#and lost that stupid fight and apparently at no point in that like entire hour and a half did anything save

[administer-distractions]

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[fairyhaos]

seventeen and try not to laugh

how seventeen will attempt to cope during a game of 'no laughing'

masterlist

seungcheol:

one of the most terrible. someone tells him not to laugh, then he gets the most overwhelming urges to laugh. like reverse psychology, you know? buries his head into the sofa cushions and tries his hardest to disassociate from the rest of the members bc even just looking at dokyeom's face will 100% make him snort with laughter. his face isn't visible the entire time. he has a crick in his neck from keeping his head in the cushions. his body is practically vibrating but it doesn't count as laughing if you can't hear or see him doing it

jeonghan:

has to bite his lips soooo hard to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at ostrich-coups with his head in the cushions. tries to make one of the younger members laugh first bc only then can he laugh too. steadfastly refuses to be the first one to lose but can bear losing after the others. tries to tickle the other members, eventually gives up bc they try and tickle him back. is often the one who initiates the game and gets everyone to play

joshua:

is always protesting that he has a naturally smiley face so they can't hold that against him. pretends that he's not going to play, but the minute the first person laughs he's pointing at them and yelling that they lost and you guys he's been playing with you for ages what do you mean?? has the most offended look when someone calls him out for smiling, goes on a whole rant and sulks bc of the discrimination, makes them completely forget that he was called out in the first place. manages to last so many hours using this method, eventually loses bc he forgets he's even playing

junhui:

makes so many members fail just by looking at his face. is pretty good at keeping in his own laughs, but apparently he's a Very Funny Guy or something bc this one time mingyu entered the kitchen while he was eating crisps and snorted so hard that he gave himself a sore throat. eventually cracks because jeonghan comes to him practically in tears to show him ostrich-coups who's shaking the whole sofa with his silent laughs

hoshi:

like shua, complains that he's naturally a smiley guy. tries to lie upside down on the sofa thinking it's gonna help him reduce his laughter, almost ends up losing three minutes into the game bc in fact all it did was just make it worse. ends up making little snuffly laughs fifteen minutes in. is always one of the first members to lose the game

wonwoo:

always says that he's an emotionally dried up husk of a person so he won't laugh. jeonghan tries to tickle him for that, and is extremely disappointed when wonwoo doesn't so much as flinch. tries to make the other members laugh so he's not the first to laugh (2), and is so awkward and wonwoo-ish that he succeeds 60% of the time. is one of the three people that can make jihoon break

woozi:

ends up laughing bc of hoshi's laughs. or bc of wonwoo's stupid puns. or just bc of dokyeom's entire being. is never the first member, but has definitely never survived the whole game before. was one tickled by jeonghan until he couldn't breathe, but managed to continue the game bc he didn't laugh once and instead was screaming the entire time. that one incident managed to take out five other members, and he doesn't know if he should be proud of that fact

minghao:

"there's nothing to laugh about in life, anyway. why would i laugh during a game?" attempts to zone out to win the game, is thrown over mingyu's shoulder to break his concentration so he's forced to consciously fight against laughter. once came in second place, but eventually lost bc dokyeom (who'd lost hours ago) popped his head into his room to ask something before promptly losing his balance and falling over in the middle of his doorway and hoshi, who was walking behind him, ended up tripping and falling on his immobile body while trying to get to the living room

mingyu:

everyone knows that he'll end up being one of the first four to burst into laughter. finds absolutely e v e r y t h i n g funny while they're playing. hansol hit his toe against the door one time while going to the toilet and he dissolved into a mess of incoherent giggles. makes it his mission to make the other members laugh too, either by randomly letting out shrieky laughter or doing stupid things. has a 50% success rate. is currently holding a competition w dokyeom for how many members they can get to laugh, and he's right now losing 17 to 22.

dokyeom:

laughs really easily. like, really really easily. is always one of the first ones to point out when shua is grinning, finds it really unfair when his hyung manages to wriggle out of it :(( even tho he laughs really easily he doesn't rlly mind bc he's also absolutely incredible at making the others laugh too. was once the first one to lose the game and managed to make all the others lose in one go when he wanted to make a smoothie and blended the blender without the lid on, milk and berries going everywhere and making him look like he'd murdered an ice cream man

seungkwan:

physically tries to tape his mouth shut every time, is stopped by jeonghan so it can be a 'fair game'. attempts to film seungcheol with his head in the cushions as blackmail material, can never go through with it bc he'll start cracking up. is so competitive for no apparent reason?? always ends up losing anyway but is determined to one day make yoon jeonghan and joshua hong lose before him bc it doesn't make sense that they can beat him in a game like this

vernon:

the only thing that can crack him up is seungkwan. just. anything that seungkwan does can get him to fail instantly. tries really hard to avoid even looking anywhere near seungkwan's direction bc this is a game that he can win okay so long as seungkwan doesn't do anything remotely funny. is an accidental master at making others laugh, in the sense that it's always cuz of his accidents n also cuz he does it by accident. the most memorable time was when he (somehow) managed to put his whole foot in their wooden coffee table. stared down at it for a whole ten seconds before going "oh". managed to make joshua and wonwoo dissolve into laughter, ultimately winning the game

chan:

has a 50/50 success rate in holding in his laughs. if he just sits in the corner and stares at the wall the entire time, he could totally disassociate so hard that he forgets the members are even there. but is also painfully set on getting the others to laugh bc of him, ends up making himself lose bc reality always hits him while he's in the middle of doing a skit or trying to crack a joke

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[wandabear]

GIVE YOUR HEART A BREAK - WANDA MAXIMOFF X F!READER  

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Summary: Wanda lost everything and it's hard for her to open her heart, but someone like Y/N's isn't going to give up anytime soon. So many times where Y/N tries to get closer but Wanda ignores her, and one where it's the other way around. A request based on the song 'Give Your Heart a Break'. Emobaby Wanda is trying. Enjoy @imnotasuperhero! Request here.

Chapter Iㅤ | ㅤChapter II

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As you know me, Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane.ㅤ 

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ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ CHAPTER II: ONE LAST TIME

The world changed. Not just for her, but for everyone.

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With her look lost in some point inside that cell, Wanda kept quiet, wondering why the hell she agreed to go on that mission in Lagos. Mission where she made the biggest mistake of her life and because of that, the Sokovia Accords were created and therefore, she ran away with Clint from Stark's house to fight with Steve in Germany. Everything was chaos in a matter of hours.

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Now locked away in some remote part of the world, with a straitjacket and a stupid Stark tech collar so she couldn't use her powers, Wanda was just devastated, she allowed herself to shed a tear.

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'Please, stay with me. Don’t go…'

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Wanda remembered Y/N's words and closed her eyes, cursing herself. Why didn't she listen to her? Why didn't she stay with her that night? Sharing the warmth of the bed, just feeling Y/N’s heartbeat, the sound of her breath.

Now that picture seemed so far away.

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‘How do you feel now? You freak.’ The raspy voice of one of the guards was heard, but she didn’t allow herself to see that disgusting man. Wanda clenched her jaw and held on until he left, she wasn't going to let him see her defeated like that, how the icy cold sadness embraced her.

All she could think about was Y/N, just her, to survive.

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"Don't listen to him, kiddo."

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She heard Clint's voice since his cell was next to hers, trying to comfort her in some way, so she wouldn't feel alone. Too late.

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The lights flash for a few seconds, drawing everyone's attention. Before the guards could say anything, a blackout darkened the entire place. The surrounding darkness made Clint and Sam lean against the bars and talk to each other, though Wanda couldn't even move. 

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The sound of many men falling down made her feel nervous, what if it was Hydra again? No, they were already defeated. But what if it was someone else?

She had never felt so vulnerable. The anxiety began to devour her slowly until  that voice brought hope back to her shattered heart.

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“I told you that no matter what, if you need me... I'll be there.”

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Like a beautiful sunrise, a smile was born on Wanda's lips; Steve was there. Next to him, Natasha was ready to get her friends out of there. Whatever it takes.

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“Are you sure?” The Sokovian asked feeling her heart race, taking the folder with shaky hands. She was in a van with her best friend, trying to go unnoticed. Wanda wearing sunglasses and a beanie to appease the cold while Natasha just left her recent blonde hair loose.

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“Safe as houses.” The russian spy sighed, noticing how Wanda was looking at the pictures in the folder. “She still goes to that café, not as often but… she does.”

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The pictures showed Y/N graduating, some in the cafe talking with Jules, some of the brunette listening to music with her headphones on the subway.

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“How long have you been following her?” Wanda asked, her fingers running gently over the picture. Oh, how long it had been without seeing her. Especially when they were running from one place to another to avoid being caught.

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“Since we got rid of Ross in Spain.” Natasha glanced sideways at the picture. “Plus, the barista is kinda cute.”

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Wanda raised an eyebrow, turning to see her.

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“What? She’s cute.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Apparently she’s her friend now. Thanks to that I was able to find out more about your girl.”

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“Flirting with the barista?”

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“Someday she will stop being the barista and will be the owner, she has dreams... she's different from us. From me.” The currently blonde handed her the binocular so Wanda could watch. “Anyway, Y/N's still single, she finished Med School, although it was delayed a bit when you disappeared. Now she’s doing the residence.”

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“Still looking beautiful.” Wanda sighed as she watched Y/N from a distance. The brunette was at her table, writing something in her notebook and listening music on her headphones. This time she wasn’t wearing her leather jacket, she was wearing a grey hoodie that Wanda recognized perfectly because it was hers.  Her heart melted. “She changed her hair style a bit.”

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“We can say we understand her. She needs to blend.”

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Wanda sighed and put the folder aside. “What else do you have?”

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“Wanda.” Natasha tried to get her attention. “I think it's time to face it. We have no time for doubts.”

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The redhead sighed and shook her head.

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“Now?” Wanda hesitated for a moment, really worried. What if Y/N didn't want to see her anymore? Or call the police?  Or worse... what if... “What if she hates me?”

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“We don’t have much time, we should fly to Scotland in a few hours.” Natasha grabbed her keys, ready to get out of the truck. “It may be the last time you see her.”

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Remaining thoughtful and silent for a moment, Wanda looked out the window once more. This was her chance, she must take it or let it go. But she had to choose now.

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“Let’s go.”

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“Here you have, my friend. ” The barista set the coffee mug next to Y/N, sitting down next to her. "Just the way you like it."

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“Thank you, you're the best.” Y/N smiled kindly and drank some of it, but not before adding two tablespoons of sugar. “That guy bothered you again?”

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Jules shook her head.

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“No, he was snooping around for a while, but when I told Ross that Wanda was only here for coffee and they did the ‘truth test’ to me with that stupid weird machine, he left me alone. Plus, Matt Murdock helped me as the most caring and amazing defense attorney in the world. ” The barista leaned on the table to play with a sugar packet. “I'm glad your friend deleted the videos… from the cameras, you know.”

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“It was nothing nothing, Daisy said she didn't leave any traces.” Y/N sighed deeply, remembering that in those videos you could see how Wanda and her met for the first time. How difficult was to erase them from existence. Now those memories remained only in her memory.

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Seeing the melancholy in her friend's eyes, Jules asked: “Did she call you already? Or something...”

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“No…” Y/N sighed a bit tired, putting her laptop aside. “Though I did find out some stuff, Daisy didn't know as much as I expected, I must admit, but she taught me a few tricks.”

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“How about Tony Stark?” Jules narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “He must know where she is, or if you can see her. At least! I mean… she’s your girlfriend!”

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“But nobody knows that we are girlfriends, and it’s the safest thing for her, I haven't been near Stark Tower since the last time we tried to get in and you got locked up.”

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Jules tried not to laugh at the memory. “But it was worth it, wasn't it?”

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Y/N smiled when she remembered that moment, of course she was able to intrude in the place thanks to Jules making a fuss in the main room. What it cost her to be questioned by the General Ross himself about twenty-four hours. And Y/N being 'kindly' kicked out by a some kind man with a scruffy beard that everyone called 'Happy'.

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The door bell rang again as two customers entered the café. Jules walked over to take the order but smiled widely when she saw it was the blonde.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ Y/N smiled, the crush Jules had with that stranger reminded her of herself. She just turned her gaze to her laptop to continue with that job.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ “Hey.” Jules grinned, resting her hands on the counter. “You came back.”

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“Yeah.” Natasha nodded and pointed to the person behind her, who was looking at the ground a bit shy. “I brought a friend, I think she will really like your coffee.”

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“Oh, a friend…” The smile on Jules's lips began to fade, she felt her chest deflate for a moment until Natasha's 'friend' removed her sunglasses. She could finally recognize her, with a different hair color, sure, but it was her. “Oh my… goddess.”

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The barista turned on the coffee machine to make some noise, necessary so that no one would hear them. Not even Y/N who was sitting with her back to them.

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“You’re here! We thought you were locked up somewhere! We saw you on TV!” Jules picked up two disposable coffee cups, writing two random names on them. “You looked so badass, by the way.”

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“Please, don’t say anything.” Wanda whispered trying to go unnoticed, worried there would be bugs. “Can I trust that you won't rat us out?”

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“You have my word, she’s there alone. Go…” Jules whispered and then cleared her throat, raising her voice again: “Sure! It's four bucks for both lattes.”

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“Thank you, Jules.” Wanda whispered and walked away from her, Natasha stayed talking to Jules and making sure no strangers entered the place. Wanda smiled when she heard 'you didn't tell me you were an avenger! I thought your name was Natalie!'

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Each step towards her made the heartbeat increase, what to say? How? Wanda watched Y/N's back and how she scratched her head trying to think. Oh, she loved that. She was so adorable.

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Wanda took a deep breath, working up all the courage to take a seat across from her. Unlike the first times they'd met, Wanda this time sat down and stayed there until Y/N looked away from her laptop.

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“Sorry, this place is taken…” Y/N started but then her jaw drop open. Wide open eyes, her heart skipped a beat.

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Wanda was there, with the cutest shy smile and that lovely reddish hair contrasting against her skin. Although those green eyes showed so much nostalgia, this time the tears were of joy, to see Y/N again.

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“Wanda...” Y/N gasped, quickly getting up to hug her tightly. Between giggles and tears, Y/N buried her face in the redhead's neck to sniff her scent, feel her presence once more and make sure she wasn't crazy.

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She was there. After so long they were together again. In the distance, her friends watched them smiling and happy.

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“Are you okay?!" The brunette took the face of her beloved in her hands, still unable to believe that she was there. Her Wanda.

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“I’m fine, detka.” The sokovian nodded quickly, smiling through the tears. Without thinking about it anymore, without caring about the consequences, Wanda ended the distance and kissed the lips of that woman she loved, the one who had her crazy since the first day they met.

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The warmth of her mouth, the need to feel her one more time. Both were lost in that kiss until they both needed oxygen. Y/N rested her forehead against Wanda's for a few seconds, until they decided to sit down. They had to keep up appearances.

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“We thought you were locked up in that awful prison.” The brunette sighed taking Wanda’s hand.

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“I was, but we were able to escape.” Wanda said in a low voice, closing her eyes as she felt that soft caress. She hadn't felt something like that for so long. “I missed you, lyubov.”

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Oh, she missed that Sokovian accent so much.

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“I missed you so much, Wands.” She felt a tear escape, down her cheek but she soon brushed it away. “You never told me you were an avenger.”

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“I'm sorry.” Wanda bit her lower lip, trying to swallow the pain. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you the truth, I wanted you to be for me, just for me… for this to be different from what I had. I was afraid you'd be scared.”

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“It's okay.” Y/N nodded. “Although I really didn't think that was it, just that maybe you were involved in some weird shit, some strange cult or something.”

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They both laughed together once more, feeling that maybe for a moment everything was back to normal.

The warmth in Wanda’s belly mixed with the pain in her chest, everything she had in front of her and couldn't keep. Damn it. She now she understood the pain, now she understood what Nat told her, now walking away would hurt even more.

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“I'm sorry I left that night.” Wanda whispered regretfully.

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“Okay, I understand why you did it.” Y/N nodded. “I'm proud of you.”

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'I'm proud of you'. Such simple words, yet so powerful. Enough to make Wanda shed a few tears, of happiness and sadness at the same time.

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“I can't stay.” You can hear the deep pain in her voice.

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Y/N smiled tenderly. “I know.”

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They both spent a while catching up on everything that happened, until Y/N began to look for something in her bag.

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“Take this.” Y/N handed her a small device that she put in the redhead's pocket. “It looks like a tamagotchi, right? It's funny. Every time you want to send me a message, you have to open this app. And send it to me.”

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“I don't think I can have this where I'm going, detka.” Wanda looked at her tenderly but Y/N shook her head, giving it to her anyway.

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“A friend did it for me, it's very reliable. It's encrypted, many layers of encryption, it is even necessary to do it from a specific place, really impossible to trace. I had the idea a while ago, I figured you'd come someday. So, I asked her to do it because she owed me.”

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“Who?” Wanda frowned at her, doubtful. Maybe a little jealous.  “Is she trustworthy?”

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“Daisy Johnson.”

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Hearing that name, the redhead nodded and took that device, knowing that she could completely trust Daisy. At least they were on the same side.

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“How did you meet Daisy?”

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“Oh, that story is for another day. I'll just tell you that I had to patch many wounded running away because of the Accords.”

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“You're amazing, detka.” Wanda bit her lower lip, completely captivated by her.

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“Wanda, we have to go.” Natasha said looking at her watch. 

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“Can't we stay a little longer? Please.” She begged, those green eyes asking Natsha and whatever higher beings to give her a few more moments.

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“You know how it is.” Nat sighed and adjusted her cap, ready to go out again. “Steve needs us.”

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“She’s right.” Y/N kissed her forehead, in the sweetest and most supportive way possible. “Go, okay? I will be here.”

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“Y/N, I…” Wanda stopped. She didn't know how to express those words, were they correct? Was she rushing? But did that matter? She was running from the government -not just one- for more than a year, of course it was worth saying. “I love you, Y/N.”

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“I love you, Wands” Happy to finally say it, Y/N smiled widely and kissed her lips once more. Not just once, but many times until they had to break up.

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“Be careful, okay?”

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“You too, take care, please.”  The Sokovian sighed, feeling her heart split in two as she moved away. “They will do anything to find us.”

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“We’ll do it.” She nodded, then looked at Natasha. “Take care of her.”

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The spy nodded as if it were a promise, although the truth would be that they would both take care of each other. But to Natasha's surprise, Jules came over to her with a big brown paper package.

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“Take this.” The barista handed her that package that inside seemed to have a few bottles of water, bagels and chicken sandwiches. “For the trip, I guess where you guys are going won't be close.”

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“Thank you, Jules. You’re kind.” Wanda smiled gratefully.

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“Wanda?” Y/N tried last time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ “Yes?”

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“Red looks beautiful on you. Red is still yours.”

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Smiling, Wanda waved and left that café, ready to drive out of town where the quinjet was parked.

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In the cafe, Y/N kept watching the door for twenty minutes until Jules decided to close it, it was time to go home. Of course Y/N was going to wait, she didn't know how long, but she was going to wait.

And together they battled the adversity and distance that separated them each night, especially Y/N's constant concern for Wanda's life. They communicated through encrypted messages from each city where Wanda arrived, once she was safe she would send a message that only they knew to show that everything was okay.

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The second invasion in New York was something that nobody expected, of course. As soon as she saw that on TV how New York was under attack again by the Black Order, she quickly left with Steve and Natasha to the Compound. The imminent war against Thanos coming to Wakanda.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘Are you okay?’ Send.

‘Please, detka, say you're okay...’ Send. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She typed and waited impatiently as they flew to Wakanda.

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Wanda sighed deeply, a bit defeated and tired of going back and forth from one place to another without being able to stay where she wanted to be. Now the planet was at risk -again- and a mad titan wanted to kill one of her friends to get a stone. Cool.

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“She’s okay?” Natasha asked as she sat down next to her.  

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“I don't know.” Wanda lowered her gaze, watching her reddish knuckles. Some cuts on her pale skin, she couldn't remember when was the last time she had a moment of peace. Her heart doesn't have any rest.  “I'm tired.”

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“I know.” Natasha pursed her lips and leaned back against the quinjet wall, closing her eyes. “I promise this is the last time.”

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“Don't promise something you don't know, Romanoff.” Wanda whispered, knowing so damn well that this wasn’t the last time. There was always something else, always somewhere to run.

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Maybe half an hour later that device vibrated, taking her attention. Wanda sighed with relief.

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‘I’m okay. Working, the hospital is full of wounded people. Those aliens left a mess here! Where are you? What’s going on?!’ - received a minute ago. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘I'm about to stop all this. I love you.’ Send.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘I love you. Please be safe, come back to me, Wanda.’ Received. 

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“She’s fine.” Wanda told Nat who seemed less worried now too. “We must stop them.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda didn't want to lose Y/N, didn't want to lose her best friend, Vision.

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“It's what we'll do.” Natasha nodded and got up to make sure they were close to Wakanda, as they seemed to be losing altitude. Watching once more the messages from her beloved, Wanda closed her eyes when she heard Steve tell them that they were about to land.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

One last time. One last time and we'll be together.

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"She'll come back, of course she will."

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That was what Y/N told herself over and over again, ever since the afternoon New York was attacked by Thanos. Hours later, Thanos's snap had disappeared half of the Universe.

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Chaos and horror reigned in the lives of many people who lost their loved ones, and some people who had to pay for the crazy decision of the mad titan and lose their lives.

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Watching the ashes around her, Y/N walked through the hospital corridors, seeing how people disappeared, turning into ashes. People who screamed for their relatives or for their doctors. She was speechless.

Y/N remembered how that day she arrived at Jules's cafe expecting to find a pile of ashes and feel the relief to see her there, so scared, trying to help the people who came looking for refuge.

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Y/N remembered how she tried to call Wanda but it was impossible, even though Y/N tried a thousand times, she never answered her messages again. And she understood why, when the news showed the fallen Avengers, victims of Thanos' snap. How they had been remembered for their great courage, trying to save the planet from that threat.

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‘James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff… we owe them so much, we are forever in debt.’ Said the president next to the ruins of what used to be the Mets Stadium. 

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“Now you remember them?! After spending a whole year hunting them all over the world like criminals!” Y/N exclaimed angrily watching the news, getting up to storm out of that cafe. “A fucking Witch hunt!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Five years from that day, that day when she asked herself: why not me? Where she should be glad to still be alive, but carrying the weight and pain of surviving in a world where those she loved were gone.

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Five years where her life changed completely, she was no longer a girl doing a residency but was now a doctor.

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Five years where New York City gone from being a beacon of light to a slightly darker place. A gray that would never make you feel alone, but not safe either.

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“You haven't slept at all for twenty-six hours, you should eat something other than ham bagels and coffee!” Jules's voice snapped Y/N out of her thoughts as she tried to stay awake over the counter.

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Jules, her best friend who had been by her side these five years, poked her nose. The woman looked exactly the same although with a rather attractive bi bob haircut.

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“Its what I must do. I promise I'll eat better or healthier.” Y/N smiled somewhat wearily as she drank her coffee, happy to have two days off.

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“I’m just worried.” Jules shook her head.

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“I'm okay.” She assured. “How's everything around here now that you own this place?”

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“Oh, don't even tell me. It's chaos itself, I never thought it would be doing the same thing I already did, but with more responsibility. And even more tired and stressed… but happier.”

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Y/N rolled her eyes and giggled. “What about Natasha?”

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“Each day more beautiful. The last time we talked, she was videocalling a space raccoon... that was flirting with me. A self-centred little thing if I tell you.” She joked, shaking her head. The relationship with Natasha strengthened even more all those years, Thanos' snap changed everything.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ Y/N and Jules talked for a while, mostly about their lives until one of the customers caught their attention, pointing to the television.

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“I repeat, a ship landed on what used to be the old Avengers compound!” exclaimed one of the journalists while running. “Be careful, we don't know if this is a new attack on New York or-”

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The journalist suddenly stopped when he saw how people began to appear around him.

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“OH MY GOD, THEY'RE COMING BACK!”

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Astonished, Y/N and her bestfriend watched as the people who disappeared years ago, now returned there or outside the store. Y/N rushed out to help those in need, accidents began to happen. Helping those who were scared or disoriented without knowing what was happening, the world was once again in chaos... five years after the snap.

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While the Avengers fought against Thanos once again, united, every place in the world was chaos itself. About five or six hours later, from afar it was heard how many people celebrated the return of their loved ones in the streets. Jules was turning off the lights of the coffee shop when she heard the jingle of the door bells.

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“Sorry, we’re already closed. If you need help I can take you to the City Hall and...” Jules said without even looking, taking her jacket to leave but when she turned to look, her mouth dropped open in surprise. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ The redhead was wearing a gray coat and a burgundy sweater that fit her perfectly. She looked beautiful, as always, but mostly she looked hopeful. And somewhat worried.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ “Wanda…” Jules gasped, she remained still for a few seconds before approaching to hug the redhead. So tight, even Jules missed her so much. “Damn, it’s true. You look like... you look exactly the same. Wow.”

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“It is. You still look beautiful too.” Wanda said with a small shy smile, but as she pulled away she asked: “Where is she?”

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“In her apartment.”

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So confused, the sokovian shook her head. “I was there, there’s no one living in that place.”

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“Oh, yeah! It's just that she moved two years ago to be close to the hospital.” Jules took a piece of paper and a pen so she could write down the exact address. “Here you go, she's a few blocks from New York-Presbyterian.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Thank you.” Wanda nodded quickly walking towards the exit when the woman's voice caught her attention.

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“Wanda… Do you know where Natasha is? She doesn't answer my calls, I understand that after all it must be difficult to talk. But… I’m getting worried here.” Jules tried to look smiley but she seemed quite worried because inside her, she felt that something wasn't quite right. "I'm terrified, she never does that."

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“Jules, I… umh… I'm sorry.” Wanda lowered her head for a moment, not knowing what to say. How to begin, she didn’t even thought about everything that happened. Apparently Nat and her were close.  “I thought you knew.”

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Taking a deep breath, the brunette just tried to hold back her tears and nodded. Natasha talked to her many times, explaining the situation in which she would always be. Preparing her for what she considered inevitable.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She was an Avenger. Someday she would die as one.

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“Go, I'll be fine. We will talk about that later.”

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“Are you sure?”

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“Yes, please. She will be happy to see you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda nodded and left that place quickly, willing to get to that place as fast as she could. 

The good news was that Y/N wasn't that far away, the bad news was that the streets were packed with people. Wanda used her powers to levitate between alleys, shortening as much as she could.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She was so focused on the TV that the sound of the coffee maker made her jump. The news channel decided to show the lovely reunions instead of focusing on the riots, to appease now the great problem that was now coming, called overpopulation.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N got up to get some coffee when she heard the doorbell. So confused, she set the coffee pot aside and walked to the door a bit worried. Maybe it was Jules with something new, she didn't know anyone else after all.

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Each step toward the door seemed like an eternity, as if something was going to happen and her heart knew it. Because when she barely opened the door, her heart rushed out to its true owner. Taking her breath away, there was Wanda Maximoff, more beautiful than ever, as if nothing changed for her. Y/N thought she was living in a memory, Wanda looked exactly like the last time she saw her.

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“Hi.” Wanda mumbled between happy, flushed and excited. She thought of all the things she wanted to say, all the things she mentally wrote down to say to Y/N, but she could only say 'hi'.

