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nsheetee · 4 years ago

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Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

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obeiii-mee · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I request an hc about a shady MC who's not phase by anything in Devildom with the brothers (and Diavolo?? he deserves love!!!)? Like, when Luci's like "i CaN KiLL yOu hUmAN", MC's reaction was like "Oh... congratulations then." i need more shady mc who may or may not be planning to ruin your life😂😂 Thanks and take care!!❤❤

The Brothers + Diavolo with an MC that is not phased by DevilDom

__________________________________

Pls I need more shady MC, they would not take any shit from the brothers. Put any Gen Z-er with these guys and you’ve got yourself a suicidal and reckless human exchange student.

They wouldn’t know what to do with one of those ahaksbakanhaka you’re right, Diavolo deserves all the love >:(((((((

You better take care too >:( thanks for sending me this big brain request. I’ve been preoccupied with other projects so I took a while to get to this ask. Hope you’re doing OK💙

____________________________________

Lucifer:

-He thought having a human exchange student was going to be bad enough as it is but this…..this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined

-The moment you arrived, he already knew you were going to be a problem child and a persistent one at that

-Literally the first thing you asked him was : “Why do you look like an off-brand Levi Ackerman?”

-And he was left there, astounded, confused and offended because he had no idea who you were talking about (cuz at that point you hadn’t met the third eldest) and the tone you had was, frankly, pissing him off

-You kept wondering off on your own????? Without looking like you gave a shit even though you almost walked into a butcher’s shop that specialises in human meat???? Tf MC?

-Also really irritated that you couldn’t be intimidated and that DevilDom was like a playground to you, for some reason? Like, MC get out of the fiery pits of eternally tormented souls- this is Hell, not the McDonald’s ball pit ffs

-Things did not improve for him lmao, by the end of the first week he had already ripped out a good chunk of his hair because of you

-“MC, you should know by now provoking demons like this for no good reason is only going to make life harder for you. Keep this up and you’ll get killed in no time because of your behaviour.”

-“Great, can we have a hip-hip and a hurray?”

-In the span of one day, he’s had to come to your rescue six times (approximately) because you’re too nonchalant about your surroundings around literal creatures of hell

-He doesn’t have enough coffee or will to live for this bs

-“Lucifer, I found this dead plant and brought it here because it reminded me of you.”

-“…..sigh. Why? Why does it remind you of me?”

-“Because it’s cold and unresponsive.”

-He made the consecutive decision to ignore you

-(low-key kept the plant tho)

-Honestly, you get on his nerves a lot and he has definitely contemplated killing you in the past but at the end of the day he really can’t bring himself to do it

-We both know he tried a few times lmfao

-“I will tear you limb from limb, human-“

-“Can I finish my tea first.”

-“You…wait, what?”

-“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting this tea get cold. Try to kill time before I’m done and I’ll smash this cup against your head.”

-If you try hard enough, you might even elicit a laugh out of him, especially if your shadiness is directed at any of his brother which results in him patting your head affectionately

-Nowadays he’s just concerned because you seemed to have made an alliance of sorts with Belphagour and Satan and that’s not a good sign

-For his sake, if not yours, at least try to survive the year without getting chomped on by a random demon please

-He’s too stubborn to let you die just because you’re unbothered by everything so cut him some slack and help out damn it

Mammon:

-“Oi Lucifer, how come I’m stuck babysittin’ this stupid human?”

-“And how come I’m stuck with this asshole for a tour guide, with his fake ass designer shoes and no brand sunglasses. That’s a lot of smack talk from someone with crow shit stains covering the back of his jacket. Also, did you stick your hair in a bucket of mayonnaise?”

-……..

-He was so offended lol

-Normally, humans like you cower in fear whenever demons are as much as mentioned because of the whole “I can eat you whole” thing

-And here you are; insulting the Avatar of Greed and one of the princes of Hell himself just because you didn’t like his attitude

-Don’t worry tho, he warms up to you in less than a fucking month simply because you still come to his rescue whenever his brothers start insulting him and wow, look at that, his heart is now combusting on the floor

-“Y’all have no right to criticise Mammon when he has the most self control out of all of you.”

-“Since when does Mammon have any self control? He can’t keep himself from nicking anything that looks shiny.”

-“Motherfucker, I don’t see him trying to choke me to death, respectfully pls shut the fuck up. I don’t want to say I have favourites but if I do, it’s definitely him.”

-While Mammon’s in the background, with hearts instead of pupils in his eyes like ❤️👄❤️

-He doesn’t even mind running around after you anymore (will still complain about it though because your ass is in constant danger and he’s had enough)

-Honestly, you keep starting shit with random demons, some of which are quite powerful mind you, and you don’t back down even when he’s there to step in

-Would low key love to watch you fight one of your classmates at RAD and organise a ticket selling booth for the event but Lucifer will hang him a new one if he does

-So for now, he sticks to baring his teeth at the aggravator in question and you’re there, giving the same demon the middle finger

-The way you sometimes match his energy gets him so hyped up lmao

-“Mammon, did you steal Levi’s money again?”

-“T’s none of her business human. Now go away, shoo!”

-“Bitch, don’t ‘shoo’ me, I ain’t a bird. Now tell me, did you?”

-“…..Why do you ask?”

-“Because a new flavour of instant noodles just got announced, called ‘Super Hell-Sauce Flavour’ and I thought you might be more interested in that than wasting the money on gambling.”

-“….ok but only if you come with me to buy some.”

-This…this is true love right here

Levi:

-Oh no, now there’s two of you

-Why do I feel like his energy would match MC’s almost immediately? Maybe it’s because he spends too much time in his room on the internet like the rest of us do

-“What do you want, you stupid normie?”

-“300…..”

-“….300 what?”

-“300 mangas collected, thousands of episodes of anime watched, over 60 character figurines, plushies, body pillows, merchandise and several posters only to be called a fucking normie by a demon weeb that’s only known me for 10 minutes.”

-Boom, instant friendship

-He becomes attached to you almost immediately and now that he knows how unphased you are by DevilDom, he is seriously worried

-Hell, you’re making him consider going outside his room just to make sure you’re alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere because you decided to get on someone’s nerves that particular day

-Even during the quiz thing, when he almost kills you, you’re just sitting on the floor and awkwardly watching him as he throws a sissy fit

-Levi feels sort of conflicted with you because one one hand you’re good company and he loves having you around, you’re his Henry after all

-But on the other hand, you put yourself in so much danger it makes him paranoid so often to the point where he wants to keep you locked in his room and wrapped in bubble wrap

-Nearly had a heart attack when you almost walked right into a pit of lava like MC???? This isn’t one of his video games???? You’re not gonna respawn if you die????

-Besides all that, he gets a bit jealous of you confidence and your ability to just do whatever without fearing death or consequence

-“MC, how do you do it?”

-“Do what?”

-“How do you go about your life without a care in the world?”

-“I guess I’ll tell you my secret Levi. I’m not like other humans that’s why, I’m just so unique I do things differently.”

-“You sound like a pick me-“

-As long as you’re OK and not injured because of your carelessness, he’s indifferent about your behaviour and will even applaud you for your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing

-“lmao the human exchange student just dumped Solomon’s cooking in the trash while looking him dead in the eye 💀💀💀”

Satan:

-Your attitude towards DevilDom and demons in general kept him entertained, if nothing else

-You rarely seemed to consider how much of a threat that place really is and usually you were just running around, completely ignoring Lucifer’s rules and doing your own thing

-Which, you know, he’s all about

-I can’t say there were no incidents between the two of you

-With his short temper and your tendency to say things without caring about the consequences, there were definitely moments when he might’ve snapped on you

-“MC for goodness sake, what happened to my room?”

-“What do you mean?”

-“It’s an absolute mess! I just told you to bring me my spells and curses book, not mow through everything!”

-“It’s not my fault this place is built like a fucking labyrinth. You should be grateful I went to get it for you at all, I almost tripped and died several times on my way back. Also, you should get a new ladder for your shelves. It did the broken.”

-“MC….”

-“Yes?”

-“You are so lucky I love you.”

-Other than the fact his anger takes over him when things like these happen, he not so subtly encourages you to keep going because seeing Lucifer scowl at your antics gets him wheezing his lungs out

-I like to think Satan would be very impressed, even in the beginning, at the amount of nonchalance you can radiate at times

-I mean, you sure as hell don’t see it often and he loves how unpredictable you are more often than not

-If anything, he should probably thank you-idk how, but his patience has increased significantly every since you got here and he appreciates having some more control of his emotions

-“I’m gonna go put oil in Lucifer’s shoes.”

-“Do you have a death wish?”

-“Satan, I am old enough to make my own decisions and I concluded that this action is necessary.”

-“Necessary for what?”

-“Raising everyone’s morale! All of you seemed to feel down lately so I thought this would be fun for everybody!”

-“Except Lucifer, right?”

-“Except Lucifer. He grounded me from my D.D.D like I’m a fucking teenager who needs to be supervised-pssshht, I’m the most responsible one here.”

-“Yes clearly.”

-“Goodbye dear Satan, I may die today. But it’s for the greater good! (Dramatic exit with sound effects)”

-“WAIT MC!”

-“(pops head back in) yes?”

-“May I offer you my assistance?”

-You’re basically taking turns pranking his brothers and it’s hilarious

-Satan is not too worried about your well being simply because he knows his siblings and him are always going to be nearby to save you if you pull something stupid again

-Even so, he checks up on you throughout the day; just to make sure

-“Where were you?”

-“Running from a bunch of demons. Who wanted to go munchy crunchy on me, I assume.”

-“……”

-“Either that or people here are a lot friendlier than originally expected.”

-You can be such a handful and it really tests him, especially when he’s angry enough to begin with

-But despite your amazing talent at either getting completely lost around Hell, purposely walking into a prohibited place just because you felt like it or riling up others with how blunt you are, he still cares about you deeply

-You may be a pain the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass <3

Asmo:

-He should’ve known something was up with this particular human when you stood there, completely calm and collected, while Beel salivated at the thought of eating you on your first day

-Asmo just brushed it off for a while but it kept happening???

-The first time Lucifer ever told you off, you really went and said “Or what? Are you going to eat me? If so, you can go ahead and start with-“

-He came to your rescue and covered your mouth before you got to finish and before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on to everyone in that house

-“OOPSIE! I think MC has been spending too much time with me. Sorry Lucifer, we gotta run now! We have a party to attend, don’t we MC darling?”

-“You mean the one hosted by the guy that tried to kill me because I shoved into him on the hallway at school and then proceeded to tell him to go fuck himself right back into whatever hell hole he was born in before you came and charmed our way out of it?”

-“Yes.”

-“Ah OK. “

-You’re tiring for sure but you’re not exactly unlikeable

-You have a certain charm hanging about you that Asmo loves

-“I almost died like…30 minutes ago.”

-“WAIT WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED-MC ARE YOU OK???”

-“Yeah, I almost drank some poison today because someone told me it was water. It smelt off though so I didn’t.”

-“….”

-“Anyway, I got you this bracelet on my way home.”

-He really does wish you would take things a bit more seriously

-This is your life on the line, you know? What would he do if you died?

-“MC, you’re not immortal, you can die so much more easily than I can, you know that right???”

-“I don’t care.”

-“Well I do! And you should too….”

-A lot of people don’t see past his vanity tbh, because he can be such a caring person towards the people he loves

-The amount of videos he has of you appearing to be completely calm while pure chaos is descending in the background is pretty impressive

-Every time he uses his charm on you to try and get you to commit his sin, it just doesn’t work???? For some reason???? And even if it’s just with simple, innocent affection for now, he is determined to tempt you into it

-“MC~gimme a hug!”

-“But that’s social interaction and I don’t support it- do you have a charger for my D.D.D by any chance?

-Or at least die trying to ig

-Asmo loves having you around but you’re giving him wrinkles and that’s not okay >:(

Beel:

-The moment he realised how carefree you actually were, he sort of started checking up with you quite frequently throughout the day

-It’s his way of protecting you but if he could, he would follow you around all the time

-Becomes your body guard because you may not care enough about your safety but he certainly does so get ready to be carried everywhere

-You will not get hurt nor will anyone mess with you if he has a say in it and let me tell you, he does

-Thing is, his brothers mostly know him for being slightly dense in some aspects of day to day life

-He’s not perceptive of things that don’t involve food or his loved ones

-And because you most definitely are a loved one of his, he does notice how careless you are really often

-And it scares, rather worries, him because DevilDom is an incredibly dangerous place-even with all the precautions they had taken when you came

-“MC get down, you could fall.”

-“But Beel, look-I’m finally taller than everyone else! Taller than you even! Hey, should I do a backflip?”

-He has no idea why you thought jumping from 60 meter high cliff into a small river of squashed demon blood was a good idea but he wasn’t going to risk anything just because you felt like showing off your diving skills

-Proceeds to carry you away, completely unfazed

-In this case, I feel like Beel is not someone who gets bothered by the horrible things happening around there either

-As long as he has food and his family is safe and happy then he’s also happy, as mentioned above

-But he knows he’s alright with DevilDom because he’s been living here for centuries now

-A bit curious as to why you’re so unbothered

-And even more curious as to why you weren’t terrified of him transforming in his demon form after he lost control when he found out you ate his pudding

-Or more like Mammon did and pushed the blame on you

-“YOU. ATE. MY. PUDDING!”

-“Beel I love you but if you did not just see Mammon shoving the damn container in my mouth two seconds prior to this, then you might need glasses.”

-He apologised to you later for it but even so, you didn’t seem to mind like at all and he didn’t really understand why

-Unless you end up explaining why exactly you feel so indifferent about your life being in potential danger, he won’t really pry

-But now he has even more reason to follow you around like a lost puppy

-Since it’s clear you don’t really care about protecting yourself

-So now it’s his job to do it

-MC protection squad? Mostly Beel and Mammon

-ahhh he cute

Belphie:

-Oh

-You piss him off so much

-He’s trying to have his moment, you know?

-Finally getting that glimmer of satisfaction after killing a human as a way to avenge his sister’s death

-Trying his hardest to make it as miserable as possible because he has so much rage in him, he needs you to suffer

-“Harder Daddy-“

-“Oh fuck off.”

-Nah but for real, what the fuck MC

-Why does he even bother, he feels like he should be sleeping instead of dealing with your bullshit

-Even afterwards, when your future self shows up and he tries to kill you again, you look more thoughtful than irritated???

-Lucifer and Beel are literally holding him back from doing another Chocky on you and you’re standing there, looking at him with your eyebrows raised

-“Hey Belphie, I have a quick question. I know you’re trying to kill me and everything but do you like the colour blue?”

-“HUH??!?!”

-“It’s a simple yes or no question Belphie. Do. You. Like. Blue?”

-“WHAT DOES IT MATTER???!!!”

-“BELPHAGOUR, AVATAR OF SLOTH-YES OR NO, JUST FUCKING ANSWER!”

-“YES! FUCK YOU!”

-“Ah ok thanks. I like blue too :)”

-????????????

-Pls he felt like sticking his foot down your throat

-As of late, he’s kind of glad he didn’t manage to scare you away that day and that he didn’t traumatise you or something

-At the time, he was mad because he didn’t understand why you weren’t scared but now he just wants to make it up to you

-“You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry MC, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay away from me now.”

-“Stfu dipshit, what’s gotten you so depressed? Did you have another fight with Beel? I told you not to eat the last slice of cake.”

-“Rude ass, I was trying to apologise for my past mistakes-let me repent will you?”

-“Said no demon ever. Now let’s go hang out you emo bitch.”

-Y’all vibe together on a spiritual level once that shit gets sorted out

-But he’s kinda scared you might pull out a knife on him ngl

-Obviously, you’re still annoying as fuck with that indifferent attitude of yours but he can live with it

-He appreciates the fact that you’re not scared of him, even after what he’s done

Diavolo:

-Ah yes, the future King of DevilDom himself

-He’s very enthusiastic about the idea of you having fun this year…..and to keep you alive….

-He, of course, expected a range of reactions from you when he first summoned you here

-None of which were “Ok but could you not have given me a heads up? Before the whole teleportation thing? I face-planted your onto marvellously polished the floor and now I think I lost even more brain cells than before.”

-He felt so bad gagajajahahwgehhsb

-He apologised for bringing you out here without any warning like that and then proceeded to introduce you to everyone

-Diavolo is actually kind of relieved to see you’re handling everything pretty well

-He thought that maybe DevilDom was too much for a human to deal with

-Meeting Barbatos also went incredibly smooth

-“Barbatos? The one that cleans the floors right? Big fan of your work, I could eat off the floor of the main hall.”

-He’s so glad to see you getting along with everyone and not getting intimidated by the brothers

-It gets him excited thinking about how the exchange program is gonna work and all three realms will be united

-But he’s not stupid so don’t think he’ll allow you to stumble around, getting up to all sorts of mischief

-He always has someone watching you because he would hate to see you die, despite being pretty fond of your carefree attitude

-“MC, please be careful. Most demons here aren’t all that nice.”

-“Aye aye Captain.”

-He fears that many demons would take your indifference as a challenge and try to assert dominance or something by kidnapping you

-As far as creatures of hell go, they love installing fear in people

-So he always keeps an extra eye open for you

-And he’ll be there to help you if something goes wrong

-But other than that, he’s pretty chill as well and he finds you so hilarious, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone as eccentric and dramatic as Mammon and Asmo

-Idk what else to add here, Diavolo is very accepting and as long as you don’t get hurt, he’s glad you can get used to your new surroundings so easily

———————————-

Al~

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Time (The Ashes of Yourself Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts/ideation, swearing, daddy/abandonment issues

Word count: 3,879

You and Techno stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both of you not knowing what to say to each other. So much was left unsaid between you two throughout your childhoods and the past four years that you didn’t know where to even start. You supposed a simple ‘how are you?’ would suffice, but that’d be too simple, far too simple for not talking to each other in literal years. But you couldn’t just say ‘hey, I’m incredibly jealous that you are Dad’s favorite and I totally didn’t send you my suicide note that you may or may not have seen’, that’d be way too much trauma dumping for your taste. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you chose to sheepishly grin at him and awkwardly wave.

