the moment you opened your eyes. It just happens sometimes, you know that, and there isn't much you can do. But it made you irritable and you argued with your coworker today and cried in the bathroom about it after because you felt bad for taking out your emotions on her and ever since then you've just been looking forward to coming home and sulking.

But when you finally get there and see Steve's car in the drive, your stomach twists. You want to see him, you always do, but you're worried you'll just be grumpy to him, too, and while you know he'll understand, you can't help but think that maybe this is the time your melancholy drives him away. But you sigh and head inside. You can hear Steve in the kitchen, radio on, singing softly. It cracks your frostiness a little, the corner of your mouth curling as you toss your things by the door and take off your shoes.

"Baby, that you?" he calls and you hear the radio turn off. You don't reply but make your way into the kitchen, ducking around the fridge to find him making...something. "Kiss for the cook?" His gaze travels over you before you give him a quick kiss, and his brows are furrowed when you pull away, like he's caught on to your mood. But he doesn't say anything, knowing that you'll tell him when you're ready.

"What's happening here?" you ask, hopping onto the kitchen island as he turns back to the stove.

"I'm making some fucking...pasta...thing I found in one of my mom's cookbooks because we had all the stuff, but honestly I don't know how it's going to go." He keeps talking, waving his hands around as he dumps things into the pot, explaining how he has no idea what "blanch" means and that the pasta was expired, which he didn't even know could happen, and you sort of zone out listening to him talk. The irritation you were worried about isn't present, and you don't find his voice annoying, but you feel heavy, like you want to cry but can't muster the energy.

"Hey, you alive over there?" Steve says. You come back to yourself to find him standing in front of you, hands running up and down your thighs.

"Yeah," you mumble. "Sorry. Did you ask me a question?" Steve studies your face for a second, dark eyes scanning your features like he's searching for something.

"I asked if you wanted to watch a movie, but don't worry about it." He moves his hands from your knees to lace his fingers with yours. "You okay, pretty girl?"

You drop your head forward to thunk on his chest. Not that long ago you would maybe had avoided the truth, made something up, and retreated to your bedroom alone. But you are in the habit of being honest with Steve because he has always made you feel safe. You know that he can't read your mind -- and you can't read his -- and being open with each other has served you well. It lets you love each other better.

"Ugh," you groan. "Not really." His thumbs stroke the backs of your hands as he waits for you to continue, humming a little at your admission. You feel the sound on your forehead. "Just stressed and overwhelmed and it turned into just being sad. Been feeling blah all day."

"Okay. Any reason? Anything I can do to help?" One hand comes to your chin to gently pull your face up so he can look at you. You shake your head.

"Nah. Just happening." That's the worst part, you think. That you have no explanation for feeling this down, no problem to tackle to make it better. It makes you feel selfish, makes you feel broken, though you know that's not true.

"That's fine, baby, you know that. Don't need a reason to feel things. You can just feel them," Steve chides, like he can hear your spiral of negative thoughts. He gently lets you go and turns back to the stove, switching off the burner.

"You can say no," he says, "but what about a drive? We can just roam around, listen to the radio or talk or sit in silence. This is a lost cause, anyway." He wrinkles his nose at the cooling pot before turning to you, shrugging.

"That...sounds great, Stevie." He beams and you smile weakly back.

"Yeah? Let's go then, c'mon." He holds out a hand as you hop off the counter, barely letting you slip into your shoes before he corrals you out the door and to his car.

As soon as he starts driving you put your feet on the dash -- only you're allowed to do that -- and roll your window all the way down. You leave the radio off and stare out at the familiar streets, at the sky as it starts to turn pink and orange, letting the fresh air flow into your lungs. Every breath seems to relax you, and while you still feel that pit in your stomach, it shrinks and you start to feel a little like yourself again.

Steve's driving you all around, taking random turns but trying to keep on side roads with less traffic. You know that he's waiting for you to break the silence, if you want to, to reach for him though his hands itch to hold yours. After a while, you pull your legs down and grab one of his hands off the steering wheel, bringing it to your thigh and holding it there. He gives you a squeeze, mouth quirking up but his eyes on the road. You take the opportunity to just look at him.

He starts to flush the longer you stare, studying his profile. Hair a little longer than his usual curling under his ears, some fringe hanging over his forehead. His thick brows and long lashes, the swoop of his nose and the plush of his lips you love kissing. His angular jawline, the moles on his neck you've traced with your fingers and your tongue. You know every inch of Steve, and he every inch of you.

"What're you lookin at?" he grumbles. "Do I have dirt on my face or something?"

"Just lookin,'" you say. "You're pretty." The flush on his neck gets darker but he smiles at the genuine joy in your voice.

"No fair!" he cries. "I gotta look at the road while you're sitting there so pretty it should be illegal."

"Life isn't fair, Stevie." You mean it as a joke, but it comes out a little more serious than you intended.

"No," Steve says, squeezing your thigh again. "That's true. But it's not all bad, right?" He glances over at you for a few seconds, his expression soft. You know Steve doesn't mind your moods. He is patient with you through them, but you know he gets a little worried and always wants to help you get to the other side.

"No, it's not." You smile a little at him as you say it. "Thank you, Steve."

"What for, baby?" You gesture with your free hand at him, the car, the world going by outside the windows.

"All of it. For getting out me of my head." For being you, you think.

"It's a pretty head, don't get me wrong." Steve sighs, and brings the car to a stop. You look around, only just registering that you're in a nearby neighborhood at a stop sign. He shifts in his seat and turns to you, bringing the hand on your leg up to cup your cheek. The golden hour light makes him look so beautiful your breath hitches.

"I just want you to know that I love you and I'm here for you, yeah? For every mood, every bad day, all of it." Steve keeps his voice soft, but you know he means every word, needs you to hear it. You swallow the lump in your throat, this one caused by your sweet boy.

"I know," you breathe out. "I love you, Stevie. So much." His eyes crinkle at the corners as he moves his face closer to yours. "So much," you say again right before he brings his lips to yours. Steve kisses you slowly, sweetly, as tenderly as he's ever done. You reach out to grab his bicep, wanting him as close as you can get with the gear shift between you.

And then a car honks. Steve, for his part, doesn't startle as much as look annoyed.