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“Wanda! Oh my god!” Y/N exclaimed excited and amazed, rushed towards the sokovian to hug her as tightly as her arms would allow her.  “It’s you. It’s really you. Oh my god, you’re here!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She didn't even think about it, she just kissed Wanda. Kissed the love of her life as if it was their first time. Closing their eyes for a moment, they both allowed themselves to hold each other for a long time, feel each other one more time. Feel the scent, the warmth of their bodies meeting again, so similar yet so different.

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After that kiss, Y/N led Wanda inside the house quickly. Turning around, they faced each other again, not knowing what to say. Just happy looks and big smiles.

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“Wow, I can't believe you're back.” Y/N took her hand sitting on the couch together. Oh, how many times she begged to whatever god up there would let her see Wanda one more time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The redhead took advantage of the moment to take a good look at Y/N, that woman for whom she had fought all this time. One of the most important reasons why she gave her life in that battle, who she felt was her home.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You look the same... it's so crazy.”

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“You look a a bit different…” Wanda whispered, caressing her beloved's cheek. And it was true, although Y/N still looked so damn  beautiful, some things changed. Not many, those eyes and that smile kept taking her breath away.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Hey, it's not my fault. Five years, you know? I'm a bit older now, but... bit sexier tho. Like a good wine.” Y/N teased, they both laughed, but then pain came like a blast of cold air for both.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Five years away.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Realizing how long it had been since they saw each other, years without knowing about each other. Time felt unrecoverable; years of thinking they were lost forever.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ Years where Wanda was not there for Y/N. Years where Y/N had to move on.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“No, I mean... you're so beautiful. You look the same, I just... It feels as if I saw you for the first time.” Wanda hurried up and shook her head, feeling the bitterness close in her throat for a moment. She cradled Y/N's face in her hands. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left. We should have gone somewhere, run away together...”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

A tear fell down Wanda's cheek and Y/N allowed herself to gently brush it away, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead.

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“That sounds very romantic.” Y/N smiled wistfully, how long did she think about it? How silly she was for not insisting even more. “But you know very well that you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t quit on your friends, you wouldn’t quit on this world if it needed you, and I wouldn’t let you do it either. I'm still so fucking proud of you.”

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“But I left you, twice. I feel like a failure, 'cause I know that I failed you, detka. I should've done you better…”  Wanda looked down at their intertwined fingers, finally. “I'm scared… Everything has changed so much. And I know, but I'm afraid that you have everything now… and I’ll be nothing without you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N smiled tenderly.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Some things have changed, but my love for you hasn't.” Y/N assured her, kissing her hand in a soft and unique way. “That's something that will never happen,  my love for you will never end. I'm still waiting for you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda bit her lower lip, completely in love with that woman. Oh god, how did she find something so good in her life?

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“I haven't asked you, but…” Wanda felt a bit embarrassed to ask. “Are you... seeing someone? Sorry, I came here and I just stormed with all this. I didn't even ask you that...”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The brunette giggled, that was so adorable. “You’re asking that after we kissed...”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“What? I wanna know!” Wanda defended herself and gave her a little nudge.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Ouch!” She tried to stop giggling. “I'm single.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Oh, thanks to the universe.” Sighing deeply, feeling a great relief, Wanda just nodded and tried to fight back the tears.

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Seeing Y/N again in front of her, so the same and so different, was one of the most difficult tests she had gone through. They both spent the night chatting about what Y/N's life had been like, that she managed to finish the residency because the decimation -or the snap- changed everything in those five years. Y/N got that apartment because it was so much closer to the hospital, and because the memories of Wanda started to suffocate her. It was too painful.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda's absence opened a great hole inside, so deep that nothing was enough to fill it. ‘It was a deep dark hole that goes all the way to China’, Y/N used to said that because that was one of the songs they both loved, ‘Hole in my heart’ by Cyndi Lauper.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

And while Y/N told her everything that happened in the world and in her life, Wanda never stopped smiling. She was so proud of Y/N, seeing her achieve everything she wanted to be.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I've missed a lot of you.” Wanda stroked her cheek, so slowly. The softness of her skin kept driving her crazy. “I abandoned you so long ago, long before Thanos. I abandoned you when we hadn't even started.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Feeling the pain in her beloved's eyes, Y/N just leaned down to kiss those sweet lips one more time. A short and sincere kiss, making their heartbeat increase.

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“I think it's time to rest.” whispered the brunette, lost in the delicious sensation that Wanda's lips cause her. Hearing that, Wanda just nodded.

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“Yes, I should go.”

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“No, not like that. I mean… Where?” Y/N stammered, then looked around. It was 2 am, Y/N turned off the tv. “Where are you staying? I don't think it's good for you to go out alone.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I'm an avenger.” Wanda smiled, Y/N despite knowing that she was powerful and capable of defending herself against alien threats or trained agents, she continued to protect Wanda as if she were a treasure. “Don't know. I just came back… I came straight here. I have no place yet.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Stay with me.” Without waiting for even a second, stumbling at her own words, Y/N blurted it out without thinking about the consequences. Not caring either, she just wanted that girl back by her side and planned to make up for the time that was taken from her, from now on. If she let Wanda go before, this time she's going to fight for it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes…” Wanda whispered, happy. And of course this time she wasn't going to say no. This time she wasn’t going to refuse saying that she should be somewhere else. This was the place where she belonged, this was the place where she deserved and wanted to be.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Smiling, Y/N took the redhead's hand and they walked together into the bedroom, leaving all the chaos behind. Promising themselves to never let go again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

And fulfilling what they promised, they didn’t separate again.

Except for Tony Stark's funeral, Y/N didn't think it would be appropriate to go there, so she just waited patiently for her. The bad news was that Natasha hadn't woken up yet, after what happened on Vormir and Steve returning the infinity stones to where they belonged, he found a loophole in that 'deal'.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

They were able to rescue Natasha's soul, coming back to life but wasn’t that easy. Natasha never woke up, staying alive but unable to get out of that coma.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Pepper took care of the situation, looking for the best facilities and doctors she could find. Jules never left Natasha’s side, she spent most of her time trying to be with her, and take care of her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Of course, Jules cried and growled 'that's my girl, always leaving a mess and saving the world' when she found out about the Russian’s sacrifice. Hoping to scold her someday, though she understood that Nat would do anything to make her sister come back, Yelena. And all the people on this planet who needed to come back.

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After all, they spent five years together, and had a wonderful and healthy relationship. Natasha learned to open up and let herself be loved and cared for, have a small family. Jules knew so well that Natasha Romanoff was a hero, she always had been. Maybe the ring should wait for its owner a little longer.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Oh my god, that’s so you.” Y/N laughed so hard, watching an episode of Malcolm in the Middle. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda loved sitcoms and was grateful that they matched so well on it, even though they agreed to alternate their sitcom nights between Malcolm, The Office, and One Day at a Time. The Office could be complex sometimes, but Y/N loved it and Wanda was starting to like it, very much. Two months passed since everyone returned and the world was beginning to heal, little by little.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Shut up. You’re Hal, always horny and doing the most random weird things ever.” Wanda snuggled to be closer to her girlfriend, her love, her everything. Feeling the brunette's scent made Wanda smile and close her eyes for a moment, so she could live in that dream, never wake up.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“And you’re my Lois, because you love me anyway.” Y/N whispered as she stroked Wanda's back slowly.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I love you, detka. I will love you in any way, in any world.” Wanda confessed by placing her chin on Y/N’s chest. Neither of them seemed to care much that the episode kept playing behind, the connection between their looks could overcome everything.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Wanda…”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Mmh?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Have I told you that I love your accent?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Always, and I love to know...”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Wanda?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes, detka?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N narrowed her eyes and bit her lower lip, thinking that maybe she shouldn't say what she wanted to say. “Do you remember the times we saw each other when you were running away?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Do I remember them? Ha. I treasure them in my mind, each and every one of them.” The redhead paused for a moment to lose herself in those memories. The times they'd run away so they could be together, when Y/N took a week's vacation and traveled to Scotland, so they could lose in the romantically beautiful Edinburgh, or travel to Ireland, laughing and dancing in Galway over a few pints of ale.

That night Natasha was so angry... but the most painful thing was always saying goodbye to Y/N.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Now they wouldn't have to do it anymore.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Remember when…?” Y/N swallowed hard, thinking how to say it. “I would like to know something... rather, I'd like to ask you something.”

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“Tell me, Y/N, what's is it? Are you okay?” Concern was visible on the redhead's face.

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The brunette sighed and settled on the bed to get a better look at Wanda. After a few attempts to start saying it, she took courage: “Don't you think we've been apart for a long time already?”

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“Yes…” Wanda nodded. “Although these months have been wonderful, I don’t understand what you mean…”

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“But it's different.” Y/N licked her lips and took Wanda’s hand. “So I was thinking and, well, this place… is… something that I chose, in a hurry because I had to. You know, I didn't even think if I liked that window or if that… room was good… or… one bathroom…”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda narrowed her eyes somewhat confused, not understanding too well where she was going.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Jeez! Would you like us… to look for a new place together?” Y/N ended up exploding, tired of babbling like a lovesick puppy. But as soon as she realized what she said, her eyes widened.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Do you want us to live together?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Wanda frowned, a bit confused. “Isn't that what we're doing?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yeah, but I mean let's find a place together.” Y/N closed her eyes, expecting the 'no' at any moment. “One that we choose together, that we both like.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Her girlfriend was quiet and that made Y/N panic, feeling her palms slightly sweaty.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“A home...” Wanda gradually smiled, that smile she hadn't shown in a long time. Such a unique smile, a happy one. The sokovian suddenly began to nod quickly, between excited and happy. “I would like to.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N smiled too. “Really?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“No, no...” The sokovian shook her head. “I wouldn't like it, change that. I'll say it better: I would love it! I would love to choose a home with you, detka.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You serious?” Y/N smiled and sat up on the bed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Deadly serious.” Wanda couldn't say more, she just laughed when the brunette leaned over to fill her with kisses and small bites. “Let's get ourselves a home!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“And maybe a dog?” Y/N used her best pleading eyes, Wanda just bit her bottom lip, shaking her head.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Baby steps, detka!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

That was how they both slowly began to repair that relationship damaged by absence and time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Natasha woke up two months later, happy to know that her sacrifice was worth it and that she was surrounded by the people she loved so much. Now all she had to do was go through a long recovery process, but never alone.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N managed to have better work hours, now she couldn't be away from home for so long. She decided to take a minor position in a nice place called Westview.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Accepting Y/N's recommendation, Wanda began attending a therapy group, to be able to work on all the losses she had. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible.

Although she would never get over Pietro, her family or Vision’s death, she could tell that slowly she was making progress.

Wanda could finally let her heart have a break and, without a doubt, lots of love.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Okay, I have finished this beautiful request and aaaaaaa. I hope you liked it. I wrote this chapter listening to One last time" by Ariana Grande.

the cutest and lovely people tags ✨@fishlikestuff @marvelogic @blckrwidow @imnotasuperhero @wandsmxmff - @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvell-love​ - @etheriaaly - @idcplss - @how-to-disappearrr - @simp4nat - @scarletwitchofthewilds - @cristin-rjd - @lonewalker17 @zairaaaa @mrscromanoff @kacka84 @helladumbsstuff @dandelions4us @karsonromanoff @trikruismybitch @danicarpediem

I can’t remember who asked me to tag them in my fics, if you want, comment and I’ll tag you.🐻

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[evanjinx]

alternative universe buddie fics recs :)

note: the links weren't working the first time i wrote the post but i edited and they're okay now!! if it still isn't working for you is probably because you're trying to open from a reblog from before i edit it, so try open directly from the original post on my profile.

Blind Date by @sassypopstar [complete | teen and up audiences | 3.8k words]

Buck feels a little ridiculous dressed in a jacket and a shirt. But Maddie had insisted on him dressing up for the occasion and even Chimney had quipped that it’s the right thing to do. So Buck, who never went on a blind date before in his life, listened to his big sister and her boyfriend because apparently that’s who he is now. Or the one where Buck goes on a blind date with someone called Eddie.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno [complete | teen and up audiences | 23.4k words]

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day. Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

Call It What You Will - Fate? Destiny? (A Tsunami) by @abow123456 [complete | mature | 20k words]

Evan Buckley's day of relaxation is cut short when a tsunami hits the beach he was relaxing at. He has to fight to keep himself and a lost little boy safe from the water, as well as anyone else he finds. After, he meets the boys father and family, and it causes a snowball effect of good things for him, for once.

Capuccino with extra, extra sugar by buckbng [complete | teen and up audiences | 2.7k words]

Buck is the cute barista and Eddie is the grinch that hates coffee. Until, he doesn't. Because if Buck says he looks like the kind of person that would love a cappuccino, who's Eddie to disagree with him? OR Eddie really doesn't like coffee but pretends he does just so he has an excuse to see the cute barista at the coffee shop.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos [complete | mature | 31k words]

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck. With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys. AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings [complete | mature | 7.3k words]

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black [complete | mature | 13.4k words]

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer. (Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

Gave me no messages, gave me no signs... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 7.4k words]

"Buck is beyond nervous, and he’s really trying to convince himself that the familiarity of the situation is not some sort of bad omen. Just because there are parallels of the start of his relationship with Eddie to that of his relationship with Abby doesn’t mean that this new adventure is destined to end in the same miserable fashion. He hopes it won’t, has to believe it won’t. Because even with Abby, he hadn’t fallen this hard for her before their first official date. With Eddie, everything is already intensified by a thousand." Or, Buck covers a shift for a firefighter at the 136 and it leads to a budding relationship through text messages.

Gotta Find My Corner (Of the Sky) by doctornineandthreequarters [complete | general audiences | 31.3k words]

It was the last day of 2016 and two lost souls found themselves in a quiet dive bar, as the loud noises of the city celebrating New Year’s Eve buzzed around them. Most people chose loud, flashy bars with DJs and entrance fees and promises of champagne for New Year’s Eve. But both occupants of the dive bar preferred the quiet. They both didn’t need the added chaos when everything around them already felt chaotic. --- Or, Buck and Eddie meet on New Year's Eve, 2016, a meeting that sets of a series of events that changes the trajectory of both of their lives.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Till I Saw Your Face by @hmslusitania [complete | general audiences | 10.4k words]

After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club. OR Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

i want your midnights by allyasavedtheday [complete | teen and up audiences | 36.3k words]

In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

i wanna be know (by you) by @starlightbuck [complete | general audiences | 12.5k words]

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief.

“How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

if i got locked away (would you still love me the same?) by @firefighterhan [complete | general audiences | 3.7k words]

Buck gets accidentally thrown in jail after meddling in a fight outside of a grocery store. There, he meets an unexpected guest, famous music artist Eddie Diaz, who is being suspiciously quiet about how he ended up here in the first place.

if only in my dreams by @buttercupbuck [complete | general audiences | 5.4k words]

Years before Eddie joins the 118, Buck meets him at an airport bar on Christmas day.

in a week by @buttercupbuck [complete | explicit | 78.9k]

in which Eddie joins the U.S. Forest Service and in the meadows of California, finds the things he thought he lost and the things he thought he'd never have.

It Started With A Bang And A Hostage Situation by JayJay__884 [complete | general audiences | 6.6k words]

Buck goes to the store one late night to buy food because of Maddie's pregnancy cravings. Whilst at the store, Buck accidentally gets caught in the middle of a robbery and gets knocked out. After waking up in the backroom, Buck finds himself as a hostage with a handsome and caring stranger.

Leading with the Left by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 84.7k]

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

Lift me up by @captain--sif [complete | teen and up audiences | 5.5k words]

Buck gets stuck in his apartment building's broken elevator with his good-looking neighbor from the sixth floor.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 11.2k words]

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

*stupidly handsome and annoyingly talented rival spy

Mr. Buckley's After Hours Detention by aresaphrodites [complete | mature | 11.4k words]

It’s not like Eddie Diaz planned on this. Really, there was no scenario in his mind where he would ever be bringing his son’s teacher a freaking goody basket to class; a homemade goody basket, no less. Then again, Christopher has never had a teacher quite like Evan Buckley.

MukbangsWithBuck by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 19.3k words]

After growing tired of eating alone in his loft, Buck decides to start a YouTube channel where he records himself eating dinner and telling stories about crazy things his team has encountered on calls. He eventually gains a substantial fanbase, and he is led to the channel of another LA firefighter who uploads informational videos and also casual vlogs with his ten-year-old son. It isn't long before the two start a friendship through messages, both of them secretly hoping it will turn into something more. Or, Eddie and Buck are both firefighters/YouTubers and they end up falling in love.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates [complete | explicit | 139.1k words]

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.  But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie. Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back. He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head. 

Passive Aggressive Flirting by @starlingbite [complete | general audiences | 4.5k words]

Buck and Eddie have never met. They both work at the 118 but just on different shifts. That's all about to change when Buck finds a sticky note message, signed E.

String of hearts... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 11.1k words]

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

check out my post of buddie fics with dad!buck

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally.  You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened.  You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it.  You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys.  They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up.  There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured.  They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso.  The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat,  his dark curls sticking to his forehead.  He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands.  You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet.  You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly.  You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving.  You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you.  You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching.  Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you.  After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip.  “Seriously.  That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring.  Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away.  You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now.  You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup.  Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself.  “We…”  Your voice sounds absolutely shredded.  “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you.  “But we are alive.  Hey.”  He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand.  “We’re alive, right?  Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative.  A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence.  You’re alive.  Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering.  Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back.  But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking.  Full of light, and hope.  It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death.  Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies.  Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife.  You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort.  For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that.  “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!”  You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?”  Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position.  Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them.  “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him.  “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with.  “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too.  These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?”  Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close.  Why is he so close to you?  You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space.  Since when did he have that effect on you?  You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in.  You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness.  Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though.  Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands.  Hey.  Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips.  “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under.  Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement.  You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though.  His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head.  Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else.  Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

*** 

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and.  Well.  Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him.  But like, fuck him.  You know.  In the negative sense of the word.  The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it.  Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here.  Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall.  You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today.  You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again.  So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him.  Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now.  You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots.  He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you.  What have you done to deserve this torture?  Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay?  No, you’ve decided.  It’s not okay.  He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him.  In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie.  Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues.  “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps.  “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly.  “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?”  You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite.  Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug.  “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question?  It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache.  Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in?  “Ever.  The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?”  You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.  You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more.  Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is.  “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies.  “Maybe some Reds.  Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear.  Where are stress headaches localized?  Are those the ones right under your brow bone?  Because stars, you feel it.  “Fucking… why?  Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?”  Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you.  “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what?  No.  I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit.  This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that?  It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him.  The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you.  “Quit being so sensitive.  Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering.  You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset.  You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell.  But today was… a lot.  You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names.  These people aren’t your friends.  Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it?  You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle.  You almost died today.  You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit.  This is your squadron.  These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs.  You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that?  You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine.  How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you.  No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?”  You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy.  Ooh, you can already feel it burning.  It would be so fucking typical.  Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight.  How could he not know?  With as many friends as he has?  If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too.  You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it.  “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?”  Zhang turns his head.  “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No.  Yeah?  What?”  He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?”  Rossi confirms with a shrug.  “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right.  Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage.  You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel.  His pool is probably up soon, you figure.  That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today.  He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time.  Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—”  You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it.  Nobody has any fucking idea.  Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually…  “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—”  You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster.  Dameron had some… what?  “Wait.  Explain.  You’re saying he didn’t…”  You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together.  “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What?  No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated.  “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten?  He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…”  You blink, stunned.  “But… why?  Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs.  “Fuck if I know.  All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it.  Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t.  He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again.  You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today.  Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half… 

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here.  You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all.  You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.  

This is why he said that about Nine?  Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head.  Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today.  You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone.  Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow.  “What now?”  You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?”  You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder.  “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably.  “Well, uh.  We tried.”

“What?”  You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples.  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?  I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more.  “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing.  So we thought we’d buy you one instead.  Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air.  You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right.  Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar.  He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes.  The past… whole day.  Month and a half.  Or… fuck, how long have you known him?  Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours.  His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately.  You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on.  Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base.  You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here.  Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal.  Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around.  At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation.  You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly.  Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them.  Constant, never-ending.  Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe.  Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts.  You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance.  Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was.  Doesn’t matter now.  They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise.  It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary.  You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now.  But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms.  You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship.  You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized.  Spectacularly so.  Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary.  There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it.  Get each other.  He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly.  You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising.  Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive.  It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason…  You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you.  It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission.  How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.  

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name.  Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time.  The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him.  The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically.  Remembered, or at least asked the right person about.  But why?  It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s notorious for not giving a shit.  He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours?  You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself.  He was… singing your praises today.  He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him.  As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier.  Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him.  Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you.  He… he defended you.  Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back.  And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you.  What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago?  He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier.  The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh.  This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck.  The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder.  Shower, you’re in the shower.  Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck.  As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard.  You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here.  Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it.  If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today.  Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it.  You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you.  You enjoyed the fuck out of it.  You wish he’d do it again.  Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer.  He was doing you a favor, you realize that now.  Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point.  He turns you on, you fucking admit it.  He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore.  Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition.  You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that.  Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it.  You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room.  A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise.  Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that.  You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.  

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight.  You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today.  Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing.  What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level.  It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition.  Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review.  He could’ve thrown… three games, even.  Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls.  The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers.  You’ll be able to cum, at least once.  It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think.  You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention.  He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze.  It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.  He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements.  He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy.  Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been.  Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork.  Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you.  It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy.  He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop.  You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you.  He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open.  He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this.  He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there.  You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it.  Fuck.  This is torture.  Fuck him.  Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him.  Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum.  Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now.  Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change.  Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur.  Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months.  You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register.  Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight.  Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you.  You deserve this, you deserve some relief.  Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind.  You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open.  The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t.  You don’t have to give it fucking anything.  You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have?  Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower?  You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist.  And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck.  Was his hair wet?  Fuck, why can’t you remember?  His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much.  Post-shower, then.  Probably.  Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk.  You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started.  His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it.  The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point.  You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away.  Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor.  The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him.  A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way.  Still, what can you say?  Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him?  Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it.  Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you.  Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now.  Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed.  Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way.  You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it.  You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion.  He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more.  Fuck, are you positive that was an accident?  Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before.  You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form.  How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep?  Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what?  Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again?  Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move.  Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you.  Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support.  When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week.  Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight.  Nothing.  You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up.  Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut.  After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room.  However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams.  He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on.  The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines.  Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do.  He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one.  The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to.  Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it.  You never tell him the truth.  You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel.  He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight.  Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio.  The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind.  You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind.  I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next.  The silent promise that his actions allude to.  You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in.  Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth.  Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth.  You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought.  You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it.  A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine.  “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight.  Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too.  His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs.  You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit.  Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago.  Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers.  The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow.  Why is he going so fucking slow??  The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be.  You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him.  He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he?  So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation?  Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air.  You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk.  He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing.  His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins.  You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is.  Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you.  You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind.  Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult?  You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why.  Why did the fuck did you stop?  There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still.  It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it.  There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?”  Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly.  Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first?  Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic?  “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body.  The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.  

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards.  But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.  

Fuck him, bad way.  This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin.  It’s not a warning, it’s a threat.  If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you.  It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it.  “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again.  Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere.  Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all.  The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want.  As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy.  “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone.  Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen.  You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami.  You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment.  A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude.  Where’s the drop?  You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat.  It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There.  There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress.  It’s fucking mayhem.  You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it.  You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard.  Fucking hard.  It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow.  Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is.  Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other.  Stars, what did he do to you?  You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves.  Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago.  They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight.  Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance.  Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping.  This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now.  Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary.  He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now.  Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it.  He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck.  He was right.  You needed this.  Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it.  He’s not just pliant, he’s willing.  His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns.  Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it.  He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing.  Accommodating.  Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation.  You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again.  “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first.  “Mm.  Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing.  Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair.  Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it.  Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy.  You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive.  After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan.  He’s so… fucking hot.  Fuck.  He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side.  But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge.  The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself.  You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely.  Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself.  You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are.  Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip.  “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now.  Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm.  Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack.  “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What?  W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply.  Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart.  “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress.  And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body.  The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect.  Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works.  “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him.  By this point, you’re worrying again.  You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists.  If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand.  He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him.  Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t.  “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk.  You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain.  Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp.  It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just.  You need a hard reset.  You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again.  It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again.  The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine.  Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds.  “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly.  It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his.  Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself.  After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say.  You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now.  Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at.  He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think.  He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something.  How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do?  You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him.  Why can’t you figure out something?  You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent.  Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?”  Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking.  Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours.  “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried.  He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?”  He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time.  Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions.  “Well what do you want, baby?  You wanna just hang out?  That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want?  The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest.  “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?”  You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body.  “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears.  “You can—?”  Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious.  “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now.  “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right?  So why not?”  Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust.  “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated.  “You don’t get it.  You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet?  Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm.  He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.  An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud.  “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?”  He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs.  “Just say fuck it all and race for last place?  Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself.  “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room.  “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh.  Well, to sum up.  May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it.  Okay, you get it.  He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it.  You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk.  Only now, you’re… humbled.  By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight.  It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it.  It’s big.  It fills his whole palm without much room to spare.  Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow.  Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his.  You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing.  The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right.  He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock.  He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it.  It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance.  “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct.  The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh.  Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening.  “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself.  You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it.  Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip.  “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point.  You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore.  He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression.  His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this.  You know then that it must be really fucking wet.  You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it.  You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you.  He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast.  From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative.  You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it.  It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts.  But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad?  It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right.  You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you.  But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off.  The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it.  You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up.  You underestimate his self control, time and time again.  But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you.  “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad.  You make me so mad.  I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you.  I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound.  The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity.  “Say it.  ‘You…’—what?  Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves.  Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.  

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more.  Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this.  Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious.  “Not tonight.  I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs.  His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.  

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl.  “Fuck.  Tight little baby.  Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit.  You already feel it.  You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire.  And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone.  “Can you feel it coming?  Fuck, I can,” he shudders.  “Already.  Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point.  Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back.  Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow.  You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit.  It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more.  “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift.  His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?”  Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration.  “Tell me.  You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed.  After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it.  You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again.  Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you.  And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle.  It’s tender.  It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.  

You handle it silently.  At first.  You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all.  Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides.  Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter.  Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice.  It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him.  Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one.  You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy.  You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose.  You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more.  Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome.  He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack.  He tastes like you.  He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you.  It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still.  But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours.  His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves.  Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time.  What is he doing?  What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace.  You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum.  He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you.  “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up.  He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him.  “Never… fuck.  Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet.  Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice.  You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels.  So intimate.  You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again.  Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again.  He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down.  Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him.  When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation.  You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need.  That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right?  Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe.  Fuck.  His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open.  Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller.  And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going.  He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you.  He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied.  Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock.  Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it.  Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating.  Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy.  Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while.  You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you.  Same speed, same control.  

Your eyes nearly fucking cross.  “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat.  He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this.  This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with.  Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you.  Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more.  Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you.  Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl.  Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you.  “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl.  “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…”  His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening.  “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging.  But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.  

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come.  You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore.  You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend.  But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?”  He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours,  “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?”  You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else.  Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?”  You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once.  All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away.  You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does.  It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant.  Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying?  You don’t know anymore.  Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope.  Not even close.