“Heh uh, how’re you…?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.

You watched as he furrowed his brows slightly before he hesitantly gave you a small wave with his gargantuan pink hand. “...I’m doin alright. You?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over you two as you glanced down at your bloodied hands. “Sorry bout the blood. It won’t really stop until I stop moving.”

He shrugged, “that’s fine. I’ve bled everywhere in this house. Nothing that won’t come out.”

“Alright then.”

You wanted to crawl into a pit and just let yourself die, you hated this awkward atmosphere you created. Your mind scrambled to find something to say to the man other than a stupid ‘alright then’. You haven’t even seen him in four years, surely you would be able to find something to talk about. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him clear his throat.

“I uh got some clothes for you. They’re Tommy’s old clothes from when he stayed with me during his exile. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but I’m guessing that they’re better than the wet ones you’re wearing.”

When he saw you wince when you tried to stand up, he rushed to your side and helped you stand up. You could feel the backs of your knees start to drip blood. “Do you have any spare lava?”

His hands paused on your upper arms, “yes, but why would you need it?”

“It kinda heals me. I mean, just enough that my skin stops cracking open and bleeding everywhere.”

“Why don’t we just take you to a lava lake in the Nether?”

You glanced out the window at the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and being whisked off to other places by the harsh wind. You shuttered, remembering what it felt like to be fully engulfed in water. “Water hurts. I don’t want to get burnt out again.”

“Right, I’ll go get a few buckets full. Stay here,” with that, he ushered you to sit in front of the fire once again and draped the large blanket over your shoulders again. You could hear him move to another room and rustle around what you presumed was a chest before you heard his heavy footsteps walking behind the couch. You could hear the billowing of the wind when he opened the door before it was cut off by the door closing.

You leaned forward and put your hands in the fire, relishing in the feeling of the flames melting away the charred skin slightly. The flames licked and caressed your dark skin slowly giving you more feeling back in the damaged tissue. As you were turning your hands over the flames, you thought about your voluntary near death experience just about an hour before.

The thought of the ocean finally taking you and dragging your charcoaled corpse into its depths never to be seen again was alluring. After feeling the intense pain and the suffocation that came with chucking yourself into the ocean when you’re part blaze was definitely a deterrent, but you just had to push through the pain. This was something you’d dreamt of doing since you were fifteen and you’d be damned if you were going to let pain stop you.

You know you felt sort of… grateful that Philza saved you when you were laying on that beach, but now that you had time to reflect on what happened, you felt resentful that he did. Of course he’d take away the only good thing you had going on in your life, he was full of audacity and impudence when you were a kid. He hasn’t changed at all much to your disappointment. You shouldn’t have expected him to change in the first place, that was just something that you knew in the back of your mind would never happen. A large part of you craved his approval and affection, but you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Your thoughts were cut off by someone pulling you back gently from the fire. “I got the lava. Uh, I can set up an area for you downstairs with netherrack.”

“No, you don’t have to, I just have to put it on my joints for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you want to, uh, fully cover yourself?”

“I can hold off until the snowstorm dies down. It’s nothing too major.” You dipped your hands into the large bucket of lava and sighed in relief, “that’s much better, thank you Technoblade.”

“It’s no problem, but you literally just almost died. How is that something that’s ‘not major’?”

“I’m used to… well, this,” you took a hand out of the lava and gestured to your stone covered arm. “It’s just more than I’m used to. Kinda uncomfortable, but I’ll live.”

“What do you mean you’re used to it? You don’t live by water do you?”

“Yeah, I live by the ocean so I’m bound to get a little charred. No big deal,” you took your hands out of the bucket, shook the excess lava off, and stuck your elbows in. You looked at your now dully glowing hand and wiggled your fingers. There were more blackened scars etched into your skin on your joints, but you didn’t care.

“Heh? Why the hell would you live by an ocean?”

You wove your hands nonchalantly in the air, “I always liked how the water looked when the sun set. The way that the pinks and yellows would reflect and bounce off the waves? Breathtaking.” You also lived by the ocean so that you had an easy way out of living, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Too much trauma dumping.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Have you ever seen the sun setting over the ocean?” You rose a brow at the piglin hybrid sitting on the couch.

“Well, no but-”

“Then you can’t knock it till you try it. I’ll take you to my old place after I can take a proper lava bath. You won’t regret it, promise.”

“Still, you’re literally made of fire. Look what happened to you… Er, speaking of, how’d this happen?” He looked you up and down inquisitively with his red eyes.

You sighed as you took your elbows out of the lava and dipped your feet into the buckets. “...Do you still have your communicator?”

You watched as his floppy ear flicked and his eyebrow rose at you, “...Yes, but I only talk to Dad. Why, did you leave me a message?” Before he could stand up to grab his communicator, you stopped him with a hand on his shin. “No, I didn’t. I was just wondering.”

He didn’t look convinced, “...tell me what happened. Were you pushed?”

Your shoulders tensed up against your will before you forced them to relax. “I fell in, got too close to the edge.”

“You’re so lucky Dad was already at your house, you could’ve died. How could you be so careless?”

You only responded with a blaze-like frustrated grunt that rumbled in the back of your throat and removed your feet from the buckets. Picking up one of the buckets, you took a swig of the lava. The viscous liquid crawled slowly down your throat and soothed your burned esophagus and stomach. Clearing your throat, you looked over to your estranged brother. He was looking at you with disgust, his snout scrunched up slightly and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“What?” Your voice sounded less strained and scratchy. Overall, it felt better to speak.

“Your- your feet were just in there. That’s disgusting.”

You blew out a puff of smoke and watched as it drifted to the ceiling, “my feet were just in water, remember? They’re clean. And besides, I swallowed and inhaled a lot of water so I needed it. I mean, my lungs are still stone, but there’s nothing I can do about it except wait it out.”

“That’s still gross. Wait, can you not drink water?”

“No- well technically I can, but it hurts. Gimme one sec.”

He was quiet as he watched you take a deep breath and dunk your entire head into the lava bucket you weren’t drinking from. His youngest sibling was… strange, but he found that he enjoyed your company so far. The only company he’s had at his cabin recently was his brothers and dad, which burned him out slightly with their big personalities. You were as awkward as he was and that was refreshing. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty after hearing the majority of yours and Philza’s argument. Now that he thought back on his childhood, the majority of his memories were of him and Philza. He didn’t have many negative memories past his adoption, and that was because he spent all of his time adventuring with Philza. He did everything with his adoptive father and absolutely nothing with his siblings. He knew nothing about Wilbur, well Ghostbur now, or Tommy until they stayed with him during Tommy’s exile. He’s never talked to you or spent any time with you before, and he wanted to get to know who you were. He wanted to make up for lost time.

After you were under for a while, he started to worry that you drowned yourself. Just as he was about to pull your head out of the bucket with a hand close to your forehead, you slowly removed your head from the lava and held it over the bucket so that the excess would drip off from you. Panting slightly, you sat up fully and wiped your eyes clean of the lava. You could hear some rustling in front of you so you opened your eyes to see your brother holding out clothes to you.

“Go change, I’ll make dinner. There’s a spare room upstairs, second door on the left. You can stay there for now.”

You hesitated before you took the clothes from him, “I… Thank you Techno.” You weren’t expecting him to be so kind to you, he was known as the blood god after all. He was ruthless when he battled, leaving thousands without families. You saw him a couple of times when you were younger coming home with Philza covered in blood with a malicious expression on his face. That always made you try to avoid him; not that you had any difficulty doing that, he was never home.

He curtly nodded before he turned to walk into where you assumed was the kitchen. You trudged up the stairs and tiredly drug your feet down the hallway towards the second door on the left. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. It was simplistic, yet it looked like a professional decorated it.

The bed looked incredibly comfortable and soft with a large white comforter draped over the top. At both sides of the headboard, twin chests sat underneath double hung windows with wooden frames that matched the spruce planks that made up the walls. You were sure that once the relentless snowstorm stopped you would be able to see a spruce forest in the distance. Lanterns hung at the far corners of the room opposite of where the bed sat. Glancing at the opposite wall, you saw a framed portrait of a nether fortress. You assumed that it was the nether fortress on the other side of his portal. If you squinted, you could see orange specks that you assumed were blazes.

After you got dressed, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Tommy’s clothes fit you. Despite the slight bagginess of the pants and the sleeves of the jumper hanging halfway past your hands, they fit relatively well. Humming in satisfaction, you hung up your wet clothes to dry and made your way downstairs following the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes. Your mouth watered at the smell, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten an actual meal. You’d just been surviving on an apple a day with the occasional potato when you had some leftover from making homemade vodka.

You walked into the kitchen and looked at your brother standing at the stove, the stove looked miniscule compared to his seven and a half foot tall form. That man was a giant and you wouldn’t be lying if his height alone didn’t intimidate you slightly. If he wanted, he could grab your entire face with his hand. Various light pink scars decorated his muscular arms that poked out from the rolled up sleeves of his blouse. He wasn’t wearing his huge fluffy cloak, instead it was draped over the back of one of the chairs at the large wooden dining table. Every part of your body wanted to take it, wrap yourself up into a blaze hybrid burrito, and take the best nap you’ve ever had. His corseted form moved gracefully around the kitchen grabbing various spices and herbs.

You saw his ears twitch before he moved his massive head to look back at you, you could see the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “They fit you, that’s good. Take a seat, dinner's almost ready.” With that, you took a seat at the table. You felt like a child again, the table was huge, the tabletop coming up to your lower chest. The table and chairs were made of what looked like dark oak wood. The wood was carved intricately with complex patterns etched into the frame and the back of the chairs.

You eyed the cape draped over the chair next to you. It was a deep royal red with black speckled white fur lining the border of the fabric. If you looked closely, you could see that the pendant that connected the two ends was made of gold and had a diamond encrusted center. It looked incredibly soft, it would be so easy to just reach out with a finger to pet it. Your brother wouldn’t notice if you did it quick enough so that you could touch it before he turned around. When you gathered the courage to touch the cloak, you reached out with a slightly shaking hand to pet the fur, watching Technoblade the entire time.

Everytime he would move to grab a spice, you would quickly retract your hand and try to act as innocent as possible only to try again after he didn’t turn around again. Just as you finally touched the fabric, you were in awe with how soft it was. It was like petting a newborn puppy but better. You truly couldn’t put into words how soft it was.

You were snapped out of your trance by a small chuckle, “soft isn’t it?” You jumped, quickly retracting your hand and smacking your head against the back of your chair in the process. You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they usually did, you could see the glow of orange intensify at the bottom of your vision. Your brother was staring at you with amusement, his mouth quirked up in a small smile. He was carrying two plates full of steak and potatoes, putting one in front of you before walking to sit opposite of you.

“Uh, yeah. It- it’s really soft.”

“I got it from a nation thousands of blocks from here, it wasn’t easy to get. Those guards were not happy to see me stealing from their king.” He chuckled before he started to eat his food.

“Is that where you got the crown too?”

“No, Dad got it for me as a going away present when I moved out… You’ve grown up so much since I’ve last seen you. I remember when you barely reached my waist and now you’re only about a foot and a half shorter than me.”

“You’ve gotten taller also, more scars too.”

“You as well. Are all those from water?”

“Yeah, it only scars when I crack the stone on my skin though.”

“Ouch. So like you get scars whenever you move?”

You shrugged, “basically.” Turning to your plate, you struggled with not wolfing down the entire thing in one go. You didn’t want to have your brother get the impression you had bad table manners. Wilbur raised you better than that. When you took a bite of the stake, you moaned slightly at the taste. Quickly swallowing your mouthful, you looked at your brother with wide eyes. “Ender Tech, where’d you learn to cook? It’s delicious.”

He gave you a small bashful smile and shrugged, “when you’ve been living alone for this long you pick up on a few things.”

“I’ve been living alone for about a year now and I still can’t cook.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “well what do you eat then?”

“Just an apple a day, maybe a potato too if I have any to spare.”

He narrowed his eyes, “how the hell are you still alive? That’s hardly enough.”

You blankly stared at your plate, “I’ve been asking myself that everyday, things aren’t… amazing living alone. Uh, let’s talk about happier things. I wanna get to know you.”

He stared at you for a while before he sighed, “fine, but we’re talking about this later. How do you wanna go about getting to know each other?”

“It’s gonna be hard cuz we have like seventeen years to catch up on, but I think we can do it. Let’s… let’s play the favorites game. We take turns naming a category and we both say what our favorite thing in that is. I’ll start, what’s your favorite type of mythology? Like Greek, Egyptian, Norse…”

His eyes lit up at the mention of mythology, “I like Greek mythology. I can talk for hours about it.”

“Nice! I personally like Norse mythology better, we have to exchange myths sometime.”

“My turn, what’s your favorite myth?”

You matched his excitement, “I really like the Ragnarok myth. The fact that the gods know of their impending doom and destruction and are actively working towards it is- is just really intriguing. What’s yours?”

You both abandoned your meals as your conversation diverged into telling each other various myths from your respective favorite mythologies. Your favorite ones he told you were the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, Persephone and Hades, and Psyche and Eros. You were a sucker for romance even if the thought of you being in a relationship was something you were uncomfortable thinking about. Romance stories just made you happy to see people finding comfort and fulfillment in each other. You told him more about Ragnarok, the creation of Mjolnir, and the murder of Baldur.

Before you two knew it, hours passed by. Your untouched dinners grew cold and the clock struck midnight startling both of you out of your story telling. You both looked at the grandfather clock then back at each other in shock, “we’ve been talking for four hours Tech.”

“Yeah, we did. It- it was nice talking about mythology. Usually people get bored when I talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ender, I know. Why don’t they find it as interesting as we do? It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to, it’s nice.”

“We better go to bed, we can just eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow before we take you to the Nether and your house. You probably want to sleep in your own bed.”

You laughed nervously, “yeah about that… I don’t really have a bed anymore. Or an actual house for that matter.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I may have burnt it down accidentally.”

He was silent for a bit before he looked at you suspiciously. “Are you gonna burn my house down?” And there’s the thing you hated most when you told people of your lineage and abilities. They always believe that you’re a being of destruction and inferno. They always grow to not trust you around them or their possessions fearing you would burn them to a crisp. You cursed your biological parents daily for giving you these genes.

You shrunk in on yourself slightly, “no, I’d never do that to you. I’m in control as long as I keep my emotions in check. Can’t get too excited, scared, or happy. I just can’t do anything extreme and my temperature stays low.”

He grunted, nodding in satisfaction. “We probably should get to sleep soon if we wanna get stuff done before the family reunion.”

“I forgot about that… Have you met the kid Phil’s gonna adopt?”

He drew in a long breath into his nose and huffed it out of his mouth. “Yeah, his name’s Ranboo. And he’s actually only about half a year younger than you are. I don’t know how to feel about him yet, but he seems like he has good intentions.”

You drug a hand through the flames idly flickering on your head, “is Phil seriously gonna adopt another kid? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him.”

“That’s what I thought, I don’t need any more orphans running around here. You, Tommy, and Wilbur are more than enough. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

With that, you picked up your plates and took them to the kitchen. Before you could turn on the water faucet, a hand on your shoulder stopped you. “I’ll get it. You can’t be around this stuff.”

“A little water won’t hurt me. It’s the least I could do, you made dinner.”

“A little water will hurt you. Go to bed, I’ll handle this. It’s only two dishes.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it snapped shut as soon as he gave you a warning look. “Go to bed (y/n).”

“...Aright, thank you for doing that. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

He grunted as you walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. You walked straight to the bed and plopped down onto the surface. You felt sort of bad that you were rubbing soot off onto the white comforter from your still charcoaled skin, but it was nothing that you couldn’t clean in the morning. The bed was extremely comfortable, a stark contrast to your old one. Your old one had lumps and some exposed bedsprings sticking out of the fabric. With the weight of the heavy comforter and the plush mattress, you were out like a light.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@appetiteofapeoplepleaser @misfortunatem00n @hee-hee-haw @bi-narystars @akikko-yataro @snapple311 @jo171718 @alex--awesome--22 @cinnamonmochi @waterstrawberry @jefferyepsteindidntkillhimself @imamusicalnerd @fo-love @sylumarts @theshitinmytrunk @rinzyx05 @wasteofspacze @bands-are-amazingly-addicting @im-a-depressed-gay @charlotte-is-missing @s-n1428 @lifestylesleep @dame-sunflowers @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @aestheticpkmntrainer @emma-the-duck17 @pek0ra @wreny24 @willow404 @shiningsunrises @vanhakirja @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @soulless42 @giavanna

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #ghostbur x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #sibling reader #platonic #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide attempt #tw: swearing #tw: abandonment issues #tw: daddy issues #tw: depression #tw: blood

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

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!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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thebrownssociety · 3 years ago

Text

Across The Serververse Chapter 3

Hey! I'm back. Firstly, thank you to @thatsalotoftoons, @preciouslittletoonette and @ananicoleta for commenting and reblogging this.

Secondly, this chapter is what I like to call the 'explanation chapter'. I've tried not to info-dump, and I've edited it at least 3 different times trimming it down, so hopefully this is not to complicated, but I must admit the Serververse really intrigues me as a world and I'm really looking forward to exploring it through this.

See chapter 1 for the disclaimer and let's crack on.

Every other time Bugs had been to WB Central it had been buzzing, characters from all properties walking around, a few friendly arguments, a few hard-core fights, even a few drag races [usually the car kind, not the Queen kind]

Now however, it was quiet. Vewy, very quiet as a certain well-known hunter would say. There were quite a lot of characters milling around the place, but none of the energy that usually accompanied them. Also, it was dark, Bugs realised, not pitch-black, but darker than usual. Like someone had placed a cover over a still-turned on screen.