"Jesus! Alright, alright, can't you see I'm doing something important?" he says, maybe a little loudly for the stillness of the evening. He gives you one last peck before sticking his arm out the window and waving the car behind you around him. He gives the middle-aged driver, probably a dad, a mock salute that makes you dissolve into giggles.

"So," he begins, putting the car back into drive. "We need to find dinner somewhere."

"Pizza?" you suggest. Steve grabs your hand and gives your palm a kiss before setting it on his thigh his time, his warm fingers lacing with yours.

"You're a genius, babe," he grins. "Just what I was thinking."

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[hereforbords]

Need a little sweetness in my life

This is something self-indulgent that I wrote when I started my period this last weekend...not beta’d, so all errors are mine. Don’t know anyone, yadda yadda... :) Don’t like it, don’t read it.

TW: bleeding/periods (let me know if I need to tag it differently and I will)

Title stolen from “Sugar” by Maroon 5.

The stabbing pain woke you up. You let out a small whimper and quickly closed your mouth, hoping you hadn’t woken your boyfriend up (he’d gotten in late last night off the plane and you wanted him to sleep as much as possible). A quick look at the clock beside your bed told you it had been enough time since your last dose of meds, so you got up and made your way to the bathroom. You used the bathroom and grabbed the Midol. You threw them back with a sip of water and then went back to bed. Since he didn’t make any movements, you figured he was still asleep. You crawled back under the covers and slept as well.

In the morning, his side of the bed was empty. You didn’t hear the fire alarm going off, so you figured he wasn’t making breakfast (that was another story for another day). You sat up slowly, waiting for everything to right itself (the first day was always the worst). That’s when you saw the note on the table, along with the Gatorade and Midol bottle.

Went to the store. Be back in a few. Take these if you need them. Love you babygirl.

You couldn’t help the tears that sprang to your eyes (damn hormones). Of course, Bords chose that moment to come home. As he walked into the bedroom, he saw your face. “Hey, what’s going on honey? Why are you crying?” he came over to sit beside you and started rubbing your back. “It’s ok. I’m here.”

“You…” you hiccupped. “How did you know?” You couldn’t say what was really on your mind- I don’t deserve you.

He laughed a little. “Babygirl, I have a sister. I know all the tells. Plus, not to be rude, but you get kinda mean right beforehand.”

“I do not! You take that…” you started, only to stop yourself and laugh. “Ugh. Point taken.” You paused. “I didn’t wake you up last night, did I?”

“No.” he said. “I found the pill bottle on the bathroom counter this morning.” He reached behind him. “Here. I got you all your favorite things. I was thinking we could do a heating pad and couch cuddles? I’ll even watch one of those cheesy Lifetime movies you like so much if you want.”

That was when you said the words that had been on your mind. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?” That set off a fresh round of tears.

“You’re just you.” He said, suddenly realizing that you probably hadn’t had someone treat you so well before. “Come on, no more tears.” He reached out his hand. “Let’s go. Today’s all about you.”

Later, as you were snuggled together on the couch, him holding the heating pad against your stomach and said cheesy Lifetime movie on (because if he was willing to watch it without complaint, you were going to take full advantage of it), you said, “Thank you so much. This has been the best first day of a period I can remember in a long time.”

“You’re welcome. You want food from that place on 17th?” he asked.

“Yes please.” You grinned. “I love you.”

“Love you too babygirl.”

*

The next morning, things were a lot better and you didn’t feel like dying anymore. Thomas was gone when you woke up, but you knew he’d be back soon, so you started working on breakfast.

When he came in the door, the first thing he noticed was you over the stove, looking more like yourself today. He couldn’t help the grin that came over his face as he came over to wrap you in a hug from behind. “Good morning sunshine. Are we feeling better today?”

“Much. Thank you for yesterday,” you said, flipping the pancakes over. “You want bacon?”

“Yes please.” You threw a couple more pieces in the skillet (and fixed him with a look when he tried to steal a piece off your plate). “Alright, missy, I won’t steal your bacon.” he laughed. “No need to give me a death glare.”

“Sorry.” You laughed. “What are your plans for today?”

“Not too much. Have a little homework to do, and then was planning on taking it easy. Why?” he looked over to you.

“I was thinking,” you said, turning over his bacon, “I could take you out to a movie or something you wanted to do, since you took such good care of me yesterday.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He said. “I wasn’t doing it with the expectation of getting anything in return. I just wanted to take care of you.”

“I know,” you said, “and that’s a new feeling for me. I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.” You handed him his plate.

“You don’t…” he paused. Seeing you get that look on your face again, he knew this was one of those battles to not fight. You’d definitely have to talk about this later. “Alright, yeah, we can do that. You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, right?”

“Of course.” You ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, and you went to shower while he worked on his homework. You were in the middle of a Rizzoli and Isles episode when he came down.

“Are you still up for that movie?” He asked, looking at you so comfortable on the couch. He almost felt bad for making you get up and move; he knew his sister liked to stay as comfortable as possible the first couple days. But he reminded himself that you had promised to tell him if things were too much.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You stood up. “Um, let me go use the bathroom real quick and then I’ll be good.”

The movie was good, but it definitely wore you out. When you got home, you changed into a pair of sweats and one of Thomas’ t-shirts and told him you were going to take a nap. “I know the boys wanted to come over. That’s fine as long as you aren’t too loud.”

“I can cancel if you want.” He said. “It’s fine.”

“No. You need your time with them too.” You said. “Have fun, ok?”

“Alright.” He shut your bedroom door and went back downstairs.

You were still semi-awake when the boys came in. You heard Matty ask where you were. When Bords said you had fought a shark (you had to hide your laughter into the pillow), Matty and Truss hummed a “oh”. (They had sisters too, so they were familiar with Bords meant). Briss just sounded confused, but said he hoped you were feeling better soon.

You dozed for a few, until a cramp woke you up. It was too soon for more meds, so you decided you would go down and see your boys. They would distract you for awhile.

“Hey.” Bords said as you came down and sat in his lap. “You ok? Were we too loud?”

“No. You guys were fine. Couldn’t really nap.” You said, grabbing his hand and putting it on the side where the cramping was worst. Bords understood what you needed and started rubbing at that area without you needing to use your words.