He ruins you slowly.  Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination.  Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words.  You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted.  He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed.  He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this.  If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you.  It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours.  But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver.  He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him.  He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum.  You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants.  “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you.  Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up.  You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack.  “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late.  He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

“Fuck me!”  You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole!  Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far.  He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm.  Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go.  His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars.  Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours.  Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?”  He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs.  “Huh?  Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything?  You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you?  Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t.  You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it.  You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open.  You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him.  But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore.  You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet.  You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it.  Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.  

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you.  He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him.  All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown.  You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief.  He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid.  It’s so fucking stupid.  You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound.  Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room.  And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times.  He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him.  He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty.  Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile.  That one is practiced and alluring.  It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy.  Amazed, and uncoordinated.  Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow.  It makes you feel… alive.  Colorful.  Radiant.  Sunshine.  Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time.  You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable.  Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance.  “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?”  You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest.  You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals.  “Oh.  Pfft.  You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades.  Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget.  You forget everything.  You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had.  It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration.  Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval.  No.  This is good, this is how you want to stay.  The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect.  “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze.  A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you.  Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out.  “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again.  Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it.  Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement.  “Gah—look what you did.  I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times.  “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs.  It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again.  The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason.  You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap.  Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again.  You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.  

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing.  Not saying anything.  Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker.  So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes.  You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is.  Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings.  You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it.  You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue.  But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo.  It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks.  Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier.  Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?”  Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters.  You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency.  After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what?  Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once.  You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you.  It seems appropriate.  And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap.  You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again.  Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips.  He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does.  The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun.  You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?”  You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it.  Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling.  He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

[appplepii]

tears over beers (jean kirschtein x fem!reader)

genre: angst w a happy ending, fluff, modern au

warnings: unprotected sex, mouth spitting, praise kink kinda?? choking, etc VERY NSFW hehe, fuckboy eren (slight eren x reader), mentions of alcohol and drug use

word count: 4.1k

summary:

     You don’t know your own worth, and Jean is getting sick of it.

     Jean remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembers the way his stomach flipped when you sat in the empty seat next to him and introduced yourself, a kind smile on your face. He also remembers the moment Eren walked in and caught your eye, and the dread that laid heavy in his chest when your cheeks grew pink. Despite the fact you had just met, he couldn’t help but have distain for the boy the moment he smiled back at you, causing you to become shy and flustered. Why weren’t you nervous to talk to him?

     That’s a question the boy came to ask himself more times than he would ever admit, despite the fact that it’s been years. You and Jean had become a constant for each other, someone that was always there no matter what happened, or how much time passed. It was no question that you had become his best friend (except Marco, of course). There were certain things keeping you together that had Jean convinced it was fate keeping you in his life, from the moment you had graduated high school and decided to go to the same college that was hours away, to you working at his favorite coffee shop near the campus. That philosophy was not a strong willed one, being shot down every time you would tell him about a certain boy you were still hung up on. It was times like that that Jean thought maybe you in his life was a sort of punishment. What did he do to deserve the feeling of having what you want most in life in arms reach and never getting it?

     Years had passed at this point though, and Jean got used to the feeling of pretending he didn’t care. It got easier over time, the boy had become accepting of his fate. He was, and always will be the best friend. It was a little hard on his pride, but it definitely beats not having you in his life at all. That’s why Jean thought he would be fine when he accepted the invite to Marco’s party in which the entire friend group had been invited. A part of him was excited, knowing it had been awhile since the last reunion. Another part of him thought about the fact that he would be there, and he felt frustration slowly build inside him.

     “Ah, I’m so excited! It’s been a minute since we’ve seen everyone, huh?” The smile on your face made up his mind, knowing he could never say no to you. Jean chuckled and shook his head “Yeah yeah, it should be better than staying in that cramped dorm room doing homework” You furrowed your eyebrows, halfheartedly pushing his arm. “Oh shut up, not everyone has a mommy who can pay for a nice big apartment on this side of town.” You snickered, and Jean froze up, redness rising to his cheeks. “S-shut up! She has nothing to do with this, plus you know I’ve invited you to move in how many times now? I have an extra room that just sits empty, you know.” You shook your head and smiled “You know that my part-time job is not enough to cover rent and bills, Jean”. It was at this point Jean dropped the conversation, knowing he was fighting a lost cause. He tried explaining to you many times before he would let you stay for free, and Jean realized just how much you dislike charity work, even if it was never that to him.

     “Anyway, are you ready yet? We’re gonna be late now.” Jean ranted, looking up at the ceiling and scratching the back of his head. “Yes, you can stop complaining you loudmouth.” You bent over and put on your heel, standing back up and flattening out the wrinkles in your clothes. It was then Jean had taken a proper look at you, taking in the nicest outfit he had seen you wear in a long time, albeit quite revealing. His eyes trailed up your bare legs, and he could feel himself go slightly weak in the knees. You really were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He cleared his throat, bringing his gaze back up to your face (though unable to look you in the eyes). “Okay, we can take my car.” He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, opening the front door and waiting for you to walk out first. Jean’s attention was brought back to you when he noticed your hesitation. His face grew a curious expression as he looked at you expectedly. “y/n? Are you-” “Are you sure I look okay? I mean.. Eren is gonna be there, do you think he’ll like my outfit?” Your eyes were glued to the ground, and your blush had become apparent as you played with your fingers.

     Jean swallowed, pushing the dreadful and nauseous feeling from the fact you had been thinking about him down. He knew you had kept Eren in mind, but he wished he could ignore it just a little longer. “You look amazing, anyone who would pass up the chance to have you is a fucking idiot, y/n.” It was at this moment you made eye contact with the boy, the gentle smile he saw when he first met you making itself visible. “Thank you, Jean. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend.” Although you had meant it as a compliment to him, all it seemed to do was twist the knife he had in his stomach for so many years that much deeper. All he could bring himself to do was smile and nod, gesturing for you to go out the door to the car.

     He unlocked the doors to his blacked out Camaro, the top coming down to reveal black leather seats (his favorite birthday present, that car was his baby.). After opening the door for you, something he had made a habit of these past years, he got into the drivers seat. Putting the car in drive, you connected your phone to Bluetooth. He always let you play the music whenever you drove together. “Ooo, I have to turn this up!” You said enthusiastically, pushing the system in his car to its limit as you screamed the lyrics and danced. Jean let his eyes leave the road for a moment to glance at you, his heart swelling at the way your hair flew around you face from the wind. He really did have it bad when it came to you.

     “Okay, I’m pretty sure this is Marco’s new place. Should we head in now?” He asked, taking the keys out of the ignition and turning to stare at you. You heaved in a deep breath before fixing your hair in the mirror, and nodding to the boy. “Yeah, let’s go.” He said nothing as he got out of the car, immediately going to your door and opening it. That was something you had to get used to, you didn’t like to feel like you were of some importance. You let it go though, once you saw how insistent he was on doing it, ranting about how he had to be a gentleman or something like that. You grabbed the hand he offered out to you, standing up and walking to the front door of the home.

     Jean didn’t bother knocking, instead opening up the front door and walking in like he owned the place. This didn’t surprise you though, besides yourself Marco was Jean’s closest friend. The two were like brothers and you knew Jean was excited to see him after so long. “Jean! I missed that stupid face, how are you, loser?” Ymir hooked an arm around the boy’s neck, clearly already slightly intoxicated. Jean let out a string of cuss words, wrestling out of the tall girl’s strong grip as you turned your attention to her much smaller girlfriend, Historia. “Hey Historia! It’s been awhile, huh?” You smiled at the girl. She had always been so sweet, and you thought her and Ymir balanced each other out perfectly. “It has! Although it doesn’t look like those two have changed much.” You laughed at the pair and how ridiculous they looked before turning your attention to the kitchen.

     “Jean,” you tugged on this sleeve “will you come with me to get some drinks?” You didn’t let him answer, knowing it would be a yes. He silently followed you to the kitchen, smirking at himself when he realized how assertive you had become, especially when you used to be so shy. You began pouring yourself a shot of vodka, “Damn, this early?” Jean laughed as you shrugged your shoulders before downing the drink, wiping your lips on the back of your hand. “Look, we gotta get the night started somehow, right?” You raised your eyebrow as you held out the next shot you poured to his face. He gave you a smug expression, knowing you were challenging him although he has proven on more than once occasion that he can out-drink you. He kept quiet though, and threw the shot back with ease. You smiled at him, each of you taking one more just to get started.

     “Oh shit, when did you get here dude?” Marco stepped into his kitchen, going straight to Jean and did a simple handshake. “Not too long ago. Anyway, look at you! Got this big ass place all to yourself, huh?” Marco shook his head and laughed, not good at taking praise. The two friends talked for awhile, Jean feeling himself relax with the slight buzz from the alcohol. It had been only a couple minutes the conversation lasted, you talking a little when you had been mentioned. Jean’s attention was pulled from Marco when he saw you tense up from the corner of your eye, noticeably becoming more shy than you previously were. His gaze followed yours, when he was met with the one thing he really hoped not to see. 

     Eren sat on the couch, leaning back into with his arms spread out against the back of it, a beer in his hand as he occasionally took drinks from it. Your stomach turned when you saw him because fuck, he looked really good. His black long-sleeve and jeans were simple, but maybe it was the bun he had in his hair that made you almost start drooling. It took everything in Jean’s power not to let out a scoff at how obvious you were being, and how stupid the entire situation was. “Just stop, Jean. It’s not worth it. She doesn’t want you.” His own thoughts definitely brought down his happy mindset, trying his best to ignore the sympathetic look Marco was giving him. 

     He watched as Eren’s eyes met yours, his smile growing as he gestured you over to sit next to him. You got impossibly redder as you nodded and smiled, looking up at Jean and silently asking if he was okay on his own. He didn’t hold back his scoff at that, waving you off. “These are my friends too, remember? I’ll be fine, go ahead.” Your smile widened as you immediately turned and bee-lined to where Eren was sitting. The pain Jean felt had a sort of sick nostalgia to it, reminding him of the day he witnessed the blush on your face when Eren had walked through the door. Taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together, he feigned the most convincing smile he had and turned towards Marco.

“I need another shot!”

     “So what was that about?” Eren laughed lowly, tilting his head toward Jean after you took the seat he offered. “Huh? What do you mean?” You questioned, completely oblivious to what he was hinting at. “You looked like you were asking him for permission to sit with me or something, he isn’t your boyfriend or anything right?” You didn’t know why, but this comment slightly annoyed you. Maybe it was the condescending tone he put on, or the subtle diss to your best friend. You didn’t know, but it didn’t sit right. Shrugging it off you decided he probably didn’t mean in that way and you put on a smile. “Nah, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t ditching him. He’s my best friend.” Eren gave an exaggerated sigh of relief as a smug expression took over his features. “Well, that sure is a relief.” He says smoothly, putting a hand on your knee.

     You felt nothing but confusion when you didn’t get butterflies, but another hint of annoyance. What is wrong with you? You’ve liked Eren for years, this should be a dream come true! But it wasn’t, and things were moving too fast for you at the moment. It’s not like you were a “prude” or anything, you just couldn’t push down the bad feeling you had in your gut. “Uh haha, yeah! Can you give me a sec? I really have to use the bathroom!” Eren assured it was no problem, and you quickly stood up causing his hand to slip off of your knee. You walked a little faster than you normally would to the bathroom, turning and locking the door behind you. You felt nothing but frustration toward yourself, why are you being this way? Before this moment, if Eren would have asked you to hook up, you thought you would have gladly said yes. You enjoyed texting him and you found him very attractive, so what is this dread?

     You fixed your hair and outfit as much as you could, trying to freshen up before you go back into the crowded living room. On your way back to the couch where you were sitting, you decided to stop at the kitchen and take two more shots. Maybe it was your nerves and the anticipation that caused your hesitation, the alcohol should help with that. Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself and headed back to your spot. Turning your gaze to where Eren had been, you froze. There he was, with a random girl sitting on his lap as he whispered in her ear.

-

     Jean sighed, stepping into the guest bedroom and sitting on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and silently cursed himself. He wanted to have fun, he really did. But the moment he saw that flustered expression of yours from Eren’s presence, all he wanted to do was go home and feel bad for himself. His thoughts were racing, and it was probably the alcohol but he found himself becoming more angry than sad. Why didn’t you want him? He deserved you, he had always been there and he knows he could treat you so much better than that douchebag ever could. You deserve better, and fuck, so does he.

     The sound of the door being pushed open broke him out of his thoughts, and he was more than surprised to see you entering. He could already tell you were upset, he just couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. “Weren’t you with-” “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and he immediately starts trying to get into another girl’s pants? Can you believe that? I mean honestly” You continued your rant to Jean, but it was falling on deaf ears. He was getting more and more frustrated, the feeling settling in his bones as he tried to calm himself down. “I mean we aren’t dating, but all of our friends saw me sitting with him, you know how stupid he made me look? I just-” Jean whipped his head at you, a sharp glare meeting your gaze. “You want me to be real with you, y/n? He didn’t make you look stupid. You do that yourself pretty well.” The room went dead silent. You considered for a moment he was messing with you, and you let out a laugh of disbelief. “Jean what the fuck-” He stood up from his spot, his glare only hardening.

     “No! Just stop for a second. I’m so sick and tired of you fucking complaining to me when it’s you who chooses to settle for assholes who obviously don’t care about you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just a fucking idiot. But I know you’re not, and thats what frustrates me so much, you know that? You treat yourself like shit and then want me to be there to be the person who makes you feel better. I can’t do it anymore, I really can’t.” His voice had risen a little, but that wasn’t what got to you. It was the seriousness in his tone, you knew he was being genuine. Your eyes welled up with tears, feeling like you just got punched. “Jean, I-”

     “Let me finish y/n. I have always been there for you. Always. Despite the fact that you never got over Eren. Every time he ghosted you, who was there? You know what that’s like? To watch the person you’ve been in love with for years settle for the first asshole who comes her way? Do you have any idea what that does to me? You do realize you’ve been fucking torturing me for the last four years, right?” Your mouth went completely dry, and for the first time since this conversation began, you looked him in the eyes and felt even worse when you saw the glassiness of them. Your breath got shallow as your emotions intensified, your mind racing of all the times you had literally cried on his shoulder, and you thought of how bad he must have been hurting. He kept it to himself for your sake, not wanting you feel upset or worry about him, and you never noticed a thing. Fuck, how could you have been so selfish?

     You didn’t even think about it, your body moving on what felt like autopilot when you grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him into a kiss. He stiffened, obviously very surprised at your action, before putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling back. His face was a cherry red when he searched your features, shaking his head with a sad expression. “y/n, I don’t want you to do this out of pity. Plus, you’re probably shit-faced right now.” You shook your head and put your hands on his wrists, keeping eye contact with him. “I’m only buzzed Jean, and this isn’t out of pity. A part of me has always loved you. I just have a habit of ruining things in my life and I really didn’t want you to be one of them.” Your eyes got impossibly wetter and a part of you was surprised they hadn’t fallen down your cheeks yet.

     Jean remained silent for what seemed like hours as he examined you expression. His eyes softened and you heart stopped when his hand went to the back of your neck to pull you into another heated kiss. It was a natural reflex the way you gripped onto the front of his shirt, your heart beating at a race you didn’t even know was possible. “Damn, he's a good kisser.” you thought to yourself. You gasped slightly at the feeling of his tongue brushing against your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and fell back on the bed, pulling him down with you. He pulled away, breathing heavily when a smile grew on his face. “Where are you?” He got up from his position on top and walked to the door, turning the lock with a click. He stalked back to where you were sitting, standing between your legs as he towered over you. “I’ve waited for this for years, I’m not going to wait any longer.”

      Excitement bubbled in your stomach as you looked up at him, a slight pout to your lips. Jean reached his hand down to your face, squeezing both of your cheeks to even further tilt your gaze towards him. “How about it then, pretty girl? Wanna have some fun?” You didn’t hesitate to respond, trying your best to nod in his tight grip. “Yes, please Jean, please.” Although your voice was a little muffled, Jean got the message loud and clear. He gave a soft smile, furthering his hand down to lightly squeeze your throat instead. “Okay then, open wide angel.” You felt a little confused but listened anyway, opening your mouth wide for the boy above you. “What is he gonna-” your thoughts were cut off when you watched, almost in slow motion as Jean leaned over and spit into your open mouth. You froze for a fraction of a second, your mind racing as the excitement grew within you. That’s not what you were expecting but you were not complaining. Jean’s long index finger tilted your chin up, closing your mouth as he kept eye contact with you. “Swallow.” He said in a gentle yet demanding tone, and you knew you couldn’t make yourself say no to him. You swallowed the spit slowly, choosing to keep quiet and wait for his next move.

     “Look at you, such a good girl.” he pushed your body further up the bed so you were laying rather than sitting and once again hovered over you. “Gonna have to thank you for that, huh?” You squeezed your thighs together at his words, anticipation growing impossibly higher. He sat back on his calves, sitting between your legs as he spread them apart around him. His fingers ghosted up your legs, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He didn’t move an inch after that, looking at you expectedly. “Well, I’m waiting? You know all good girls ask nicely, right?” He couldn’t stop the smug expression from taking over even if he tried. You squirmed in his hold, desperate for some sort of contact. “Please Jean, I can’t wait anymore. I need you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him unbutton your shorts, sliding them off with ease along with your panties. “Gotta make sure you’re comfortable baby, tell me if it hurts, kay?” He slowly entered a finger inside you, his thumb circling around your clit slowly. Your lip was pulled in between your teeth as you bit down hard enough to almost draw blood. “Oh, fuck.” He softly laughed at that, going slightly faster to elicit more reactions from you. “That’s right baby, lemme hear you, yeah?” You didn’t hold back, letting out a moan knowing the music blasting outside would drown it out. Jean added another finger and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you had never felt bliss like this before.

     “E-enough Jean.” You let out through strained breaths, and Jean felt himself grow cold for second with fear. Fuck, were you regretting this? “I don’t want to wait anymore, I want you inside me. Please.” Jean’s chest filled with relief as he shook his head at you. “You needy baby, alright, I’ll give you what you want.” Jean pulled his fingers out of you, and stuck them in your mouth with no hesitation. “You sure you ready for me, sweet girl?” He pulled his pants and boxers off, lining himself up with you. You nodded frantically, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. Jean pushed himself into you, pulling away from the kiss to let out a deep groan as his head fell onto your shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good around me baby. You’re so good for me, you know that? I’ve wanted this for so long and it’s more than I could have ever imagined.” He ranted on almost senselessly as he was overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much, sweet girl. So so much.” You felt tears prick your eyes, from both the pleasure and his sentiment. “I love you Jean, I love you.” those words had more of an affect on him than anything else you said that night, and he felt himself coming close to the edge. “I think I’m gonna-” “Me too baby” he interrupted, placing his hand back on your throat and squeezing. “Cum with me, angel.” His words and the pressure on your neck was enough to send you over, raking your nails down his back leaving marks. He collapsed on top of you, his head resting in your neck as a tired smile rested on his face. You brought your hand up to scratch his scalp, completely fuck-drunk and forgetting of anything else that happened prior to this moment.

     “So that’s why you always open my car door for me, huh?”

✧༺☆༻∞

omg omg im so nervous to post this, not only is it my longest fic but this is the first time i have ever written anything remotely smutty before😳 if its not good pls be patient w me i am very new to this hehe

[fishstyx]

curious.

featuring. mahito x fem!reader

wc. 1.5k

genre. smut, dark/taboo

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, alcohol, thigh fucking, penetration, size kink, stomach bulge

synopsis. there’s just one thing mahito has yet to learn about human anatomy... and when you hobble out of a bar at daybreak, you’re about as good as volunteering your body.

What a poor, lost little thing you are, trudging through the back alleyways of Tokyo with little to go on under the twinkling twilight. You stumble around in the darkness as if trying to outrun the first rays of sunlight, fingers fumbling to find purchase on the sides of buildings unfamiliar to you. You must’ve been drinking all night long to require wall support to keep you upright now, hiccuping as you drag your hands along the concrete. Truly the lowest of the low, a runt in a world teeming with lesser beings. Human swine would do well to know their limits, but apparently you don’t.

And what an easy target you make; a little too easy, even. You wouldn’t have a clue what was happening if Mahito cornered you now, idle transfiguration descending upon you with a single touch of the hand. 

But what a waste that would be, disfiguring a remarkable specimen like you, so utterly out of it that you can’t even tell that he’s right behind you—so dangerously close that he’s practically breathing down your neck as you make your way home.

Sure, Mahito has his pick of the city’s stragglers at all times of the day, but what suddenly draws him to you lies in how disheveled you look, the little bit of makeup you have on smeared across your face, that low cut shirt of yours riding even lower than it was made to.

Not to mention that he’s absolutely dying to get more acquainted with human “anatomy”—but he hates how his victims squirm and squeal when he takes his time, as if they have any chance of actually escaping him. It’s an insult, really, so he figures he’ll go after someone on the more... susceptible side. Someone who’s not only wandering around alone, but also on the brink of collapse, unable to call for help. Someone who makes no attempt to fight back, someone who will let him have his way with them, someone who doesn’t mind the intrusion simply because there is no alternative.

Someone exactly like you.

You’re making this way too simple, not a single look behind you as you stagger your way home. You even have the courtesy to leave the front door of your house ajar, the stupid little thing that you are, not an ounce of energy left to spare as you pass out into the bed.

He’s on top of you immediately, ripping your clothes off to ogle their contained contents. So this is the female body, he thinks, half mesmerized, half disgusted by the way your taut tits spill out from underneath your already revealing shirt. He studies every inch of your exposed skin carefully before rolling your sensitive nubs between his fingers, finding that they stiffen on command. Even when you’re out cold you react to his touch; he was right not to kill you immediately. 

His personal playground, exactly the way he wanted it.

Proportions aside, he finds that there are few differences between his male body and your own. But there’s something that piqued his interest at a movie showing once and he wants it to try for himself today. He palms at his erection, intrigued by his natural reaction to the sight of you all sprawled out. Is there really something so special about it? He can’t say he sees the appeal, but apparently his body can, his bulge pressing harder against the cloth the longer he looks at you.

His pants come undone when he feels his damp excitement through the fabric, glint of his precum illuminated by the kiss of the rising sun, satisfying heaviness of his dick bared to the ticklish air. He marvels at the way his hand fits perfectly around his length, fisting it as he stares at the rise and fall of your chest. This is the part that he didn’t get to see on screen, the part where he ruts against your lower half with his own.

It’s not like he knows what he’s doing yet, bucking his hips into the first thing he can fit his dick into: the space between your thighs. Mahito squeezes them together and slips his shaft between the plushy flesh, reveling in the chills that run up his stomach. It’s a nice visual, the way his cock disappears for a moment before resurfacing atop of your barren legs, and an even nicer sensation. But it doesn’t quite feel half as good as he thought it would be. His mind races with the flickering images of o-shaped mouths and curled up fingers. Humans are so… dramatic, he thinks to himself, pulling his meat out of the cushy canal of his creation.

But then his eyes wander to your silken panties, the one place he hasn’t ventured yet; how annoying that humans wear more clothes under their clothes. He laughs to himself when he pushes them aside to reveal a wet, pulsating mound. Now that’s more like it. A finger inches inside you, followed by another, as he tries to determine if it’s a good fit or not.

Well, he won’t know until he tries.

Burying himself inside your leaking cunt, he gasps at the way you hug him flawlessly. It’s warmer, so much warmer than your thighs, and suddenly it feels like he’s alive for the first time in his life. Your breathing changes as he starts to move, pushing your ragdoll figure into the mattress. Tingly pleasure envelops him entirely when little whimpers and moans begin to tumble from your lips.

Mahito bends over to meet your mouth, taste of hard liquor encircling his tongue as he forces it inside, exploring your wetness in its entirety. You share a soft groan when he adjusts his angle, hilt of his cock pushing against a spot so spongy and so textured that his sensitive head shivers in pleasure.

Fistfuls of flesh gathered in his hands, he continues to move by instinct, chasing after the milky cream that foams around the base of his cock. The slip and slide motion of each and every stroke seems to register even while you sleep, your hips rocking ever so slightly into his own, mouth moving open and shut but never quite overflowing with distinguishable words.

The lewd noises of your dripping pussy fill the room, second only to the clapping of skin on skin as his tender balls pound against you. Reckless abandon takes over and the snapping movement is driven by so much force that you begin to stir, eyes twitching.

But you’re not awake yet—responsive, but otherwise subdued. He knows because the things that spill from your lips next can only come from a person who can’t even tell that they’re being raped.

“It feels… so…” you whisper, and he pauses for a moment to listen to what you have to say.

“Feels so… full…”

He throbs at the words, instantly feeling himself grow harder, deciding that it’s time to try out one of his little “experiments.”

“Feels full, huh?” he says into the curve of your neck, crooked smile dancing on his lips. “Good thing I can make you feel even fuller.”

Reshaping himself is almost second nature at this point. Mahito stretches you out with the deft fattening of his cock, your walls drawing taut around him in turn. Snug, you become impossibly snug around him as you throw your head back, convulsing from the pressure. It’s an inhuman size, so monstrous that when he pistons his pelvis forward, he finds it substantially harder to bottom out.

The clear outline of his cock stares him in the face now, a delicious belly bulge shifting up and down with every slam. You struggle to catch your breath, the stimulation forcing you to release your hot, sticky fluids. Entire body shaking, you keen your satisfaction, stilling only when his thrusts run shallow.

A jittery feeling takes the human curse over, the buildup of all the sweet sensations bubbling over and bursting from his fully stimulated cockhead. He pulls it out to get a better look and ends up squirting all over you, shooting his seed onto your thighs and teats. How delightful, he thinks to himself, overjoyed by how it glistens in the full heat of the sun. The perfect present for you to wake up to.

It’s quiet now, only a soft pant—yours—audible in the spring of day. 

He ponders his options. You could take hours to come to your senses. But as much as he’d love to take off now, to leave you in total confusion and bewilderment, his desire to see the absolute horror cross your face as you take in the spatters of dried-up cum is even stronger. And eventually, he gets just that.

You don’t disappoint, bleary eyes fluttering open in your half-conscious state, locking with the curse crouched beside you, then darting wildly from the mess he’s made to the stitches on his face. How fortunate, or rather unfortunate; you were born with enough latent talent to be able to perceive him. You’d scream, but he’s already ahead of you, covering your mouth before you can produce a single squeal.

“Morning, dollface.” Tears prickle your eyes as you look on in fright, too afraid to move a muscle.

“I had a lot of fun in bed, didn’t you?”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[bloody-bee-tea]

How about "admit it, you had fun today" mingcheng?

Ikea

This does not only fill the ask prompt, but also the Ikea prompt on the MDZS Bingo.

Nie Mingjue pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels like at this point succumbing to a fit of rage would be the easiest, but he doesn’t want to yell. Not yet, anyway.

“Absolutely not,” he says, his voice tightly controlled, not for the first time and Jiang Cheng hums.

“Mingjue,” he says and Nie Mingjue has to take a deep breath so that he doesn’t lose it right then and there.

“Wanyin,” he gives back, because two can play that game.

“It fits perfectly,” Jiang Cheng tells him for at least the third time in the last five minutes and that’s it.

Nie Mingjue has had enough.