“Eh...what happened?” Bugs asked Pepe and Penelope.

They looked just as confused as him. “We do not know.” Pepe admitted.

“We’ve been on that cruise for 6 months, we’ve not been back here.” Penelope said, looking close to tears. “This iz awful”“ She added, tears springing to her eyes.

As Pepe started to try and calm her down, a familiar voice lifted Bugs’s spirit.

“Bugs, Pepe, Penelope! How lovely to see you all again!”

“Marvin!” Bugs exclaimed in delight, running over to the little Martian, picking him up and swinging him round joyously. “Am oi glad ta see you! What’s happened here? It’s like someone’s cut de power!”

“You’re more correct than you might think.” Marvin said, when Bugs had put him down. “Warner Brothers have seen fit to disable the entire system until they can get access to it again. Theirs's a problem, you understand. It appears the ‘famous Looney Tunes characters-” Here here made air quotes. “- have been put into different worlds. None of the humans can figure out why and are attributing it to a virus. They’ve called in multiple Information Technology people, but none of them can figure it out. Then again.” Marvin conceded. “I highly doubt any of them have dealt with a sentient A.I. before. All we know is it’s causing panic in the human verse - you can hear it if you get close enough to the portal - and what they’ve done is essentially put the worlds the other Looney’s have gone into into ‘freeze mode’ so they can’t shift or do anything else until they figure out what’s going on.” At the end of that rather lengthy explanation, Marvin sighed. “They may be there for quite some while.”

“So...lemme get dis straight.” Bugs said, thoughtfully. “We can’t get to the human world?”

“That is correct. Rhythm has blocked the portal into the human world to all WB characters.”

“And we can’t get in and out of the other worlds the rest of the fam are stuck in?”

“That is correct.” Marvin said, again. “Although-” He added. “-I think that may change now. Might I enquire how you guys got here?”

Bugs explained the events leading up to this moment - including how Rhythm had flung the toons to the other worlds - and Marvin nodded. “Interesting. I think I understand, but it requires a bit more explanation. Please walk with me while I fill us all in. Now, you may be wondering how I knew where to find you? I simply used my Tracker-3000 from Mars-” Marvin waved the device in the air. “-to track where you were. It’s a device I had gifted for me from the King Of Neptune. I had hoped I would never need to use it, but unfortunately I have-”

“-You’ve tracked us?” Bugs echoed, more than slightly disturbed.

Marvin blinked. “Yes. Was that not clear? Please, do not think I did this idly. I hoped I wouldn’t need to ever use the trackers, but unfortunately I have had to. Anyway, I could see that you, Bugs, were in Tune Town, but none of us could get to you. I made further investigations with some of the more technically advanced characters here and it looks like Rhythm has placed a block on all current WB characters. None of us can enter or leave any of the other worlds. You may be able to see where I’m going with this?” he added, as an aside.

“Pepe isn’t a current character.” Penelope said, softly.

Marvin nodded eagerly. “Correct, sister. As Pepe isn’t a current character it seems he can travel between the worlds, and - judging by the fact you are here as well and the boat showed no issue with travelling - it seems that anything he is travelling on or with is likewise given ‘a free pass’, so to speak. Now-” Marvin cleared his throat. “I wish to seek clarification on this point, so please forgive my impertinence - but at the exact moment you and Pepe travelled through to Toon world were you...” A faint blush adjured the Martians cheeks. “...touching at all?”

“We were holding hands.” Penelope said, easily. “We were the second time as well.”

“Hold on, oi wasn't holdin’ hands with them.” Bugs said, quickly.

“No, but you were in ‘Big Chungus’ form, so that was probably what allowed you access. Now, with that information in mind, I would guess, Pepe, that anything you are touching - be it an inanimate object or another toon, will travel through as well. Or maybe it’s just everything that is on something you’re touching can travel as well?” Marvin added, thoughtfully. “That would explain how the captain of the boat could travel-”

Bugs groaned and ran a hand across his forehead. “Look Marvin, as fascinating as all dis is, it’s a bit much. Can you jus’ tell me where de others are so we can get going?”

“Certainly. Could you just remind me who actually got teleported, please?”

That was no issue for Bugs as the images would forever be burned into his mind. “Daffy, Porky, Lola, Elmer, Sylvester, Tweety, Granny, Speedy, Wile.E, Road-Runner, Foghorn, Taz, Yosemite Sam, Gossamer and Witch Hazel.”

“Well, I can help you with one of them.” Marvin said, as they finally approached the ‘Toon-Town’ section of W.B.C. “Just through here.” And he pressed open the door.

Inside the door was a world that was exactly like the ‘Toon Town’ from ‘Who framed Rodger Rabbit’ but without the Disney characters.

Marvin led Bugs, Pepe and Penelope through Toon Town until they reached Foghorn Leghorn’s barn.

“Look, I say, look who came back!”

Bugs’s grin threatened to split his face as he saw the rooster heading towards him, arms outstretched in welcome.

“Foghorn!” The rabbit leapt on his younger brother and hugged him tightly. “Oh, I thought you was a gonner!”

“It, I say, it takes more than some computer to get rid of me.” Foghorn said, proudly. “I always come back!”

“Of course.” Dawg’s [AKA George.P.Dog’s] dry voice said, from about two foot away. “It ‘elps that your ‘random location’ was here and not - say - Game Of Thrones.”

Foghorn put Bugs down and said - as an aside. “That, I say, that’s a shout out, readers.”

“I think they got that, Foggy.” Dawg said, rolling his eyes.

It was at this point that Penelope interrupted, asking if Foghorn had just been transported to W.B.C or if anything else had happened.

“No, I just, I say, I just woke up here.”

“Woke up?” Bugs echoed.

Foghorn looked a bit sheepish and looked at Barnyawd.

George explained that 5 and a half months ago Foghorn had just literally dropped out of the sky and onto Dawg’s head. “Once I got da fat lump off of me, I saw he was unconscious and not funny unconscious-” Dawg clarified. “But actually unconscious. He was like dat for about a day or two before he woke up ag’in-” Dawg took a sharp breath as the memory hit him. He steadied himself and then continued with. “-And when he woke up he told us all what had happened. By that point though we knew something bad was going on because not only had this happened-” Here George indicated the dark surroundings. “But a few of us toons had tried to get through to the Human World and couldn’t. All it took was Marvin then double-checking the trackers he’s put on us-”

“-Yeah, cahn we go back to dat at some point?” Bugs asked.

“-An’ he saw the different worlds our family’s been split up into and then when Foggy woke up he confirmed the entire thing.” Dawg sighed and ran his hands over his face. “It’s been a nightmare worrying about them all dis time, because we’ve had no idea where they are or what they’re doing or if they’re bein tor-”

“Yeah, Oi did that spiel back in chapter 2.” Bugs said impatiently. “Right. Oi think oi get it now. Let’s go, Martian-” Bugs grabbed Marvin's arm and pulled him away. “We got a family ta save!”

“Wait, oh wait!” Bugs and Marvin skidded to a halt to see Junior [Sylvester's son] running towards them.

“Eh...what’s up kid?” The rabbit asked, getting down to Juniors level.

Junior stopped sharply - accidently kicking a cloud of dust into the two toons faces - and, with one arm dramatically flung across his face, said. “Oh, Uncle Bugs, I know you have a lot of toons to get, but may I PLEASE request you start with my father? He is silly and often doesn’t think things through, but he’s my father and I love him so. May I please request you start with him and bring him back? I miss him.” At the end of Junior’s spiel, Bugs burst into noisy sobs and, getting a large handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his eyes with it before wringing it out into a random bucket.

“Of couirse I will.” he promised. “Jus’ watch me. Oi’ll aim to have him back as soon as possible. Now-” Bugs stood up and signalled to Marvin. “-Let’s go, short-stack.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Now we wish to make this simple.” Marvin said, as he Bugs, Pepe and Penelope entered the spaceship. “So, if I just pull up a list-” He did so. “The trackers I put on you all will enable me to see exactly where you all are at any given moment.”

“Yeah, can we go back to dose trackers at some point?” Bugs asked.

Ignoring him, Marvin continued. "So, as you can see, Sylvester is here." He pointed to 'Cartoon Network World'. "I'll just see if there's anyone with him. Bear with." A few moments of typing later and the trackers for Tweety, Yosemite Sam and Taz lit up. Marvin's eyes went wide and typed again. The screen zeroed in on Cartoon Network planet, showing a breakdown of the different sections of it. "Okay." Marvin said, slowly. "That is interesting. Sylvester and Tweety are both in Coolsville, AKA 'Scooby-Doo World' and it seems like there in the 1960's universe."

"Eh...it would hav' ta be Coolsville." Bugs muttered. "What wiv it's population of crazy crooks an' all."

"You just need to change into Chungus and then we can go." Marvin said, pointedly.

Bugs slapped his forehead. "Oops, I forgot!" He transformed into Big Chungus and gave Marvin a thumbs up.

Nodding the Martian pressed the 'arrive as close to as possible' button and the spaceship faded away.

#Space Jam 2 #Across The Serververse #Space Jam 2 Fanfiction #Next update will be next week #Bugs Bunny #Pepe Le Pew #penelope pussycat #marvin the martian #sylvester junior #Sylvester #Foghorn Leghorn #barnyawd dawg #barnyard dawg

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blueskrugs · 4 years ago

Text

Fireworks | Matthew Tkachuk

this is entirely @stl-boys55‘s fault because she gave me this idea, and then I was missing our lake house and Fourth of Julys with fireworks.

length: 2k words

The Fourth of July had always been one of your favorite holidays. You had grown up with your dad shooting off fireworks at your grandparents’ lake house, and you lived for the way you felt the boom of the big ones in your chest. To you, there was almost nothing better in the summer than the smell of the black powder that hung in the air where fireworks had been.

When Matthew had asked if you wanted to spend a long weekend in the beginning of July with his family at their lake house, complete with the promise of fireworks, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You loved your boyfriend’s family, and loved any opportunity to spend time with them, especially since it was hard during the season.

You and Matt drove down to the Ozarks together in Matt's car, windows down on the winding roads, and music turned up loud. You get there in the early afternoon, not long after the rest of the Tkachuk family. They were inside unloading groceries and suitcases (and beer) already when you walked in. Taryn cheered and rushed over to hug you, throwing her arms around your neck. You laughed and hugged her back before allowing her to drag you upstairs to change into swimsuits.

By the time the two of you made it outside, everyone else had changed too, and Brady was whining to Chantal about how cold the sunscreen was.

“Matt! Come take pictures of me and Y/N!” Taryn called. Matt groaned but still got up from his chair and followed the two of you down to the dock.

“C’mon,” you teased, “be a good Instagram boyfriend.”

“Excuse you, I am a great Instagram boyfriend,” Matt scoffed, looking mildly offended. Which, surprisingly enough, he is actually pretty great at taking pictures of you for your Instagram, and you knew he had an album and finsta of his own that are full of candids of you. He complained good-naturedly while he snapped pictures of the two of you, but he knows his angles and the poses, and before long, you and Taryn both have more than enough pictures to post.

You thanked Matt with a quick kiss, and he rolled his eyes, saying, “I need a beer after that.”

Later, after you’ve posted two pictures that Matthew took– one with you and Taryn with your arms slung over each other’s shoulders and grinning up at Matt, the other from behind with your feet in the water and your faces tilted up towards the sun– with the caption, a weekend stuck in a house with Matty complaining about his sunburns is worth it to spend time with this girl, after Matt liked it and dropped a red heart emoji that matches your bikini top, Matt dropped himself into your lap in a chair next to the bonfire. He was absolutely not above PDA, but you were a little surprised he was suddenly being so clingy.

You shifted so he wasn’t completely crushing you, and gave him a confused look, but he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders and settled in.

The next morning found you out on the speedboat with the boys. Matt and Brady were attempting to wakesurf, but you were just there to watch and make fun of them when they failed; they were both pretty bad at it, but Matthew could be spectacularly terrible at times. You watched from underneath your sunglasses as Matthew struggled over and over to keep his balance. You could tell he was getting frustrated, and you were pretty sure Brady laughing at him wasn’t helping much.

He shook his head as he climbed back into the boat, handing the tow rope off to Brady. He flopped onto the floor of the boat next to you, shaking his curls out like a wet dog. You shrieked and flinched away from the flying water.

“You were focused pretty hard out there, babe,” you said as you tossed Matthew a towel. “Didn’t know your brain could work that hard.” You grinned as Matt stuck his tongue out at you. “Maybe you can start using that big brain of yours to start coming up with more creative date ideas than ‘Netflix and Chill’ from now on.”

Keith burst out laughing from where he was steering the boat. Matt blushed and covered his face with a towel.

“She’s even better at chirping than you, Matty. Can I keep her as a kid instead of you?” his dad said. You started laughing along with him.

After Brady and Matt exhausted themselves out on the boat, you were in the kitchen making lunch with Chantal. The two of you were catching up and just chatting when Matt wandered in, shirtless and wearing that awful bucket hat again. He came up and wrapped his arms around your waist, stealing a chip from the bowl in front of you. You slapped away his hand half-heartedly.

“We got here yesterday, and I feel like I’ve barely seen you,” he whined, tucking his face into your shoulder. His mom laughed.

You turned in Matt’s arms and looked up at him. “I mean, you know I only came down here to see your family, right? I see you all the time, babe.”

Matt pulls back a little, then, and his face falls for a second. There’s a look that flashes across his face, darkens his eyes, and it almost looks like hurt, but it’s gone before you can process it, and he’s reaching around you to carry the chip bowl outside to the rest of his family.

You were laying out on a chair next to Taryn after lunch, trying to get a tan when two shadows loomed over your chairs.

“You’re blocking the sun,” you said, without really opening your eyes and looking up at Matt and Brady.

“You’re playing Spikeball with us,” Brady said. You opened your eyes then.

“Oh, are we?” Taryn said back. “How are we doing? Kicking your asses?”

Matthew threw the ball at her.

In another couple of minutes, the net was set up on the ground and teams had been decided; Taryn had declared that you and Matthew playing together would be unfair, and that Matt and Brady playing together would really be unfair, so it ended up being you and Brady versus Matt and Taryn.

“You two are goin’ down,” Matt smirked. You just rolled your eyes.

It turned out to be a pretty close game. You and Taryn weren’t professional athletes like the boys, but you were just as competitive as them, and no one was willing to go down without a fight. One last wild dive made by you sent the ball back at a weird angle that Matt and Taryn couldn’t return, and, before you knew it, you were being swept up by Brady, who was yelling about winning and that you were definitely, really, officially, his favorite over Matthew.

Matthew was scowling on the other side of the net, but you just thought it was just him being a sore loser. He was quiet for the rest of the night, though, staying outside with Keith as he grilled while you were inside with the girls. He stood next to you as you all watched fireworks go up over the lake, loud and bright. You grinned up at him a couple times, but his returning smiles seemed weak.

You found Matthew still sitting on the dock late that night, hours after the fireworks had ended and everyone else had gone to bed up at the house. His phone was clutched in his hand, but the screen was off, and his feet were dangling in the water. He was staring out absently over the dark lake, and he didn’t hear you approach.

You dropped your hand into his curls, messier than ever after a day on the boat and in the water, and ran your fingers through them. Matt tensed under your hand but didn’t turn to face you. You braced yourself on his shoulder and dropped somewhat gracelessly to the dock beside him. Matthew still didn’t look over at you, and he didn’t say anything. The full moon glinted off the lake in front of you. In the distance, some people were still shooting off firecrackers.

“Matty, it’s getting late, what’s up, baby?” Even in the dark, you could see that his nose had gotten sunburnt. He closed his eyes.

“Are you really only dating me for my family?” he asked suddenly. His voice was quiet, but to you, it felt like it echoed across the water as if he had yelled.

You turned towards Matthew so fast that you nearly fell off the edge of the dock. You reached up and forced Matt to turn his head and look at you. His blue eyes were dark and a little sad. They searched yours for a moment before he leaned his head into your hand.

“Matty, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. Matthew pulled away suddenly and opened his mouth to respond. You put one hand over his mouth and grabbed one of his with the other. “No, okay, I do, but what I mean is that you have to know that’s completely ridiculous– don’t you dare lick me– yes, I love your family, but I will always love you first. Taryn’s like a little sister I never got to have, and Brady’s another brother I definitely didn’t need but love anyway, but you’re the one I am in love with.”

Your hand was still clapped over Matt’s mouth, and he pouted at you from behind it until you removed it.

“But all the jokes-” he started. “Are exactly that: jokes,” you cut him off. “Maybe we went a little overboard with them this weekend, but it was just because I haven’t seen them in a while, not because I’m getting tired of dating you. I love you, Matty, more than anything.”

Matt deflated, pulling his feet out of the water and curling into your side. “I love that they love you, but sometimes I wish I didn’t have to share you with them.”

You laughed. “Matty, I literally moved to Calgary for you, and we live together during the season.” Matt pouted up at you again; you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Promise?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Something in your heart broke at the vulnerability in his eyes. You rarely saw the small boy underneath the hockey pads, behind the chirps and chewed-on mouthguard, the boy who would always be afraid of not being the best, even after over two years together.

You tugged Matt up by the collar of his T-shirt, pressing your lips firmly to his before he could react. You cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling him melt into the kiss. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, and you shivered as a breeze kicked up. You broke the kiss and rested your forehead against Matt’s, brushing one last kiss across his cheekbone.

“I promise, Matthew. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, babe. I’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon.”

Matt kissed you again, and the dock creaked underneath you as he rolled on top of you and pushed you onto your back. You laid like that for a few minutes, with the crickets and frogs singing around you, kissing gently and leisurely, your legs tangled together and hanging off the edge of the dock. You pushed at Matt’s shoulder to catch your breath.