“Oh. I get it.” Briss said as he watched the interaction. You chuckled. “We can leave.”

“Stay.” You said, leaning into Bords’ side. After a while, you decided it was time to go back up to the room. You stood up to leave. “I’m ok. Sleepy now.” You looked at Bords.

“Cuddle pile?” Matty asked, hopeful. That was one of the things you guys had done when Bords was still living with Matty and Truss and you had a rough day. To be honest, you had missed it.

You raised an eyebrow at Bords, who nodded. “Yeah. Cuddle pile.” You said. “Briss, you’re more than welcome to join, but you have to be quiet.”

“I can do that.”

It took a little work (you had never done it with four people before, but it actually was a little better, because you could have a boy on each side of your abdomen, instead of just Bords on top of you covering both sides unequally. 

You fell asleep pretty quickly, and when you woke up, all the boys were passed out as well (and you didn’t miss the way Truss had his hand on Matty’s abdomen in a possessive type of way. You grinned-they had finally figured their shit out too it looked like.)

“Alright, boys, cuddle pile is over,” you said, getting up. “I’ll make you all dinner if you want to stay.”

“You want some help mom?” Matty asked, using the nickname he’d given you a long time ago.

“Sure thing. Set the table?” You asked. “Truss, you wanna help chop the veggies?”

“Yeah.” Truss was down the hall. It was just you, Briss, and Bords in the room.

“Mom?” Brendan asked. You found yourself explaining everything to him; when he asked, “can you adopt me too?” You looked at Bords.

“What do you say, dad? Think we can handle another one?”

“I can if you can.” He grinned.

“Alright, Briss, get over here.” You said. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thanks mom.”

When you told Matty and Truss that Briss was their new brother, you were expecting the whoops and cheers. You weren’t expecting Truss to throw a carrot at Briss though. You laughed, which made your side hurt a little. Bords came up to you and rubbed your side.

“Jacob! That’s no way to treat your brother.” Bords said. “You apologize right now.”

“Sorry.” Truss said.

“And Matty, don’t think I didn’t see you snickering over there.” You added, leaning into Bords just a little.

“Sorry mom.”

Dinner was nice, and then the boys went home and it was just you and Bords again. “Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” You paused. “Thank you for always taking care of me and knowing what I need. I love you.”

“You’re welcome. I love you too babygirl.”

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[idy-ll-ique]

Sweet Little Love.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Lil Angst

Warnings: brief mention of violence

Requested: nope

Summary: The Y/L/Ns are a well-off family in New York, and are good friends with Sam Wilson. One day Y/N is threatened by a stalker and needs a bodyguard, so Sam suggests Bucky. Bucky doesn't want to do it; the last thing he wants is to deal with a spoiled, bratty rich girl for a whole month. The only thing is, Bucky has terribly misjudged her and now he can't help falling in love with her.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! the last scene is just a small bonus crack!scene sjsjsjs lmao, enjoy!

---

If there was one type of person Bucky liked, it was someone who was kind, polite, helpful and caring… and Bucky knew the person he was going to work for was going to be none of those things. "Sam, come on, man, I don't want to do this," Bucky groaned as he followed his best friend down the street. "I already promised, Bucky."

"Why did you?! I don't want to spend my whole day around spoiled little brats, they're the worst!" Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, number one: You have to look after only one person and number two: Why don't you just meet her once? Then you can decide for yourself, how about that?"

Bucky had been hired by one of Sam's friends, Mr Y/L/N, as a bodyguard for his daughter. He didn't know the daughter at all; but the one thing he was sure about was that she was going to be a pain in the ass for him, like in every single movie about rich girls and bodyguards. Mouthy, petty, sassy, rude…

He was in no mood to deal with someone like that.

Ms Y/L/N, he assumed, had been sent some threats over a week ago by a stalker and so the poor father was worried sick as he frantically searched for bodyguards. Sam was also informed and before he knew it, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes was hired. To be honest, the Y/L/Ns were paying a lot so… since he had given up Avenging, the income would be great.

Plus, she only needed protection for around a month or so. Speaking of the daughter, how old was she even going to be? Maybe a child below 10? A rebellious teenager? Who knows? "Alright, stop here. She's supposed to be here somewhere, let me call Y/L/N." Bucky huffed and looked around the crowded streets as Sam contacted the father.

That's when his eyes landed on a lady. She was beautiful; wearing what looked like a tennis skirt and a university hoodie, along with sneakers. Her hair was pulled into a braid and she had a bright smile on her face. Bucky blinked twice and watched. Her body or clothes didn't catch his attention, but her actions sure did.

She was chatting with another, older woman who had coffee spilled all over her white tee. The young lady was holding a baby in her arms, bouncing the sweet child as the older woman hurriedly tried to clean her clothes. Through his super-soldier hearing, he caught their conversation. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this," the woman sighed.

"It's okay, ma'am, you are not a bother. You were clearly in need of help and you know how New York is…" Both women giggled. The older woman soon left with her child but the young lady continued standing there, looking around, as if waiting for someone. Probably a boyfriend, Bucky thought.

"Why is he not picking up?!"

Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam before looking over at the pretty lady again, who had started bouncing back and forth on her heels, glancing everywhere. That's when a loud wail echoed above the already busy street. The lady's eyes snapped towards the voice before she took off running towards a little boy who had tripped over.

The little kid was blond and scrawny, reminding Bucky of a little Steve. He smiled fondly at the memory. "Are you hurt, bubba?" Y/N asked the kid adoringly as she helped him stand. The boy's lower lip wobbled as he tried to hold his tears in but was unsuccessful. "Aw, come here…" Bucky gulped when the lady got on her knees and hugged the child.

She's so kind.

The kid hugged back just as eagerly, sobbing into her shoulder. Soon, two adults approached her; a gay couple, the parents of the kid. They, too, watched with appreciation as the lady easily calmed the kid down with her soothing presence. An involuntary smile bloomed on Bucky's face; if he was in that kid's position, he'd have stopped crying too. The lady was wonderful.

"Thank you so much, honey," one of the men grinned when the lady stood up, dusting her knees and giving the kid a smile. "Oh, it's not a problem! You know what?" She dug around in her purse and pulled out a lollipop. "I always have some on me. I'm a big fan. You?" The boy giggled and eagerly accepted the candy.