“Just fitting is not enough!” he says, and when a few heads turn their direction, he realizes that he’s speaking way too loudly, but he doesn’t care. He will not allow this. “There is no way in hell we are going to put this monstrosity into our bedroom! Do you even know how much dust there is in the bedroom? This has open shelves, which are bound to gather all the dust! Plus, it’s shiny white, that thing is not coming within ten miles of our bedroom!” he rages, feeling better now that he finally says what he really thinks.

He only realizes belatedly that Jiang Cheng is smiling at him.

“What?” Nie Mingjue snaps out and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“You said ‘our’ and ‘we’,” Jiang Cheng says with a dopey smile on his face and Nie Mingjue immediately deflates, his anger absolutely useless when faced with Jiang Cheng’s happiness.

“Of course I did,” Nie Mingjue gives back, still trying to maintain his frown, because his point stands. “It’s our apartment.”

“It is,” Jiang Cheng softly says and takes a tiny step closer to Nie Mingjue.

He doesn’t outright demand a hug or any physical contact, because he never does, despite Nie Mingjue telling him again and again that it’s okay, and so Nie Mingjue takes the hint and pulls Jiang Cheng into his side. Jiang Cheng perfectly fits under his arm and Nie Mingjue wants to do this forever.

“So, the closet?” Jiang Cheng asks after a minute and Nie Mingjue fights the urge to retreat his arm.

“It’s not even a closet,” he hotly says. “It doesn’t even have doors!”

He only realizes that Jiang Cheng is teasing him when he chuckles lowly and Nie Mingjue loves him so much, it threatens to swallow him whole sometimes.

“Can we please just move on and choose something sensible for the bedroom?” Nie Mingjue asks with a sigh and fights his knee-jerk reaction when Jiang Cheng looks at another totally impractical piece of furniture.

“You’re better doing this on purpose,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and pulls Jiang Cheng along, away from the way too stylish and way too impractical pieces.

“And what if I’m not?” Jiang Cheng asks, following obediently along and Nie Mingjue can see the glint in his eyes, so he knows that Jiang Cheng is just playing with him.

“Because your own apartment is furnished in very sturdy, very sensible, very useful pieces. None of this nonsense you would find here.”

“My mother’s interior designer chose my furniture.”

“Then maybe I should go shopping with him,” Nie Mingjue sighs out and then scrubs a hand down his face. “Tell me again why we can’t just take your closet with us?”

They are moving together into a new apartment at the end of the month, and Nie Mingjue would love to do nothing more than skip all of this. They should just take whatever they like from their own apartments and make it fit somehow. Hell, Nie Mingjue has spent so little time in his own apartment in the last half year that he doesn’t even remember how his bedroom looks. He’s perfectly happy with Jiang Cheng’s furniture.

“Because we want to start building our life together and taking old pieces with us would just ruin the whole fun of that,” Jiang Cheng gives back, with the patience of a saint, because Nie Mingjue has asked this question a lot in the past three hours.

“We can take some old pieces? I mean we already have a completely new kitchen, and most of the living-room, so why not bring something familiar with us for the bedroom?”

“Because you’re just trying to get out of this and I am not having it,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, clearly enjoying this much more than he should and Nie Mingjue knows that he has already lost.

“I want something warm, something sturdy and big. None of this,” he waves a hand at the furniture around him.

“So you just want to go somewhere else,” Jiang Cheng says, trying to hide the fact that he’s laughing at Nie Mingjue.

“I hate Ikea,” Nie Mingjue agrees with feeling and Jiang Cheng bursts out laughing.

He has to laugh so hard that he bends over, trying to steady himself on Nie Mingjue’s arm, and Nie Mingjue would be annoyed, if he wasn’t so happy to see Jiang Cheng like this.

It had taken him a while to be this free around Nie Mingjue when they first got together.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue says, meaning it with every fibre of his being and Jiang Cheng rights himself to narrow his eyes at Nie Mingjue.

“You better not be proposing in a goddamn fucking Ikea of all places,” he hisses and not for the first time Nie Mingjue wonders if Jiang Cheng did find the ring he’s hiding at home.

“Please,” Nie Mingjue huffs out. “I would rather propose to you in a bathroom than this hellhole.”

“Please don’t do that either,” Jiang Cheng says and pats Nie Mingjue’s arm.

“The bathroom or the proposing?” Nie Mingjue asks, because he can’t help himself.

They did not have a serious talk about marriage yet, after all, and while Nie Mingjue is reasonably sure that Jiang Cheng would say yes to him, there’s always a little bit of doubt.

“The bathroom, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng immediately says and moves in for a short kiss. “I’d love to get proposed to.”

“Hopefully not by some stranger,” Nie Mingjue grumbles, but he slides his hand in Jiang Cheng’s back pocket and keeps him close, brushing his lips over the faint blush on his cheeks.

“You’re a complete moron if you believe there ever could be anyone for me but you, my soul,” Jiang Cheng gives back and leans against Nie Mingjue.

Instead of answering Nie Mingjue only presses a lingering kiss to Jiang Cheng’s hair and then they stand like complete idiots around for a minute or maybe even three.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” Jiang Cheng asks after a while.

“Gods, yes,” Nie Mingjue wholeheartedly agrees and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“I mean another store, not home,” he teases him and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re not going home before we have decided on a stupid closet. We’re also not going to have sex until our bedroom is complete,” he adds as an afterthought, whispering the words into Jiang Cheng’s ears and he can feel him shudder.

“That’s so mean, we have a perfectly functioning bedroom in my apartment,” Jiang Cheng whines and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“No closet, no sex,” he decides and then walks away from Jiang Cheng, leaving him to scramble after him.

“You’re so mean to me.”

“And you like it that way.”

Jiang Cheng’s telling silence is answer enough for Nie Mingjue, who smiles as he makes his way out of Ikea as fast as he can.

They do end up at another store where they find a closet exactly as Nie Mingjue likes it, and even though Jiang Cheng puts up a token protest simply to be difficult, they end up buying it. Jiang Cheng is glowing with happiness when they leave the store.

“Can we please go home now?” Jiang Cheng asks after they paid and Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow at him.

“If you think we’re having sex tonight you’re mistaken, your Ikea trip sucked all the energy out of me,” he says and while it’s meant as a joke, it’s not completely wrong.

Today has been exhausting and Nie Mingjue is honestly not in the mood for anything more than cuddling.

Jiang Cheng flushes a bit, like he always does when Nie Mingjue speaks so bluntly about sex in public, but he doesn’t complain as he laces their fingers together.

“Honestly, I just want to cuddle on the couch,” Jiang Cheng says, sounding drained himself.

“I can get behind that,” Nie Mingjue agrees and drags Jiang Cheng off to their car.

The ride home is silent and they don’t exchange any words when they change out of their street clothes either and it’s only when they are cuddled up on the couch, Jiang Cheng in Nie Mingjue’s arms and his head on his chest that Jiang Cheng speaks again.

“Admit it, you had fun today,” he says and Nie Mingjue hums in consideration. “Don’t even pretend,” Jiang Cheng says with a light slap to Nie Mingjue’s stomach and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I hated every second I spent in Ikea,” Nie Mingjue starts, “but I had fun today because we were shopping for our apartment.”

“You’re such a sap,” Jiang Cheng sighs, but he also snuggles closer to Nie Mingjue, so he knows he’s happy about it.

“I would go to Ikea a thousand times if it would make you happy,” Nie Mingjue tells him and it’s not even a lie.

He can endure white and horribly impractical furniture as long as it makes Jiang Cheng laugh like today.

“Mh, it only makes fun if I go with you,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, clearly already sleepy and Nie Mingjue slides them deeper on the couch.

They are just a little bit too old to spend an entire night on the couch like this, but for now that’s okay.

He’ll make sure they get to bed eventually.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng whispers, apparently his last conscious thought and Nie Mingjue wonders if proposing at breakfast the next day would be too soon.

He figures there’s only one way to find out.

“I love you, too.”

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter thirteen: "Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new"

Words count: 16,5K

Summary: Spencer's headaches don't seem to have a logical explanation. The only thing that makes sense is that he has been causing them to himself by overthinking something that's already clear: he has been an asshole, and he should tell reader how he feels. Reader realizes she's been stupid all along. And then, she goes out with James. Frank, Lu, Garcia, and Derek finally intervene.

Warnings: Cursing (but that's just my writing style), angst, hurt, and a little comfort from friends. There's a fight, alcohol consumption. Someone is getting drunk...

A/N: Ok, so... here we go!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

Words count: 16,5K

Summary: Spencer's headaches don't seem to have a logical explanation. The only thing that makes sense is that he has been causing them to himself by overthinking something already clear: he has been an asshole, and he should tell reader how he feels. Reader realizes she's been stupid all along. Will she go out with James? Frank, Lu, Garcia, and Derek finally intervene.

Warnings: Cursing (but that's just my writing style), angst, hurt, and a little comfort from friends. There's a fight, alcohol consumption. Someone is getting drunk...

A/N: Ok, so... things are slowly but surely happening here.

---

Spencer's point of view

- "That doesn't make any sense!"- I nearly lost it at my medical appointment. To be fair, I was losing my sanity for the last week, but that day, that minute, I have had enough.

- "I'm not sure what you want me to say,"- the doctor frowned, confused by my reaction.

- "So there's nothing wrong?"

- "Well, your scans are perfectly normal, and there doesn't seem to be any physical explanation for your headaches."

- "Well, what do I do now?"- I was lost. I was hoping he could tell me there was something physically wrong with me that we could fix. But apparently, everything was ok.

- "Well, have you considered..."

- "Considered what?"- I knew what he was implying, but I didn't want to deal with that. The doctor sighed and simply just said it.

- "A psychosomatic cause."

- "Psychosomatic?"

- "It just means mental or emotional stress..."

I had to cut the doctor right there, 'cos it was nearly insulting that he thought he needed to explain to me what that meant.

- "I know what psychosomatic means, doctor, but it's not that."

- "Well, I think it's something we should consider."

- "It's not... I'm not crazy!"- but yes, I was going a little crazy at the time.

- "Crazy? Dr. Reid, I'm not saying..."- the professional stared at me, shocked, as I put on my satchel and stood up.

- "I have headaches. I have intense sensitivity to light because there's something wrong with me physically, not mentally. It's not that."

- "That?"

- "Listen, doctor, my mother's a paranoid schizophrenic who's been institutionalized, so I know very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you, and it's not that. It's not."

I walked to the door, but before I could leave or dramatically storm out, the doctor added one more thing.

- "Your headaches are more likely caused by stress due, I suspect, to your very consuming job. My recommendation is to take a few weeks off and have a real vacation. Disconnect from work, and relax. That's all."

The doctor seemed genuinely concerned, so I just nodded and walked out. My head was killing me, and to be honest, I wasn't thinking straight.

It was Thursday. My head was killing me. I hadn't spoken more than a handful of words with (Y/N) since last Friday, and to call it torture came short. It was consuming my whole life at that point. I hadn't slept more than maybe three hours that entire week. After we reached home from Miami, I focused on the paperwork and whatever request for information that crossed my desk.

But I wasn't blind, neither deaf nor stupid. No, I was stupid for wasting so many chances I had in almost five years to tell (Y/N) how much I loved her. Now I was doomed to look at her from a safe distance, as she enjoyed life with her new boyfriend. James.

I first heard his name Wednesday morning when a delivery boy showed up at the bullpen, asking for (Y/N). Everybody looked at her, and she blushed as she raised her hand, and the delivery boy gave her a small box and asked her to sign for the package.

- "What is that, pretty girl?"- Morgan asked when the delivery was gone, and he walked over to see what was into the box.

- "I have no idea... but it passed security, so I know it's not a bomb"- she chuckled and opened it.

- "Wow! Did you send her these, kid?"- Morgan looked at me chuckling, but as soon as he saw my serious expression, he frowned, confused.

- "This is incredible!"- it was the whole Jane Austen collection in a deluxe edition. It was gorgeous. She obviously loved it. And it came with a card.

- "Can't wait 'till Friday night. James"- Emily read out loud as (Y/N) stared at the box, blushing- "Ok missy, you have some explaining to do!"

But I didn't stick around to hear the rest of the story. I didn't need the torture. So I stood up and walked to the kitchenette to get another cup of coffee. And then I hid in the briefing room because I needed to be on my own for a while. I sat at the table and stared at my hands, trying to remain calm. I couldn't cry at work. I shouldn't show my true feelings when my friends were around. I didn't want them asking a million questions I didn't want to answer with the truth.

- "Sorry, man,"- Morgan said as he walked in and sat at the other side of the table- I thought you had sent her those books 'cos you have been acting all weird lately, and you were trying to get on her good side

- "Don't worry"- I tried to look cool and even smiled at Morgan, but he knew better than that.

- "So... how are you?"

- "I'm ok, you?"- I was annoyed already, but I knew there was no way out from that conversation

- "Kid, come on. You can talk to me."

- "There is nothing I wanna talk about right now. I am ok!"- I stood up and walked around the room, frustrated and trying not to yell.

- "Come on, Reid. It's getting painful to watch! You have to tell her how you feel!"- Derek stood up too, and I widened my eyes at his words, scared everybody downstairs might have heard us. I looked at the door; it was locked.

- "I don't want to talk about that now."

- "Man! Come on!"- but I passed by his side and ignored him, opening the door and basically running back to my desk.

From where I could clearly see (Y/N) blushing and staring at her books. Great.

That day went painfully slow. By the time I reached my apartment, I was exhausted both mentally and emotionally. My head was killing me, and all I wanted was to get under the covers of my bed with a book, a cup of herbal tea and make a massive effort to get some sleep.

Apparently, I was asking for too much. Ten minutes after my arrival, my bell rang, forcing my weary body to move from the couch to the door. Sadly, it wasn't (Y/N), the only person I wanted to see that minute. Instead, it was Ashley, and I had to pretend and smile when I saw her.

- "Hey! Am I interrupting something?"- she asked with a cheerful smile as she stood by the door and showed me a paper bag- I got some extra dumplings, and I thought you might like to share

- "Thank you, Ashley... but I already ate."- I lied and watched her leave the box on my table and take a look around- "Wait, where did you get my address?"

- "It's on the system."- she answered casually, and I frowned, thinking there had to be a better way to keep our information classified if we were FBI agents. Not that I didn't want Ashley to know where I lived, but... I just didn't want her there.

- "And what were you doing?"

- "Getting... really to bed, actually. I am weary."

- "And... Do you need any help?"- Ashley stood closer to me and smiled mischievously. I cleared my throat, feeling awkward and even a little embarrassed with her proposal.

- "No, thank you, I'm ok."

But she didn't get the hint. Instead, she ran her tongue through her lips very slowly and rested her hands on my hips. My whole body aches at that touch. Not because I craved more, but because it made me feel nervous and uneasy. I didn't want her to touch me, but I didn't want to be rude.

- "You know, Spence, (Y/N) has a boyfriend now, and she definitely moved on with her life. Maybe you should start thinking about doing the same."

- "I'm sorry?"- I frowned as I stared at her silly grin. She thought she was flirting, but instead, she was actually hurting me.

- "I saw her Friday with Anderson's friend. She seemed to be having a great time. Maybe it's time you have fun too."- she leaned in and tried to kiss me, but I took three steps back and shook my head right away.

- "No, Ashley, it's not like that,"- she frowned, confused, and blushed, embarrassed immediately.

-" What? But I thought you... I thought you liked me."

- "I'm sorry, Ashley, but..."- I hesitated in my answer, trying to find the right ways to reject her. I had never rejected anyone before in my entire life. I have never been lucky with girls at all.

- "But what? You don't want me?"

No. I didn't want her. Not even a little. Not even at all. But I couldn't tell her that just upfront. I had to sugarcoat it. I didn't want to hurt her, though. She wasn't a bad person. Just... Not the right person for me.

- "I'm sorry, Ashley. I am sure you are an amazing woman, and any man would be glad to..."

- "Not any man, Spencer. You! I want you!"- but I just shook my head and sighed.

- "I'm sorry."

That was all I managed to answer. Her cheeks kept blushing, and somehow, her eyes were tearing up too. I remembered (Y/N) once told me that she would involuntarily cry every time she was upset, which always made her feel weak. I thought I could tell Ashley crying was totally normal when one's upset. But instead, I just stayed quiet.

- "You know, she is with someone else now. So she clearly doesn't want you, Spencer. Why are you waiting for her?"

I could tell she meant to hurt me, but she couldn't do it. Why? I guess because I knew she didn't understand (Y/N) and me. She tried to make it seem like (Y/N) had ruined everything, but I knew it had been me. There was no one else to blame but me.

- "I don't wanna fight with you, Ashley,"- I whispered and shook my head- And I don't want to talk about (Y/N) with you.

- "She doesn't love you, Spencer,"- that we both agreed on.

- "She has nothing to do with what's going on right here. I don't wanna have anything but a professional relationship with you, Ashley. I'm sorry if you had any other thoughts about us, but it's not gonna happen. Not tonight, not ever. And not because of (Y/N)."

Ashley gave me a stern look. Her chin quivered, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she grabbed the food she had brought and walked to the door.

- "You are gonna regret this, Spencer!!"- she yelled and stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door.

But no matter what, I knew I wouldn't. I wasn't going to regret rejecting her that night.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I stared at the books James had sent me and sighed. I was home alone on a Wednesday night, staring at a bunch of books on my coffee table. They were unique, gorgeous, and clearly expensive. But they meant nothing compared to the one sitting at their side: Spencer's edition of the Illustrated Man. It was old, had many notes on the sides, and the corner of the pages had been folded... primarily by me.

I sipped my glass of wine and sighed. I missed Spencer. I didn't want to go out with James. I wasn't interested in him at all. I just liked the attention I got from him, mostly 'cos I knew he had a crush on me... because Anderson had pointed it out as soon as he told me about him.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I ran my fingers through Spencer's book. I missed him. But he was with Ashley now. So I had to move on. I didn't want to, though. I just wanted him. I could almost see him there, on the couch, laughing. I could hear his laughter as we played board games. His current favorite was Monopoly Gamer Mario Kart, and he really enjoyed winning. He could get all cocky as he got all my coins.

Everywhere I looked around in my apartment reminded me of Reid. It was just the books, his cardigan on my couch, the umbrella he had left two years ago, and that belonged in my place now. It was just the pictures of him on the walls, memories of trips, dinners, Christmas, parties with Lu, Frank, and Mikey. It was literally everything. My apartment screamed Spencer Reid because he was the person I had shared the most amazing times with there.

On that kitchen island, we had carved pumpkins every Halloween for the last four years. On that table, he served the first meal he ever prepared from scratch. On that couch, we forgot about all our phobias and cuddled for countless hours.

My whole life was about Spencer Reid. How was I ever going to move on from him? How was I ever going to love someone the way I loved him?

I sobbed and just then realized I was crying my heart out. I held my legs, wrapping my arms around them, and rocked back and forth for a few minutes. I was losing my mind, and the only thing that made sense was crying until there were no more years left inside of me.

When the phone rang, I had a headache. I always get one after I cry. I prayed it wasn't a case 'cos I wasn't really sober after drinking a whole bottle of wine, crying, on the floor. Literally, on the floor. But it wasn't Penelope with a case. It was Frank, and he could tell from the very first moment that something was wrong.

- "Nugget, are you ok?"

- "Yeah, Paco, why?"- I slurred and cursed. I was busted.

- "Why are you drunk?"

- "Because I got home after a horrible day and decided to drown my fucking bad mood in chardonnay. Guess what? The shitty bastard keeps floating, but I am not giving up!"

Frank chuckled with my drunken words. I heard him light a cigarette and walk around somewhere I figured was his apartment.

- "And what is the doc doing?"

- "What the fuck do I know?"- my voice didn't hide the hurt I felt, but I forgot Frank had no idea what was happening between Spencer and me.

- "Doc isn't there?"

- "No, we are no longer tied by the hip."

- "Ok, nugget, what the fuck is going on?"

- "Spencer has a girlfriend."

- "What?!"- I nearly dropped my phone, 'cos Frank yelled into my ear after hearing my reply.

- "Yeah, Spencer Walter Reid has a girlfriend. So if you wanna know about him, you should call fucking agent trainee Seaver, who is probably training his cock right now!!"

I grabbed my glass and finished what was left of the wine. I knew I had another bottle in the fridge, but it was just Wednesday, I still might be called in for a case, and I still had to get up early in the morning to go to work. Getting drunk wasn't the answer. But... I wasn't asking any questions either. So I stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen to grab the bottle.

- "No, nugget. There's no way you are telling me the truth!"

- "Why should I lie? Spencer has a girlfriend. Her name is Ashley."

- "(Y/N), Doc has been in love with you for years! There's no way he has a girlfriend!!"- I put the phone on speaker and left it on the counter to open the cold bottle of wine and pour myself another glass.

- "Can you all people stop saying Spencer is in love with me?!"- tears filled my eyes as I shouted and hit the table- "I know he is not! And that's why I feel like shit!"

- "Ok, nugget... calm down. Are you home?"

- "Yes... can you come over?"

- "I'm sorry, I'm out of town. I came to New York for a job interview."

- "What?! When? Why?"

- "'Cos I thought maybe it was time for a new challenge..."- my heart stopped with those words, and Frank knew it- "But don't worry, I didn't get it. You won't get rid of me so easily, nugget."

- "Good, 'cos I don't want any more changes. I can't deal with any more things changing... I don't like it..."

- "Ok, nugget, I am a little worried now, so I'm going to call Lu and ask her to go to your house, ok?"

- "No, please don't"- I closed my eyes, feeling the room spinning as soon as I did- "I can tell I had a little too much to drink already, so I'll finish this glass, and I'll go to bed."

- "Are you sure?"- I knew Frank was worried, and the last thing I wanted was to be a burden for my friends.

- "Definitely."

- "Ok... what if we do something this weekend?"

- "Sure! I'll be free... if no psychopath decides to ruin our fun again."- Frank chuckled, and I took another sip of my wine.

- "Ok, sounds like a plan. Now please go to bed, and whatever you do, don't do any fucking phone call while you are under the influence."

- "I don't drink and call, Paco. Trust me,"- he chuckled one more time, his laughter bringing a smile to my lips 'cos it too damn contagious not to smile, and then, we said goodnight.

I looked around my kitchen. Nothing but memories with Spencer in there too. I could almost see him sitting at the other side of the kitchen island, sipping his coffee, giving me food facts as I cooked. The only fact I was sure about at that point was that if I wanted to move on from Spencer, I was going to have to move out of that place. Actually, I would have to move cities, states, probably countries. Because I knew everything reminded me of Reid.

But that night, for once, I knew I couldn't move on. I wanted to feel Spencer close, 'cos I missed him too much. So I did all the things I knew I shouldn't. I put on one of his shirts and sweaters and took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around me as I got under the covers of my bed, thinking Spencer was there with me. His clothes still smelled like him, and it was intoxicating.

So I did the only thing I could do: I closed my eyes and cried myself to sleep.

Thursday was a waste of a day. I had so much paperwork to catch up with, I put on my headphones and created a bubble around me because it was the only way to survive. Lucky for me, Seaver wasn't at the BAU that day. She was at the academy. Maybe that was why Spencer looked so sad. He missed her.

- "SSA (Y/L/N)"- I picked up my phone and turned around as soon as I heard Hotch's voice at the other side of the line, calling me at the end of the workday.

- "(Y/N), can you come to my office, please?"

- "Yes, sir."

I took a deep breath as I walked over, and brushed my hands against my pants, to get rid of any wrinkle or fuzz. When was the last time Hotch had called me to his office? Over a year earlier, after I had an argument with a suspect in the interrogation room. In my defense, she was striking my nerves. Ok, fine, I didn't have a reason.

- "Hi, is everything ok?"- I asked as soon as I showed up in Aaron's office.

- "Close the door, (Y/N), please."

And immediately, the knot in my stomach made me feel like I was being called into the principal's office. I turned around to do as asked and caught Spencer's eyes staring at me as he stood in the middle of the bullpen, clearly worried. And I felt so weak and moved by how concerned he looked; I did the first thing that came to mind: I smiled and waved.

- "Please, sit down,"- Aaron pointed at the chair across from him, and I did as told, again.

- "Is everything ok, Hotch?"- my question came right out of me, my lips moving before I had actually decided to speak.

- "I have been trying to find the right way to say this for the last half hour, and I am sorry, but..."

- "Oh shit! I'm fired! Why do you hate me so much?"- I jumped from my chair, and Aaron quickly followed me, trying to smother my reaction.

- "No, (Y/N). You are not fired! And no, I don't hate you! Calm down!"- I looked at him, confused and still suspicious.

- "Please, sit down. It's actually because I care about you that I didn't know how to tell you this, but I think almost five years is enough time to stay aside from what's been going on."

- "I'm sorry, Hotch, but I don't follow"- he clenched his jaw and sighed, frustrated. I just stared at him, waiting for the rest of the speech because my unit chief was clearly trying to find the right words to speak his mind.

- "Listen, (Y/N). This is very hard for me to talk about. I've always tried to keep everybody's personal life aside from the FBI. Unfortunately, your relationship with Reid is starting to affect you at your work."

Clearly, that was why he was so uncomfortable. I turned blood red and looked at my hands resting on my lap. I couldn't look into Hotch's eyes.

- "I don't understand. I don't have a relationship with Spencer."

- "The fact neither of you has acted on your feelings doesn't mean you don't have a relationship."

The words came more upset than what Hotch had intended, so he took a deep breath and walked around his office for a moment.

- "After what happened to Haley, I've given too much thought to many of the decisions I've taken in the last years of my life."

I didn't know how to react to Hotch's words because of all the things I could have thought we would talk about. Listening to my unit chief open his heart and talk about his feelings was definitely not my first guess. Not even the eighth.

- "And I care about you and Reid. I don't want you to have any regrets."

- "Which regrets could I have?"- I don't know why I asked if I knew I wasn't going to like the answer.

- "Spencer is in love with you, and you are in love with him. Stop running away from your feelings and face them. Sometimes you have to be courageous and take the first step."

I looked at Aaron Hotchner, almost certain the man sitting in front of me wasn't the same Aaron Hotchner who had once hired me. The man who refused to speak his heart. At least, not me. No way on earth that was Hotch.

- "I know it's strange that I tell you this, and I know I am not comfortable doing this... but... I can see that you two did something wrong, and you should try to fix it before you regret it."

For once, I couldn't argue those words. I knew the speech, but it was useless lying to Hotch. He could see through all my bullshit.

- "I... don't think he feels the same as I do,"- I whispered and kept my eyes on my hands, feeling how my cheeks blushed immediately.

- "You are wrong. You two have been nonsensical, and if I can be sincere, it's getting painful to watch- I winced in a mix of embarrassment and frustration."

- "Hotch... it's not that easy. I don't know if you noticed, but Ashley is the girl who caught his attention."

- "It's the lies that we keep telling ourselves that define what we are instead of who we can really be."- he sentenced, shaking his head- "He loves you. But for the last few weeks, you two have been acting like you are twelve years old."

- "I don't think you are getting all the info straight. I mean... I have tried to tell him."

- "No, you have tried to teach a blind man how to recognize colors,"- now that was Hotch frustrated. He was clearly awkward but also upset I wasn't following his ideas.

- "I'm pretty sure he is with Seaver."