“We are not making out on a dock all night, Matthew,” you scolded, but the effect was probably ruined by your swollen lips and the fact that you were still panting a little. Matt grinned down at you in the dark. You untangled one of your hands from his curls to check your watch. “Besides that, it’s after 1 AM, and I’m tired.” The planks of the dock were starting to make your shoulder blades hurt.

Matthew groaned and rolled off you before pulling you to your feet. He held your hand all the way back up to the house, and even managed to stifle his giggles when you tripped over a chair in the dark. He kept a hand on you as you both changed into pajamas and brushed your teeth and immediately tangled your feet together under the sheets.

“Shit, it’s literally July, how are your feet cold,” he hissed. You just shrugged; Matt’s hand was warm on your waist where it had slid underneath your T-shirt.

“You’re my favorite Tkachuk,” you whispered, just to see his sleepy smile one last time before you both fell asleep.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #cait writes things

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years ago

Note

Part 4 of Jimercury Kid series

(Contains spanking of a child.)

It was unusual for Jim to allow anyone to accompany him with his gardening, mostly because it was something he held close to his heart, and he did a much better job without having someone else under his feet. But when Khaleel started making a habit of toddling out into the garden to watch him plant flowers or trim the hedges, he didn’t have the heart to shoo him away and instead began tutoring the little boy about the ins-and-outs of gardening, even investing in a little plastic trowel and bucket so Khaleel could practice planting his own flowers.

Of course, the garden still wasn’t 100% safe, despite them childproofing it as much as they could, and Jim made it very clear to his son that he was never to touch any of his gardening tools without permission. The koi pond had also been sectioned off with some rope, after Phoebe caught the little boy leaning vicariously over it to stare at the fish below the surface and had hastily grabbed him before he fell in face first. For the most part, Khaleel had been compliant with the rules concerning the garden. But, as with every toddler, it was only a matter of time before he ended up getting himself into trouble.

Jim had been busy planting a new flower bed when he heard the familiar scurrying footsteps of his son and seconds later, Khaleel’s little arms were wrapped around his leg, big blue-green eyes staring up at him hopefully.

‘Daddy cut flower, please.’ The child babbled, pointing towards the rose bush nearby.

It took Jim a moment to understand the boy’s request; Khaleel was aware of how much Freddie loved his flowers and often made a point of asking Jim to cut him a few of the Eden roses and remove the thorns so he could take them to his Baba. Freddie’s cry of delight always made the child elated.

‘Daddy will cut you some flowers in a minute, sweetheart.’ Jim replied, gently stroking Khaleel’s dark head of hair. ‘I just have a bit more work to do.’

Usually, Khaleel would nod and maybe hang around to watch his father work until he was ready to fulfil his request. But today, his bottom lip stuck out and he let go of Jim’s leg to cross his arms defiantly.

‘Want flowers now.’ He whined, tugging at Jim’s trousers, and pointing desperately to the roses.

‘No, Kenny.’ Jim responded gently, the boy’s nickname rolling off his tongue with great affection. It was Phoebe who had started calling him that and the name had stuck.

But Khaleel refused to relent. He tugged harder, starting to cry until Jim sighed and set his trowel down in the dirt. He was a far more patient man than Freddie was, but that didn’t mean he was about to tolerate a tantrum. He had no problem laying down the law when he needed to.

‘Khaleel Joseph Mercury-Hutton, I said no.’ He spoke firmly down to the little boy, refusing to be moved by the teary eyes. ‘Daddy will cut you some flowers when he’s finished with his work. Until then, why don’t you play with your bucket and spade?’

He had anticipated a screaming fit, but surprisingly, Khaleel let go of his trouser leg and toddled over to the plastic bucket and trowel that were sitting nearby, his fit seemingly forgotten. Relieved, Jim turned back to the patch of earth he had been working on and began scattering the seeds in the tiny, individual holes, before covering them. He turned around to locate his watering can when he was met with a sight that almost made his heart stop.

Khaleel was holding on to Jim’s gardening shears, which he had foolishly left sitting out on the grass in preparation for trimming the hedges after he was done with the flower bed. The little boy was struggling to open them, the blades pointed right towards his face and Jim’s life literally flashed before his eyes as he shot up and tore them out of the toddler’s hands before he took his eye out. Jim’s heart was beating so fast, he could hear it in his ears; once the fear had subsided, it was replaced with an overwhelming rage, and he threw the shears down as he approached his son in a few quick steps.

‘Don’t you ever, ever do that again!’ he roared, grabbing the little boy under his arms; before he even realised what he was doing, he had knelt on the grass, pulled Khaleel over his knee and delivered two swats to the seat of his pants.

He raised his hand to deliver a third swat, but suddenly came to his senses when he heard Khaleel crying loudly, his little hands flying behind him to protect his bottom as he sobbed, ‘no Daddy, please! I’m sorry!’

Jim could hardly process what had happened. He had hit his little boy. Not once, but twice. He felt sick.

He carefully lifted Khaleel off his knee and tried to put his arms around him, but his son immediately sped away towards the house until he disappeared through the conservatory door, sobbing. (1/3)

Jim honestly thought he was going to vomit. He sat down in the grass, head in his hands as his mind replayed the scenario over and over, torturing him. How could he have done it? He and Freddie had always agreed there would be no smacking, none whatsoever. How could he have lost his temper so badly that he’d hurt his own child?

Growing up in Carlow, he and his nine siblings would always receive a good smack when they were naughty. Hell, he’d be lucky if he only got a few swats with the hand – his father preferred to use a slipper or a wooden spoon for punishments. He never resented his parents for their discipline; he always knew they loved him and that’s just how it was back then, especially with such a big family to take care of. There were times when he’d been leathered so hard, he couldn’t sit for days, but he had turned out alright, hadn’t he?

Clearly not, he thought to himself.

No doubt Freddie had had a similar upbringing, as boarding schools were notorious for their rather brutal methods for discipline. But while Jim had convinced himself that such treatment hardened you and made you a stronger person, Freddie believed it caused nothing but pain and fear. It didn’t matter whether it was a tanning with a belt or a soft swat with the hand – striking a child in any kind of fashion was wrong through the Persian’s eyes.

Speak of the Devil, no less than five minutes later Jim heard a door slam and turned to see Freddie storming across the lawn, looking so angry that Jim would have dropped dead right there if looks could kill.

‘What the fuck have you done?’ His husband yelled as soon as he was close, finger prodding aggressively at Jim’s chest. ‘Khaleel came into the lounge crying his eyes out, saying you smacked him!’

Jim had seen Freddie angry before, but in this moment the other man was positively murderous. He held up his hands defensively. ‘He wanted me to cut some flowers for you and got upset when I asked him to wait. So, he grabbed my garden shears, even though I’ve told him never to touch them. I was terrified he was going to hurt himself, so-’

‘So, you hurt him instead?’

The garden fell silent. Jim opened his mouth, then instantly closed it. Freddie was right. There was no way he could defend this, no matter how much his stupid brain tried to justify it.

‘I-it was just a smack, Freddie. It was over his trousers, he probably barely felt it-’

‘That’s not the point!’ Freddie shouted, stamping his foot. ‘Your son is in there scared out of his wits, thinking his father now hates him! We agreed that we’d never hit him, Jim. You promised!’

‘I didn’t hit him, I smacked him.’

‘There’s no difference and you know it!’ Freddie was in tears, fists clenched, face red with anger. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this! If this is how you plan to treat our child, you can pack your bags and get out right now, and you’ll never see Khaleel again!’

The colour drained out of Jim’s face as he heard those words and for a moment, he thought he might faint. Even Freddie seemed shocked and covered his mouth, as if hoping he could take back what he said. There was a long pause as they took a moment to calm down, their breathing long and laboured.

‘I…I didn’t mean that.’ Freddie eventually stammered. ‘I would never take Khaleel away from you, I swear. But we agreed, Jim. We agreed we’d never smack him, no matter how naughty he is. You promised.’

‘I know…’ Jim was ready to cry himself and he covered his face, ‘I’m so sorry, Freddie. I just… I was so scared, and I lost my temper. But you’re right, there’s no excuse for what I did. Jesus Christ, I’m a monster.’

Freddie reached up and removed Jim’s hands from his eyes, his anger having dissipated. ‘You’re not a monster. You’re a father who loves his son and made a stupid mistake in the heat of the moment. God knows, we’ve all made mistakes, Jim.’

The Irishman looked so miserable that Freddie leaned in and quickly kissed his lips, ‘come on. We should go and have a little chat with Khaleel.’

‘I don’t think I can face him.’ Jim said quietly.

‘Nonsense. He loves you and he’ll forgive you.’ He took Jim’s hand and slowly led him back towards the house. (2/3)

When Jim entered the kitchen, he noticed Khaleel sitting at the table with Phoebe, who had managed to distract him with some raw cookie dough which was the boy’s favourite treat. As soon as he saw Jim, Khaleel’s eyes widened slightly and he shuffled off his chair to go and hide behind Phoebe, breaking Jim’s heart as he looked up at him in fear.

Freddie gave Jim an encouraging glance and Jim squatted down to his knees. ‘Kenny? Kenny, sweetheart, please come here.’

The little boy hesitated, glancing up at Uncle Phoebe for approval, before running over to his daddy and wrapping his arms around his neck, burying his face into the grubby material of Jim’s overalls.

‘Sorry, Daddy.’ Khaleel whimpered, hanging on so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t strangle the man. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

Jim bit his lip in an effort not to start bawling like a baby. He held his son close, gently swaying back and forth to soothe him. ‘I’m sorry too, sweetheart. Daddy shouldn’t have done what he did. I’m so, so sorry, Khaleel. I love you so much and I’ll never smack you again. I promise.’

‘I love Daddy.’ Khaleel mumbled back and he actually giggled as Jim started to place kisses on his cheeks, Jim’s moustache tickling his soft, delicate skin.

Freddie watched his two favourite boys with a fond smile as the pair reconciled. Being parent wasn’t easy, but he and Jim were learning every day. (3/3)

(Eh, this wasn’t my best work, and I wasn’t sure how to end it, but I hope you like it anyway.)

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

First of all, I hope you're doing well, anon. All my love and hugs to you🧡

Secondly, omg what are you talking about? This is BRILLIANT and my heart I love this fictional little baby so much🥺

Smacking as a punishment is no doubt a sensitive topic, especially in the context of Freddie's life, and I think you dealt with it beautifully. The other day I saw a discussion about Freddie and Jim's possible difference in views regarding smacking, and I loved how you have incorporated that aspect. It feels very real.

And oof, Jim being so heartbroken after smacking his baby, and Freddie's (expected) reaction... my heart. Another tiny detail that I loved was how you made Freddie kind of expel Jim from the house whilst being engaged in a heated argument. We know this happened multiple times, with Freddie realising his mistake sooner or later. It was a nice authentic touch, character wise. But of course, in this series they're parents so he came to his senses pretty early. It's possible that with time, the real life Freddie may have stopped being so rash too, or at least may have pleaded with Jim to come back sooner, lol.

Anyway, I absolutely loved this part. I loved the reconciliation between Jim and Khaleel, and also the fact that the toddler is so comfortable with Phoebe. I mean, of course he would be, but it was nice to see.

Lovely drabble as always, anon. Thank you for writing!

Also, someone sent a prompt for you. If you have the time, they'd really appreciate you writing on it💙

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #freddie and jim and their baby #anon writing

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mochees · 4 years ago

Text

"𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗜𝗜"

-> headcanons, how they tell you they love you for the first time, part two!

characters: sakusa, iwaizumi, x fem!reader

warnings: fem reader, ✨healthy relationships✨, oikawa being oikawa

wc: 3.6K

a/n: WOAH okay uh did NOT expect that last set to be that popular,,,, y'all thirsty for love huh? me too anyway i thought id do a part two since i honestly really enjoyed writing the first set and my brain is vibrating with ✨thoughts✨ and seeing how much love it got really made me feel how i haven't felt in so long, so thank you! maybe ill turn this into a series so lemme know if u wanna see someone specific👀👀😏 also sorry for like posting and then dipping again lmao thats just my social media brand i have the attention span of a fucking worm

read part 1 here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

okok i know its like common for sakusa to be shown as not interested in PDA (in private or public) unless hes feeling "needy"

BUT i believe that after a few weeks, maybe months if he's still unsure, he would definitely be much more comfortable with PDA

like, if its been a long time and your both serious about it and not just in a relationship to be in a relationship he starts to notice your routine

he notices the changes you make so that he's comfortable and so that you can be close to him without him being worried about icky yicky germy wormys (someone take away my thought privileges)

so now that he knows that you take care of your hygiene and exactly what you do for it, slowly he's wrapping an arm around you in 30° heat while you're both sweating

slowly he's "forgetting" his mask in the car for dates

slowly, but surely, he understands that a little bit of exposure, isn't a bad thing.

"kiyoomi?" your voice brought sakusa's eyes to yours where he could see the concern behind them.

"are you okay y/n?"

you'd decided, after three weeks of intense training and barely seeing your boyfriend, that you wanted just one day and one night with him. just the two of you, you know he'd never admit it, but he needed a break.

after atsumu decided to try out some new plays that didn't start off to well, sakusa had been silently groaning everytime he had to reach for something. he was excellent at making sure he wasn't overworking himself, and he wasn't, its just that the human body is an absolute wonder, and not in a good way. sometimes things that should have mildly injured you, left you with a tiny scrape, or a bruise or a very quick-to-fade red mark, and sometimes you drop a phone on your face and break your fucking jaw.

you offer him a gentle smile that completely washes away the concern in your eyes.

"im fine omi! but you," you reach your hands up to rest on both sides of his face turning his head side to side, studying it intensly.

"you're looking a little pale. and possibly grey."

"how do you mean y/n-chan?"

for such an intelligent man sometimes he really could be a himbo.

"i mean that i think you might be sick, baby."

sakusa stared blankly at you, as if he couldn't fathom the possibility of 'himself, sick?'

"omi? kiyoomi!" you nabbed his attention, "i think you're sick, and we best go home."

"but-" he started, but you were quick to cut him off knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"kiyoomi, it's inevitable. even if you were the worlds most decked out with ppe, and the worlds leading force in hygeine, you'd still end up catching a cold at least once. that's just how the world works baby. and don't worry about the date, all i want is to spend some time with you."

you ended up practically dragging your sad little puppy of a boyfriend back up the complex stairs and into his unit before settling him on the couch and getting to work.

"ill get you some water, you just sit here and relax. i don't want to think about what would happen if those dumbasses didnt have you there next week, bokuto and hinata would probably crack their skulls!" your attempt at a little light hearted humour helped sakusa forget for a moment, but he was quick to go back to not understanding how he was sick.

"thank you." he took the glass from your hand and rested it between his legs, when he noticed the rubber gloves you had clutched at your side. he knew what they were for, those were his cleaning gloves.

"what are you doing? you can't stay you'll..." he paused. "you'll get sick too."

"i'll be fine omi-omi! you just relax and drink lots of water, ill take care of this." you turned towards the wall with a soft smile before muttering, "ill take care of you."

sakusa watched you clean, the bucket full of diluted bleach, the duster, a cloth, and his cleaning gloves. he loved the way that they were too big for you, the way you kept having to pull them up every so often to keep them on. he loved the way that everytime he finished his glass of water, you were right there to fill it back up.

you don't even remember seeing, or hearing him lift himself from his spot on the couch and make his way over to where you were humming and covering the counters in the diluted solution. you felt a pair of big arms wrap around you, a chin on your shoulder and a kiss on your cheek.

"thank you, y/n. i love you."

thank god he caught a cold, or he might never have realized just how lucky he was.

Iwaizumi Hajime

family man

is a family man but not just ANY family man

yes, it's important to him that you like and respect his parents and vice versa

but its just slightly more important to him that you get along with his friends, his found family because im a SUCKER for the classic lilo n stitch trope

he knows that many people say that its his life and he doesn't need anyones approval etc.

but iwaizumi believes different, he believes that he doesn't need approval in the literal sense but rather approval through watching you interact with his friends and his family and how you do your best to learn about them and make time for them, even though you dont have to

and he thinks it's absolutely enthralling

the way your eyes light up when you see that book his mom has been talking about wanting to read and picking it up with no hesitation

how you're able to almost flawlessly keep up with issei and takahiro's antics while also making sure they don't go too far, something even iwaizumi struggles with

and most importantly, how effortlessly you connect with his childhood best friend.

there were many things that Iwaizumi Hajime enjoyed, volleyball, athletics, godzilla of course, spending time with three dumbasses (but he’ll never admit that) and a little while ago, he added you to that list.

you were so effortlessly able to connect with his team, his friends, and his family but most importantly, the way you were able to connect with Oikawa brought a smile to his face.

“oh, iwa-chan~, what are you admiring?” there he went again, Iwa thought, Tohru Oikawa’s dumb smirk and hyper awareness of his team, both on and off court. how he wated to head-butt him in the face. but, he showed restraint. after all, he wouldn’t want loserkawa to use you as a human shield from his head. so, he ignored the urge. but it passed as soon as he saw tohrus arm arond your shoulders, crossed feet and leaning on you ever so slightly while he took a few occasional swigs from his water.

and just like that, the incredible restraint vanished like morning mist.

you could practically see the steam coming off of his hot skin, and the vein popping out of his forehead, when you noticed what had him so heated. “trashykawa get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

“excuse me!” he pouted, “my hands are clean and tailored! just like any responsible setters would be!” he stuck his lip out farther and gave you his irresistable puppy-dog eyes. “y/n-chan, i’m not filthy! am i?” he whined.

and, as the word suggests, his look was truly irresistable and you stumbled over your words. “n-no! of course not tohru!”

“see, iwa-chan! y-n thinks i’m squeaky clean!” his dumb smirk appeared again, and rather than continue with flirtykawas obvious games, Iwa opted for the less violen approach.