"Steve, what do you say?"

Bucky almost laughed. The kid's name was also Steve? Amazing! "Thank you!" Steve exclaimed with a bright smile, making the lady laugh. "No problem! Have a good day!" She waved at the family of three before returning to her original place, standing outside a café. Bucky was enamored at this point.

"Any luck?" he drawled, glancing at Sam who shook his head. "That dick," he grumbled under his breath and Bucky grinned, getting back to watching the pretty lady but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around until he saw her crossing the road, an old man holding her arm with one hand as the other held his walking cane.

She was on his side of the street now, just a few feet away from him. "You are an angel, darling," the old man crooned as he patted her cheek, letting go of her arm once he was safely on the other side. An angel indeed, Bucky smiled to himself. "Oh, sir, I try…" she spoke bashfully, turning in his direction as the man left.

Bucky quickly averted his gaze, he didn't want to look like a creep. "Sam? Sam, is that you? Wilson!" Bucky froze at the lady's voice, her footsteps nearing the place where he and Sam were standing. Wait, is that...? Sam looked away from his phone, eyes lighting up as they landed on the lady. "Y/N? When did you arrive?" Bucky watched as they hugged.

"Been here for a long time, dad said you were going to introduce me to my bodyguard today. He's a good friend of yours, right?" Sam turned and motioned towards Bucky. He stepped forward. "Hi, I'm James Barnes," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. He couldn't believe he had called this angel a spoiled, rich brat.

I'm never gonna forgive myself.

"James, nice to meet you! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Thanks for doing this, I'm probably going to be a burden—" He immediately shook his head. "Oh, no no no, don't say that! I can tell we're going to be good friends." He winked and she couldn't help but giggle. Bucky didn't even correct her on the name, something about the way she said it made a shiver run down his spine.

"Well, um, do we start now, or…?"

"Your choice," he interrupted, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat as he stared at her, heart swelling with affection. "I already feel safe," she half-joked, "Start now. I have a few places to go to…" He was ready to follow her to Hell and back. "Of course." Both of them turned to Sam, who had a knowing smirk on his face.

If it were anyone else Bucky would've given him his infamous glare but Y/N? He was hoping for a connection. "You two enjoy your date— I mean, day. Anyway, what's up with your dad, girl, he's not picking up my calls." Bucky rolled his eyes at the slip up. "He's not? Maybe he's in a meeting. If you want you can go visit."

"Gonna do just that, tell him that his precious little daughter is in safe hands." Y/N looked at Bucky with a huge smile. "No doubt about that! It's getting late, I'll see you later!" Y/N started walking away and Bucky immediately followed with a nod towards Sam. "Hey, um, I saw you, you know?" he blurted out.

"Saw me? Doing what?" Y/N blinked. "You helping the lady with the child, the kid who tripped over— Steve, his name was? And the old man you helped cross the street. I just wanna say that was amazing. You're a great person, Y/N, I'm honored to be your bodyguard." She gasped softly and looked away, chewing her bottom lip as she grinned, cheeks heating up.

"Oh, um, it's just— I like to help people. It's how my parents raised me. Yeah, we might be rich but I'm not spoiled. Lots of people think that when I tell them I'm Mr Y/L/N's daughter. It hurts sometimes, you know? People just assume anything about you without even knowing you. That's why I try to be good. I don't want to be a bad person," she rushed out, unconsciously voicing all her insecurities.

Bucky's heart sank in his chest as he let out a dry chuckle. "Ugh, just saying this is gonna make me throw up but I assumed that too. I thought I was gonna work with a spoiled, rich brat. I was horribly, horribly wrong, I hope you can forgive me, doll." She turned to him, but she wasn't mad in the slightest. She even started getting a tiny crush on him, I mean, hey, the man is eye-candy. "It's fine! I forgive you, you didn't know."

"No, it's not fine. I shouldn't have made assumptions, I feel like the biggest ass in the world," he scoffed, looking away from her. "James, please, it's okay. You know now, right? Don't feel bad! Why don't we stop for a coffee on the way?" How could he say no to that?

---

2 weeks passed. Y/N and Bucky became incredibly close friends; Bucky went as far as revealing the truth about himself, how he used to be an Avenger, how he lost his arm, everything. What he didn't expect was her to cry at his story. "You did not deserve to go through that, they did you so dirty…" she sniffled and he hugged her like his life depended on it. It kinda did.

God, if he didn't fall in love the first time they met, he was definitely in love now. "Doll, I'm here now, aren't I? All good— well, maybe not all good." And his face broke into the biggest grin ever when he heard a chuckle from her. "I'm glad you're here." Just those 4 words and Bucky vowed that he was never gonna let her go.

"I'm getting coffee, you wait here. Don't go anywhere else."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Y/N laughed and he smiled back as he entered the café. Y/N stood outside, typing away on her phone when someone suddenly grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her into the alley next to the café. She couldn't even scream, breathing was difficult with his hand around her neck.

"We finally meet, sweetheart." Oh, God, it was him. The stalker. Y/N whimpered, struggling to get out of his arms but he only tightened his hold on her. Bucky, Bucky please— Over time, Y/N had grown fond of Bucky. He still asked her to call him James, he said it felt good when she called him that. So she did.

He was so protective of her, almost like she was his girlfriend. He was also handsome; incredibly so, with his stormy blue eyes, his tall and broad figure and razor sharp jaw. His first priority was always her and it made her warm inside. She'd decided to ask him out at the end of the month, but it was looking a bit difficult now.

"Your bodyguard not with you today? What happened, lover's quarrel?" the man smirked tauntingly as Y/N's vision blurred due to lack of oxygen. She blinked back tears, crying again when he tightened his hold on her neck. "Scream all you want, sweetheart, no one's gonna hear it," he laughed.

"Try me."

The man's head whipped to the side only for Bucky's metal fist to connect with his jaw. He fell to the ground with a thud, unconscious at the first punch. Y/N slid down to her knees. Her hands went to her neck, coughing and dry heaving. "Doll? Doll, come here." Bucky felt immense guilt as he gathered her in his arms, carrying her bridal style towards his car.