- "He asked never to be paired with Seaver,"- Hotch refuted, frowning. Now that was new information. But I kept refusing to admit anything.

- "Probably not to be suspicious or to make sure his head was in the job."

- "His request was literally: "I don't want to give (Y/N) any sign I like Seaver, 'cos I don't."

Hotch looked at me in silence as I tried to process what he had just said. I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, you can't ever doubt Hotch.

- "Why would he do such a thing?"

- "You have to ask him."

- "Maybe he just doesn't want anyone suspicious about what they have."

- "Why is it so hard to believe? He loves you!"

I opened my mouth to argue with my boss when Anderson knocked on the door and excused himself.

- "Strauss sent you this, sir. She said it's urgent."- Grant said and cut me a small smile before disappearing from the room.

- "Thank you, Anderson."- Hotch said as he went through the papers and sighed.

- "You are busy,"- I inferred and stood up- "We can continue... whatever this was some other time if you'd like."

I stood up, seeing a clear way out of that awkward conversation. I wasn't sure I could open my heart with him.

- "One more thing, (Y/N)"- Hotch said as I stood up and almost ran to the door.

- "What is it?"

- "Tell him how you feel, or I'll have to take action myself."

- "What kind of actions?"

- "Let's hope we don't get to that point."

Hotch's face was severe. He wasn't joking. I just nodded and walked out of his office, scared of what would happen if I ever told Spencer how I felt. But now I was being forced to. That wasn't good.

I looked around, Morgan was packing his things to leave, and Spencer was on the phone, walking to the elevators. Probably he had a date with Ashley, and he was calling her to tell her he was picking her up. I sighed, exhausted, and shook my head.

- "What is it, pretty girl?"- Morgan cut me a warm smile as I reached his side and sighed.

- "I am so tired. I just wanna go home and get under the blankets of my bed with a warm cup of tea and a book."

- "Damn! That sounds thrilling! When is your big date?"- I frowned, groaning. I had totally forgotten about that date.

- "Tomorrow... I'm kind of hoping we get called on a case so I can cancel..."

- "Why?"- Derek looked at me as I started getting ready to go home.

- "'Cos... I don't feel like going."

- "Then don't,"- his answer was so simple I almost laughed.

- "Yeah... I have to go. Did you see the books that guy sent me?"

- "But that doesn't mean you have to go out on a date. You are not forced to do it just 'cos he sent you a present."

- "I know... but I don't know... maybe I'm just too tired and not thinking clearly."

- "Well, go to sleep, pretty girl. And tomorrow, depending on how you are feeling, you can cancel that date. I know someone who would be thrilled to know you won't go out with some guy."

I just shook my head and put on my jacket. I knew he was talking about Reid, but I wasn't in the mood to keep on talking about him with other teammates. Hotch's pep talk had been enough.

- "See you tomorrow, Derek."

Spencer's point of view

My heart dropped as soon as Hotch called (Y/N) to his office. The last time he had done that, she had gotten into trouble with an unsub. She lost her temper in the interrogation room and almost hit the suspect. Had she done something? Was she in trouble? The fact she smiled and waved at me before closing the door made me feel actually worse. Maybe she knew she was in trouble.

I kept looking over from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside Hotch's office, but I gave up after a few minutes because it was impossible.

I still couldn't shake the thought of (Y/N) being in trouble from my head.

- "Dr. Spencer Reid,"- I answered the phone and didn't take my eye from Hotch's door.

- "Hey Doc, Frank here. How are you?"

- "Hey! Good, how are you?"

- "Good, I was just thinking, is (Y/N) around?"

- "No, she is not. Why? She is with our chief unit... Do you need to reach her?"

- "No. Are you busy tonight?"

- "No, why?"

- "I need to talk to you. Alone."

- "Is everything ok?"- of course, it wasn't. Frank had never called to meet alone unless we were planning (Y/N)'s a surprise birthday party.

- "Yeah, don't worry. I just need to talk to you..."

- "Well... I'm heading home now."

- "Great, I just got off the plane... I can meet you there in an hour if that's ok with you."

- "Sure, see you there."

I had never been so nervous about talking with Frank before. Not even when we first met, and I freaked out thinking of any excuse to avoid going to (Y/N)'s apartment. The memories of that day filled my mind the whole way back home. That was the first time I had ever gotten drunk in my entire life, and I never told that to anyone. I always felt people thought I was a loser, and I didn't want to give them any more reasons to do it. But neither Mikey nor Frank ever laughed at me, though they were clearly cooler than I was. They would have never been my friends in high school.

Were they going to be my friends if (Y/N) and I stopped talking to each other? Of course not. What was going to happen between us? I had no idea, and the headaches overanalyzing everything produced me were driving me insane.

- "Hey man,"- Frank walked in and tapped on my back the second he showed up at my door.

- "How was your flight? Where were you?"

- "New York, applying for a job, but didn't get it,"- he took off his jacket and left it on a chair, as he had always done, despite the fact the hat rack was right next to the door.

- "I'm sorry, Frank."

- "That's ok. It wasn't for me."

- "I was gonna get something for dinner. Wanna join me?"

- "No, this won't take too long, I just..."

Frank sighed and looked at me, standing in the middle of my apartment. He was a little shorter than I was, so I had to look down at him, but that could never affect the fact he could kick my ass. I always knew that about him and Frank. In fact, I had seen them get into small fights a few times in the years I had met them.

And the way Frank looked at me that minute let me know he was actually considering hitting me.

- "Why are you mad at me?"

- "Don't profile me! I hate when you and (Y/N) start doing your Jedi shit."

- "I'm sorry, but... you are clearly not happy with me so, why don't you just say it?"

- "Ok, fine. What the fuck is wrong with you?"- Frank simply replied and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You have a girlfriend."

- "What? How do you... I don't!"- Frank just shook his head and started talking, not giving me a chance to explain I wasn't dating anyone.

- "Maybe this is my fault. Lu and Mikey kept telling me you had to tell her what you felt at your own peace! But four fucking years are enough to make up your fucking mind!! We were all sure you loved her, 'cos you did, right? I mean, as long as I know, you still do! I saw you less than a month ago, and you two were fucking husband a wife, for Christ's sake!!"

Frank was now almost yelling at me, and I still didn't understand a word that came from his lips.

- "Frank, what are you talking about?"

- "She fucking loves you!! And we were all waiting for you to date her!! Maybe even marry her!! But now you fucking ruined everything dating someone else! And she is fucking broken hearted!! You fucking hurt her!"- Frank yelled, his nostrils were flaring, and he even cracked his knuckles.

- "Frank, I don't really follow what you are saying, but I can assure you, I am not dating."

- "She already told me everything! You made her cry!!"

- "Who?"- I was so lost in that conversation I wasn't sure I followed him.

- "(Y/N)!! You broke her heart! And now I'm gonna have to break your bones!!"- the way Frank threatened me sounded funny, but it wasn't, at all, why? 'Cos I knew he meant it.

- "Wait!!"- I took a few steps back and raised my hands in a sign of defeat- "Stop it! I am not dating anyone!"

- "Don't lie to me, man. That will just make shit worst."

- "I am not lying! I'm just confused about all this... why would you say I'm dating."

- "(Y/N) told me yesterday."

I stared at Frank, speechless. My eidetic memory going a hundred miles, trying to find a moment in time that gave (Y/N) the impression I had a girlfriend.

- "But... I am not."

- "Then who is Agent Seaver?"- I froze and widened my eyes as Frank crossed his arms on his chest one more time and didn't move his eyes from mine.

- "Oh shit!!"- the curse was a whisper Frank read as a confirmation.

- "And you thought you could keep it from her?"

- "What? No! I am not dating Seaver! I don't even like her!!"- and for the first time since we started arguing, Frank gave me the chance to talk.

- "And why would (Y/N) say that?"

- "I have no idea!!! She hasn't spoken to me this whole week!! Not since I saw her making out with that random guy last Friday."

- "What?! She did what?!"- I feel like a blabbermouth telling Frank what her friend had done, but in my defense, (Y/N) had given him wrong information, and I had to set the record straight.

- "Can you explain to me what the fuck is going on between you two? 'Cos she didn't mention any of that!"

- "Beer?"

Ever since Frank and Mikey were my friends, I always had beers in my fridge. I didn't drink much, but I liked being ready in case they showed up. And they did, 'cos they were my friends.

I stood next to the fridge in the kitchen and took a sip of my beer. Frank stared at me from the other side of the room and waited for my explanation. So I tried to start from the very beginning.

- "I don't know why (Y/N) thinks I'm dating Ashley Seaver, but I am not. I barely talk to her."

- "Who is she?"

- "A young agent Emily is training in the BAU... she and (Y/N) don't get along from the start 'cos Seaver's dad killed Mrs. (Y/L/N)'s sister back in college."

- "What?!"- Frank was in shock.

- "Yeah, it's been pretty awkward since day one."

- "And what? She tried to apologize, and (Y/N) nearly killed her?"

- "That was day one. Everything went downhill from there. But I don't get why she thinks we are dating. I barely talk to Seaver. I specifically asked our unit chief not to pair me with her at any case or task to make sure (Y/N) wouldn't think I liked her."

- "Clearly, that didn't work,"- Frank pointed out the obvious and grabbed his phone- "We should ask (Y/N) why..."

- "No!! Please don't!! I don't want her to know we are talking about this,"- I almost choked on the beer when I heard him say that and nearly jumped to take the phone from his hand.

- "Why?"- I didn't have a reason. I just didn't want to do anything that might actually make things worse.

- "Because..."- I didn't pronounce another sentence. I literally deflated after just one word.

- "Shit, that's deep,"- Frank joked and sipped his beer- "If you are not dating Seaver, why haven't you told (Y/N) you love her?"

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped in my tracks and simply shrugged. It felt useless to deny it anymore. Apparently, everybody could see it but (Y/N). And if she did see it, then it just meant one thing:

- "Because she doesn't love me back. Now she is the one dating some random guy she met at a party."

- "The one she kissed Friday?"- Frank raised an eyebrow as I just nodded- "She probably did that out of anger is she thought you were dating Seaver."

- "You didn't see her, Frank. She didn't look hurt at all. She actually looked like she was enjoying it."

- "Well... I didn't see her, and you are right about that. But I've seen her for the last... five years or so. She loves you. You should ask her out on a date, finally."

- "Why would she go out with me?"- I asked, embarrassed of facing my feelings so openly in front of Frank. But he just shrugged and said.

- "I just said so, 'cos she loves you."

Now that was just painful to hear, especially 'cos Frank actually meant it.

- "She doesn't."- I whispered and sipped my beer.

- "Sorry, but I wasn't asking you if you thought she loved you. I am telling you, she does. Now, if you don't want to believe it, that's an entirely different story.

The way Frank looked at me, saying everything so lightly, like it wasn't a big deal at all, shocked me. He had always been upfront about pretty much everything since day one. But still, that day, I wasn't prepared for that. I stayed quiet, looking at the floor, not knowing what to say.

- "Shit! You really don't believe she has feelings for you!! Are you blind?!"

- "Frank, she is my best friend in the whole world. I don't want to lose her..."

- "Why would you lose her? Just 'cos you love her?"

- "If she doesn't feel the same... and I tell her how I feel..."- I started mumbling, but Frank snorted, frustrated.

- "She is so fucking in love with you; it's hard not making fun of it!! She way she looks at you, how she is always worried about you!"

- "She does the same for you, guys."

- "I've met that woman since when we were kids, and believe me, she has never treated us the way she treats you. We are still waiting for her to bake us birthday cakes. She bakes yours every year. Last year's cake was sick! She fucking made the whole Tell-tale heart scene on your fucking cake and hid a heart in the middle of it!! You know what she did for my birthday? She wrapped the guitar strings she got me. That was it. If that doesn't tell you how in love she is with you, I've got a fucking list of things she has done for you all these years! So fucking deal with it and tell her what you feel!"

- "I can't! I just can't do that!"- I yelled back at Frank, for once opening up about what I really felt- "Every time I look at her, and she smiles, my whole brain turns to mush! I can't tell her I love her 'cos she will laugh. A girl like her deserves everything a man can give her! Have you seen me? She deserves so much better!!"

I'm not gonna lie. It felt good finally saying what I felt out loud. Like a weight had been lifted from my chest. Frank just walked over and tapped on my back a few times, nodding.

- "She fucking loves you! You should be with her! That's it! Why are you overthinking this?!"

- "'Cos I don't wanna ruin it!"

- "You two have wasted like four years! I told her I wanted you two to date since the day I fucking met you! She had to ditch Paul and date you! But she is so fucking convinced you don't love her, she is..."

- "What?"- my heart stopped at those words- "Did she say so?"

- "She did, in fact, yell to me I had to stop telling her you loved her 'cos she knew it was a lie, and that's why she was in so much pain. When did that happen, you ask? Fucking yesterday, so don't come here and tell me she is dating some random guy she kissed at a party when she is clearly in love with you."

I don't know how to explain what that felt like. It was heartbreaking and, at the same time... encouraging?

- "She loves me?"- I asked Frank, still not fully understanding our conversation.

- "Doc, she fucking went behind your boss's back to stay with you in Las Vegas to help you figure out the case of a kid you thought your dad had killed. She fought Gideon when he told her she was a bad influence for you. She hates Lila Archer's movies because of you. I've seen her yell at the tv!"

- "What?"- that was too much information.

- "Just please, fix this shit and tell her you love her"

- "How?"- I honestly asked 'cos I didn't know how to do that. Frank frowned and finished his beer, leaving the bottle on the counter.

- "I don't know, man. Give her a romantic speech about what a big ass you've been all this time thinking she didn't feel the same, ask her to forgive you, and fucking kiss her!!"

- "Ok... how do I do that?"

- "I don't know, doc! You are the genius here!"

- "Actually, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified... and I have no idea what to do..."

- "Yeah, clearly, this is not your forte. I'll give you that"- I shook my head as Frank stared at me, finally a smile curling on his lips.

- "You know everything she likes. There's no way you can go wrong. Just go to her house and tell her the words she wants to hear: I love you."

I nodded and tried to engrave those simple instructions in my head 'cos I knew I was going to ruin it: go there, say I love you. That was it. It was simple. I could do that. Right?

- "Do you need a ride?"- Frank asked and threw me my jacket.

- "Yes... I think I do."

- "Ok, doc, let's do this!"

(Y/N)'s point of view

I held my cup of tea with both hands and smiled, finally relaxing. That was just what I needed after a long miserable day. I sat on the couch, resting my feet on the table right in front of me, and sighed.

- "Sure, make yourself home."- Lu joked as she walked over with a bowl of popcorn and sat by my side.

- "Hey! I took off my shoes! I know you hate it when I leave footprints on your furniture."

- "How considered!!"- Lu joked as I grinned - "You should definitely come more often then."

- "I promise I will..."

- "And when are you gonna talk to the doc?"- I simply shrugged and focused on the tv in front of me.

- "(Y/N), you do realize you just spent two hours finally coming to your senses, right? I don't care if it's 'cos your boss is pushing you to do it. You have to tell Spencer you love him."

I pouted and groaned, but I knew she was right.

- "First, I have to cancel my date with James."

- "Yeah, do that now."

- "No, I don't wanna face reality today. I'll call him tomorrow around noon. I'm gonna tell him I'm on a case out of town, and I won't be able to make it for dinner."

- "Why don't you just tell him you are not interested 'cos you are in love with your best friend?"- I looked at Lu and widened my eyes- "Oh, come on!! We already passed the initial shock. We all knew you've been in love with Spencer for what seems to be ages!! I knew you loved him since you have him the scarf you knitted."

- "That was ages ago!"- I smiled and sighed- "He still wears it every winter"

- "Of course, he does, 'cos he loves you."

- "Do you really think he does?"

- "Are you serious? That man has been crazy for you since day one! He has been unconditional to you! You two can talk about your nerdy things for hours! Watching you is actually endearing. I had never seen two people just looking at each other with such love before! So please! Just do the right thing and tell him you love him."

I sighed and closed my eyes. I had concluded I had to tell Spencer I loved him because Hotch was right; it was affecting my work. I had to put an end to all that nonsense. Lu kept telling me Spencer would tell me he loved me too, but I was sure he wouldn't. Still, each time she tried to convince me, she made a point.

- "And he took you to Hawaii."

- "He didn't even touch me."

- "So? He hates the beach! The man hates the sun, the sand, and the seawater, and what did he do? He took you for ten days to a resort to the beach 'cos that's what you wanted."

- "His doctor told him the sea breeze was good for his lungs after the whole anthrax incident."

- "Anthrax, my ass! He wanted to make you happy, no matter if that meant being miserable for ten days. If that shit ain't love, then I have no idea what it is!!"

Lu was mad. She had cursed. I looked at her and just nodded.

- "And when you two have your first kid, I wanna be the godmother."

- "Lu, aren't you going a little fast?"

- "No. You two have been too slow with our confessions, so it's time someone speeds this up."

I drove back home around midnight. I was weary, and my body needed a good six hours of sleep after that miserable day. But I knew I wasn't going to get much rest. The idea of telling Spencer how I really felt was too scary, and I wasn't sure I would be able to go through with the plan. I didn't even have a plan. I just knew I had to do it before Hotch took the matter into his hands. Whatever that meant.

It was sad getting to my empty apartment. It felt cold and impersonal. I missed having Spencer around. We hadn't talked in a week, and I had never felt so alone in my entire life. If things didn't go well, I thought I could get a cat. I had always wanted one but never actually decided to take the big step and adopt one. I could go to the shelter and get a kitty.

I poured myself one last cup of tea and walked to my bedroom. Spencer's shirt I had worn as a pajama the night before was still on my bed, and I guessed there was no harm if I wore it again. I got under the covers and wrapped my own arms around my waist. I wondered if there would be a day when Spencer would cuddle me to sleep in our shared bed. Not like friends, like we had done so many times. It was embarrassing to think how many of those nights I had fallen asleep pretending Spencer was my boyfriend.

- "I am in love with you."- I whispered and sighed, closing my eyes.

What would Spencer do if I ever said those terrifying words out loud? I could almost see him freaking out in front of me. He wouldn't know what to do or what to say. If he didn't love me back, he would try to find the most careful way to reject me. He would reassure me he loved me, just not like that. But our friendship would be ruined anyway. I could never see him in the eyes after feeling his rejection. If he didn't love me, I was going to lose my best friend.

Sometimes, I felt Spencer was my soulmate. Lu was right; I had denied my feelings for too long. Had I wasted years of happiness with my honey bunny? Was it too late to tell him how I really felt?

I practiced my speech until two in the morning, rolling in my cold bed, alone, until I finally fell asleep. At seven am, I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I got ready for the day. That Friday was the day I was going to tell Spencer I loved him. I had to look my best. So I put on a lovely dress that always made me feel pretty, though I couldn't find my matching and favorite silk scarf. I did my hair nicely and put on a decent amount of makeup, primarily to hide the big dark rings under my eyes.

I stopped by Spencer's favorite coffee shop on my way to work and got him a cup of coffee and a box of donuts. I took a deep breath as I got out of my car and reminded myself I was doing the right thing. My plan was simple: I was going to give Spencer the coffee and the donuts as an apology for not talking to him in the lastest days. I was going to cancel my date with James, and I was going to ask Spencer out. Maybe like a date, and confess my true feelings for him.

But my plan was ruined before I even reached the main building. I walked through the parking lot and saw Spencer getting out of Ashley's car, holding a cup of coffee. They looked like the lovely young couple they were, after getting breakfast together... after spending the night together...

My broken heart kept breaking as I stared at the scene from a safe distance. I was right. I was too late to fight for Spencer. I had wasted all the chances I had ever had to be with him, and now I couldn't ruin his happiness. If he wanted to be with Ashley, I had to do the right thing and get out of his way.

I hurried up inside the main building and rushed into the elevator. I took deep breaths, trying to hold the tears inside. Whatever happened, I was not going to let Spencer see me cry. I grabbed the box of donuts and the coffee and hesitated when I reached the bullpen. Hotch was already in his office, talking with Rossi. I looked around, knowing Reid was about to get in there with Ashley, and I needed to hide from them.

- "I'm so glad you are here!!"- Penelope turned from her computer, surprised to see me rushing into her office.

- "Hey, munchkin!"

- "How is my favorite tech genius this morning? I got you breakfast!"- I could pretend to be hyper and happy, right?

- "And I love you so much!!"- Penelope smiled and grabbed the coffee- "Smells... delicious!"

- "Only the best for my dearest friend"- she looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Of course!! I had a good night of sleep, and tonight, if no fucking psycho killers ruin my day, I am going to have a date with a hot guy who is so into me. He already sent me an expensive present, which by no means makes me feel pressured, not even a little! No!"

I freaked out immediately, thinking I had a date with a guy I didn't even like.

- "Ok, baby, sit down"- Penelope tapped on the chair next to her and looked at me with worried eyes- "Are you getting cold feet about this date?"

- "I just... I don't know how I feel about that date. I was ready to cancel, and now... I think I just should go."

I definitely wasn't telling Garcia what had happened earlier; how I was going to tell Spencer I love him until I saw him in Ashley's car. Why? Well, first, I didn't want to cry at work. Second, she would say I had to tell Spencer how I felt. And third, she would tell Morgan.

Penelope sipped her coffee and frowned. Still, she didn't say a word. Instead, she looked right into my eyes and whispered.

- "If you don't wanna go out with him, you don't have to."

- "I know. I just wish I wanted to... do you know what I mean?"

- "I do... "- Garcia nodded and sighed- "Munchkin, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, really."

- "Thank you"- I rested my head on her shoulder and just sighed. We both stayed quiet for a moment until my dear friend questioned.

- "Why did you give me Spencer's coffee?"

- "Wh... what?"- I felt so caught I actually stuttered.

- "This is not almond milk. This is filled with dairy, both milk, and cream... and the amount of sugar in this is..."

- "Oh, please!! Can you just pretend I fooled you?!"- I was mortified- "It's fucking eight in the morning, and the day has already turned as awful as it could be."

- "Come on, baby"- Garcia tried to soothe me- "You know life can always get worse, so let's start by being honest. Why didn't you give Spencer the breakfast you got for him?"

- "For not being a profiler, you are creepy good reading people, you know?"

- "Yes, I am a genius. You should have noticed that earlier in life. That wasn't so bright from you, profiler,"- she teased, trying to make me laugh. And I actually chuckled.

- "Good, I got a smile. Now, tell me what happened."

- "But I don't wanna cry at work... and Hotch already called me out for being unprofessional about this whole Spencer's thing."

- "What? When?"

- "Yesterday, he said I have to tell Spencer what I actually feel for him, or he is gonna take matters into his hands."

- "What did he mean by that?"

- "I have no idea! But it sounded serious,"- I sighed, defeated, and sipped my coffee- "So after zero sleeping for days and a very awkward talk with our unit chief, plus the threats from one of my closest friends, I had decided to tell Spencer that I..."

I couldn't even say it

- "What I feel for him, today."

- "Today?! With this breakfast I am eating?"- and of course, PG freaked out.

- "Well, I was going to give him food as an offering for ignoring him this week... then I was going to ask him out tonight, and that's when I wanted to tell him... but..."

I paused and took a deep breath, doing my best not to cry. I really didn't want to show how hurt I was, though I was almost sure my dear friend Garcia could see it clearly in my eyes.

- "Just please, don't tell Morgan."

- "My adorable munchkin, I don't tell everything about you and our resident genius to Derek!"

- "Yeah, but... I just... feel so..."

- "Good morning, Garcia!"- I bit my lips as soon as I heard Ashley's voice storming into my friend's office- "I brought you coffee!"

Penelope held my hand and squeezed it as soon as she noticed my mood shift.

- "Hi!"- and my dear friend was so awkward it could have actually been fun if I wasn't so angry.

- "Oh, hi (Y/N), I didn't know you were here already..."

- "Yeah, we were having breakfast, actually,"- I pointed at our coffees and donuts, and Ashley nodded, blushing.

- "Sorry... I didn't know you were here... I didn't get you any..."

- "No, don't worry, Ashley. It's not like you know you I actually work here too,"- I wasn't even trying to be polite with her anymore. I hated her. Hotch was going to be so mad...

Seaver just stared at us and nodded in silence. Then, she turned around and left, closing the door behind her back. I groaned and nearly hit my head against the desk.

- "Wow, you are not even pretending for the cameras."

- "That was me trying not to kill her, actually. If she walked out on her own, then it was a very successful encounter."

- "What the hell, (Y/N)?"

- "I was gonna tell him, and then I saw him getting out of her car in the parking lot..."

- "Spencer Reid?!"- Penelope freaked out. I just nodded- "Dr. Spencer Reid?? The nerd in love with you? Getting out of her car?"

- "And carrying breakfast, like a lovely young couple. I bet they banged last night."

- "No way!"

- "Why not?!"

- "Because he loves you, and no one calls it "bang" anymore!" Where have you been?"

- "Penelope!"- my friend smiled at me and offered me a donut, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and resting her head against mine.

- "My dearest munchkin. Don't let this stop you. You were on a mission this morning."

- "They banged, fucked, had sex, call it what you want!! I am not telling Reid anything!! And I guess I'm going out with James tonight 'cos... if I don't, I'm gonna die alone, and my cat is gonna eat me!!"

I was nonsensical. I knew it. But there was nothing that could stop me from being absurd. I was scared and hurt. I actually thought I was going to go crazy.

I stayed with Penelope for a while, trying to cool my head. I didn't want to snap with Seaver again. I knew it had been a mistake. I saved Hotch a donut and asked him if I could work in JJ's old office. I told him I wanted to concentrate and that I really needed the time alone. Of course, he could see through my bullshit.

- "I told you, if you don't fix things with Reid, I am going to intervene."

- "I am going to do it, sir. Just... after I get all this paperwork done. I'll talk to him this weekend."- I looked into Hotch's eyes, trying my best to lie correctly. Do you have any idea what lying to the best profiler in the FBI felt like? It was mission impossible.

- "Good, (Y/N). I'm glad to know you've made the right decision."

- "Thank you, sir."

Spencer's point of view

After I got out of Frank's car, holding a bouquet of flowers, I forced him to help me get in our way over. It took me almost half an hour to walk from the sidewalk to the door of (Y/N)'s building.

- "I am in love with you,"- I whispered and shook my head, knowing she deserved better than that simple confession. I took the stairs, trying to improve my speech.

- "I have always been in love with you, from the minute I first saw you,"- I whispered and wiped off the sweat from my hands against the fabric of my jacket. It sounded terrible. I knew I was going to get it all wrong.

- "What am I doing?"- I stopped in my tracks before I reached her floor- I can't do this.

I literally froze and felt sick in my stomach. I couldn't do that. What was I doing? How had I let Frank talk to me into doing something so stupid? What was I getting into? I couldn't do it.

For a minute or so, I stood in the middle of the stairs, not able to move or formulate a single coherent thought. I was trying to

But if I didn't, and she loved me... I was going to lose everything I had ever dreamed of and that I never imagined I could have. No, I had to do it. I had to tell (Y/N) I loved her. And I had to do it that day. "Your head is spinning because it's full of ghosts," I remembered Julio's words and took a deep breath.

I ran the last steps of the stairs and reached her door, panting. But I didn't wait. I knocked on her door and waited.

- (Y/N), it's Spencer. Are you home?- but nothing. So I knocked again.