“don’t flatter yourself, dirtykawa. she’s just being nice.” he growled. “I’m done for the day, i have a project due. y-n.” he offered his hand to you like the gentleman he is not forcing you to take it, but the look in his eyes told you that he wanted you too.

“see you later, tohru!” you gave him a quick hug and intertwined your fingers with iwa’s.

now, technically, girls aren’t allowed in the boys locker room but since it’s after hours and just you and iwaizumi no one cared. to be fair though, literally no one knew except the team so, whatever you didn’t complain you got to watch yout ultra ripped boyfriend change. quality time. you thought, when you noticed him mid-change with his shirt over his head, resting on his arms. as any good girlfriend would, despite the devil on your shoulder, you came up behind him placing your hands on his seriously broad shoulders. taking notice of the tension, you started to work at the muscles. your care was quickly rewarded with a quiet sigh, and relaxed shoulders.

“hajime?” you continued rubbing at the tight fibers, “are you alright? you’re usually the one telling me im holding too much tension.” you giggled and he turned to face you placing one hand against the side of your face.

“hajime?” it came out shaky and worried.

“i’m okay,” he smiled “it’s just,” hesitation. he was never one to hesitate.

“i know i have no right to be but seeing oikawa so clingy with you it just, i dont know, it really gets to me i guess? he, just, he gets all the girls, all the attention, and i don’t want to-” you stopped him.

“sweetheart, it’s okay to be jealous or upset i’m not going to be angry, you have a right to your feelings. I understand how you feel, i never mean to flirt with him, if i ever have, i mean i don’t know, you know how bad of a flirt i am,” he chuckles at that. “it’s just that i know how important he is to you and you are so, so important to me and i want to be able to understand whats important to you, so you never have to choose between us, because that wouldn’t be fair. i love you, hajime iwaizumi, and everything about you.”

you expected him to be shocked, hell, he thought he would be shocked when or if you said it, but he wasn’t. and that’s exactly how he knew what to say next.

“i love you too, y/n l/n.” pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

“geez, it only took you two a century and forever.” someone snarked.

hajime chucked a towel at him “get out assykawa!” and he did, he bolted through the door laughing like the demon matchmaker he thought he was.

do not repost, copy, or claim.

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#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu headcanons #iwazuimi #iwaizumi x y/n #hajime iwaizumi #iwa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #hq iwaizumi #hq headcanons #hq anime #hq sakusa #hq fanfic

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hongnanglen-arina · 4 years ago

Text

The Ulzzang Project - Part 1 | Jeon Wonwoo

Read part 2

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Genre: Fluff, crack (maybe explicit content in the next chapters)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6k

A/N: Hello there! Here’s part 1 of my mini series of you and Wonwoo, the next ulzzang stars hahaha :3 I’d be happy to know your thoughts about it. I’m already working on part 2. I might spice it up in the upcoming chapters. If you don’t like that, scream at me and I will stop hehet. So, have fun! And as always, please remember that English isn’t my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

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You sat in Wonwoo’s apartment. It was one of those Saturday nights where you two would order greasy food, have competitive game sessions and cuddle together on his couch or in his huge bed. You’ve known each other ever since your mothers went to driving school together. Both got married to their significant other and soon you two were born, making them joke that you two should end up together when you get older. That didn’t happen obviously. Instead you grew up like siblings, spending nearly all of your free time together, fighting over stupid little things but always making up quickly after. Even studying together, entering the same university and sharing the same group of friends. You two were kind of inseparable.

“Wait, why is the bucket of fried chicken already empty???” You shot a shocked look at the boy beside you who wasn’t paying attention to you but bobbed his head to the music of the band in the youtube video which was playing on his tv screen, licking his fingers clean to get another slice of pizza. Before taking a bite, he gave you a rather emotionless answer, his face dead ass serious. “Dunno. Maybe we ate it?”

You scoffed at his words. Oh Jeon Wonwoo.

More laughing, more jamming to music and more teasing until you were full, halfway lying on the floor while you talked about the new annoying professor at uni that scolded Dokyeom on his very first day and was on bad terms with him from that day on.

After a while you cleaned up and started to play Dead or Alive to ‘relieve some stress’. You two had mastered this game for years now, resulting in you and Wonwoo winning and loosing the same amount of times. While you stick to one character, he switched to different ones but even though you two were always close, you would never grow tired of this game and those competitions with him.

When he left for using the bathroom, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through Instagram, stopping at a specific post of a couple who uploaded a suggestive photo of them without revealing much of their person. You cocked your head to the side and Wonwoo noticed it when he came back. “What are you looking at, y/n?” He sat down beside you and you showed him your phone. “Look, they aren’t doing much and the photo has quite a bad quality - maybe on purpose - but it is still good that I understand why people push the like button. Effortless aesthetic.”

Wonwoo made an annoyed grimace at your words and you raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Anyone can do that.” “Why do you think that?” Your best friend thought for a moment and pulled out his own phone, unlocking it and going through some apps until he held it in front of the two of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, he got closer to you and took a photo. You noticed that the room was silent. Only some faint noises from outside the window could be heard when he showed the photo to you. It was a photo of you two next to each other but other people wouldn’t recognize you two. The photo showed only your lips, chin, neck and a little bit of your shirt. You looked up at him and saw his grin. Wonwoo moved a little so that it seemed like he was going to kiss you. Slightly panicking, you automatically covered your face, asking him what the hell he was doing when you heard the shutter of his phone once again, signalizing that he took another photo.

The room was quiet when you removed your hands, a soft blush on your cheeks when he turned the screen, giving you a better look of the new photo. Wonwoo used a filter that gave your photo a nice vintage look. Blinking, you were kind of impressed. If you didn’t know better, you would say that it was a photo of a famous ulzzang couple from Instagram. Noticing Wonwoo’s pleased smirk, you hit his chest. “Yah, what was that all about, huh?? You can’t just-“ “I’m going to open a new account. I’m curious how many followers and likes we can get in a month.”

You had a hard time to follow, squinting your eyes and opening your mouth like a fish without saying anything. He tapped on his phone happily, completely ignoring your confused state. “W-wait, what did you say? What do you mean? A new account? Followers? What?” You tried to have a better look on his screen but he turned around, chuckling a little so that his round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a bit in the process. “Jeon Wonwoo! Answer!”

Fighting you off his shoulders, he took his sweet time to do whatever he was doing on his phone and you whined, asking for answers but not getting one at all. Sighing, you gave up after a while, giving his broad back a death glare as you turned around and took your own phone, opening the previous app and pouting while scrolling through the already seen posts. You were facing the other direction, sitting back against back. Hearing Wonwoo chuckle from time to time or giving a thinking noise, he always got your attention but since he never explained what he was doing, you took some selfies, sticking out your tongue and pointing at the boy behind you. After editing it a little more, you uploaded it on your Instagram site with the single word ‘idiot’ and tagged him. Giggling to yourself, you didn’t notice the shuffling noises and the warmth behind you disappearing when Wonwoo literally shoved his phone in your face. Your groan got stuck in your throat when you finally got your answer.

Taking his phone out of his hand, you took a better look. It was a seemingly new Instagram account with one content, zero followers and zero following. Your eyes widen when you click on the only photo in this account. It was you two. The photo from before. You were covering your face while the photo was cut, only showing Wonwoo’s grin against your hands. Your eyes travel lower, silently reading through the hashtags he had added. #cutecouple #shy #ulzzangcouple #saturdaynight and 18 more. It didn’t take long until the first stranger liked your photo and you blinked in disbelief. That’s when you noticed the user icon. It was the sunflower you got Wonwoo when he moved into his apartment. The very first day. You remembered the moment when he stopped you in his door and took a photo of you. Although he cut it, you could still see your hands holding the flowers plus a part of your white dress from that day.

Another notification. Another 3 likes. You turned to Wonwoo, who was awaiting your opinion. Pointing at his phone and the still open app, you asked “Are you serious?” “Totally.” His short remark wasn’t convincing enough and the way Wonwoo continued talking showed you that he understood. “It’s like a little experiment. We take some photos together, upload it and wait. As I said, I’m curious how famous our little site can become. We can delete and close it after a month if you want.”

He watched your face patiently until you met his gaze. “Okay. Fine for me. But I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are we going to upload cute photos only or.. uhm… other photos also?”

“What do you mean with other photos?”

Oh Jeon Wonwoo don’t play dumb, you thought to yourself but lifted your arm, pulling your collar down a bit to reveal more of your neck and collarbone. “This.”

“Sexy?” Wonwoo smirked at you and you rolled your eyes, giving him a hard push so that he rolled onto his back, laughing at your reaction.

You pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest in an attempt to distract yourself from the blush on your face. You have seen it often enough. Accounts like that. And you would lie if you say you didn’t like them. Many of them showed their strongly edited faces but some didn’t show their faces at all and you guessed your site would be like the latter. If you are going to include more revealing or suggestive photos, you would care less if no one could see who it actually was.

That’s how you agreed.

The whole night the two of you brainstormed. You collected ideas for your next photos and had lots of fun with it. Even lying in his bed together, giggling about the most common couple poses and making gagging noises when looking them up. At around 3 am you yawned and Wonwoo put his phone and glasses on the little night stand, opening his arms for you to crawl in as you always did. You just loved to sleep in his arms. It was some kind of habit since you were little. You loved his scent and his warmth and sometimes you even found yourself at your own home unable to fall asleep because he wasn’t there.

The warm and bright sun woke Wonwoo up. He wanted to turn around and get some more sleep but decided to open one eye instead, noticing that you weren’t there anymore. So he stretched his limbs in all directions and put on his glasses. After grabbing his phone and getting out of bed, he waddled to the living room and found you in the small kitchen corner, humming a song he knew while preparing breakfast - or according to the time on the clock, lunch.

He was about to join you when he stopped in his tracks and unlocked his phone, quickly taking a photo before putting it away again.

“What is my baby making?”

Facing him, you shot him your infamous death glare. “Baby? Really?”

Wonwoo laughed at your unamused voice and joined you, stopping right behind your small form and looking over your shoulder. “Do you know how I like my omelette?” Snorting loudly, you threatened him with your balled first that he quickly ran to the dining table and took his seat. Like the good and obedient boy that he could be. Sometimes.

He was silent while you added your finishing touches to the late breakfast but when you started to set everything on the table Wonwoo was waiting at, he took another photo, a smile plastered on his face. "What did I do to deserve you, hm?"

You were about to take the first bite of omelette when you stopped in your tracks, fork just inches away from your lips. "Okay, what's going on, Wonwoo? You are super strange today?"

"Is that a surprise to you?"

"Not really... but today you're super super strange so tell me."

He grinned at you and took a sip of the orange juice. "I'm just happy to be with my baby, that's it."

"There!" You pointed at him with your fork. "What is that all about, huh? Since when am I your baby?? Did I miss out on something last night or what??"

The dark haired boy in front of you chuckled as you tried to squeeze an answer out of him, with no success. Slowly worry crept up your spine. "Wait.. I didn't do anything to you, right? Or, I didn't say anything uh... strange, right? I know we had alcohol but... Wonwoo, tell me."

You saw him wiggle with his eye brow at you. "What do you wish did happen between us?"

"Yah! Jeon Wonwoo, I- .... I saw you naked more than one hundred times! I know all your secrets! I know you better than you know yourself! I.... I am just not your baby!"

He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest while watching you pout. "Chill. I'm just trying to get into the mood."

"For what?"

"For sexy photos."

"For what?!"

"For s-"

"I heard you!!"

"Then why are you asking?"

The piece of omelette had fallen down from your fork a long time ago and you weren't sure what was more important in this very moment. The only thing that you were sure about was the fact that your cheeks were burning like fire. "I... why the heck do you want sexy photos?!"

"You wanted sexy photos for our experiment and here I am. The bestest friend that has ever existed is willing to take some with you. Shouldn't you feel all giddy or so?"

"Says who?" You mirrored him, crossing your arms as well, trying to remember your exact words from the day before. You thought you did ask about more revealing photos but it was just a question about the content of your shared Instagram, your little experiment or how Wonwoo had called it. You just wanted to be sure. Never have you imagined to take some with him a day later, today.

"Forget it. I'm not going to do that."

"Now I'm sad."

Snorting, you rolled your eyes, sure he said it only to sound funny.

—

You sat with your friends from uni, poking your lunch with your chopsticks in such boredom that you were more than sure nothing could grab your attention nor lighten up the mood. But you were wrong. Seungkwan hit your shoulder and you were ready to start a fight when he showed you his cellphone screen. "Y/n, what do you think? Yesterday I started a couple Instagram with my girlfriend. It was something I've been thinking about for a while but yeah. How do you find our first post? Pretty nice, huh? We already got 217 likes!"

One chopstick fell out of your hand in surprise but you quickly nodded at your friend. Your own site was a secret. There was no way you would ever tell your friends about it especially if - one day - you would really post less child friendly content. No way. Also, where was Wonwoo?

"W-wow, 217 likes after a day is pretty impressive!"

"To be exact, it's been 20 hours and..... 32 minutes."

"Whatever."

When Seungkwan turned around to the other friends to show them his site, you secretly opened your own with Wonwoo, scrolling through the amount of likes you got until now. That's when you saw the 2 new posts. A photo of you standing in front of the stove, dressed in an oversized white shirt from Wonwoo, bare legs and one from when you set down the food in front of him. Both photos from that morning. Your own face couldn't be seen but they were edited similar like the first post.

Your eyes flew over the texts Wonwoo had added to each of them.

G'morning baby.

My baby is the best.

Looking around, you quickly made sure that your friends didn't notice what you were doing and you tried to get rid of the warm layer that was covering your cheeks. He wrote baby.

Then you remembered the real reason you opened the app. You wanted to see how many likes you got until now. The newest of the food had 7. The one of you cooking breakfast had 38. And the first one from last saturday had 305 likes. Although you had more than your friend, you wanted the gap to be bigger.

Without noticing, your competitive personality came out. You didn't want to lose to Seungkwan and his girlfriend. Opening Kakao Talk, you wrote Wonwoo a message with a lot of cute shouting emoticons you once bought.

[Y/n] We need more photos - today. I'll be at your place at 7. It's urgent.

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This gif is literally Wonwoo right before he came up with his genius idea lol

#seventeen scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #Svt #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt wonwoo #kpop fanfic #kpop ff #seventeen ff #kpop #17 #carat #seventeen wonwoo

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little-boats-on-a-lake · 4 years ago

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Part Fifteen (Part Two)

Potential tw: reference to self harm urges

He just didn't feel like going back to sleep. He doubted he even could if he wanted to. It would be better to just get a start on the day's work.

The weather was starting to change again. The harvest work was almost done. Sunny was so fast at it and she seemed to enjoy it. Except for the corn. They both hated corn.

The little fawn who had broken his leg seemed to enjoy corn. Gently petting the fawn’s head, he cracked a small smile as the tiny creature eagerly nibbled at his hand.

As if it could somehow sense his tension, the fawn stared at him before gently setting his head over the wisps of hair resting on his shoulder and licked at his ear. He giggled, a light and airy sound he doubted actually came from him.

"You're a friendly little one, aren't you?" He leaned against the little deer, feeling a quick heartbeat against his own. "Your leg healed ages ago. So why haven't you gone home yet?"

The fawn walked away from him and knelt down, resting against the soft place he had made for any of the creatures who needed help. It looked at him, as if to say, “What do you mean? I'm right at home."

Something flashed in his eyes as he realized he had never seen Sunny smile before as much as he had over the past month. Yes, he wasn't perfect and yes, he accidentally hurt her but they had both apologized profusely, even though she really didn't need to. Could she grow to love their home together like this little fawn had? A strange giddiness bubbled up in his chest as he imagined a life they could have together. He may not have had many things but he was happy. Maybe the two of them could be happy... together?

He left the fawn in his little shed with a quick scratch behind the ears and hiked back to the center around which his life was centered. And also the pantry. Today was bread day and the sun had only just risen. He may not have loved himself but he sure loved baking bread and that was enough for now.

The way the dough stretched out and wound itself around his fingers was a comfortable and familiar memory. Just like how Sunny would reach out and grab his hand when she dragged him to sleep at night. Not the time for that now-

"Not the time for what?"

He jumped back, arms held defensively in front of his dough. A laughter that chimed like a warm beam of sunshine drew his attention.

“How… how long have you been standing there!?” He didn’t mean to scream. But sometimes, a grown man just needs to scream to defend his bread from evil invaders who come to damage the bread.

It was so adorable when he got flustered like that. Felicity brushed off a small bit of flour that had found its way onto his forehead.

“Relax, silly. I live here too, you know?”

“I… uh, you-“ He stammered, trying to enunciate his words with sticky hands.

“Calm down!” She pushed herself up to sit on top of the edge of the table and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Wait, what are you-“

“Shhh. I’m tired and your shoulder is comfortable.”

“You- you can’t just!”

“I’m sleeping, you can’t just disturb a sleeping person.” She leaned in towards his neck.

He could feel her warm breath ghosting over his skin. It sent shivers racing down his spine, but a bubbly warmth rose up in his chest again. He thought it was going to rush out in an endless stream of words he wasn’t quite ready to say yet. The only word that came to his mind was yours.

He was. He really was. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly Sunny had done to capture his heart and soul like this, but if she asked for it, he would give it to her. Even if she would probably break it a million times over. He would give her everything he had.

What was it about her smile that made him feel like the world would last another day just because it was so beautiful? Why did every one of her freckles match a beauty he thought belonged only to stars in the endless night sky?He look over at her and he was reminded of how the sharp knife had stopped his breath last night. Where it was sharp, she was soft, sleepy smiles and gripped hands. Where the blade was dangerous, she was a source of comfort, warm nights with warm words and even warmer touches that held them through until the morning. How could he have ever thought the two were the same when they were so different in every way? Her eyes, endless pools of an abyss he could stare into for days, held so much emotion it hurt just to look at it. They quirked up, asking what he was doing, and it felt like the world itself dropped from beneath his feet. What was the world anymore, if he could comp-

“Your hair is getting so long.” She murmured, interrupting his trance. Sunny reached for a particularly long strand and lazily twirled it around her finger. He almost reached for it self-consciously until he remembered the dough covering his fingers. The dough! He was baking bread! Not now, obviously. But he was supposed to be!