He left her alone. That was the one thing he wasn't supposed to do. "James…" Y/N wheezed, curling closer to him when he tried to put her in the backseat. "Doll, you have to get in," he insisted but she shook her head. "Not without you. Please." Bucky sighed and got into the backseat, holding Y/N against his chest.

She was pretty shaken up. "I'm so sorry, Y/N." He felt himself tearing up. "No… not your fault… you… coffee… I wasn't… phone…" Bucky handed her a bottle of water when she wheezed again. "Drink up, baby," he whispered as he held the bottle to her lips because she refused to let go of his sweater. After drinking some water her throat felt better.

"Don't go, please, I need you," she sobbed as she completely curled against him, wetting his sweater as she cried in his arms. "You will always have me, doll. I'm not going anywhere. Not again," he assured her as he rubbed her back, wiping his own tears away. All of a sudden, she pulled away and pressed her lips to his. "I love you."

He pulled her in for another kiss, fireworks exploding in his head at the confession. Only two weeks had passed but they were both sure about their feelings. "I love you too, doll. You're mine now, only mine," he groaned against her lips. "Only yours," she agreed, burying her face back in his shoulder as he pulled her impossibly close.

"You're not getting out of my sight ever again."

And he kept his promise.

---

"And then I— where do you think you're going?" Sam blinked as Bucky abruptly stood up, eyes trained on his wife. She gave him a smile and walked out of the room, Bucky following her out like a puppy. "To the bathroom, Sam!" Y/N called out behind her and Sam turned to the parents, blinking in confusion as they roared with laughter.

"Why does she need him there?" Sam asked "Oh, haven't you heard? Bucky hasn't broken the promise he gave Y/N 6 years ago," Mrs Y/L/N explained vaguely. "What promise?" Mr Y/L/N laughed once more. "He told her she was never getting out of sight after the incident. And well…" Y/N and Bucky returned at the exact time as Sam made a face.

"Don't you get tired of him?" Sam groaned as Bucky sat down, pulling his wife on his lap. "Oh no no, it helps that she's as much in love with him as he is with her. They do not get tired of each other," Mrs Y/L/N shook her head with a fond smile. "It helps that he's handsome and aesthetically pleasing to look at," Y/N crooned, squishing her husband's cheeks as he laughed and swatted her hands away.

"Even in the bathroom?!"

"He stands outside as a guard," she shrugged. "Damn. Y'all are weird," Sam muttered, barely catching the book Bucky threw towards him. "Not weird. Just looking out for her, like I promised," he muttered, cheeks flushing. "You do know that the threat was 6 years ago, right? Six!" Sam threw his hands up.

"What if there's a new one?" Bucky countered exasperatedly. Sam only shook his head at the couple before a smile broke out on his face. "I've never seen a couple so in love. You two are cute," he commented as laughter filled the room. No more threats, no more danger.

Just a sweet little family and their sweet little love.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person.  You never have been.  It’s just not part of your nature.  If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else.  You just… do you.  You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good.  And if it’s bad, it’s good.  Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open.  “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron.  What are we doing?  Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up. 

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl.  You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench.  “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today?  Thursday?  Friday?  Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day.  Thursday, then. …Thursday?”  You shake your head.  “Ugh, see?  Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.”  He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers.  It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now.  Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that.  Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it.  “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation.  To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small.  Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here.  “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap.  You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are.  “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.   “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron.  First and last word, that’s all it takes.  And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?”  He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel.  “ Easy credits.  Just begging for it.  Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust.  As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly.  Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him.  “You just turned my money into a sex object.  It was vile.  I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging.  You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it.  “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now.  Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?”  You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them.  Withdrawal stage, ha.   “Of course it’s all that bad.  It’s horrible.  It’s the fucking worst.  And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this?  Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to.  “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you.  “I did not.  When the fuck did I cheat?  I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[asahipleaseloveme]

Wait

A Part II to Threshold

Tsukishima x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: More Angst, but with a happier ending. Feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: mention of verbal abuse; mention of emotional abuse; alcohol consumption; let me know if I missed something and I'll add it

========================================

The period after a break-up has never been easy for you, and this one would surely be the one that you wouldn’t recover from. It had been a few months since you packed up and left Tsukishima all alone without an explanation. But the more you thought about it, the more evident it was that the signs were all there. And Tsukishima is a smart guy, you figured he could put two and two together. The arguing, the avoidance, the non-existent intimacy. He had to have known it was only a matter of time. He had to have known. He had to.

When you left, you tried to take everything of yours and leave everything of his. Even his old jersey he had gifted to you. You loved that jersey. It was such a thoughtful gift and in his own way, it was an act of love. You knew he loved when you wore it to games and everyone saw you wearing his name. He would always encompass you in a sweaty hug after the game and you reveled in it. Now, you can’t even watch him play anymore. You tried to watch a televised game once and had to turn it off before the first set even finished. It was too much for you. In fact, a lot of your daily routine was almost too much for you. Change was hard and you were still trying to get used to your new way of life. You avoided many of your favorite places in fear that you would bump into him. You honestly didn’t know how you could face him after everything.

“C’mon, ______. It’s been three months. Lingering on this isn’t helping you at all. Come with me to the arcade bar!” Your overly eager friend pushed.

“You know I can’t. What if I-”

“What if? What if what? You bump into him? There’s no rule that says you have to talk to him or that you even owe him an explanation. You can’t keep punishing yourself and depriving yourself of fun. You can’t live your life based on the “what ifs”. Start living by the “why nots”. Now, why not put on your favorite outfit and why not just come out with meeeeeeeeee.”

The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t really fault their reasoning. It had been months since you had gone out and attempted to have fun.

You sighed with a smile, “I suppose you're right. I can be ready in 20.”

You were a ball of anxious energy until you finally reached your destination. An arcade bar was a pretty low key place. You could immerse yourself in a game and shut everyone out. It was a start anyway. You ordered your favorite drink at the bar and then went to find a game that was secluded in a corner. Galaga was the game you decided on as it seemed simple enough. The nice thing was that the bar was fairly empty so you didn’t have to worry about someone jumping in on the game when you went to get another drink. You were so focused on the game that you didn’t notice a tall figure occupying the game next to you. Once you lost your last life, the screen popped up that you had just earned the highest score.