- Chipmonk, please open the door. I know I've been an asshole this whole week, but I need to talk to you. There is something you should know.

But nothing. Just silence. I knocked a few more times and patiently waited. No answer. I thought about it for a second and took the key she had given me years ago in case of any emergency. I had ended up using that key a million times, not really for many emergencies. I used it to prepare her surprise birthday party many times or come in when she knew I was coming. Or when I stayed over for the weekend, and it was my turn to pick up something from the store. So that day, I used it and opened her door.

Walking into (Y/N)'s apartment felt like walking into her arms. It smelled like her, and it felt like home. I took a look around, calling out her name. But she wasn't there.

Her place was kind of messy. There were many blankets on the couch and some clothes lying around. Man's clothes. For a moment, my heart sank. I thought maybe James was spending time there too. But soon, I realized...It was my clothes. I walked into her room and saw her unmade bed. My old red sweater was on her pillow, and some of the shirts she liked were close as well.

Why was she surrounded by my things? Did she... miss me that much? Could it be Frank was actually right? She loved me and missed me? I looked around and tried to find confirmation, though I felt overwhelmed by emotion at the moment.

(Y/N) loved me. There was a chance she actually loved me the way I did.

I fell on her bed and contained tears that almost started falling down my eyes. There might be a chance she loved me, and I refused to ruin it. She couldn't find me in her house out of the blue. She deserved better than that. She deserves the world. So I quickly collected all my things and walked to the door to think of a better way to confess my undying love. Undying, cheesy, and yet, honest.

But before I was out, I walked back to her room and opened her closet. If she had all my clothes to think of me, I wanted a souvenir too. My eyes traveled quickly through all the items hanging until her purple satin scarf caught my eye. I loved how she looked on it, and it smelled like her. I hid it in my pocket and walked out of her apartment.

Not even the tiny bouquet of flowers I had gotten her seemed to be enough. Frank said she'd love them, but... it just wasn't good enough for her.

I had a lot of planning to do. And I have no idea where to start. I had high standards to beat. After all, I had read all of the romantic books (Y/N) had in her house and seen all the romantic comedies she loved. All of those more than ten times. So... how was I going to do it? Was I going to pour my heart out to her in the most romantic way possible and finish with:

- "I am just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him,"- I said out loud as I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.

No. That didn't feel right. It had to be better. Who was (Y/N)'s biggest love reference? Mr. Darcy. How had he done it? Well... he didn't do it right the first time, so he started making amends with a letter. I could begin with a letter. After all, I had written (Y/N) many love letters I had never given her in all those years. Letters that contained all my feelings for her as a way of letting it out of my chest. But they were never meant for her to see.

I sat at my desk and grabbed my favorite pen. But before I could actually start writing, I noticed I needed music, romantic music, for inspiration. I picked the same Amy Winehouse vinyl record I had been listening to for the last couple of days and walked back to my seat.

Writing a love letter wasn't easy. Putting facts into words, that's a task I can complete, no questions asked. But that Thursday night, I struggled with every sentence I created. I wasn't a writer and neither a man who had any kind of experience with love or being in love. Less with confessing such feelings. But I had to give my best.

Around one in the morning, I finished the third version of that letter. Frank had texted me to know if things had gone well, but I told him she wasn't home.

- "Don't worry, Paco,"- I said and smiled while holding her silk scarf- "Tomorrow is the day."

My wristwatch said four in the morning when I stopped painting and decided to get into bed. I had to get at least two hours of sleep. Not that (Y/N) had never seen my insomniac face before, but I needed to, at least try, to look presentable for her. After writing, my mind was flooded with emotion, and I couldn't stop thinking about everything we've been through all those years together. (Y/N) and I. we had been best friends for so long, yet, I could now see our friendship had always been a little different. We were closer... sidekicks... lovers without kissing. I needed to feel her hand in mine. Her arms around me. But it was only a few more hours.

Was she going to like me in the morning? I felt butterflies in my stomach just with the idea of confessing my feelings. I set everything ready and went to bed. I barely had the energy to put on my pajamas and turn off the lights. (Y/N)'s scarf wrapped softly on my wrist.

I frowned, baffled and lost, when I opened the door the following morning and found Ashley at the other side.

- "Can I talk to you for a moment?"- she whispered and handed me a fresh cup of coffee- "I brought you a peace offering for being so obnoxious the other day."

It was clear Ashley was honest, and she was embarrassed about her behavior. Otherwise, she wouldn't have shown up at my door. So I smiled and nodded, trying to show her I wasn't mad at her.

- "Water under the bridge"- I whispered and held the coffee she gave me. No milk, no cream, no sugar. Just like (Y/N) liked it. Ashley noticed how I prepared coffee at the BAU but never realized I wasn't making myself a cup. I was making (Y/N)'s.

- "I am very embarrassed... and I really like working with you... regardless of everything I said. I don't..."

- "We can pretend that never happened,"- I interrupted her, and she just smiled and nodded.

- "I would like that. I am sorry I was rude... Do you want a ride to work? We are a little late."

I thought about it for a second. I wanted to stop by and get (Y/N) more flowers, but we were late, and I wasn't planning on telling her how I felt until later that night.

- "Sure, let's go."

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found that day, and that immediately got me on my nerves. Her things were on her desk, but she wasn't there.

- "Hey García, have you seen (Y/N)?"- I walked in and watched her stay still, shocked.

- "Hello there, Dr. Reid. How are you today? Nice to see you too."

- "Sorry!"- I cut her an awkward smile and waved- "Hi! How are you?"

- "The damage is already done, Dr. Reid. Clearly, you are not here looking for my companionship."

- "Sorry, I just haven't seen (Y/N) today. You?"

- "Yes, my pretty chipmunk was here earlier, and that's all I know. Why?"- Garcia raised an eyebrow and looked into my eyes- "Why are you so interested in her?"

I didn't know if it was because I had spent most of the night planning to confess (Y/N) my feelings, but Penelope's question sounded suspicious. I tried to act normal and just frowned.

- "I just wanted to know if she was here 'cos I haven't seen her around."

- "She had work to do, and I think she had a meeting with Hotch."

- "Again?!"- I couldn't help but raise my voice, scared of the idea of (Y/N) being scolded by Hotch for two days in a row.

- "But she had a meeting with him yesterday!"- I argued, but Garcia just shrugged.

- "That's all I know. Also, she brought donuts"- I stared at her dish. Chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles. My favorites.

- "Do you know if she... got one of those for me?"

- "I don't know, why don't you ask her?"- Garcia questioned back and raised an eyebrow

- "I would, but I don't know where she is."

- "Besides... didn't you have breakfast already?"

- "There's always room for a donut... for my favorite donut."

Penelope raised an eyebrow, trying to read beyond my words. Was I just talking about donuts, or was I talking about (Y/N)? Did she actually mean breakfast? Of course, she did. Garcia wasn't implying anything else! I was just overthinking everything!

Right?

- "I'll see if she is still with Hotch."

- "Hey, Reid"- Penelope called out my name when I was about to reach the door- "When you see her, you should tell her it's her breakfast you are interested in. No other."

I stared at Garcia and opened my mouth. But no word came from it. I just know I blushed and nodded, leaving her office soon after.

But I didn't find (Y/N) during that whole day. And it was both frustrating and nerve-wracking. The letter I wrote her kept burning me, as I felt it in my jacket's pocket, beating like a second heart. I wasted a whole paperwork day trying to concentrate, but I couldn't. I managed to get the least work done in years, 'cos my mind focused on her. On (Y/N). In her absence.

By the end of the day, I had lost all hope of finding her around and did what all desperate men would do. I waited by her car in the parking lot.

Around six-thirty, I heard her shoes approaching the vehicle, and my heart stopped when I saw her eyes in mind, nearly shocked to find me there.

- "Hi"- that was all I managed to say. My voice was a whisper that even I barely heard.

- "What are you doing here?"

- "I was waiting for you. I thought it was obvious."

I smiled and tried to ease her mood. But it didn't work. She looked so mad at me, though those few words were the longest conversation we had shared in over a week. Why was she mad at me? Was it too cheesy to tell her she looked adorable when she was mad? Of course, it was. I still took a mental note to tell her that later on. Maybe later that same evening if things went well.

- "Why?"- (Y/N) frowned and opened her car, and threw her purse in the back seat.

- "I wanted to talk to you."

- "I can't, Spencer. I am late,"- she called me by my name, and that reality check hurt me.

- "Late for your date with James?"

- "I don't feel like talking about that with you. Goodbye, Spencer."

- "Wait. (Y/N), stop."- I held her arm and felt her whole body shiver under my touch. I would have held her longer, but she pulled her arm from my grip and frowned- "Why are you so mad at me?"

- "Mad? I am not mad!"- I know she was a good liar, but she was so mad her whole body language gave it away, along with her high-pitched voice.

- "I think you are... Why?"- I tried to move closer, but she crossed her arms on her chest and stood next to the opened passenger door. Ready to escape.

- "I am just in a hurry, Spencer. That's it."

There it was, the confirmation of her anger. My name, leaving her lips with fury. I wanted to hold her. I needed to feel her close, with a desperation I had never experienced before. I was craving for her. And there she was, right in front of me, refusing to even look at me.

- "Can you just... give me a chance to talk to you?"- my words came as a whisper, almost as a beg.

- "Isn't someone else waiting for you?"

- "Me? No. No one,"- I answered, confused by what she was implying- "I just need to talk to you. Please."

- "Sorry, I'm late. But... maybe..."- (Y/N) hesitated and looked at someone else walking close to us. I didn't even bother. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

- "Would you... would you take this?"- I held the letter and gave it to her. She hesitated before taking it, and my heart nearly burst at the thought of her holding my love confession in her hands.

- "What's this?"

- "Can you read it?"- but it only lasted for a second. (Y/N) shook her head and gave me back my letter.

- "Not now, I'm late."

- "(Y/N), please."

- "No, Reid. I can't read this now. I am late."

- "Please, (Y/N). I need to tell you something."

- "And I need to leave. So, bye."

(Y/N) slipped through my fingers like water. I stayed still, staring at her as she disappeared, and cursed myself under my breath for being so petrified to act. I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated with myself.

- "I love you. I don't want you to go out with him. You should be with me."

It was liberating to say those words out loud even though she wasn't there to listen.

- "Nice kid. Now next time, say it when she can hear you."

I recognized Morgan's voice behind me. And I guess I could have felt embarrassed if I wasn't so frustrated already. And most of all, so mad at myself. I had practiced. I had tried. I knew what I had to say. But when I was with her, I just couldn't. And now he was out there on her way to date another man.

I felt Derek's hand on my shoulder, tapping on it a few times. I sighed and nodded.

- "Come on. First-round is on me."

It only took Morgan two rounds to get me talking. To be fair, I wanted to speak. He had already heard what I wanted (Y/N) to know.

- "I just wanna tell her I love her. I need to tell her what I feel for her 'cos now I can see there might be a chance she loves me too."

- "Might be a chance?"- Morgan frowned and shook his head- "Kid, that woman is head over feet in love with you. And she has been for years. I just can't believe you've wasted all these years!!"

- "I can't believe I am sitting here with you when she is out there on a date with some other man!!"- I nearly yelled and drank what was left of my third whisky, immediately raising my hand, asking for another round. Derek raised an eyebrow as he stared at me, and somehow it felt like he was mad at me for something.

- "Kid. You know I love you, but you've been so fucking stupid and blind it's been painful for us to watch! You've had so many chances to be with her! She has been crazy in love with you ever since she was dating that other guy!!"

- "Paul? That was ages ago!"- I said ages to sound less obsessive, but I knew exactly how long it had been since they had broken up. It was also the amount of time I had spent without using Dilaudid.

- "Well, she loved you even back there! I bet you are the reason they broke up!"

- "No, I wasn't"- I sighed, thinking I wished I was, but I knew (Y/N) had broken up with him 'cos she didn't love him.

- "Why are you so sure?"

- "She told me"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at me so severely- "What?"

- "Back then, that girl got into trouble for arguing with Lila Archer. Remember?"

- "Eidetic memory, Morgan. Of course, I remember."

- "Sorry, genius"- the waitress arrived with our fourth round, and my body felt way more relaxed by them. Also, my tongue started to slur as I spoke.

- "My pretty pumpkin actually called Lila, and I quote: "annoying, always ignoring our orders, keeping herself in danger, not helping, being a squeamish little princess who is used to do whatever the fuck she wants, and who didn't care to put people around her in danger."- I chuckled remembering that conversation- "And then she joked saying "Of course you were oblivious to all this 'cos you couldn't stop staring at her."

- "Ok, Reid, that's what girls say when they are jealous! And she was clearly jealous of Lila! When she saw you two in that pool? I thought (Y/N) was gonna kill her! I swear I was waiting for her to jump into the pool and end with her!"- Morgan laughed, picturing the scene in his mind. I sipped my whisky, not quite sure he was into something there.

- "I really think she didn't like her 'cos she found her annoying. (Y/N) finds most people annoying."

- "And not you. What does that tell us?"

- "That I am not annoying"- Morgan looked at me and opened his mouth to say something but stayed quiet. And instead, he just chuckled.

- "What about that waitress?"

- "Who?"

- "The one you picked up in the bar with a magic trick?"

- "I didn't pick on her!! I was doing my work and..."

- "And you got her phone number, and she sent you that card with a kiss..."- Morgan stared at me, waiting for a reaction- "Ok, in case you didn't notice, (Y/N) was jealous of her too."

- "She was mad 'cos she said I was unprofessional."

- "Ok, fine, whatever. And now, what's the plan, casanova? When are you telling her you love her?"

- "Now, tonight, after this drink,"- and I hurried to drink it faster.

- "What?"

- "I've got a love letter like Darcy gave to Lizzy."

- "Who the fuck are those?"

- "Her favorite characters from her favorite book"- I explained, annoyed, and drunk- "They were in love but never acted on it 'cos they were both proud and held severe prejudices against each other. So when he told her he loved her, it was a mess. Then, he wrote her a letter trying to explain to her why he had been nonsensical. Then she read it and realized she loved him, but thought it was too late, so both of them acted like nothing was going on until they realized they had been fools, and Darcy confessed his love, and she told him she loved him too..."

There was a blank stare in Morgan's eyes when I was done speaking.

- "How many times have you read that?"

- "Today? Eleven"

The way Morgan wide opened his eyes, shocked, made me think maybe I had overreacted with how many times I read Pride and Prejudice. But he didn't say anything, just nodded.

- "Ok, kid, you can't talk to her today."

- "Why now? I was actually going to drop by her apartment and read the letter."

- "Spencer, you are drunk."

- "I am not!"- I was, in fact, intoxicated.

- "Prove it!"- Derek dared me, chuckling

- "How? Want me to walk on a line and touch my nose with my fingers?"

- "Go talk to those girls over there"- he pointed at a bunch of women who kept flirting with him from a distance at the bar counter.

- "Why would I do that? I am in love! I just told you I am about to confess my true feelings to the one woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I swear, Morgan, if she says she loves me, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

- "What?!"- my friend nearly choked with his drink.

- "Yeah! I've wasted too much time! I wanna marry that woman! In fact! I'm gonna tell her that right now!"- I stood up too quickly, and the whole room started spinning. Morgan grabbed my arm and forced me to sit down again.

- "Hold on, Reid! You need a round of water before we leave this bar."

- "No, Derek, you don't get it. I finally see everything clear now!! It's all clear!! I've loved her for so long... and maybe Frank is right, maybe she has loved me all along."

- "Dude, that's literally what I've been telling you for the last hour!!"- Morgan nearly yelled, frustrated.

- "Yeah, but Frank has been her best friend since they were four! Can you imagine? Little (Y/N) at four, playing... our kid would be so cute if they are like her."

- "Ok, Reid, you are creeping me out"

- "Why?"- I couldn't understand why Morgan was so shocked. I thought he wanted to know how I felt.

- "For the last five years, you've been in love with her, and you've denied it over and over again. And now suddenly, you get drunk and spill your heart open."

- "I just... I don't want these ghosts haunting me anymore. Julio was right!"

- "You lost me, man"

- "Our last case in Miami. My head was killing me, and Julio knew it. He said it was this job and everything I was bottling up that was driving me insane. Now I can see it clearly! I have to tell (Y/N) how I feel for her! That woman is the love of my life! She saved my life!!"

- "Calm down, Spencer."

- "Calm down?? She is out there with that guy!! What if they kiss again? What if they fuck?! No way! We have to stop her. I have to stop her!!"

I don't know how I got out of that chair and stormed out of the bar.

- "Reid! Wait!"

(Y/N)'s point of view

James was hot. Yes, that's true. I can't deny what's real. I saw him talking at the other side of the table, being charming, being fucking perfect. And there I was, not feeling anything. Nothing. Good old (Y/N) a few years ago would have been crazy for that guy. Before I met Spencer. But after Spencer.... There was nothing after him. And I could see it. I could feel it inside of me. How he had ruined me without even touching me. Does that make any kind of sense?

- "So, what do you do when you are not fighting crime?"- James asked me with the most charming smile. I just sighed and tried to look interested. I honestly wanted to try. But I soon realized everything I could answer included Spencer.

- "I am a big nerd, so I'm getting ready to go to Comicon this year."

- "In costume?!"- he widened his eyes and smiled, excited

- "Yes, of course. In costume is the only way to go to Comicon,"- in costume with Reid...

- "And which is your costume this year?"

- "Slave Leia"- James smiled mischievously and ran his tongue through his lips.

- "I won't miss this Comicon."

- "I also like hanging out with my friends. I usually host dinner parties 'cos I love cooking,"- with Spencer...

- "That's awesome, 'cos I love eating. Are you into board games?"

- "Yeah! Love them! We usually play a lot."

We. Spencer, and I.

I was doomed. I was never going to love anyone else. Spencer was overshadowing everything I might like about James. What did I actually like about James? That he was interested in me. Was Spencer interested in me? Lu said so. Garia said so. Emily said so. But I didn't. Why? Why couldn't I believe Spencer might love me? Was I terrified to lose him as a friend, or was I petrified to lose myself in him? Was I scared to be loved by him? To be happy? To have someone to love me, want me, and make me happy?

Was I scared of being loved by Reid? Of being happy with him? 'Cos each time I thought about it, it didn't feel like Spencer was just a guy I had a crush on or a guy I had fallen for. It felt like he was the love of my life, my happy ending. My forever after. And that scared the shit out of me. I've always been scared I would ruin the love of my life like my parents had destroyed their happiness. I knew the job was going to get in the middle. And I was already in love with my job.

Well... so was Reid.

In fact, we shared that love. We did everything together, including working. And god, I loved being in the field with him. I hated the fear of losing him I often felt whenever we were together, but the thrill of catching an unsub with Reid, of saving lives together. Nothing could ever compare to that. Well, maybe sex with Spencer, but I didn't know it for a fact. I wished I knew...

- "(Y/N)?"- James was looking at me, waiting for an answer. But I never got the questions. I was just lost in the thought of Spencer.

- "Sorry, you were saying?"

- "I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere else... Maybe you could show me your record collection."

Dinner was over. We had our dessert and coffee. A part of me felt I had to say yes, 'cos I felt pushed to like him. But I just couldn't force it. I knew it was meant to turn out badly.

- "Actually, I'm tired... I'm sorry. It was a long week and included a trip to Miami to catch a lunatic..."

- "Of course, not a problem. I'll take you home."

The drive back to my apartment was mostly silent. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't really comfortable either. It was just me feeling Spencer's absence. And it hurt in ways I hadn't realized just yet. It made me wonder if my life without him was destined to be like that.

- "I had a great time tonight,"- I said when James parked outside my building.

- "Me too..."- he turned to me and cut me a big smile, as his eyes locked with mine. I could see him leaning in, and my whole body refused to kiss him. So I opened my door and nearly jumped out of his car.

- "Ok, it's getting late."

- "I'll walk you to your door."

- "No, you don't have to."- but James was already by my side, holding my hand (something I absolutely hated) and walking with me to my building.

- "I have to tell you, (Y/N). I was hoping to meet you at Anderson's party."

Oh shit, I didn't really want to go through that conversation with him. I thought I could just ghost out of that dinner, but James wasn't making things easy. So I opened my building's door, and he followed me in. Shit.

- "I don't know if he told you anything but... I just had the biggest crush on..."

- "James, you don't have to..."

- "But I want to. I just feel like we could go somewhere. I know it's only our first date, but I think you are the most incredible woman I've ever met. And I would be ecstatic if you would want to go out with me again."

I sighed and turned to him. We were standing by my door, and I could feel he wanted to kiss me goodnight.

- "James. I feel flattered, but... I can't do this."

- "What? Why?"

- "Because I am in love with someone else... I've been in love for a while now, but I never thought I might have to actually act on it until now..."

James stared into my eyes, confused, hurt, and... sad. I nodded and did the kindest thing I could under the circumstances and hugged him.

- "I am sorry. You are a fantastic guy, and I'm sure if I wasn't in love already, this would have worked, but..."

- "It's ok, (Y/N). Really. You don't have to apologize. I was just one date, no harm done."- my date kissed my cheek and smiled- "Besides, I got to meet my favorite profiler."

- "Prentiss?"- I joked, and he chuckled.

- "And what are you gonna do about this mystery guy?"

- "I don't know. I don't think he feels the same... but I think I have to tell him, or I'll go crazy."

- "He would be crazy if he rejects you,"- James whispered and smiled- "Good night, crime fighter."

I closed the door behind my back and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I felt bad for James. But I couldn't take care of his feelings when I had been neglecting mine for so long.

What was I supposed to do? I was so tired of overthinking everything. Of being afraid. I put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea and laid on my couch for a minute. It smelled like Spencer. There was one of his sweaters there. I quickly grabbed it and buried my face in it, pretending it was his neck, and I could even land butterfly kisses on his skin.

I couldn't run from it anymore. I was going to tell Spencer Walter Reid what I felt for him. And I was going to do it the following day. How? With my original plan: I was going to bring his favorite breakfast to his house. I was going to apologize for being a jerk, and I was going to invite him over for dinner. I was going to cook his favorite. Then I was slowly and carefully going to handpick the right words to tell him I am desperately in love with him.

That sounded like a good plan. My phone rang, forcing me to roll on that couch, but I carried Spencer's sweater with me. It was Penelope.

- "Please don't tell me we've got a case."

- "No, munchkin. I just wanted to check on you. What happened to James?"

- "I blew him off- I stood up and walked to the kitchen to make my cup of tea- "It was kind of painful."

- "I'm glad you did anyway. You have to do the right thing."

- "Yeah, I guess,"- I closed the widow 'cos there was a lot of yelling coming from the street.

- "Where are you?- Penelope asked, probably hearing it too.

- "At home, getting ready for bed."

- "What's that noise?"

- "I don't know. I think there's a fight downstairs. Anyway, tomorrow I'm gonna talk with Spencer and tell him everything."

- "Please let me know how that goes!!"- I chuckled as I heard the genuine excitement in her voice.

- "I promise I will. Thank you for checking on me."

- "Anytime, munchkin. Sleep tight."

Spencer's point of view

- "Oh shit! Oh shit!"

I saw (Y/N) getting out of James's car, and Derek had to hold me on my seat to stop me from running over. We were parked outside of her building, and Morgan was still trying to convince me to go home. I told him I would behave and peacefully go home if I saw (Y/N) reaching her home safe and sound... without James.

But no. He was there. I could see him walking with her, hand in hand, to her building.

- "Maybe he is just going to take her to her door,"- Morgan said, trying to calm me down. I clenched my fist and waited in silence for a few seconds. But James didn't leave her at her door. He followed her inside. And that was when I lost it and literally jumped off the car.

- "Reid!! No!! Wait!!"- Derek ran behind me and grabbed my arm. A car passed and honked at us, 'cos it almost ran me over. I wanted to yell, "Fuck you!" but I barely noticed it. My eyes were locked at that building's door.

- "Dude! Come on, get back in the car!"- Derek tried to calm me down.

- "No!"- I argued and kept pulling my arm, trying to get free of his hands. But he wasn't letting me go.

- "You are drunk! You are not thinking straight! Come on!!"

- "No! Let me go! I need to talk to her!

- "What you wanna tell her, you should confess sober, with flowers... and chocolates, or whatever she likes."

- "I can't wait anymore!! I can't wait until it's perfect!! He is going to kiss her again and... and I can't deal with that!!"- I managed to get loose of Derek's hand and ran to (Y/N)'s building the second James walked out of it.

My blood boiled as soon as I saw him, and my first instinct was to punch him, But I managed to suppress it. Instead, I just looked at him threateningly. Or at least that's what I tried to do.

- "What's your problem, dude?"- James frowned as he noticed me staring.

- "You are my problem, dude,"- I answered with a snarky tone as that asshole took a step closer and shook his head.

- "What the fuck?!"

- "Stay the fuck away from (Y/N), James,"- I said, and he widened his eyes, surprised I knew him.

- "Who the hell are you?!"

- "I am the love of her life, and you are in the way of our forever after."

- "Kid, come on"- Derek tried to pull me away, but he was just embarrassing me.

- "Yes, kid. Go with your buddy. Leave (Y/N) to me."

James chuckled and turned around. And I don't know what took over me, but I couldn't control it. I ran to him and pulled his shoulder. I felt the pain of my fist hitting his face, but I didn't care if my knuckles were on fire. All I could feel was the profound pleasure of finally breaking that guy's nose with my own hands.

- "What the fuck?!"- Derek was in shock, and honestly, so was I. I didn't know I had that in me. I had never gotten in a fight that wasn't with an unsub. And still, on the field, I always tried to talk my way out of every conflict.

- "He has to back off! He is getting in the middle of my relationship with my pumpkin!!"- I argued and looked at my hand, knowing it would be sore in the morning. That was when James's fist collided against my jaw, and I felt how my whole body nearly spun like a cartoon with the strength of the blow.

- "Hey! Hey! Stop!"- Derek pulled James away from me as I touched my face, trying to put two and two together.

- "Tell your friend to stay away from me, or I'm gonna break his face!!"

- "You and which army?!"- I yelled and tried to punch him again, but Morgan stayed between us, trying to keep us apart.

- "Ok, ok, calm down, we are leaving! Reid! Come on!!"

- "No!! I am not leaving until I am sure that he is going to stay away from her!!"

- "Stay away from (Y/N)? Deal! Now get the fuck away from me!"- James shoved me on his way to his car, and I nearly hit him again. But Derek stopped me. He grabbed my arms and pushed me to his car.

- "Enough! I'll take you home."

***

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405 @eyakoroleva @nani-2305

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: July 7th, 2021

[imhereformr]

"Tell me why you did it" "Because I'm in love with you"

I had a prompt request for this an eternity ago (sorry...) but I think I deleted the ask 😬 Here's the prompt anyways.

It made no sense to her. One minute she’d been staring down Lord Darkar with the most courage she could muster – thankfully her stubbornness helped her there – and having death threatened. Next thing she knew, there was a body between her and the skeleton-man (could he be considered a man?). A loud no had echoed through the cavernous space accompanied by a flash of magenta-topped blue. She’d been so stunned by the action that it took her a moment to register why the voice was so familiar.

Riven.

He’d jumped in front of her.  

He’d saved her life.  

He’d risked his.

For her. 