He ripped his attention away from her and focused it solely on the bread before him.

It was hard when Sunny was right next to him, entranced by something as mundane as hair and looking like a dream from the heavens. Bread!

“It is getting a bit too long.” He said, desperately hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his heart today.

“I could braid it back if you want?” She suggested and oh, the thought of Sunny focused solely on him, tongue stuck out and eyebrows furrowed, was just a bit too much to handle.

“Uh, ah- I was actually planning to just cut it off.” He lied. Nope, nope, nope. He would most likely combust if she wove her fingers through his hair for something so mundane when he could do it himself.

He pushed the dough aside, finally ready to be baked, and brushed his hair back with his fingers. It was actually getting a little too long for his tastes.

“I guess I probably should trim it a little.” He murmured, eyeing the knife on the table.

He still really didn’t want to touch it.

He was staring at it for an awfully long time. Felicity didn’t miss how he was spacing out. And how his side of the bed was so cold when she woke up. And the way he was so jittery and shaky when she startled him.

“Do you want me to cut your hair?” She offered. He looked at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what she was offering. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look as hot as usual.” She added with a wink, watching the pink creep over his face.

“It- me? It’s really, I mean I don’t thi-“ He stammered.

Sometimes when she was bored, Felicity would imagine how much he would stammer if she kissed him. Probably a lot.

“Come on, there’s better lighting outside.” For such a tall man, he was easily moved. She could drag him and he literally wouldn’t fight back. It was a little concerning sometimes.

She took the dark locks of hair in her hand and poised the knife above her fist.

“Wait! I need to.... uh...” Deep breaths, it was just a little bit of responsibility. She could handle something as small as that. “Wash! I need to wash your hair!”

“Huh?”

“You’re supposed to wash hair before you cut it!”

“I… I suppose?”

“Just… wait there!” Felicity dashed inside and came out with a bucket of water and soap. “Sit over on the porch.” She ordered when he tried to get up and help her.

“You’re so bossy.”

“I am, thanks for noticing.” She sat behind him, slowly working the bubbly lather into his black hair. He leaned into her hands massaging the soap into his hair. Heart, you need to stop racing right now. There was nothing even inherently romantic, this was just so domestic and peaceful. Birds were singing in the trees and he was humming along lightly in harmony. The crisp morning air was starting to warm up enough for rays of light to dapple over them. It was beautiful in a way that never needed to try.

It was perfect.

She rinsed the suds out of his hair and wrung the water out of his hair with oddly skilled ease for someone who had rarely touched anyone else’s hair before. Soon enough, she ran out of things to procrastinate with. Deep breath. It’s going to be okay. It’s just hair.

She picked up the knife and held it firmly in her hands. It was extremely different from a sword. Swords were held towards an opponent, defensively drawn. This needed to be held to the side, working in tandem with her hands and his hair. Gah. The knife was placed firmly behind the hair and she held the hair firmly as the blade cut through the hair.

“I did it…” She mused, the lock of hair shining like a trophy in her hand.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He laughed, but his smile quickly dropped. “Wait, you have done this before, right?”

“Nope!” Felicity chirped, cutting the hair off right below his neck.

“Wait, hold on-“ He protested before turning his head to look at her. Against the knife. Which was still against his neck.

His hand flew up to where her own had been and came away smeared in red.

“Oh…” His voice wobbled as he stared at the blood on his hand. His jaw twitched and set itself firmly, just like when he had an episode and he tried to pretend he was okay.

“Oh, goddess above, I’m so sorry!” Felicity resisted the urge to scream. It was an extremely unfortunate cut, considering how much blood was running down his neck. It... it was a lot.

“He... here. Hold... hold my hand aga-against the... thing.” His hand flickered with magic, but it was nowhere near his usual steady flame. It was crackling and broken and fizzled out before sparking up again.

“You can’t do it, can you?”

“I can! I just need to focus!”

She pushed his hand away.

“Teach me how to do it.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Right now. Teach me healing magic. Or may the Goddess help me, I will set my own hand on fire trying.”

They hadn’t tried anything with magic since what she had dubbed “the incident.” She was too scared of losing control again and he was probably still regretting hitting her with a damn frying pan. She didn’t mind. If anything, she was grateful he found some way to stop her before she hurt him.

“Teach me.” Felicity insisted, panic rising in her voice.

“Foc... focus your fi-fire. It... it pushes out the hu-hurt.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the underlying sensation he described as “fire” and thought of how she wanted to wash away all of the scars she had given him, all of the hurt she had caused.

How much she wanted to hold him and apologize for what she had done.

How much she was sorry.

A warm orange pulse lit up her fingers and drew closer to the fresh blood running down his back. It surged through the wound, healing the cut and barely leaving a scar. The change in his face was so clear, now that she knew what to look for. His jaw relaxed so subtly and his tensed hands unclenched. That little breath of relief he let out. When had she learned his tells and signs so well?

“How was that?”

He turned to look at her, studying her hands. Something about how intensely he looked at her made Felicity’s flutter. Even if it was just her hands. Even if she knew it would never be because she was beautiful. She knew she wasn’t. But a girl could dream.

“That was incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever healed like that.” Oh, and now he was holding her hand as if she was something precious and delicate. Wonderful. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a nap or do you want to have lunch?”

“I’m fine?” That… was an odd question…

“You aren’t tired? At all?”

“No? I actually feel really energized. Like I could run for miles.”

“Curious…”

He looked up at her face and oh, her heart had never felt more fragile. He was just so beautiful, it hurt to look at him in this moment, with the sun glowing behind him and his face filled with gorgeous curiosity. If there was a goddess, she had made him by hand. He was too beautiful to be made from the earth.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“…did you miss the part where you almost bled to death because of me?”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad. And besides, it was mainly my fault.”

“Still.”

“You healed it, didn’t you? That takes a lot of energy. I’d call it even.”

“I wouldn’t.” She pouted. Something by the corner of her eye caught Felicity’s attention. “Hold on.”

“What? You’re just going to get up and leave me here?”

“You big baby, you can get up if you want. But you can’t. Not yet. And close your eyes!”

“And yet I’m the childish one.”

“Shut up.” She threaded the strands through quickly, remembering the familiar rhythm.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No, and I said to shut up.” She shot back playfully. She stepped over to the porch and sat beside him, holding her gift with gentle hands.

“Now?” True to his word, his eyes were still shut, but the rest of his face seemed determined to make up for what emotion was lost with his eyes.

“Now.” Felicity almost buzzed with excitement.

“For… for me? You… you made a flower crown? For me?” He stared at the cheerful wild orchids braided together.

“Yep!” She fixed it over his hair, which apparently curled as it dried. Why did he have to be so gorgeously perfect? The bright purple was stark against his black hair and fell over his eyes. He touched it in awe, a blush rising in his face. So adorable. She could adore that look on his face for years, never growing tired of his innate allure.

“And now we’re even. You look wonderful.” But then again, that wasn’t too hard for him. He was eternally wonderful, inside and out.

If you liked this, please remember to like and reblog! Every little bit counts! (And yes, the corn was a reference to @notdingalingalingalingrita’s slideshow fanfiction thing, love ya Charles)

Home

Taglist: @aredhel-of-gondolin @archaeowhumps s @dylkntz @jack-the-talking-sword-of-summer @mistyw273 @mistyskiesrambles @nowisthetimetocarrythebanner @theclassyghost @voltronimusprime @pancake0606 @thefancypigeon @mercerswillie @notdingalingalingalingrita @bad-ideas-everywhere @ad-dictionary @cecilsstorycorner @metanoiamorii @picazos-angsty-typist @dontdropthejam @liker2525 @archaeologydigit @foxy-22-v @fruggin-bitch @zielenbloesem @official-blonde-superman @fool-of-a-triceratops @chaos-theory-exhibit-a

#writing #writeblr #fluff #original characters #oc #my writing #please #i am asking politely #please reblog this

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years ago

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Stuck with you (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How are we, guys? Alive and kicking? Getting enough sleep? Drinking water? (also tea, tea is awesome, 11/10). It’s been (again) a while since I’ve posted anything on here, huh. I’m working on another fic as we speak (summer theme cause summer is ending and I’m not ready for it), so we’ll see how it goes :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013712

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie

Enjoy! <3

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Claire noted with an overwhelming sense of relief that as the end of her shift approached, the intensity of the day decreased significantly. What used to be a fast-paced march in the early hours of the morning, was now a slower stroll. It was mostly due to the fact that all her patients were stable, and her pager miraculously wasn’t going off every five seconds like it tended to do almost every day of her life at Edenbrook.

Her contemplation was cut short when she felt insistent tugging on her white coat. She moved her eyes towards the source of the movement, being only half surprised when she saw a seven-year-old girl, smiling widely at her.

“Dr. Claire! The nurse came to take my blood, to see if it was good and she gave me a high-five.”

“I’m sure you were so brave.” a smile blossomed on her face as she kneeled down to be on the same eye level as her little patient.

“I was! Can I have a lollipop now? I didn’t even cry or anything, it was just like you said, barely a pinch and it was over.” The girl asked, thinking back to the conversation they had that morning. It wasn’t even something that Claire did only for this patient, not a one-time event.

It has become a sort of a legend among younger patients and nurses, that she always had a bunch of sweets in her pockets, giving them out to the kids on occasions. Mostly because of it, along with how good she was with young people, she was a liked doctor that was invited into all the tea parties and book readings organized by kids, with a bit of help from the nurses.

“As promised, here it is.” Her hand disappeared into the pocket and emerged with a pink and white lollipop in a colorful wrapper.

“Thanks, Dr. Claire! You’re the best.”

“Don’t run while eating it, we don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” she warned her before standing up. The girl was already running away, though, waving the candy in the air in excitement.

“Sure thing, doc, have a nice day!”

Claire shook her head in amusement, straightening the creases on her coat as she turned away to walk towards the ER. She was stopped short in her tracks, however, by the sight of an eyebrow raised so high up that it might as well have flown off his face altogether, accompanied by a curious gaze of Ethan Ramsey. His arms were folded across his chest, his posture meant to intimidate.

“You’re a doctor, Herondale. Giving away sweets in a hospital? That’s promoting diabetes.” He pointed out, waiting for her to explain her behavior. She imagined that a comment like that had the potential to make some interns cry; hell, even less resistant to pressure residents tended to avoid confrontation with him if they could help it. But Claire? Hell no.

“It’s a little reward for being brave. I can attest that it works, they are much more likely to go through their procedures- “

“- and not be scared. Good call, Rookie, even though I still think you’re spreading diabetes in the hospital.” Ethan smiled, breaking the act of trying to reprimand her. Instead, he took a small step towards her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Her eyes sparkled teasingly, holding his gaze in a tight lock with her own as she decreased the distance between them even more.

“The only diabetes you’re going to get is from me being so sweet.” Claire’s voice dropped to a gentle whisper the more she talked, then she slowly stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. The corners of his lips went up, forming a smile, partly concealed by her hair. Before anything else could be said or done, the sound of a phone ringing caused them to, albeit reluctantly, step away from each other slightly.

“As much as I would love to continue this conversation, I should get going. Us Herondales really do hate waiting, you know.” She grinned, beginning to walk away from him.

“Yeah, I think I do. I wish I could go with you.”

“I know you do, Ethan. Maybe next time? Actually, definitely next time; I don’t think my Mom will let you skip the next family lunch, no matter how much important work you have.” He laughed, shaking his head as he watched her retreating form.

“See you this evening?”

“You can count on it, Ramsey.”

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

It was slowly getting dark when he got home, and by the time he got round to cooking dinner, the sun has already set. He didn’t think much about the lack of contact with her; he knew how those family meetings went, so if he had to guess, Will most likely kidnapped her phone.

The ringing startled him a little, but still, nothing seemed wrong, hence why he walked towards the sound calmly. Claire’s name flashed on the screen, pulling a smile onto his face.

“Right on cue, Dr. Herondale. Dinner is almost ready, will you be home soon?” he asked, leaning against the back of the couch. There was a short moment of silence before she spoke, her voice just a little on edge.

“I don’t want you to freak out, but I got shot.”

“What?”

It was good that he had something to fall onto, because the initial reaction of his body caused his knees to go weak. He should have known that something wasn’t right, but never would he have thought that while she was supposed to be with her family, she would get hurt.

“It’s nothing, really, a clean in and out wound, I’m already having it treated.” Claire’s voice was steady, nothing indicating any unbearable pain, but then again, he didn’t know what exactly happened, so she might as well have been trying to calm him down.

“Where are you?” he asked, already running to the kitchen to turn the burners off, grabbing his car keys along the way.

“Edenbrook, but as I said-“

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He cut her off, walking out of the apartment in rush.

It’s funny how fluid the time is. The more one is anticipating something, the slower it goes by. Consequently, the more one is dreading something, the more it rushes forward. Ethan was experiencing something entirely different. The whole ride to the hospital felt like it lasted two eternities, and yet he couldn’t remember a thing from that time, like it happened in a split second.

His feet carried him forward, recklessly running through the maze of corridors, ignoring stares he was getting from his coworkers. Any logical thought has evaporated, leaving only blinding panic, unprompted by her way of speaking, but pushed forward by what she said.

Danny didn’t even question his disheveled state when he asked for the room number, knowing better than to stand in his way. His muscles screamed, more tired than after any other exercise, but the fear of the unknown was pushing him towards her. He opened the door, only to see Claire sitting on the bed, discomfort clear on her face. Not pain, not distress. Discomfort.

Because in front of her bed were two people, sitting in a pair of chairs. The room was filled with crying of a little boy, shaking in his mother’s arms. He was muttering something incoherently; Ethan wasn’t able to figure out what exactly the kid was saying. Meanwhile, Claire was trying her best to calm the boy down, her hands trembling in frustration that she was stuck in bed.

Ethan expected everything. Literally anything but this. Because how the hell could he have predicted that he would find Claire, shot and panicking because her nephew was crying. The woman sitting on the chair, Claire’s sister in law, Louise, made eye contact with him, her face twisted in a mixture of helplessness and horror, not communicating a lot to him about what had happened.

Then he turned towards Claire, his eyes running over her, searching for the wound or any additional injuries. Her calf was bandaged and resting on top of the covers, but other than that, she seemed fine. Her head moved slightly, signalizing that she was indeed okay, after which she nodded towards her nephew giving him a clue.

How the hell did an eight-year-old boy shoot his aunt?

Ethan ran a hand over his face, breathing in deeply. With no idea how to even begin the conversation, he looked at Louise. She sighed, then started explaining.

“Our genius uncle decided that Toby was old enough to try shooting an air gun. He tried to aim towards the target, but it fired early by accident.” She took a break to look at her son, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “It just so happened that Claire was in the bullet’s way.”

��But I’m okay.” Claire rushed to reassure them, smiling softly at Toby. He started crying again, hiding his face in his mother’s sweater. Ethan sensed what she meant, walking over to the little boy and kneeling by his side.

“How are you doing, little man?” he asked, trying to test the waters before saying anything else. Toby didn’t respond, but he did turn his head to look at Ethan, his eyes red from crying.

“I- I hurt aunt Claire.” He muttered before another batch of tears gathered in his eyes. The older doctor extended his hand towards him, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I can assure you that your aunt is going to be okay. I saw her leg, it’s going to heal before you know it, yeah?” he caught Toby’s gaze, seeing him already feeling a bit better. “Let me tell you a secret. When she feels better, give her a big hug. It always works.”

“Hugs won’t always get you out of trouble, Ramsey.” The blonde doctor warned, grinning from ear to ear in a teasing manner. He schooled his features when he looked at her, then dropped the act and smirked, mischief spelled across his face as he took a step towards her.

“Ethan, no.” she warned him, her eyes growing wide. He took another step. “No.” She moved back into her bed, scooting away from him. Before she could give him another warning, he reached her and dug his fingers into her sides, tickling her mercilessly until she laughed. Claire tried to slap his hands away, to no avail, but the torture didn’t last long. Soon enough, he wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her in his warm embrace.

“Am I forgiven?” his lips brushed against her ear as he muttered the question. She took a moment, keeping him on his toes, giggling when he leaned away to look at her in consternation.

“For now, you are. We’ll see later, Mister.”

Their little game seemed to do the trick; Toby calmed down, and by the time Louise took him home, he was smiling. The door closed behind them, leaving Ethan with Claire. Visiting hours were long over, but there was not a one person that came to kick him out, courtesy of them both being doctors. He remained seated in the chair next to her bed, holding onto her hand as they talked.

“Shouldn’t you go home and rest? You have a shift in the morning.” She muttered, tracing his knuckles with her thumb.

“No, I don’t. Naveen let me stay with you, make sure you don’t injure your leg further. No walking, no running, only being carried.” He grinned, leaning towards her a bit, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I’m your very own, private taxi.”

She laughed, pulling him onto the bed by his hand. “Okay then, since you’re not going home, you’re sleeping with me.” his eyebrow shot up in a teasing manner, opening his mouth to protest, but she was faster than him. “Yes, you are forgiven, and no, I won’t take no for an answer, Ramsey. Get in here.”

Sighing heavily, he removed his shoes and sat next to her, mindful of her injured leg. He looked at the wound for a long moment, being stopped by Claire pulling him to lie down. “I’m never leaving you again when guns are involved.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, muttering the words quietly.

“Only when guns are involved?” she joked, embracing him a bit tighter. Rather than seeing, she felt him laugh.