“You’re pretty good at that game,” a familiar voice startled you. Your whole body froze up, your heart leapt up into your throat, you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Was it the alcohol or the extreme guilt surging through your body? A combination of both you decided.

You turned to the figure standing next to you. It was hard to breathe, let alone form words.

“Tsukki-” you squeaked out in a little more than a whisper. Heart threatening to pound out of your chest, you turned fast on your heel.

“Wait,” he reached out and grabbed your wrist. The action caused you to stop and stare at his hand. “Sorry,” he said as he let go, “I just-I saw you and I...you...Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“We can talk right here,” your voice hoarse as though you’ve been yelling for hours.

“______, I’m not going to talk about what happened right here. We can-”

“If you want to talk, then we can do it right here. And if you’re going to make any snide comments or demean me, then I’m just going to walk out.” You weren’t sure where this surge of confidence came from, but you were grateful that it happened.

Tsukishima put his hands up, “I promise that is not why I came over here. And you have every right to walk away if I say something that offends you.” He lowered his hands down to his side, stuffing them into his pockets. “______, why? Why just walk away without saying anything?”

“You had to have known something was wrong between us, Tsukishima. The constant fights, the way you avoided me, the way you talked to me like I was a piece of garbage. I tried to bring it up, but you put up your walls and kept me out. One of us was going to leave eventually. And I don’t know if I could have handled walking into a half empty apartment. You’re stronger than I am, always have been. I figured it wouldn’t be as hard for you to adjust to it,” you stammered as you struggled to form coherent sentences.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and staring at you. “Ever since you left, I realized you mean more to me than anything else in this world. ______, I was an idiot. Still am, probably. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I was wrong. For many things. Insulting you. Ignoring you. Letting you think you were all alone in a place where you should have felt at home.”

He paused, a slight red brushing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “But I think the worst thing I did was keep my walls up while you broke yours down for me. I took for granted your love for me, and for that I was wrong.” He slammed his eyes shut and for a moment, it looked as though there were tears forming along his lids.

A moment of silence passed.

“______, you’re the best thing I never knew I needed. Please, can we try this again?”

“You don’t need me, Tsukishima. You never have, so why would we start now?”

For a slight moment, you catch a glimmer of desperation on his face.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t need you, just like you don’t need me,” the words burned your heart hearing them come from his mouth. “But, ______,” he grabbed your hands. “I want you to be with me. I want you to be the one who comes to see me for lunch at work. I want you to be the one who greets me at the front door. The one who presses up against my back in the middle of the night. The one who I kiss goodbye to in the morning. I want it to be you who wears my jersey and cheers for me. Please, I just want you back,” his voice cracked.

You were taken aback. This is not what you were expecting from him.

“What happens when I mess up or we have a disagreement? Are you going to shut me out and we’ll just have a repeat of the last three months of our relationship? As much as I want the good times with you back, I don’t think I can handle anymore of the bad times. Do you know how hard it is to hear the person you love belittle and berate you? All I ever wanted was to make you happy, and I’m not sure I can do that anymore. I-I’m sorry,” you let your hands fall from his and move to walk past him.

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. He only stares at the floor with his head down. You walked past several arcade games before turning around once more to look at him.

“He’s trying, ______,” Tadashi leaned over to you. You didn’t even realize he was here, too. ‘He’s been working on it. He talks about you every day and what he would do if he could just have another chance with you. I’m not saying he deserves another chance, that’s ultimately up to you. I think you leaving really opened his eyes to what he had and just how badly he messed up.”

Tadashi's words seem to resonate with you. He has no reason to lie to you. He's always been a good friend to you. You stare at the back of Tsukishima's head for a good 30 seconds.

“I still love him,” you whispered as tears started to fall from your face. He was still standing in the same spot, opening and closing his fists. You took a deep breath and walked back over to him.

“Tsukishima,” you placed your hand on his elbow. “Tsukishima, I still love you. After everything, I still love you. What’s that stupid saying “if you love something let it go and” ugh, I can never remember the last part.”

“If it comes back it’s yours forever?”

“Yeah, that. I don’t know if I can promise forever. But I can promise to give you my best, if you promise to give me your best. And when we’re at our worst, we try to work through it together. We might have to take this slow to build up what we used to have. But, I’m willing if you’re willing. Why not?”

Tsukishima wrapped you up and buried his face in the top of your hair.

A wave of relief washed over you and peace was what you felt at the moment.

“I love you, ______.”

You texted your friend to let them know that you were leaving and thanks for the afternoon outing.

“You wanna come back to my place and watch a movie?” You asked Tsukki as you both walked out of the bar.

“I would like to, but I already told Yamaguchi I’d hang out with him today.”

“Hm, that’s too bad. I saw that they’re streaming the Jurassic Park Trilogy. Maybe another time, then?” You said as you continued walking. “Um, text me later if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone, “Well, I guess Yamaguchi will have to accept a rain check from me this time. He’ll understand.”

His long legs made quick work of catching back up to you. He ever so delicately interlocked his fingers with yours as you continued to your apartment.

Something about him was different. It was too soon to tell if it was a good kind of different, but you were willing to get acquainted with him again to find out.

[thatbritishactor]

Adventures in Success (part 7)

Adventures in Success (part 7)

Pairing : Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings : None, this chapter’s FLUFFY AF.

Summary: Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Words: 3,000

Type: Slow Burn, Fluff

Part 1   Part 2     Part 3     Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part 8

gif by bnbrns

My masterlist

3 months later

Ben’s been back in LA for a few days when he receives a text from you. Ever since your text exchange while you were drunk, the two of you resumed on your usual banter, leaving the unfamiliar politeness behind, much to his relief. It feels like the emotional wall you’ve put up between you and him progressively came crawling down with every text exchange. You are scheduled to meet for dinner tonight, and he can’t wait to see you.

He’s surprised you haven’t contacted him as he received the best news he’s ever gotten in his entire career. He’s been nominated for the Volpi Cup, the award for best actor in the Venice Film Festival, for the Bong Joon Ho movie. When he got the news from the film crew, he almost cried tears of joy. He was incredibly proud, but most importantly, he knew you’d have to drop his contract, as you had agreed. He wondered how you felt about his nomination, and why you hadn’t contacted him right away. Had you found someone else? If so, was it serious? His heart jumped in his chest when he saw your name illuminating his screen. He opened your message eagerly.