“Okay, you just scored yourself a lifetime of being stuck with me. Is that what you wanted, Herondale?” their eyes met, sparkling with humor and love. Stretching herself to her best ability, she pressed a short, sweet kiss to his chin before falling back into his arms.

“Give me the ‘brave patient’ candy and it’s a deal”

They remained in that position for quite some time, conversing silently, his hand running up and down her leg in a soothing motion. A short while after he turned the lights off so they could get some rest, she gave him a more serious answer, her words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “I’m perfectly fine with being stuck with you.”

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices #choices fanfiction #open heart #open heart fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #mc x ethan ramsey

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bittydragon · 4 years ago

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Bucket

Warnings: Imprisonment mention

Notes: Well, I finally did it. I wrote a gt piece for MCYT. I just started with the two I'm most obsessed with, but I watch a lot of them. And I managed to write it faster than I thought seeing as I suddenly had a ton of positive feedback when I mentioned it. That was major motivation. So I really do hope you all enjoy this! I don't think this will be the last MCYT gt fic either, I'm thinking Dream Team? Or who else should I do? We'll see!

“Now what is going to ‘poof’ today, as the bean says it? I wonder what will annoy them the most?” Skeppy mumbled to himself while leaning over the edge of the bookshelf to survey the room. This was a fairly normal circumstance for the borrower. He had always been more on the risky side. Though that could be the main reason for lack of friends. Riskiness is not a good trait to most borrowers.

Skeppy however, thrived off of it, especially through the confusion he could create. It also became the reason he had been in so many houses. But while Skeppy would take the constant risks in his everyday life, he was still scared of actually being caught. He still made it a game to see how risky he could make it without being seen, so he’s very obviously been seen before. And caught once.

That was a memory that he liked to forget. It was terrifying to actually be held and thrown in a cage. He was just glad he kept different tools hidden in his clothes, so he was able to escape that night despite the bean taking the rest of his stuff. That was the fastest he ever left a house after being seen. He was not willing to repeat that situation again, so he became slightly more cautious.

But then he found the house he currently lived in. The bean lived here alone, which was unusual for most homes. When Skeppy first arrived, he thought he would have to move out quickly because of the human’s constant movement within the house and the sporadic schedule of leaving and coming back. But while the bean was obviously everywhere at once, they were the most oblivious human had ever lived with.

That wasn’t the biggest reason that Skeppy decided this was his favorite house though. No, it was how easily frustrated the human got. Skeppy realized very early on that this bean was very easily confused and agitated at everything, especially Skeppy’s antics. The human thoroughly believed there was a ghost haunting his house after Skeppy had been living there for a week. And Skeppy lived for it.

His most common, and most entertaining, trick was stealing different items from the human. He always chose a different room at random so the human wouldn’t notice, but he always took something that would inconvenience the human in some way, even for a couple minutes. The human never failed to get extremely worked up about anything. The borrower found it entertaining, so he kept doing it over and over.

So here he was, on top of a bookshelf in the human’s room deciding what he was going to steal today. Eventually his eyes landed on a small coil of wires on the human’s desk. The human would occasionally take those and stick one end into his device and the other two parts into his ears. He wasn’t sure what they were, but he knew that even if the bean didn’t look today, he was sure to miss them eventually.

Skeppy nodded to himself and prepared for his descent off the bookshelf to steal the strange mess of wires. He tossed his wire off the bookshelf and stuck the attached paperclip into the shelf for a sturdy climb down. Once he was sure the wire was secure, he began climbing down.

He was about halfway down when the wire suddenly jerked and he fell a couple inches. He looked up in alarm to see the paperclip had shifted and was now barely holding his weight. He quickly tried to lower himself before it gave out, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it back up in time. But the paperclip slipped only a couple seconds later, leaving the borrower tumbling down and tangled in his wire with his struggles.

He grunted as he landed on a cold and hard surface. Skeppy groaned as he tried to flip over and sit up. He could barely move with the wire wrapped around him. As he sat up however, he realized he was not in a good spot at all. Tall walls surrounded him completely, all made of the same material as the floor. Skeppy was very suddenly alarmed.

He fell in that empty bucket the human kept in his room.

He tried to stand to make attempts at knocking over the bucket, but he kept falling back down, the wire constricting him too much. With a defeated sigh, he laid back down on the floor. He was going to be caught again. He closed his eyes and fell asleep right there. There was nothing to do but wait for the human to find him, so this was one way to waste time.

“Alrighty! Finally done with my work! Time to go to bed!” Bad smiled as he looked through his newly organized chest. With a proud nod he closed the lid and walked to his room, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he reached his bed however, he stopped. Bad wasn’t sure why he did, but he felt that he needed to check up on Mr. Squeegee’s old bucket. It had been a month now, so Bad was unsure on why he wanted to. He gave in anyways and walked over to the bucket.

“I miss you so much, Mr. Squeegee. Maybe that’s why I wanted too…”

Bad stopped and his eyes widened. There seemed to be a small person laying on the bottom of the bucket and tangled in some wire, seemingly passed out. Bad barely thought in his panic as he reached in and scooped the tiny life into his hands. He quickly lifted the tiny being up to his face. He let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding when he saw the tiny human’s chest moving up and down steadily.

He quickly walked over to his desk and sat down, panic clear in his every movement. That didn’t look comfortable at all. Bad began untangling the small man as carefully as he could. He grabbed a small pair of scissors and carefully snipped parts of the wire to allow it to untangle more easily.

It took about ten minutes, but Bad eventually removed all of the wire from the tiny person’s frame. He did a quick once over and was also relieved that there was only minimal bruising and it didn’t seem to be Bad’s fault. The poor muffin must’ve fallen from the bookshelf into the bucket.

Bad began to lean back in his chair to wait for the tiny human to wake up when he suddenly felt the tiny life shift in his hands. Bad froze and stared at him in awe, finally completely realizing that this muffin was actually alive and Bad wasn’t going crazy from sleep. Again.

His amazement vanished quickly as soon as the tiny human saw Bad. He quickly tried to back up off of Bad’s hands. He quickly curled his fingers up so he couldn’t fall. The poor muffin looked terrified! Bad knew he needed to do something, and now.

Skeppy knew that when he woke up he would find himself in captivity. He didn’t think that he would still be in the human’s hands though. And as his back hit the human’s fingers he realized he was in almost the same situation as before. He curled into a ball to make himself smaller and awaited whatever atrocity that was sure to come next.

“Awe, you little muffin. No need to be scared. How are you feeling though? You were rather tangled up, though at least there was no bruising from the fall you must’ve taken. So there’s at least one positive here!”

Skeppy peeked up at the human before coming to the startling realization that he was no longer tangled in the wire. He unfolded himself a little more and was surprised to find no more injuries beyond the bruises from his fall. He looked up at the human astonished.

A couple moments passed of the two just staring at each other in silence, both with baited breath.

“You’re- you’re not going to hurt me. Are you?” Skeppy asked in realization. He had been living in this house for long enough to realize that the human didn’t have it in him to hurt him. He was the safest he has ever been, especially being with a human. It couldn’t possibly turn out like last time. Not with this bean.

The bean’s eyes widened at Skeppy’s statement.

“Of course I’m not going to hurt you, you numpty muffin! Why would I do that?”

Skeppy let a small giggle leave his mouth as he reached up to cover his mouth. “Numpty muffin? What is that even supposed to mean?” The human just stared at him, completely astonished.

“What does it mean? Really? You could ask anything and you ask that? You really are a numpty muffin!” Skeppy couldn’t hold in his giggles as the human continued calling him a numpty muffin and ranting on about how he could’ve asked literally anything else.

Eventually the human trailed off and looked at Skeppy softly. “Do you have a name? Or something I can call you? I’m Bad, if that helps.” Skeppy tilted his head.

“That’s a weird name.” All his fear seemed to have dissipated, which was nice actually. The human, now Bad, sighed.

“It’s short for BadBoyHalo. It’s less of a mouthful. And please,” he quickly cut Skeppy off as he saw the borrower open his mouth, “don’t ask me why that’s my name. It’s a long story.”

“So you’ll explain later?”

“Wait no-”

“Cool! You can call me Skeppy then!”

Bad stared at Skeppy for a moment before speaking. “And you said my name was weird. What does that even mean?”

“Hey! You said I couldn’t ask about your name. No being a hypocrite, you hear me, Baldy?”

“I’m not bald!”

“Suuuuuuuure.”

“I’m not- ugh, whatever.” It was silent for a moment before Bad smiled at Skeppy again. “Good to formally meet you Skeppy. I just got one more question, are you the ghost who has been stealing my stuff?”

“Good to meet you too!” Bad raised an eyebrow at Skeppy and Skeppy let out a nervous chuckle. “No hard feelings about that though, right? I returned them all eventually.”

Bad sighed and smiled again. “I guess you did, but no more stealing.”

“No promises!”

“Skeppy!”

Skeppy laughed as Bad started getting worked up again. He knew this was different and wrong to most borrowers. But good thing he wasn’t most borrowers. And this wasn’t last time. Things could finally be different. Bad was different.

And surprisingly, or not, Skeppy was okay with this.

It was going to be alright.

#mcyt #mcyt gt #?#tiny!skeppy #borrower!skeppy #human!badboyhalo #giant!badboyhalo #skeppy #badboyhalo #finally did it!#this was really fun to write #first mcyt gt fic coming right up!#bitty writes #minicraft

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

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My Cousin is CRAZY! (Ben10 alien force)

My cousin is crazy

It was Saturday morning in Bellwood and 15 year old Ben Tennyson was slowly waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs. It was strange because his parents were on a vegan kick at the moment but he decided to roll with it and opened his eyes as he went to sit up. And then groaned out loud as he took in stock of his attire and what he was sleeping in. Not for the first time since Gwen had started working out hardcore last year the girlish Ben had found his cousin perv'ing on him and deciding he should be her sissy baby wife. Despite making his lack of interest in such plans clear MORE then once, It hadn't of stopped Gwen from snagging him up at random times and dressing him up. Case and point, he was currently in what he estimated as 5 princess reaz's diapers (he'd sadly become familiar with the different brands because of Gwen) and a dark pink top with lighter pink puffed out shoulders and a semi skirt that didn't even cover half of the diapers. The top also had a red heart on the front with white writing in cursive declaring 'i wove my mommy' going along with the top and diapers his hands were in locking mittens meaning any attempt to use the omnitrix was doomed to fail and his feet covered in booties with slick bottoms so Ben would end up having to crawl unless he wanted to fall on his ass every 12 steps. 'At least she didn't put the paci in my mouth this time.' Ben thought with a sulky though a pat on his head told him she had put the silly over sized bow in his hair again, the damn thing pink with white poka dots. As for what he was in, again this wasn't a shock to him as it wasn't the first time but he was still less then pleased to have gone to sleep in his own bed in a pair of boxers and wake up in the hot pink crib Gwen had built just for him during her wood shop class. And of course since she wasn't shy of telling people who it was for Ben had been forced to endure even more teasing at school though ironically just verbal, no bullies had darned to lay a finger on him and have to deal with Gwen's almost super human power and bulk. The last bully who had tried had been found hanging from a flag pole by a pair of Barbie pants. Struggling to get to his feet on the purple sheet covered queen sized mattress and ignoring the fuzzy white and pink blanket and pillows in the crib with him (not to mention a dolly or too) Ben took in a deep breath and then hollered at the opened door frame of Gwen's room. "GWEN YOU SICK BITCH! YOU'VE BEEN TOLD TO STOP KIDNAPPING ME AND DRESSING ME IN DRAG AND HUGGIES! COME IN HERE AND LET ME OUT OF THIS OUTFIT BEFORE I GET YOU IN SHIT WITH YOURS AND MINE PARENTS AND GRANDPA MAX TOO!" It was the only threat that normally worked as while they're parents thought it was mostly cute, they all agreed that Gwen kidnapping Ben crossed a line. other then that though it was fair game if he was out of the house. Grandpa Max was nicer about it in Ben's view as he made the rust bucket a official safe zone that even Gwen respected and so Ben found himself hanging out less with Gwen and Kevin and more with Gramps. Kevin for his part was all too happy to stay out of it, treating the whole thing as a bullet dodged when him and Gwen had never hit it off and a better Ben then him. Ben didn't have to wait long as he swore he could almost feel the food steps of Gwen as she made her way towards the room.

Between the insane amount of weights she worked and the reps she put into and a unexpected growth spurt Gwen looked like she could of been a WWE at her 6'10 height and 320 pounds of mostly muscle. She kept her Orange hair short and was wearing a pair of grey jogging pants and white under shirt that showed off her girl abs. "Awww is my darling widdle wife to be awake?" She coo'ed, cupping her hands together and flashing Ben a big smile. "Gwen, for the LAST time, I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to be your sissy baby, now PLEASE let me go. I'm not joking, I'll call Grandpa Max over and get you in SO much trouble." Ben huffed, trying to look intimidating but his outfit made that all but impossible. "Awww such a silly widdle gurl! Did widdle Benny forget that this is our parents couples retreat weekend? And gramp's is off on Plumber work! That means I got widdle Benny to myself allll weekend." Gwen gushed and came over, lifting him out of the crib with ease and holding him up so she could give his padded rump a sniff. "Ah crap baskets..That was THIS weekend?" Ben whined, not even bothering to point out he would of said something if he had used the diapers. He'd tried to make plans to hang out with cooper for that weekend but had clearly gotten his dates wrong and was capital S screwed for the next 48 hours. "Hmm Doesn't smell like Benny has made me a present yet..but I know you will soon enough. you just love to make presents for your hubby don't you?" Gwen coo'ed and moved him down enough she could give him a Eskimo kiss. "Oh yeah. highlight of my weekend, fudging a diaper." Ben said sarcastically. "Now now, I know you're just grumpy because you didn't get to play with me last night, but I had to take care of a few things. But we have allll weekend sweetie. And if you promise to be a good little gurl for me I'll be nice and spoil you with all the junk food you want. After all you need to put on some baby fat." Gwen chuckled and kissed his cheek. Ben groaned, Gwen was always trying to chub him up, but given the fact he'd been subjected to the 'wonder's' of a baby food and formula weekend before, and the fact he was trapped regardless he just hung his head. "Fine, I'll play along. but for the record, you need help." Ben huffed. "Oh please, I can handle my widdle wife for a weekend!" Gwen chuckled and carried Ben off towards the kitchen.

Strapped into a wooden but painted light pink high chair, Ben played along with his crazy cousin and held up his arms so she could remove his top and replace it with a hello kitty bib. "Now Benny, if I remove your mitten's and let you feed yourself, you're not gonna do something stupid and try and use your silly little watch now are you?" Gwen asked. Considering between her bulk and her magic Gwen out classed most of Ben's aliens anyways and she always made sure he was sorry for trying to go alien on her after he timed out, Ben decided that having the freedom to feed himself was worth playing along. "Yeah I'll be good.." Ben said and held up his hands. She studied his face for a second, as if deciding whether or not to trust him then smiled. "I believe you. I really hope we can have a nice weekend together and I don't end up having to spank you. it hurts me then it does you when I have to." Gwen said then moved to free up Ben's hands. 'Bullshit on that one!' Ben thought but wisely kept his thoughts to himself and just flexed his fingers, and looked at the watch. "I'm not going alien, I'm just checking to make sure no alien got primed to go while the mitten on so I don't accidentally go alien and get my cheeks tanned." He said, and then after getting a smirk and a nod from Gwen checked the watch. Thankfully nothing was primed and he made sure to show the psycho and then wiggled in the high chair as he waited on her to plate up some num nums for him. Everything else aside, Gwen really was a excellent cook and she didn't hold back as she put the piled high plate of scrambled eggs and Bacon and some pancakes down in front of Ben and handed him a baby fork and knife. She had also poured on the maple syrup and set down a one liter baby bottle full of chocolate milk for him and kissed his cheek. "Eat up little lady.Oh, did you want me to put a show or something on for you while you eat up? I think Sumo slammers is having a marathon on channel 6 today." Gwen asked, nodding to the Kitchen TV her mom had had put in back during the 90's. "..That would be agreeable yes." Ben said, trying not to break out into a silly grin before he started to dig into the food, watching as Gwen was proven right. 'you know.. the huggies and drag aside, I could get used to being spoiled like this.' Ben thought.

Gwen smirked as she watched Ben chow down and kick his legs ideally in the high chair. while she would of preferred he watch something a little less violent she had changed up her usual plan for weekend sessions with her soon to be sissy bride. Trying to enforce the baby food and sissy programs only made him fight it more so she was gonna meet him halfway and try to ease him more into baby gurlhood. One added bonus though she noticed with a big grin while she had her normal bowl of high protein gruel was that Ben was even more of a messy eater then normal as he watched his show, getting syrup all over his face and bib and eggs and bits of bacon were all over the place. 'He's such a big baby! I love it!' She mentally squealed. It only got better as halfway though his plate, he reached for his his ba-ba and held it with BOTH hands like a good baby gurl and she was fighting the urge to squeal out loud. Anytime she tended to praise him for his babyish behavior he always tried to cut it out. Finishing her gruel she washed it down with a protein drink and noted that Ben was squirming around lots in his high chair, with most of his food gone and the little sissy had packed away HALF of his milk already. "Doing alright over there baby gurl?" She asked. Ben seemed to snap out of his show induced trance and blushed. "I uh..I gonna potty..and I think I got a gas bubble stuck." He said, poking two fingers together. '..Is he asking me to burp him?' Gwen wondered but was ALL grin's "Well that's no good! here, let me help you out. whats a little gas between husband and wife?" She said. Coming over she grabbed a dish towel and a wet dish rag, putting the towel over one shoulder and then moved Ben's num num's and ba-ba over onto the kitchen table and removed his bib. washing the big baby's face and chest down she removed the tray and lifted him up, swooning as his legs wrapped around her and he helped her get his head over the towel. Rubbing his back she gave it all of three firm but gentle pats before Ben let out a massive belch over her shoulder and spit up a little bit of milk. "Uh...T-Thanks Gwen." A sheepish Ben half coo'ed and then switched shoulders and nuzzled into her. "Do you want me to set you down so you can go and hide while you make potty?" She offered, clearly trying to meet him half way was working wonders. "I..I Uh..no." Ben Mewed into her shoulder, which of course muffled his voice but she got the jest of it. "You wanna use your diapers while your bride to be holds you tight and praises you for being a good girl?" Gwen asked, grinning ear to ear and holding Ben close and rubbing his lower back. "I..I dunno..Maybe..I mean..If I can't use the potty..I guess it's.." Ben Mumbled into her shoulder, She could tell he'd of rather used the bathroom, which was a touch disappointing to her but still, with him willing to go in his pampers while she held him being his second choice that meant she was making headwind. "Do you wanna keep your face in my big strong shoulder or be turned around facing away from my?" She asked, then leaned down and kissed his neck, knowing from Julie (who had dumped Ben mostly because she shipped the pair) just how much he loved having his neck kissed and nibbled on. Case and point Ben didn't even really reply, just snuggled into her harder. Taking that as a answer Gwen made her way over to a kitchen chair and took a seat, Ben's legs on either side of her lap and his arms hugging her, while one of her strong hands rubbed and patted his pampered bottom. Her other hand was rubbing and pressing on certain spots on Ben's back and it didn't take loud before her efforts were rewarded as a muffled poot came out his backside, then anther and anther and she could feel him starting to push and grunt. "That's it baby gurl, let it all out. make me a nice big present." Gwen coo'ed sweetly in his ear and follow up with giving him a gentle start of a hickey on his neck as he began to fill his pretty pink diapers. "G-Gwen! Dun! N-Not while I'm pooping!" Ben meekly whimpered, though he tilted his head in such a fashion that he was offering her a even better shot at his neck. "Heh, Somebodies gonna be a tsundere diaper sissy for me huh? That's ok. I think it's adorable." Gwen chuckled, feeling the lumps of Ben's 'present' to her fill up the back of his diapers and mentally giving thanks to whatever mage had made the spell that allowed her to only smell strawberries in cream as Ben loaded his huggies. 'Maybe if he's a good gurl at our wedding, on our honeymoon I'll cast it on him too.' Gwen thought. Food for thought later, She had a good little gurl dumping his guts in his pampers for her and whimpering for his reward and as such, she leaned down and started to gently nibble and suck away on Ben's neck, smirking as the little sissy let out a soft "I love you.." as she did so.

The end

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bunnimew · 4 years ago

Text

Not the Junk Yard!

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black, Jamie/Cupcake Tags: Modern AU, Ghost AU, Jack and Pitch are ghostie boyz, Is it major character death if they start out dead and don't die harder during the fic?, Cupcake is only in one scene Rating: Teen Words: 2,954 Summary: Jamie stiffly looked forward and pointedly ignored Jack, even when his phone started playing Candy Crush on its own.

He would be fine.

His car was haunted.

He would be fine.

Or Jack and Pitch are obnoxious ghosts with nothing else to do but terrorize Jamie.

For @rotg-hope-week 2021 Prompt: Free Day! On AO3 here!

“Get off our ass, dickwad!”

“Use your turn signal, asshole!”

“Hey Idiot! That’s not how you make a U-turn!”

This was Jamie’s life now.

If he turned his head, he wouldn’t see them. Sometimes he forgot, when he opened the door and climbed inside, that just because his backseat looked empty didn’t mean it actually was.

If Jamie looked up into the rear-view mirror, they would be there.

Jack and Pitch, they told him the first week he owned this car. They had passed in a horrible accident and their spirits got stuck here. Jamie never asked if this was the car they died in, because he didn’t really want to know that.

He asked a million other questions though. He couldn’t help it! Ghosts! Real ghosts! In his car!

It was an absolute, utter, horrible, terrible pain in the ass.

But Jamie would have been so jealous if this car belonged to anyone else.

-o-

“I think it’s a day for fucking with the radio,” Jack nodded sagely. He turned his head to Pitch. “What’re you feeling?”

Pitch straightened his back and adopted a posture of confidence and poise. “I’m thinking Queen.”

“Solid choice,” Jack approved. He gestured grandly at the front of the car. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Pitch nodded once. “I would.” It took barely two seconds of static for the catchy pop song topping the charts this week to transform into Freddie crying, ‘Bicycle! Bicycle!’ and Jamie didn’t even glance over. He already knew.

His head connected with the steering wheel. “So it’s gonna be a day like that, huh?”

Jack shrugged and waved flat hands at the front seat. “I don’t know what his problem is. This song is amazing.”

“It might be that I played it last week, too,” Pitch suggested. Then grinned. “Or the inevitable hours of repeat he’s anticipating.”

“I still count that as a blessing,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Few things are more angelic than Freddie Mercury’s voice.”

Pitch took Jack’s hand and lifted the knuckles to his lips. “I could not have died and had my soul entangled to a better man.”

Jack rotated their hands and returned the sentiment with a smile. “Nor I, Pitch my love,” he dramatically declared. “Nor I!”

-o-

“In two-hundred feet, turn right on–”

“Why’s it telling you to turn here?” Jack asked. Jamie only knew he was poking Jamie’s phone because suddenly Google didn’t know which way was up and had backed all the way out of Navigation and was trying to find him fast food to eat.

“Damn it, Jack! Stop touching it!” Jamie flapped one hand at his phone, occasionally passing through what felt like weirdly cold pockets of air. He had to re-search his destination and re-enter navigation and pray he was turning right where he was supposed to, all at the same time. “You’re gonna break it! Or drain the battery, whichever comes first.”

“It’s faster to go straight and turn on 182nd. Trust me, we used to go this way all the time.”

“I kind of trust you,” Jamie tentatively said. It wasn’t a lie, if there wasn’t any GPS, Jamie would totally follow Jack’s instructions. But there was GPS, and it was telling him to turn here. “But there might be traffic or something that isn’t usually on that road, so it wants me to go around.”

“But it’s telling you to take Harding. Harding is way slower than Orange. You should turn around and go back.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “If I turn around, I lose the, like, one minute advantage of taking this route.”

“One minute? You’re taking a slower route to save one minute?”

“It’s one minute faster!”

“It’s slower!”

“That’s literally not how that works, Jack!”

Pitch’s chuckle, borderline giggle, cut through Jamie’s screeching. “You may want to keep better control of yourself. You’re looking a bit…”

Jamie turned his head, dread and embarrassment taking hold even before he saw the man one lane over staring back at him in alarm. The man looked away quickly and started talking to the driver, but it was too late. Jamie knew they knew that he was talking to himself. It was every driver’s worst nightmare. That someone else on the road would notice what they were doing.

Jamie stiffly looked forward again and pointedly ignored Jack, even when his phone started playing Candy Crush on its own. He… mostly knew the route.

He would be fine.

His car was haunted.

He would be fine.

-o-

“Pitch?”

“Yes, Jack?”

Jack tapped his foot against the door of the car, legs propped in Pitch’s lap. He was staring at the ceiling, noting the wear in the roof lining around the dome light. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck in this car?”

Pitch shook his head. He was resting a hand on Jack’s shin, fingers pleasantly scratching back and forth. Jack was happy that being dead didn’t mean he couldn’t feel anything. “I couldn’t say. I’ve never been dead before. We could be here forever. We could move on tomorrow.”

Jack bit his lip and shifted in the seat so he sank further down, nearly lying on his back now. “What if we are stuck forever? This car’s not going to last forever. Where will we go?”

Pitch’s fingers pressed a little harder into his skin. “Wherever this broken down car goes, I suppose. A landfill? A junk yard?”

Jack closed his eyes and whined. “I don’t wanna go to a junk yard.”

Pitch rubbed soothingly into Jack’s leg. “Isn’t the whole point of this line of questioning that we may not have a choice?”

Jack covered his face with his hands. “That just means I’m gonna whine harder, Pitch.”

“Of course you are.”

“It’ll be so boring. And so lonely. We can’t, Pitch!”

Pitch sighed and leaned down to press a kiss to Jack’s thigh, just above his knee. “At least we’ll be together?”

Jack pressed his hands up into his hair so that he could look at Pitch through the frame of his wrists. That was something. He wouldn’t be completely alone, but still.

“I love you, Pitch. And I’m glad that if I’m stuck forever with someone, it’s with you. But.”

Pitch folded his hands over Jack’s knees. Of course there was a but. “But?”

“But we absolutely can not go to the junk yard!”

-o-

“This is highly rude, I just want you to know.”

Jamie knew, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. There was nowhere else in the car his new, new to him anyway, tv would fit. The screen was just too big. It had to go in the back seat. Besides, what was Jamie supposed to do if he wanted to give his friends a ride sometime? Make them crawl in the trunk instead of use the perfectly functioning back seat?

Jack and Pitch were being pretty hilarious about it though. They were honestly trying not to touch it, pressed to opposite doors and barely in their seats. Pitch was practically folded against the wall and ceiling of the car, like the tv might burn him or something.

Or maybe he might burn the tv?

Suddenly it was a lot less funny.

“I’m sorry, just don’t break it, please? It was a really good deal and I definitely can’t afford another one,” he pleaded into the rearview.

Jack looked a little panicked himself. “No promises, but it won’t be on purpose.”

That was super not reassuring at all. Jamie pressed the pedal a little harder. Now he kind of felt bad about them trying not to be in the tv. “Can’t you guys, like… sit in the front seat, maybe?”

The ghosts looked at each other, which Jamie had to shift in the seat to see because they were so far apart. Pitch looked back at Jamie. “Maybe?”

Jack, on the passenger side, was gazing deep into the upholstery like a puzzle he was struggling to solve. “We’ve had pretty free rein of the car, right? We just…” Jack’s face contorted into something like concern or discomfort. Jamie got the feeling he didn’t want to say why they hadn’t tried it, yet.

“You don’t have to!” he was quick to say. “I just thought it might be more comfortable.” And also less dangerous for the tv.

Jamie had to take his eyes off of the rearview for a while. He was driving after all, and he could check in on them but he couldn’t watch them the whole time. He heard Pitch saying, “It can’t actually hurt, right?”

“I mean, we’re already dead,” Jack replied.

Which didn’t mean a whole lot. Sure, physical pain wasn’t a consideration, but their souls were still their souls and… Jamie should really do some research on ghosts. He was shocked out of his thoughts by a sudden metaphorical bucket of ice water spilling over his back and into his very being. He nearly slammed on the brakes, but caught it just in time. Getting rear-ended right now would suck for many, many reasons.

“Oh my God, Pitch! You have to warn me when you do that!”

“I did!” Pitch was no longer in the back seat, so Jamie couldn’t see his expression. “It’s not my fault you were too distracted to hear me.”

That was fair.

“Where’s Jack?”

He heard a cough.

“With Pitch.”

Jamie smiled and actually tried looking over at his passenger seat. It was empty, of course. That was a little sad. He knew they were ghosts, but it would be cool to talk to them face to face some day. “So it worked? And you fit?”

There was a snort. Probably from Pitch. “Sort of.”

Jamie… had to shrug it off, because it probably wasn’t anything important and he had to pay attention to the road. If it was working, sort of, that would be good enough for now.

“Sorry about the back seat.”

“It’s fine,” Pitch said, and the tone of his voice said it really was. “We understand this is your car, even if we’re eternally stuck in it.”

Jamie smiled again, but didn’t try to look at them. “Honestly. I’d like this car a lot less if you weren’t stuck in it, so.”

“Aww,” Jack cooed, “I knew you liked us!”

Jamie was almost home. “I could do without the songs on repeat, but… my car is haunted! That makes it the coolest car I could have!”

“Oh, I see, so it’s not about us,” Pitch said.

Jamie pulled into his drive and put the car in park, so he was safe to look over and pretend he could see them. “Of course it’s about you. It wouldn’t be haunted without you.”

“Any ol’ ghosts could be haunting this car, Jamie.”

The pretending was getting to him, so Jamie pressed the buttons on his door to turn the passenger mirror so far in that Jamie could see Pitch and Jack reflected in it. The angle wasn’t great, because it was only one side of them, but it was something.

And it was something.

Jack was sitting sideways in Pitch’s lap, his shoulder pressed to Pitch’s chest and his head resting on Pitch’s shoulder. This meant Jamie could only see the back of his head, but that really didn’t matter, did it? Pitch’s arms were around Jack, and his head was propped against Jack’s. As he watched, Pitch’s eyes caught Jamie’s in the mirror. They were precious.

Jamie’s smile felt like it was splitting his face in two.

“Then I’m glad it’s you.”

Pitch smiled.

-o-

It was already awkward, trying to do this across the front seats. Jamie couldn’t really help that though, because if he’d tried to sit in the back with Cupcake, he would have been thinking about Pitch and Jack dodging them the whole time, the way Pitch and Jack sit and lay and stretch in that seat, the way Jamie feels cold every time he reaches back there.

He shouldn’t have bothered. The way he was leaning to reach her lips was a little bit painful and a lotta bit hard to hold, but then there was Jack, talking in his ear, “Is this your girlfriend? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” So Jamie was thinking about them anyway, and all of his efforts were for naught.

“I kinda thought you might be gay.”

Jamie’s eyes snapped open to glare at the backseat. Jack wanted to talk about this now? Really?

“I’m just saying. I guess my gaydar is as dead as I am.”

Jamie wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry. And then he realized Cupcake wasn’t reacting to Jack at all. Couldn’t she hear him?

“Nope.” His expression must have given away his thoughts. “Only you can hear us. You know, just to make this as awkward as possible for you.”

Jamie definitely wanted to cry now. So he closed his eyes and chose to focus on Cupcake, who did not make him want to cry. She sure made him want a lot of other things, though.

“So…” Oh God, he really wasn’t going to stop, was he? “Should we make out too, or…?”

Jamie fought down a groan and pulled away from Cupcake to the sound of Pitch’s laughter. She wouldn’t understand why he was frustrated (And wasn’t that frustrating?), so he tried to act completely normal when he asked, “Think you might be able to sneak into my room?”

The devilish look she gave him turned Jamie’s mood right around.

-o-

“Aww, man…”

Jamie knew it would happen eventually. No car stayed in working condition forever. Something was bound to break, and it wasn’t like Jamie bought this car new or anything.

“What? What is it?” Jack’s voice was alert and panicked. Jamie felt a chill in his right shoulder that told him Jack was leaning forward between the seats.

“The engine’s overheating,” Jamie said. “I’ll have to pull over and, I dunno, try to figure out what’s causing it.”

“We’re breaking down?!”

Jack’s voice was so close that Jamie instinctively leaned away. “Uh, I guess? I hope not. I hope it’s just something easy, like… like the radiator needs coolant or something.”

“I’ll fix it!”

“Wait! No!” Jamie cried. Although he didn’t know what he was objecting to. And also it wasn’t like he could stop Jack. And also he had no idea if Jack actually could help or not, so there was… all of that. “What? Jack! Pitch!” Jamie turned in his seat, stupidly forgetting that wouldn’t help, then turned to the rearview. “What is he doing?”

Pitch looked alarmed and that did not calm Jamie down one bit. “He dove into the engine. I know nothing more than that.”

“I’ll cool it down!”

“How?! Jamie demanded. He was officially looking for any shoulder at all to pull off on. Unfortunately, this road had a curb. Stupid curbs. “How are you going to cool it down?”

“I am literally a cold spot. That has got to be useful for something.”

If Jamie weren’t so panicked about pulling over, he might have marvelled at Jack’s quick thinking. As it stood, he barely thought ‘Fair’ before he was working on the next problem.

“But you don’t even know what’s causing it! That’s not fixing, that’s duct tape! What’re you gonna do? Hang out in the engine every time I drive from now on?” Not to mention, a disembodied voice talking to him from the wrong side of his dashboard was disconcerting as hell. Odd that the disembodied voice talking to him from the backseat was no longer all that weird.

Before Jack could reply, Jamie felt another cold brush pass through his right arm and Pitch’s voice on the move. “I’ll go… see if a fan isn’t turning. Or if a hose is leaking.”

That was legitimately reassuring and Jamie felt adrift in the wake of his panic. Now what?

Right. Jamie pulled into the first parking lot he saw and stopped the car as far away from other humans as he reasonably could. The temperature gauge actually had stayed steady after Jack… yeeted himself into the engine block.

Jamie didn’t turn off the car just yet, in case leaving it on helped Pitch diagnose it. “Do you see anything?”

“The fans are turning, so it’s not that. This could be a leak, though. Might as well try the coolant.”

“So turn the car off?” Jamie asked.

“Turn the car off,” Pitch confirmed.

As the engine quieted down, Jack’s voice filtered through the dash. “So it’s fixable? We’re not going to the junk yard?”

Jamie snorted. “I was more thinking we’d go to the mechanic.”

“We’re not going to the junk yard,” Pitch confirmed again.

“Why are you guys talking about a junk yard?”

Suddenly half of Jamie was swathed in ice and when he looked up, Jack’s determined face took up more than half of the rearview mirror. “I will fix this car with sheer spite and will power if that’s what it takes to keep us out of the junk yard.”

Oh. Jamie didn’t really know what to say. Jamie’s panic over mechanic bills and inconvenience sure seemed inconsequential next to Jack and Pitch’s eternal damnation to a trash pile. Put like that...

“You guys can be a real pain in my ass sometimes, but…” Jamie shook his head and laughed disbelievingly. Repeat music, broken electronics, no making out in his own car, all sucked pretty hard, but moments like this made him realize. Jamie would also do damn near anything to keep them out of the junk yard. “I really hope I get to drive this car forever.”

#TheBunni #rotghopeweek2021 #Rise of the Guardians #Blackice #blackicerotg #blackice rotg #Jack Frost #Pitch Black #Jamie Bennett #Cupcake #Jamie/Cupcake #Ghost AU

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