You: Hi Ben, I know we were supposed to meet today for dinner, but I got the flu and i’ve been stuck home for the last two days. I’m still feverish and I can’t make it out I’m so sorry… :(

So, that was why you hadn’t contacted him. Selfishly, he preferred to know that you were stuck home with the flu than in the arms of another guy. He writes back to you:

Ben: I can come over and bring some soup, herbal tea and flu medicine :)

You: absolutely not Ben, I’d never forgive myself if you got the flu because of me.

He raises his eyebrows as he reads your message. He won’t let you get away with this.

Ben: I’m immune to the flu :) plus I have some verrry important news and I NEED to see you.

You: I cant let you see me this way :( I haven’t showered in two days and I look like shit.

Ben: I don’t care. I’m coming.

You: Fine, you’re the f***** worst.

Ben: see you in an hour :)

Ben can’t stop smiling as he gets in his car to go to the grocery store, he’s so gleeful he could break into a song and start dancing in the street.

* * * * * * * * *

He knocks on your door, familiar with your place as he’s already been here a few times, for movie nights mostly. He’s even slept on your convertible couch after some nights where the two of you drank too much. You open slightly the door and he catches a glimpse of your face.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you came” you sigh as you turn over and leave the door open. He laughs loudly.

“That’s no way to greet me after a six months separation” he protests.

He smiles widely when he notices that you’re wearing a blanket around your shoulders, sweat pants and fuzzy socks. You’re walking awkwardly around your living room, looking exhausted. Your hair his wet so you’ve definitely taken a shower before he arrived. You look pale, your nose is red, you have dark circles under your eyes. You definitely look sick, but still cute, he thinks to himself. He sets the grocery bag on the table while you sit on your couch, staring at nothing.

“So, I took some chicken soup” he announces “some herbal tea, honey for your throat, your favorite ice cream and some ibuprofen”. He looks back at you, you’re wiping your nose with a tissue. You look so precious, he wants to hold you close and kiss you. He resists the urge and sets the items on your living room table, before making a trip to your kitchen to set the ice cream in the freezer.

“Thank you, Ben, that’s so kind of you” you reply weakly when he enters the living room. “I think my temperature’s rising again, I don’t feel too good” you add in a weak voice. He comes to sit next to you on the couch and presses a hand to your forehead. It’s clammy and hot, you’re burning up.

“Yep, feels like you’re having a fever” he states “I’ll get you some ibuprofen” he says, getting back up and heading to your kitchen to get a glass of water. He comes back a few seconds later and you’re lying on your side, your legs pressed to your chest, softly whining.

“It’s okay, I’m here” he says in a smooth voice. He crouches next to you and hands you the pill and the glass of water. You stare at him with glassy eyes.

“I can’t believe you came” you say, repeating the first words you’ve uttered to him when he got here.

“I told you, I have some important news to tell you” he says, smiling.

“But you’re seeing me like this” you whine, gesturing towards yourself. “I look like a monster” you say, closing your eyes.

“That’s not true, you look sick” he protests “You still look pretty and cute, don’t worry”, he adds with a grin. You hide your face in a cushion, not replying.

“Come on, take the pill” he says patiently. You open your eyes again and slowly sit.

“Thank you” you whisper, your hands trembling a bit.

“Do you want to eat something?” he asks, concerned.

You nod to say no “I’m not hungry” you say, wincing.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look away, thinking, scrunching your nose a bit. God you’re cute, he thinks, having to resist the urge to kiss you again.

“I don’t really remember” you reply “The fever’s making the last few days blurry” you add, scrubbing your eyes.

“I’m gonna get you some soup” he says, and he goes to the kitchen to get you a spoon.  He puts the kettle on to make you some tea as well, because he wouldn’t be a true British person of he didn’t.

“It’s still warm” he says, coming back in the living room. You nod as you patiently wait for him to bring you the soup, and sigh when he gives you the warm bowl.

“So, what’s the big news?” you ask.

“It can wait.” Ben answers, rubbing your arm to warm you up, seeing you shivering.

“But you came for that” you protest, drinking your soup.

“I came to see you” he replies, smiling softly.

You nod your head, closing your eyes “This is so good” you say.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, getting comfortable on the couch. “Do you want to watch something?” he asks, gesturing towards your TV. “A comforting movie, perhaps?”

You look at him, smiling softly “Yeah, I could watch something” you say “I’ve spent the last two days in bed” you add.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, looking intently at you. Even when you’re sick, you still have the same effect on him. His chest feels a bit tight and he desperately wants to touch you. You think for a few seconds before smiling slowly, your eyes looking heavy. You look so tired and weak, it breaks his heart “Princess Bride” you reply, looking content.

He laughs “Princess Bride it is!” he replies as he turns the TV on. He goes back to the kitchen to fetch you your tea, adding a generous amount of honey to soothe your throat. He comes back in the room and you’re standing next to the sofa.

“Could you unfold the couch?” you ask weakly, looking up at him. “I want to fall asleep in front of the film” you add.

He has the resist the urge to cup your face with both of his hands and kiss you. “Of course” he replies, happy to feel useful to you. He expertly unfolds the sofa, and you climb on it right away, still wrapped in your blanket. He lies down next to you and launches the movie. He feels genuinely content in this moment, thinking that there’s no place where he’d rather be, because he’s with you. He thinks to himself that he simply needs your company to feel whole and happy, and he realizes, for the hundredth time, how serious his feelings are for you. He glances at you and sees that you’re shivering.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m so cold” you reply, hugging yourself.

“I’ll get another blanket” he replies, and you reach for his arm before he gets up.

“Can you hold me?” you ask, looking at him. His heart explodes with joy in his chest and he tries to control his facial expression.

“Of course” he replies softly with an even voice, and he’s impressed with himself. He slides closer to you on the sofa and opens his arms, and you snuggle against him, sighing, seeming satisfied.

“You smell so good” you say after a few seconds.

He laughs. Why do you need to be in an altered state to say these things to him? Drunk or feverish? What stops you from saying how you feel? Why do you have to control yourself this much? he thinks bitterly.

“Thank you” he replies, his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” you ask, your eyes closed. You seem like you’re slowly falling asleep.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still half laughing.

“You’re smart, kind, funny, unbearably handsome.” you reply, yawning, before snuggling your face against his chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself” he replies softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not good enough for you” you reply, and your eyes are closed, your expression relaxed.

“What? That’s nonsense” he replies, frowning and aghast.

“Hmmmm...” you reply, your head falling a bit, and he understands that you’ve fallen asleep now. He looks back at the TV, distracted. Is that why you won’t date him? Using the excuse of being his agent? Because you’re insecure? He frowns as he ponders on this, still holding you against him. Your breathing is even and your face relaxed, and he feels happy and privileged to see you this way, unguarded and natural. He falls asleep before the movie ends, sill suffering from jet lag.

* * * * * * * * * *

You open your eyes, waking from the fever dream you were just having. You feel sweaty and cold, coming down from your fever. You look around you and find Ben lying next to you, asleep. You stare at his beautiful face for a few seconds, lit by the glowing screen of the TV. You usually can’t stare at him as much as you want to, so you indulge fully. You look at his eyes, his long lashes, the beauty spot you love so much. His nose, his mouth, his beard. His cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips. You heart aches in your chest, you find him so beautiful it almost makes you want to weep.

You close your eyes and sigh deeply, and decide to get up and take a shower to clean the sweat off yourself. You get up slowly, in order not to wake him up, and head to your bedroom. You set out a clean set of pajamas (the good fancy ones, because Ben’s here after all, and you’ll definitely look better in them than in your old sweat pants) and hop in the shower, happy to feel the warmth of the water on your skin. You close your eyes and try to focus to analyze the situation. It’s hard because you’re still feverish, and you feel groggy.

He’s here, you think to yourself, in awe. He came, only to take care of you. You shake your head as you realize how much he must care about you to have come all the way here. He could be anywhere, with anyone, and yet he decided to come to you. You nod your head as you take in the realization and try to calm your nerves. Once you’re done cleaning yourself, you step out of the shower, fold yourself into a towel and go brush your teeth, wanting to feel clean and fresh. You stare at your own reflection, unimpressed. What does he see in you? You simply don’t understand. He could have any woman, any beautiful actress in the industry, any gorgeous model, why does he waste his time with you? You shake your head, unable to comprehend what he sees in you. You step into your bedroom, put on a clean set of underwear before putting on your Pjs.

You tip toe in the living room again and turn off the TV screen. Ben shuffles in his sleep, sighing, and you lie down next to him. You could go back to your bed, but you can’t resist being so close to him. You’ve missed him so much these last few months, and your feelings for him are so strong. You reach for his hand and grab it softly, wanting to have a physical contact with him. He wakes up at the contact and your heart drops in your chest. He opens lazily his eyes, and they seem completely black in the dark.

“Hey” he whispers, smiling softly. “Feeling better?”

“A bit” you sigh back, your chest feeling horribly tight. You could kiss him, right here, right now. Nothing can stop you, except yourself.

“C’me here” he says, and he opens his arms. You don’t hesitate for a second, turning your back on him and snuggling close to him. He spoons you, holding you close, his arms around you. You close your eyes, thinking you’ve never been this happy before, and quickly fall asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

You wake up to the smell of pancakes and sigh happily. You stretch on the couch and slowly open your eyes, trying to assess how you feel. You’re still a bit sore and your throat hurts, but you don’t feel feverish anymore. You look around you and Ben’s woken up, probably in the kitchen judging by the sounds coming from it. You quickly get up, panicked, and run to your bathroom. You assess the mess as you stare at yourself in the mirror, and decide to brush your teeth first. You brush your hair, put fresh water on your face and breathe evenly to calm yourself. You’re not thrilled by the way you look, but at least you look a little more human. You tip toe to the kitchen and you hear Ben singing, bringing a bright smile to your face.

You enter and he’s cooking pancakes, and you think to yourself that the man has no mercy for you. First, coming to take care of you while you’re sick, secondly, making you pancakes in the morning. How is he even real? You ask yourself. He spots you and stops singing:

“Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?” he asks, grinning.

“A little better, thank you”, you reply as you take a sit on the counter.

“Ahhh, finally some good news”, he says, grinning. How does he look so good? You ask yourself. The man’s slept in his clothes, hasn’t taken a shower yet and he looks like the most beautiful person in the world. You grind your teeth, annoyed by him.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, blushing.

“Never better” he winks, and you blush even more.

“So, what about these big news you wanted to tell me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He slides a plate with pancakes and a cup of tea towards you, and you grab it eagerly.

“Well, I guess you haven’t heard since you were stuck in here with a fever” he starts, and he looks intently at you. “I’ve been nominated for best actor at the Venice Film Festival” he announces.

You choke on your tea and slide off the counter “Oh my God, Ben!!” you yell, and you jump at his neck to hug him, screaming with joy. He laughs as he catches you, and the two of you stand here for a while, hugging. Your breathing slows a bit and you step back “Congratulations” you say, looking up at his face, and the expression on his face makes you weak in the knees. There is tenderness, and a hunger, a want that makes you quiver.

“Thank you” he replies “I’d never had gotten there without you” he says as he puts a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You blush and turn over to grab your tea, before facing him again.

“I have something to ask you” he says, “a favor”.

“Anything, Ben” you say, smiling.

“By my guest at the film festival” he asks. “Come with me, please.”

You stop smiling and you feel sudden dread.

“Ben, I could neve-”

“I don’t want anyone else but you” he cuts you off “by my side, on this day. Please” he begs, and you get lost in his charcoal eyes, unable to resist him.

“Fine”, you sigh, and he grins widely.

“Thank you” he replies “I’ll send you the details” he winks, quoting back to you one of your favorite expressions. You blush again, feeling self conscious.

“I have to go” he says, “I’ll talk to you soon?” he adds, seeming hopeful.

“All right” you reply, still feeling weak in the knees. He steps closer to you, and he gently cups your face with both hands, before placing a light kiss on your forehead. He releases you and grabs his jacket. “Have a nice day” he says, winking, before leaving the kitchen.

You stare into the void as you hear your front door slamming, unable to process what just happened.

Part 8

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