After that, everything was a blur. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d been aware that the Trix had shown up and helped them. She knew that that distraction had broken Darkar’s spell; the one that had kept her, and her friends frozen in place; the one Riven had somehow broken through to save her. She knew that thanks to that distraction Brandon and Helia had managed to get to Riven and bandage him up, bringing an end to the blood that she swore – though her memory may be faulty – was spilling endlessly out of Riven’s abdomen and temple. All those details had barely managed to make a scratch in her mind – as if they were happening somewhere else to someone else - as she stared at his closed eyes begging the gods – any gods - to let her see that violet she loved so much; that violet that had tinted her dreams since she’d met him.  

Nothing. At least not between the brief moment when he’d flickered into consciousness after she reached him and called out to him and when he’d woken for an even briefer moment on the flight back to Red Fountain.  

Musa knew that, in some twisted series of events, it was thanks to the Trix that Riven was still alive. She refused to acknowledge it, though; refused to acknowledge that it was thanks to them that she’d been able to spend every free moment by his side as he recovered. Not that there were many of those, or, at least, as many as she’d like. Apparently helping to save the entire universe didn’t count as a valid reason to miss finals in Griselda’s mind so Musa made her to way to Red Fountain’s infirmary every day after classes. She’d spent so much time there that she was on a first name basis with the nurses; they even let her use their coffee machine now so she wouldn’t have to go down to the cafeteria to get some. She’d set herself up on the empty bed across the room with her books sprawled out in front of her, trying - and mostly failing - to study. She knew she wouldn’t fail any of her classes – she had nearly perfect grades in all of them – but she wasn’t too keen on failing her finals considering they were worth a quarter of her final grade. It didn’t matter how much she forced herself though because her eyes always seemed to wander away from the books over to Riven.  

Musa arrived at Red Fountain today with a bag full of books that she intended to get through. Three classes to study for and just under five hours to study. She needed to get through the books or else she’d be kicking herself tomorrow when she was trying to take those exams. Whose bright idea had it been to schedule three exams in one day anyways?  

He slept through the first few days; she’d expected that. What she hadn’t expected was for him to sleep through the entire first week and a half after the mission. According to the nurses, he had woken up a few times but mostly when no one was there. Timmy had spoken to him once, albeit very briefly. Musa hated the thought of Riven waking up to an empty hospital room. He deserved to know that his friends were checking on him; that they cared. That she cared. That his friends were checking on him. When she’d arrived yesterday, Brandon was set up in the room with a set of weights (the nurses had complained but Brandon shrugged them off). Sky and Timmy had been there the day before that and Tecna and Flora had accompanied her the day before that.  

She strode into the infirmary, greeting Doris, the nurse at the front desk, with a nod. Musa was vaguely aware that the nurse tried to tell her something, but she had headphones on and too much on her mind, so the movement of the nurse's lips only registered after she’d passed the desk. Upon turning to question what she’d wanted to say, Musa found that Doris had had her attention diverted by a phone call, so she shrugged it off and continued to Riven’s room. Her bag slid off her shoulder, dropping to the floor a mere inch from her toes when she entered his room.  

It was empty.  

Nobody hanging around in case Riven woke; nobody on the bed; no book or flowers (courtesy of Flora) on the bedside table; nothing. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing a pristine shower, sink and toilet. No Riven. Musa poked her head out of the room, checking the number beside the door. Twenty-one: she had the right room. Where was he?

“He was discharged about two hours ago” Doris, a sweet older woman with greying brown hair and bright green eyes, informed her, coming up behind the fairy.  

“B-but he’s barely woken up in the last week?” Musa managed to stammer as she turned to face the woman. Doris shrugged. Apparently Riven had woken up late last night – just before midnight, two hours after she’d left to make Alfea’s ten PM weekday curfew – and stayed awake all night. When the doctor had checked him that morning, his vitals were good and Riven was in functional condition. “We knew him already; he spent enough time in here last year after all the fights he got in-” Fucking Riven “-so the doctor agreed to let him go as long as he promised to come in everyday for a checkup and to take it easy for a bit.”

No. She would go back to Alfea. She needed to study. If she went to see him now she’d be too tempted to demand answers and that would lead to her getting absolutely zero studying done. But then again... if she went back to Alfea to study she’d never be able to focus knowing that he was awake and she could be talking to him.

Take it easy? The man had jumped in front of a death blow without a second thought, and they expected him to take it easy? He clearly had no sense of self-preservation! “Oh... okay, thanks” Musa mumbled, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she walked away. She stood outside the main infirmary door watching blankly as students in unnecessarily tight blue uniforms walked past her. What now? She hadn’t ever considered the possibility of showing up with him gone. Did she just go back to Alfea? Find Riven? And say what? What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you do something so reckless? So stupid? So... so... so... romantic???  

“Musa?! Hi” Helia gasped, opening the door before she could knock. Musa lowered her arm, grasping at her bag’s strap tightly. “Looking for Riven?”

Musa was surprised to find that she’d started moving, and that her absentminded walking had led her right to dorm 307 – the guys’ dorm. Her subconscious had decided for her: she would go see him. Musa raised her arm to knock, but she hesitated. What if he thought it was weird that she’d shown up right after his discharge from the infirmary? Or that he was freaked out by the thought of her being by his side every day? No, he’d risked his life for her. He’d be happy that she was there with him. …That you’ll come back, you’ll come back... to me. That’s what he’d said before their groups had split at the cave entrance; he would be happy to see her. She’d knock. Just one deep breath and...

Musa nodded dumbly. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly lost the ability to speak; it wasn’t as if the entirety of Magix wasn’t aware of her feelings for the angry specialist at this point. They’d already gone on a date for crying out loud.  Her eyes had drifted down to the dark brown sketch pad in Helia’s hand as she nodded, but she forced them back up to meet his. “Yeah... Is he here?”

“No. I think he’s in the back courtyard.” Musa thanked Helia and began to make her way back down the corridor. She turned to ask Helia if Riven had said anything about, well, anything, but her in particular, but the artist was already halfway down the hall in the opposite direction. Not that it mattered; Riven wasn’t the kind to talk about stuff and the odds of him feeling particularly chatty when he was in pain were not good. Logically Musa knew that the odds of him explaining why he’d jumped to her were minimal too, but she needed to ask anyways.  

Her pace sped up to just short of running as she made her way down to the back courtyard. Red Fountain’s new building had three courtyards. The most magnificent one, the front courtyard, was at the top of the school overlooking the forest with the city of Magix visible in the distance of the Southern side. The central one was halfway down the building inside the four gushing waterfalls and contained nothing but training fields. The back courtyard was at the base of the building at ground level. It was made up of the ruins of the old Red Fountain and where the students mostly hung out when they stayed on campus. What could be salvaged of the old brick building had been turned into courtyard décor – picnic tables, benches, stools – and, most notably, the large wall that ran along the edge of the forest. Tecna had questioned if the wall was structurally sound when they’d first seen it, but Sky assured them it was.  

When she made it to the crowded yard, her pace slowed a bit. She wasn’t worried about missing him – there was no doubt in her mind she’d be able to pick him out in a crowd – but she didn’t want to appear like she’d been searching for him frantically when she did find him. She took a quick look through the crowded parts, opting instead to search the more secluded areas thoroughly. She knew Riven; he wouldn’t want to be in the packed areas.  

She found him in the front corner closest to the forest, next to one of the gates that led to one of the many footpaths that meandered through Gloomy Wood. He was seated atop the wall, leaning back on the arch of the gate. Musa’s eyes flitted to the open iron gate, wondering what the purpose of the gate was if they were just going to leave it open. Then, just as quickly as her eyes had traveled to the gate, they were back on him. It seemed natural at this point to be watching him if he was in the vicinity. No matter how hard she tried not to spend all her time admiring and observing him, she seemed to be eternally doomed to have her eyes find him. It wasn’t her fault he was so fucking beautiful. Especially right now, sitting there with the back of his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. His arms rested on his stomach where he’d been hit – she could see the bandage poking out under his shirt – and one leg propped up while the other dangled off the wall. He looked so comfortable and peaceful. It was unfathomable how easily he made her stomach do flips, it –

Wait a minute.  

What the fuck was he doing on top of the wall? There was no way to get up there except to boost yourself up. That wasn’t ‘taking it easy’.  

“Hi” she said loudly, butterflies having turned to annoyance. It was bad enough that he’d risked his life jumping in front of her, did he also have to risk worsening his injuries?!

Riven’s eyes snapped open and when he looked at her, it was obvious he hadn’t been expecting to see her. Their eyes met briefly as he stuttered out a M-Musa… Hi. He lowered his leg, trying to hide the way he flinched in pain at the movement. Musa dropped her bag and stepped forward to help him as he slid himself down, but he brushed her off. Stubborn ass.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, you know, considering…” he shrugged, motioning towards his abdomen.

“Right…” Musa fiddled with her ring – a cheap mood ring she and Bloom had gotten at the fair a few months back – as she tried to formulate a coherent thought or sentence. How was it that she still found herself stupidly tongue-tied around him? He knew how she felt; she knew he felt the same. They’d already kissed and gone on a date. They would’ve gone on another already if fucking fake Avalon hadn’t kidnapped Bloom. Logically, there was no reason for her brain to turn to mush anymore.  

Her eyes snapped up to Riven’s face. The bandage that had been around his head wasn’t there anymore, leaving the scar and bruising on his temple visible. His mouth was drawn as his eyes raked over her. He was assessing her; she could see his mind working as his eyes roamed over every visible inch of skin. “How are you?”  

“Good. Completely unharmed... thanks to you.” You fucking moron. He should know by now that her fairy form offers her an extra layer of protection that non-magical beings don’t have. He should know that the skimpy outfit is deceptive.  

He brushed it off. Riven. The cocky asshole. He brushed it off. Like risking your life – quite literally almost sacrificing it – was nothing more than passing the salt at the dinner table. “Really. Thank you. You didn’t-“

And he laughed at Timmy for being nervous around Tecna. What a goof. “I’ve been here everyday…”

“It’s nothing. Not for…” Riven trailed off. She wished he would finish the sentence, but she knew where it was going. You. Not for you. Would it kill him to give her any sort of sign of liking her? She knew he did, but was it really so hard for him to say: It’s no big deal, Musa. I’d do anything for you. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to, um, see you h-here…”

If she could burn the memory in her mind and pull it out whenever she felt down, that would be the most incredible thing. The way his eyes widened in surprise only to soften drastically a few seconds later. The small smile that played on his lips that he tried – and failed – to suppress. The redness in his cheeks. He was perfect. “Oh?”

“I wanted to know you were… okay.” Gods, the way he was looking at her made Musa want to close the space between them and never let him go. But she needed to know. It would eat at her until she had an answer, so she dove. “Why’d you do it?”

“Huh?” He cocked his brow curiously. He couldn’t possibly be that daft? What could she possibly be asking about besides him using his body as a shield?  

“Why’d you jump in front of me?” she demanded, her patience already starting to thin.  

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! Riven, you could have died! You…” almost did. Musa stopped herself from saying it aloud. She didn’t know if Riven knew he’d been on the brink of death and, frankly, she didn’t want to think about that. One of the advantages – and occasional disadvantages – of having sound-based powers was that her hearing was so much stronger than the average person’s; she could hear the faintest of sounds with enough concentration. Like a heartbeat. Like his. Loud and erratic at this moment, but faint and barely existent after he’d fallen. Musa had no idea how he’d survived, only that somewhere in the background the spell that had been put on Bloom went away, there’d been a bright glowing light in Musa’s peripheral vision and then Riven’s heart had started to gain strength.  

“So could you. Just let it go, Musa” he bit back. The fucking goddamn stubborn asshole.  

“No! I need to know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Riven started to walk away from her, but she was determined not to let him. She would have her answer. She needed her answer. Maybe that made her as stubborn as him – no, it definitely did – but she was known for being stubborn and she was fine with that. Musa stepped in front of him, blocking him from the path that would lead back to the courtyard.

“It does matter!”

“No.”

“Yes, Riven. We... I...” Her voice started to break and it took a few seconds before she managed to finish the sentence. Musa would usually do everything she could to avoid someone knowing how sensitive and emotional she really was, but frankly, she was past caring now. Riven had already seen her break before anyways. And she wanted him to know how much she cared and how worried she’d been. “I could’ve lost you.”

“Well, you didn’t” he dismissed with a shrug. There was no way he could be so careless with his life. It infuriated her to think that being moments away from death was something he took so nonchalantly.

“But I could have!”

“But you didn’t so it doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you being so fucking stubborn? I just want to know why you thought that jumping in front of me was-”

“Musa! For fuck’s sake. Just drop it” Riven snapped. She’d never had him snap at her before – Stella, Brandon, Sky (multiple times), even Timmy once. Never her. His snapping didn’t scare her, but rather fueled her and made her more determined to get an answer.

“No! Just fucking tell me instead of shutting me out. You risked your life for me. Why? I need to know; I deserve to know. You have no idea how much knowing that you could’ve died for me has been eating at me. How much-”  

“It’s because I’m in love with you!” Riven��s eyes went wide as soon as the words slipped out. He opened his mouth to speak - to backtrack or explain – but no words came out. Musa was so surprised by the outburst – and more specifically, it’s content – that she had to take a step back to steady herself. Her jaw dropped and she tried to form a coherent thought, but she couldn’t.

He loves her.  

He’s in love with her.  

Riven is in love with her.  

“I... I have to go.” Riven took off through the gate at much faster speed than she’d anticipated from someone who’d been seriously injured not even two weeks ago. Musa allowed herself a few seconds to blink away the residual shock, something that she regretted once she realised that he was out of her line of sight by the time her head was clear.  

“Fuck” she muttered before taking off after him. She followed the path for a few hundred meters before deciding that she wasn’t going to find him on foot; that, knowing Riven, he’d probably strayed off the path specifically to make it harder for her to find him.  

Ignoring her frustrations with Riven and his inability to face any potentially emotional or uncomfortable moments, Musa took to the skies. She forced herself to focus on what he had said – even if it had been blurted out. I’m in love with you. The butterflies in her stomach still fluttered to life every time she thought about it – and she’d been replaying the moment in her mind the entire time she’d been walking.  

It shouldn’t have surprised her that she found him sitting at their spot. A small clearing in the middle of the forest – about a half hour walk from both Alfea and Red Fountain – with a ledge that overlooked the lake. Musa had found it last year after a fight with Stella that had resulted in her storming away. Riven had known about it for years before, using it as sanctuary anytime he needed peace for most of his teen years, if not all, she wasn’t entirely sure. They’d met here multiple times over the last year. Most of the time it hadn’t been on purpose, they’d just both happened to need space from the people around them. And what better way to be away from others than together.  

Musa landed behind him as quietly as she could. She wanted a few seconds to admire him. She wanted to admire the broadness of his shoulders and the sculpt of his body. The way his maroon hair slicked back and the baby hairs tickled the nape of his neck. She admired his high cheekbones and angular chin. Finally, his soft, full lips. Gods, she wanted to kiss those lips so badly.  

The lips of the man that loves her.  

“Riven…” Musa stepped forward tentatively, changing out of her fairy form and back into the loose black pants and baggy cropped red t-shirt she’d thrown on haphazardly that morning. She saw the way his shoulders tensed, but he didn’t answer so she sped up. When she reached him, she sat in front of him, folding her legs under her. “Riven?”

His hands were balled into fists that he tapped on the ground nervously as he refused to meet her eyes. Musa reached her hands out and grabbed his, forcing them open so that they would hold hers back. She requested that he look at her. When he didn’t, she pulled her hand out of his grip – he’d been surprisingly quick to take her hand given how adamant he was about avoiding her gaze – and gently turned his head to look at her. “Look at me, Riven” she said in a forceful voice that denied the gentility of her touch.

“I-“ he started.

“I love you, too.”  

“Really?” The surprise in his voice nearly broke her heart. She knew Riven came with a whole slew of issues, but she was still surprised that cocky, arrogant Riven didn’t deem himself worthy of being loved. But regardless of what he thought, he was loved.

By her.  

She loved him.  

She was in love with him.

“Gods help me, yes, really. I love you.” Saying it felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d been in love with him for so long now and, until recently, she never thought she’d get to tell him. Part of her wanted to the moment they first kissed in the Wildlands, but she knew how comfortable he was with emotion – that was, not at all – and she didn’t want to scare him away so she said nothing.  

Riven’s hand pulled away from hers and he brought it up to touch her cheek. He’d given her no sign of relationship – they had to be in one now, right? – in public, so she was always surprised when he was soft in private. Especially the first kiss – after she’d confessed her feelings for him in what, she was willing to admit, was probably the worst timed confession ever – when they were packing up their stuff on the beach. She’d pulled him aside, driven to talk to him about the confession by Brandon’s silent nagging, but realised when she had him in front of her that no words would explain her feelings properly, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment for a song. So, she kissed him. He responded positively, so she took that as her sign to pull him in more. The kiss was wonderful, but more so was the way everything about him softened – his eyes, his touch, his posture, everything. Like he had so much love to give, he just needed someone willing to receive it.  

This time was different. Riven was the one to initiate; he was the one to use his hand to bring her head forward. There were no words to describe the way she lit up when they kissed – her lips, her mind, her heart, body and soul; all of her felt like it was coming to life after an eternity of nothingness.  

The hand on her cheek slid into her hair, deepening the kiss. Riven’s other hand slid out of hers and landed on the small of her back. With very little effort on his part, he pulled her more and more into him until she was straddling his lap and pressed up against him. Musa brought her hands up to rest on his chest, sliding one of them up to wrap her arm around his neck and pull him closer, if it was even possible.  

When they pulled apart for air, Musa rested her forehead against Riven’s. Violet met blue in the sweetest gaze. Musa offered Riven a gentle, sincere smile that he returned, making her heart turn to love-struck mush. They stayed like that for a few minutes until he spoke.  

“Did you mean it?” he whispered so low that she almost missed it.  

“I do. I love you, Riven.” Musa planted a kiss on his forehead that made him smile even wider. His arm moved down her body to wrap around her waist so that she was fully locked into his embrace. Riven had never looked so genuinely happy and at-ease in the two years she’d known him and it warmed her to know she was the one that made him feel like that. His forehead and eyes found hers once more as he whispered: “I love you, Musa.”

[yinses]

meticulously

| you just needed him to do this one thing … then you wouldn’t ask for anything more | sukuna ryomen rating: 18+

a/n: we only accept au sukuna in this nandos. my second longest work to date and its sukuna.

maybe it was because you were tired of hearing it all.

about how you were such a good girl. so ambitious and focused on your studies. they made it seems so honorable that you were willing to put boys on the back burner in order to achieve your goals.

as if you had a choice.

as if you weren’t a timid little thing who incidentally teased the edges of something before falling back the recesses of your comfort zone. how many apps had you applied for only to waste the time of yourself and others. those sites were never meant to find true love- just conveniently hook ups to release pent up stress.

and you had a lot of it.

so maybe that's why you decided that it was okay to have a little more to drink tonight- to wander further from your friends into the wilderness. you could have one day to make a bad decision and face the consequences for it.

clubs were never your thing which was likely another reason why you were in this drought.

it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, as old habits die hard. every so often you were approached with promises of drinks and suggestive conversation. and each one you shied away from and earned a scoff before they already started in pursuit of their next challenge.

it was possible that you were doing it wrong. you lacked the confidence to just ask for what you wanted, mostly because you didn’t know.  play coy, they told you, make them do the work for you.

so you find yourself on the dance floor instead with a new strategy. lost among the masses with the bass thrumming in your veins. here there would be no room for talk.

it only takes one song for you to feel him behind you. he doesn’t whisper sweet things in your ear. instead, his hands start at your hips, just a brush of touch to see how you react. when you don’t move away, he pulls you close and moves your hips in slow circles.

you’re immediately attracted to his confidence. in the way he guides your hand upward, instead of lower, encouraging your hand to grip at the short of his hair. the angle it provides is an open invitation for him to begin placing open mouthed kisses up the length of your neck. when he reaches your ear he pauses, and you hear the dark timber of his voice.

“i saw you turning away all those little boys earlier. what are you looking for, kitten?”

kitten. you shiver at the name.  main characters in novels always turned into a giddy mess over the pet name, losing themselves to the velvety whispered promises and underlying possession. the name brought more of a thrill than anything else; to know that he had been watching you in the distance.

you fight the urge to turn, wanting to stay in the moment for as long as you could. for some reason, like this, you think you could become the person he thinks you are. someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t accept anything less. back at the bar, men asked you too many questions and allowed the opportunity for your insecurities to bleed through.

like this, you only needed to admit one thing.

“i want you.”

its stupid and reckless. he could be a list of anything dangerous yet you advanced him to the top of the list. it was too early to tell but you hope he could be the one. then all of of the little details wouldn’t matter. you were here to lose your first time, not remember it.

you don’t expect him to use the grip on your hips to turn you, the sudden shift and lingering alcohol leaving you disoriented for a moment.

he was tall, though you had judged so from the reach it took to curl your fingers into his nape. the hair you had been blindly acquainted with turned out to be an unusual pale shade of pink. but it worked for him, and the interesting accompaniment of vermillion eyes. you were just starting to account the black lines of dark ink peeking from under his sleeve when his voice drew your attention back to his face.

his grin was telling. he wanted you to take him in because he knew you’d like what you saw. he doesn’t even need to ask. it was too early to tell if he was calling your bluff or enabling it.

he brings his mouth down to hover above yours, lips brushing as he speaks,”so your place or mine?”

this is what you needed, no thoughts beyond what your bodies could offer. this was the man who would take your virginity.

the first sign of hesitance you show is when offering your home. it was close enough to the campus and your neighbors would hear your scream if your ignorance turned out to be your undoing. he agrees, naturally, because why would he turn down a willing lay?

your fingers fumble quickly and shakily as you quickly text your friends that you’re bringing someone back. the answers vary from concern, to disbelief, to excitement and back to apprehension. ultimately, your roommates agree to leave the apartment to you for the night but vow to turn up first thing in the morning.

all the while, his hand is at the small of your back as he guides you towards the entrance. the icy cold air that hits you when you step outside is unkind to the thin sheen of sweat you’d accumulated. the price paid to look good rarely came cheap. the heat radiating from behind you was less of a comfort and more of a reminder as you shift from foot to foot in wait for a taxi.

“ names’ sukuna.”

it came as a jest rather than to inform. the way your eyes widen in realization proving that you’d skimmed over that step unintentionally. the men prior had offered it up without prompting as if it as their key trait in the introductions. while you’d grinded on this man for nearly two songs and hadn’t even thought to ask.

you stumble over your own name and his grin widens further.

he leans close enough for your visible breaths to mingle.

“you’re so fucking cute, kitten. i can’t wait to unwrap you.” 

and then he was kissing you senseless.

he tastes of whiskey and menthol, a savory smokiness that would be a lingering flavor for hours to come. there was a unique sense of excitement that came from kissing a stranger. the anxiousness blurred the lines between your thoughts and emotions. his tongue met yours and swept it into a fast, claiming pace.

just when your hands rose to find purchase on his shirt, the incoming headlights fanned against your joined bodies. sukuna, the apparent level-headed one, pulled away for you.

“don’t worry, we’ll have plenty to explore soon.”

sukuna surprisingly does not encroach on your space in the back of the taxi. his arm rests comfortably along the back of your seat, but his fingers don't chase the easy access to the back of your neck there. it makes you annoyingly anxious as your knee jumps in place. you refrain from looking at him in the corner of your eye already knowing what awaits you on his lips.

the remainder of the drive is short and uneventful.it takes less than ten minutes between the club and the arrival at your front door. you impress yourself with the lack of tremors as you fit your key into the door and welcome you into your home.

the light from the kitchen highlights only what you need to make it to your bedroom without injury. too many had happened before that became habitual prior to any night out.

there is a rattle in your spine as you carefully pull one shoe off than the other. its an action that you take your time with as you gather your thoughts. when you look back at him, he hasn’t wandered a step from the entrance, though his gaze travels where the light allows. at the feel of your gaze he cocks a brow,”i’m waiting on you kitten.”

right.

this was happening.

you’d made it this far.

tilting your head, you lead him to your bedroom without another word. you’re thankful that your widow sits in view of the night sky, taking the place of any artificial light you might have to provide.

every muscle is as stiff as a board as you toss your shoes into a corner. your mouth opens to stupidly point out that this is your room.

sukuna laughs, because why wouldn’t he after learning the mysterious vixen not only had a name but was a timid little thing. still he didn’t cater to your anxiety nor did he allow it to slow his pace.

his arms flex as he reaches behind himself to pull at his shirt from the tag. you’d caught glimpses of his tattoos in the darkness of the club without really looking, but you haven't been able to connect the lines of a pseudo sleeve. the double bands circle both wrists and biceps with encompassing circles swirling around his shoulders. it was a simple yet uniform pattern. you could just see the beginning of another figure curing from behind his neck as well.

“i’m starting to think that i should just be flattered when you get quiet like that.”

his hand makes itself home again at your waist as he walks you backwards until the edge of your bed knocks against the back of your knees. sukuna keeps you from falling back while his fingers go to curl at the hem of your dress.

“it’s only fair,” he says in your ear, as if the removal of his shirt was any kind of equivalence.

he helps you along the way, or maybe makes it worse as he starts to kiss your neck. his hands slide along every new available inch of skin from your thighs to your navel. he shamelessly cups your bra, squeezing the mounds in appreciation.

sukuna pulls away to rid you of the dress entirely. before you can adjust to the loss, he leans back in to unhook your bra as an afterthought.

he grins when you immediately bring your arms over your exposed chest,”don’t be shy. this is what you wanted, right?”

you don’t miss the implied probe behind the tease. it's faint but it’s comforting to know he’s still seeking consent and it eases a bit of your anxiety.

it makes you pliant enough for him to cup the backs of your thighs and lie you back against the sheets. though the moment your bare skin comes in contact with the sheets with his broad form hovering over you, all the brief conviction shrivels up.

your hands curl into the bedding for leverage when his weight is suddenly there to ease you back down. his arms slip around you to anchor you in place, pinning you under the hard warmth of his chest. his lips meet your ear, tongue sliding along the shell,” these mixed signals are going to get old real quick, kitten. “

there is a warning there but you don’t know what exactly it alludes too. how could you when you’d invited a complete stranger into your home.

but sukuna seems to know what to look for, eyes carefully watching the way you shy away from his touch yet draw yourself back on your own. he’s attune to the push and pull, seeming to understand the paradoxical conundrum that you’d drug him into.

you can just barely catch the cut of his smile in the darkness,”are you a virgin, kitten?” he asks, voice light and cool.

the way his body is keeping you in place makes it impossible for you to curl in on yourself, your embarrassment left on display.

“oh baby, if you let me, i’ll take good care of you.”

and how could you not agree to that?

he swallows your affirmation, tongue pushing into your mouth and making you groan.

“ ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

his hands slide between the apex of your thighs to cup you, digits gliding along your covered slit. two fingers from his other hand press against the aperture of your mouth with the single command to suck.

you only hesitate briefly, tongue flicking out to taste the salt from his fingers. his impatience grows in the moment, idly feeding you a few inches until your lips hollow to stop him before he can reach the back of your throat. it feels more like a sloppy mess than anything remotely sexy as you drool around him, sucking harder to contain the wetness.

but sukuna seems to eat up the attention, idly thrusting in and out when he can. “you’re such a good learner,” he praises with hoarseness.

a garbled squeak manages to leave you as the elastic of your panties is pulled from your hips. you can feel the stick trail connecting you to the fabric, but seeing it is a whole new wave of mortification.

sukuna is able to tug them down to your ankles before your legs can lock up. “don’t be shy. i love filthy girls like you.“ your nerves jump to attention when he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit. “i can work with this.”

you gasp, lips losing their grip on his fingers, as you press your head back against the pillow. heat rises in the low of your stomach, a sensation that you’d never been able to achieve on your own. he starts with a single digit, easily making its way through your passage with the slick provided. his fingers crook in search of an ideal angle, making a sound of encouraging praise when you keen and rock your hips down for more.

your lashes flutter with the effort of keeping them open as he manipulates friction against your sex.without warning, he adds a second finger in alongside the first,”kitten you have no idea how happy i am that you grinded back against me on that dance floor.” the introduction allows for a scissoring action as he tests the stretch of your walls.

you’re happy to have the flat to yourself as the next whimper shatters your coherency, snapping any restraint that you had on your volume. sukuna chuckles at your cry, flexing his touch to reach new depths.

“i really wanted to see what you could do with your mouth but i don’t think i can wait.”

he gives one last swipe against the tackly mess before he fumbles with his belt. you don’t get offended when he only drops his pants far enough to free his cock. its distracting enough watching him stroke himself idly to fullness. sukuna harbors no shame as he cants his hips, fucking into the tight circle of his fist.

he pulls his wet fingers from your lips and you swallow around the absence.

you’re immediately grateful when he pulls out a condom, uncaring when the empty foil packet gets lost on your floor.

sukuna can feel the tightness as he palms your hip and positions himself at the stretch of your entrance.

“don’t go getting all nervous on me. i went through such a great deal to prepare you for this.”

his hand slides past your naval to grip your breast, rolling the hardening peak with his thumb. the lack of attention they’d received thus far acts as enticing interference.

he still doesn’t go for the unanticipated approach, keeping you vaguely aware by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

it’s still easier said than done as all the reddit and gossip forums come reeling back the the forefront. you hadn’t even thought to get a towel, what if there was a lot of blood- too much? should you have gotten painkillers ?

above you sukuna tsks and you jolt from the sharp pain of him cruelly pinching your nipple. when you go to protest, he merely gives you a look, holding your gaze while his head drops take the abused bud into his mouth.

when he gives a particularly hard suck you know what’s coming as his hips roll up against you.

he’s big. of course he’s big given that he’s your first and all that you’ve had prior to your own fingers are his. sukuna expresses a show of kindness that you weren’t expecting with the initial push, as he uses his grip to ease himself in slowly.

it still burns; the uncomfortable stretch as he drags the friction of his cock past the slick barrier. but its not thee sharp punch you were expecting even before the base meets your pelvis. your hand darts up to smack against the hard flat of his stomach to stop him there but the centimeters separating you were barely negligible.

his mouth pops off of your breast with a wet sound as you pant, squeezing experimentally around the width of him. it was more manageable than you were anticipating, and you adjust your hips in another trial. the movement pulls a sharp hiss from his lips and his fingers clamp down tighter at the curve of your waist.

his vermillion eyes are no longer slits of concentration, now blown wide to contain the depth of lust simmering there. there is a shudder a he holds himself back from fucking into you. “if you’re done playing, i’d like to fuck you now.”

instinct drives you to reach around him, nails gripping traction around his shoulder blades as he grates his hips. the motion starts the first thrusts of many as sukuna introduces you to the truest definition of fucking.

its gradual, the way he picks up speed, introducing each part of you to himself before overpowering the nerves with a firmer touch.you should be embarrassed by the broken sounds leaving your mouth, but you can hardly remember your own name let alone decency.

sukuna on the other hand, relishes in the way he fucks you stupid, taking each bite of your nail and shattered speech with pride. “you have the prettiest fucking mouth for a virgin.”

it was impossible to accept the praise with the way he was knocking the sense from you with each thrust. he made it feel so good. all of it. from the inclination to the way he filled you up.

he continues to slam inside, breathing barely affected by the effort of pulling you apart at the seams. god he just doesn’t shut up. and you don’t want him too. they way he can make you hang from each word. 

you don’t know how he can handle words with all the smugness oozing from is lips, “i know you wouldn’t know the difference. but they’re typically so quiet- biting their lip and shit as if they’d scare away their own orgasm.”

“but not you baby. you fucking speak to me.” its not the kind of praise you were expecting but you latch on to it anyway. his arm comes around your waist and brings you forward to pin against his frame.

you don't know what possesses you to do so, mayve its the new proximity,  but your hands cup his face and bring his lips to meet yours. sukuna doesn't fight the action but his attention is elsewhere as your head bobs with the effort of keeping your mouths attached. ultimately it's the sharpness of your teeth against his bottom lip that prompts him to participate.

his tongue shoves past your lips to twist with yours. then he angles his hips just so and you sob. its an epiphany for you but its exactly what sukuna was looking for as he aims there again, and again, abusing that little patch of tissue that makes you witness nirvana.

sukuna drops a hand between your bodies to pass a thumb over your clit. he smirks when you jolt, still managing a perfect enunciation of your name even as his hips lose rhythm.

“all i need you to do tonight is come. can you do that for me, kitten?”

and you can, even without his instruction as your legs come up to squeeze around him despite the tremors. hot pleasure radiates up your spine from the source, washing over you in waves as you spill around him. it feels incredible to finally be able to let go. fuck, you don’t know if anything else will be like this first time. but you’re damn sure not going to forget it anytime soon.

even as your body falls pliant, sukuna keeps the pace as he chases his own release. the beginnings of bruises protest at your hips as he pounds a fragment tempo until he stills. the groan he lets out nearly brings you to a second orgasm as the sound shakes your body.

you’re thankful that he has enough energy to unhinge your legs from his hips, laughing to himself at the little trembles they give off. the act of him leaving you is a strange sensation to describe. despite the beating it took, your cunt still tries to hold him in.

it naturally earns you a crass comment as he uses the edge of your comforter to wipe himself down,”kitten, i don’t think you could handle another round of me.” you don't want to think about where he tossed the condom, just hoping that it was within the vicinity of the trashcan. but that was something future you would have to worry about.

you don’t offer him a place to stay and he doesn’t give you the opportunity to do so.

present you was starting to learn a new type of soreness as you gathered your legs against your chest and bring the blankets around your body. there wasn’t much of a delay as sukuna got dressed, tracing back his steps easily to his discarded shirt and tucking himself away long the way.

when he looks back at you, you must look like a child snuggled away for the night.

his looks at you with silent consideration. it was finally time to conduct the awkward ‘thank yous’ before the two of you parted ways forever. but at least it wasn’t you taking the walk of shame. though you don’t think it will be sukuna either with the swagger still linger in his step. 

it’s the blatant admission that you weren’t expecting, “ i like you. so i’ll leave my number for another time.”

that is not how a one night stand should end.

sukuna assumes you can’t handle the basic technological skill of adding his contact to your phone and proceeds to write it instead on the planner board posted by the door. it’s written so big you can just make out the numbers from the bed.

“be sure to call when you think you can handle me at my best.”

you wait, listening for the front door to click shut in his departure before you fall back against your bed. you should really be changing the sheets but you cant bring yourself to do more than roll onto your side.

you did it.

finally experienced all the gossip and jazz everyone talked out. 

and now you could focus and get back on track.

without prompt, your gaze drifted over to the dry erase board. sukuna had completely disregarded the individual squares dedicated to different days and messily scrawled his information between two weeks. it was a direct representation of the chaotic energy he gave off.

you would just clean it up in the morning along with any other remnants of this night.

...

or perhaps you could save as a sort of emergency contact.

you’d just discovered a new source of therapy after all. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

IDEAS THAT ARE BOUNCING AROUND IN MY HEAD ATM:

This is the The New List!! I’ve kept the original List post, but deleted everything on it other than a Link here, so hopefully that should stop the confusion :D

I’ve deleted all of the old votes in my inbox, because the prompts will have new numbers, so start sending in votes again pls lads!!

I am keeping a list of no-longer considered prompts in my drafts, just in case I change my mind at some point :)

My Masterlist!

Freylin fic!! Will probably be a 5+1 fic or something similar, just Freya being generally badass and saving the day and Merlin standing back going “That’s my fucking wife!! Go wife, go!”. Will almost certainly include The Gang finding out that Merlin is consort to a Goddess and going 😮 (Funny, fluffy, maybe a touch of angst (when talking about how Freya is like… technically dead), but mostly just happy cutesy).

Some sort of sickfic, but I’m not sure yet. Apparently both my followers and I like traumatised/miserable Merlin and the Gang being protective😅😁 (angsty but with a happy ending in all likelihood). I GOT SENT AN IDEA FOR THIS!! Merlin accidentally gets cursed into not being able to eat so basically begins to waste away until the Gang notice. LOTS of angst, with an eventual immortality/magic reveal ending, that is also happy and fluffy and Merthur-y. (More detailed outline Here!)

Hunith shows up in Camelot crying and covered in blood. A raid happened in Ealdor (for like the first time in decades, because it’s so far away from the Essetirian Capital), but the guards saw Merlin doing magic and took him. Arthur walks in on the initial conversation, sees Hunith all bloody and crying and assumes the worst. Hunith begs Gaius to just tell him the truth (about Merlin’s magic). A rescue mission is mounted, lots of torture and blood and super angsty, but with a happy/hopeful ending.

Merlin gets lost in the woods and accidentally (and unknowingly) convinces a bunch of hunters that he’s a Fae. Funny hijinks and oblivious Merlin and cute animals!! Probably short and crack-y.

Part 3 of The Long Lost Prince AU, a 5/10 years later sort of thing just to finish things off.

Part 2 of Another Warlock?. The other knights are getting jealous because since when have Merlin and Leon been this close?? Magic is eventually legalised and the two of them have to come out with the truth. (Likely Merleon)

Merlyan reunion!! In which they already knew each other (very well) from years ago, and the others (especially Gwen) are baffled. Merlin and Elyan are entirely oblivious to everyone’s odd looks because they’re so wrapped up in catching up with each other and falling in love all over again. (COMPLETED)

Merlin knows, and is odd friends with his Grim Reaper, on account of how often he dies. She shows up early and Merlin is confused, but invites her along on whatever stupid quest the gang are out on. Merlin dies, Reaper reaps, the gang are terrified and confused except Lancelot who like… awkwardly nods at her as she wonders off with Merlin’s soul, saying “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Cue Immortal and subsequent magic reveal (more detailed outline here!)

Merlin figures out how he can turn Aithusa into a human toddler, and brings her to Camelot. He makes up some excuse about her being an orphan from Ealdor and not having the heart to leave her alone because no one in the village would really be able to care for her. Cue dragon-in-disguise shenanigans, and Merlin and Lancelot being dads. The knights fighting over who gets to be the favourite uncle. Lots of fluff (more detailed outline here!)

Arthur discovers Kilgharrah as a child, and the dragon becomes awkwardly fond (though he would NEVER admit it) of this incredibly lonely child and teaches him about the world. Several years later, Arthur and Merlin re-enact the Spiderman meme when they sneak down to Kilgharrah’s cave at the same time (more detailed outline here!)

Arthur is cursed into a child. Maybe a tad of angst in relation to child abuse, but mostly just awkward fluff. Merlin being the only one little Arthur will listen to, Arthur just generally being an adorable toddler, who 100% considers making it illegal for it ever to be brought up again when he turns back because of how embarrassed he is (more detailed outline here!)

Post magic reveal, Mordred and Merlin stop using Glamours to cover huge Druidic tattoos all over their torsos. They appear naturally on Warlocks and Witches as they hone their magic (though it is possible to stop it) and they see no point in hiding them now that magic is legal. Maybe Leon has a little cup of life somewhere on him, and Elyan has a memorial tree sort of thing, as small marks to the magic that had touched them? (more detailed outline here!)

Very OOC Uther enlisting Morgana’s help to get his dumbass kid to ask out his dumbass manservant because the pining is ridiculous and unbearable and distracting during meetings/training/tournaments/literally all of the time (more detailed outline here!) (Part 1 is COMPLETED, Part  2(final part) is COMPLETED)

5+1 of Arthur realising that his life got WAY easier when Merlin arrived (on account of him preventing most assassination attempts before they even reach the city, and organise Arthur’s entire life). Arthur follows him when he sneaks off and everything is revealed (more detailed outline here!) (COMPLETED)

Merlin gets zapped back in time by some sort of magical artefact. Cue angst of not knowing if this whole thing was a hallucination/illusion, or if it was actually real. Does he throw himself into making different choices and fixing things? Or does he throw himself into finding a way back to his original time, where his friends might still need help? I’m thinking LOTS of angst🤔 (more detailed outline here!)

Only just post-magic reveal, everyone is still suspicious of Merlin. The gang gets kidnapped or something and Merlin saves them without his magic, explaining that he taught himself to fight because he knew people (his friends specifically) would turn against him because of his magic, and he needed another way of defending himself. Everyone feels guilty, happy ending. (More detailed outline here!)

Leon knows about Merlin’s magic, and subtly helps from the side lines thinking that Arthur already knows (he doesn’t). Merlin is entirely oblivious until right at the end where everyone just goes😮 (more detailed outline here!)

Dragon Lord and Magic reveal where the gang get kidnapped, and Merlin’s protective Dragon side shows itself in a rather aggressive way. (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin sneaks out of the city to meet with Morgana just after she’s gone evil. He convinces her (and Morgause) to run away with him to set up their own safe, magical Kingdom in the now empty Perilous Lands. Arthur of course has followed him out and overhears this conversation, but doesn’t say anything when Merlin “goes missing”. The gang finally come to find him in the perilous lands a year or so later, and he’s a BAMF King who rips into Arthur. Slightly angst I suppose, but also satisfying.

Reincarnation story, except when Merlin sees everyone dripping wet and confused in his front garden, he goes a bit nutso, and is convinced he’s hallucinating (again). He calls Mordred panicking, who was only 5 minutes away from home anyway (NOT Merdred), who arrives and goes “Oh shit. Merlin they’re real and I need to you tell them not to kill me real quick because they don’t look all that happy my guy”. (Mordred had been enchanted by Kara and Morgana, and is also immortal).

FIGHT CLUB MERLIN!!!! Gwaine convinces the knights that they should spend an evening at a (perfectly legal) fighting ring, (though he keeps where exactly they’re going a secret until they get there) for funsies, and everyone is shocked as HELL to see Merlin taking part (after previously stating he can’t come to whatever shenanigan Gwaine has planned, because he’s busy running errands for Gaius). He kicks ASS and lies about it the next day. No one knows quite what to do about it. FUNNY!!! (COMPLETED).

Arthur comes back from a hunt and has to tell everyone that they were ambushed by bandits, and Merlin didn’t make it. No one questions his odd behaviour because they figure he’s just grieving, UNTIL Merlin’s Death Echo (stuck in one emotion, can’t move on due to a traumatising death) shows up in the throne room and reveals to everyone that Arthur killed him. Merlin, who is immortal, shows up to destroy the Echo and take back that part of his soul, but the damage is already done, everyone knows what Arthur did. (COMPLETED!! IT’S SO ANGSTY!!!)

Merlin, at his sorcery trial, is possessed by a pretty scary God (Judge, Jury, Executioner style) who turns the trial around to be on Uther and Arthur. Uther gets sentenced to like... almost immediate death, and Arthur is given a chance, before the God vacates and Merlin goes😯

Druid festival post ban repeal, but pre reveal. The gang are invited, and the Druids sing a bunch of songs that various magical members of the gang slowly join in on, thereby revealing their magic. Cute and musical and fluffy!!

Arthur/Gwaine coordinated by a sneaky Merlin. The poetic irony of Gwaine falling in love with not only a Noble, but a King. And Arthur definitely needs some more fun chaos in his life, as opposed to life-threatening chaos. The others watch on in befuddlement at Merlin’s plan unfurls.

Arthur takes Merlin and a big group of knights into the woods for tracking and capture training. Meaning he gives Merlin an hour’s head start and whoever brings him back first wins. Except Merlin is sneaky, circles back to the camp, falls asleep in a tree, and only comes down when everyone is pacing around the camp, worried about where Merlin might’ve got to. Arthur is grumpy because... there wasn’t even supposed to be an option for Merlin winning, and he managed it anyway.

Arthur thinks he isn’t good enough for Merlin, with an Arthur scar reveal. He’s also worrying about Merlin leaving post magic reveal, to go to better lands, so tries various things to get him to stay (learning magic himself, forcing a title on him, etc). Merlin tells him to cut it out, he’s not going anywhere. Fluffy Merthur ending :)

Merlin and George (who knows about Merlin’s magic) are besties and it confuses Arthur to no end. Also makes him jealous, not that he’d ever admit that. (Merlin is like the bouncy puppy jumping circles around George, who is the mature, serious, kinda scary Big Dog. Though Merlin can definitely be scary as well, and no one knows that better than George.) (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin sees the magical community in discord, and works to bring them all (Druids, Catha, priests/priestesses, general sorcerers, etc) together. He’s sort of... wordlessly made their King, and no one tells Merlin this until the worst possible moment. (More detailed outline here!)

Balinor stayed in Ealdor, so the truth is revealed when Arthur and Merlin go hunting for the Dragon Lord (because Arthur has briefly met Merlin’s father before). Balinor Lives AU :) (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin starts making himself invisible to help out more easily when the gang gets attacked. Jokes and rumours start flying around about the ghost that’s protecting Arthur. Lance and Mordred think it’s hilarious and only encourage it, Merlin is really weirded out by it. (More detailed outline here!)

Hunith as an incredibly abusive mother AU!! The gang are talking about their childhoods, and Merlin avoids the questions because “ah, my childhood was kind of a bummer, I don’t wanna bring the mood down”. This is post magical reveal, and they eventually get Merlin to talk about some of the things that happened. The others are understandably horrified, cue everyone feeling SUPER guilty because they had all previously really loved Hunith, and hadn’t picked up on how subdued and tense Merlin is around her. (More detailed outline here!) (COMPLETED)

Lots of changing curses (sex change/body swaps/age changes). Morgana, Gwen, and Gaius think it’s hilarious, the knights and Merlin do NOT. (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin has amnesia, and has no idea who he is or who anyone else is either. He’s still sort of got that mindset of “don’t trust anyone” in his head, so he just... doesn’t tell anyone. He relies on muscle memory and context clues to get by until the others figure out that... whatever this thing is, it isn’t the real Merlin. It is, Merlin just doesn’t know what that means. Kinda angsty but happy ending :)

Merlin regularly shapeshifts to protect Arthur/his friends, when he isn’t allowed to go with them for whatever reason. Rumours about Camelot’s albino protectors (a pure white stag, hare, fox, wolf, hawk, etc) start spreading, and it’s considered bad luck to try and hunt them. They always get a respectful nod from knights, and no one figures it out until years after the reveal. (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin, Mordred, and Morgana are the ultimate petty magical trio, who, both before and after the ban repeal, use their magic to fuck with people they don’t like. Pretty hefty Merleon because I like the idea of Leon just having to resign himself to this happening, whether he likes it or not. (More detailed outline here!) (COMPLETED)

Merlin is possessed by a spirit (it’s not good, not evil, just sorta... there), who hangs around in Merlin’s head. He doesn’t control Merlin or anything, just pokes around in his mind and goes “holy shit bro... you live like this?” and keeps tryna convince Merlin to demand more self respect and do things for himself every one in a while. There’s a big kerfuffle about getting it out of Merlin’s head, but the two of them are actually kind of fond of each other and don’t want to separate. (More detailed outline here!)

Soulmate AU where soulmates share skills to a slightly lesser extent. Arthur can do a little sorcery (which he has to hide from EVERYONE) and is really good at sneaking around (and climbing trees, weirdly enough) and Merlin is decent enough with a sword (not that he found that out until years later) and can read and write, despite never being taught. (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin has a screaming-crying-magical explosion breakdown in the woods after ten years of his destiny not going anywhere. The gang had followed him out and see this, unknown to Merlin. Kilgharrah arrives to comfort him and offers to take Merlin far away, to forget all about Arthur and Camelot and destiny, and Merlin all but agrees. Kilgharrah puts Merlin to sleep and then rips into the gang, and tells them that whether Merlin stays or goes is entirely up to him, and if they wake up in Camelot in the morning to find him still there, they should consider themselves extremely lucky. VERY angsty, but protective Kilgharrah and remorseful everyone else, with a hopeful ending me thinks. (Part 1 is COMPLETED, Part 2 is COMPLETED, Part 3(final part) is COMPLETED!!)

Merlin meets with Morgause, they’re more frenemies than actual enemies, but Merlin is kinda scary. Arthur had followed him and sees this. SHORT because I have no plot outside of the conversation between Merlin and Morgause that I want to write.

Arthur as a Witcher AU!!! (More detailed outline here!)

Morgana and Merlin as Gods who are playing with destiny as if it were a game. I’m thinking just Mordred follows Merlin out to see what he’s up to, and finds him meeting with Morgana to bicker about who’s “winning” over drinks. Mordred is very scared and confused and doesn’t really know who he can go to with this. There won’t really be an ending, just heavily implied angst, similar to the Evil!Merlin Version of Not what He Seems :)

Merlin has been on Morgause’s side since before he even came to Camelot, and had subsequently recruited Mordred and Morgana. Very short, very angsty, but also kinda satisfying, if you consider Arthur/Uther/Camelot the bad guys.

MERGWEN THE BABY IS COMING AU!!!! With a background rare-pair just because I wanted to :D. Merlin and Elyan (and Gwen) being besties! (Based on the Mergwen section of This Headcanon)

VERY short hurt/comfort in the aftermath of some sort of attack leaving Merlin permanently blind. Arthur has to learn to be more expressive, because Merlin can no longer read his body language/facial expressions, and it’s just Arthur comforting him afterwards with a hopeful ending. Already post magic reveal, so Merlin can use magic to get around just fine, but going blind is still a big deal, and using magic to sense where the steps are is not the same as being able to see a meadow.

Merlin reacts with anger, instead of sadness when Gaius reveals who his father is. Arthur overhears Merlin yelling some pretty hefty things at him “You are a liar and a coward and you should’ve burned with our kin” and privately goes “oof”. He asks Merlin about it later, Merlin explains vaguely but Arthur is a smart boy who figures it out. Another Balinor lives AU.

Leon has no idea why Merlin is storming out of the castle, followed by a FURIOUS Arthur. Merlin tells him to fuck off, punches him in the face, quits, and continues to storm off... Leon is sure as hell gonna find out what that was all about. (A few weeks after the repeal, Merlin reveals his magic, Arthur is angry at the lies, and Merlin has some self-respect). (This is one of my favourites, purely because I fully intend to write the words “Respectfully, My Lord, eat shit and die” into it) Fluffy Merthur ending. (COMPLETED)

3 times Merlin saves a patient, +1 time he can’t. Just about Merlin growing as a Physician, with a lot of fluffiness, and then a smidge of angst, and then lots of comfort from Arthur and a random Guard and Gaius. (COMPLETED)

Arthur walks in on Merlin in the Physician’s chambers in the morning, but he gets super nervous and is evidently trying to get The King to leave. Arthur just ignores him and sticks around to pester him until a very confused and... messy, Leon exits Merlin’s room. Merlin and Leon are mortified, Arthur has been waiting for this for ages and just takes the piss :D MERLEON!! (COMPLETED)

Roll reversal!! In which Arthur is the mother hen looking after everyone and panicking when they do stupid shit, and Merlin is the one doing/encouraging most of the stupid shit. MOVED TO HEADCANON LIST

Cinderella AU sort of!! Merlin and Arthur meet under very different circumstances! In which Merlin sneaks into a ball on a dare from Will, dressed in magically summoned fancy clothes. Arthur, who is sick and tired of his father trying to set him up, sees this weirdly good looking guy just shovelling his face at the snack table, instead of trying to seduce The Crown Prince, and sparks up conversation. They have fun, Merlin has no idea he’s the Prince and trash talks all of Camelot and their anti-magic laws and Uther and his dick of a son right to his face. They fall in love in a night, but Merlin has to run away and yadda yadda y’all know the rest. Happy ending :) (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin confiding in Lancelot about his love for Arthur, Arthur confiding in Leon about his love for Merlin, Lancelot and Leon have Wine Wednesdays where they complain about it and try to figure out how to get them together without betraying their trust (by just blurting out “you’re both in love with each other you gay motherfuckers”). (More detailed outline here!)

Arthur is somehow VERY stupid and VERY smart. He sees Dragoon, but recognises him as Merlin (the smart bit), and gets it into his head that Merlin has been cursed and the only way to break it is true love’s kiss (the stupid bit). Except Merlin returns to his room right as rain the next day and Arthur is sad because someone else is obviously Merlin’s true love. This happens a few times until both Arthur and Merlin go “wait, hold up”. 

Short crack where Arthur keeps giving Merlin clothes, and no can figure out why, until Mordred remembers that “Sorcerers like clothes”. Arthur is, in his own stupid way, trying to both make Merlin happy and let him know that he’s aware of the magic. (More detailed outline here!)

Merlin always taste tests Arthur’s food (the real reason he steals it all the time) and after years of it being fine, there is actually poison and Merlin almost dies and Arthur is angry and guilt and also Gay. 

Moana!AU!! Arthur as Moana, Merlin as Te Fiti/Te Ka, Freya as The Ocean, Gaius as Grandma Manta Ray, Leon as Maui. A very roundabout but cute happy-ending AU!! (More detailed outline here!!)

After Merlin tells Mordred the truth about his destiny of killing Arthur, Mordred swears a magical oath that, should he ever try to hurt Arthur, his own magic will turn against him. They then become besties, but magic reveal where Arthur rages and Mordred threatens him when he goes to hurt Merlin. Mordred’s own magic almost kills him, everyone thinks Merlin is a traitor (they think it’s the traitorous sorcerer’s fault that Mordred is in pain) until eventually everything gets sorted. Happy ending, but with some real tense moments. (More detailed outline here!)

The Knights ask Merlin just how close he and Morgana used to be (which they all find incredibly weird because, bar Leon, none of them met Morgana more than in passing before she went batshit insane). They push him too far and he decides he’s sick of lying. ULTRA angst, FORMER Mergana :( Everyone is super surprised, especially Arthur, but also sympathetic, because they can’t imagine how hard this has been.

Merlin is Tristan Du Bois’ son?? Making him Arthur’s cousin?? He came to Camelot knowing full well who he was, with the intention of killing Uther in revenge, but accidentally fell in love with someone (Gwen? Morgana? Leon?) and decided to give Arthur a chance. The Gang find out when they’re captured and the truth is revealed. Arthur isn’t too mad because his bestie is actually related to him!! :D

Merlin as a very unsettling Guardian angel, revealed by Morgause when everyone gets captured.

Really short fluff fic of Leon telling Arthur all about Igraine. Brotherly bonding and fluff :D

The gang sort through Lancelot’s room a few days after he dies, and discover that he had a secret partner. Merlin finally reveals that it was him when they find a certain something in amongst the stuff, and everyone feels like shit because... he’s been grieving alone and no one knew. Super angst, but also a fluffy part two in which they save Lance (something to do with the Shade and very strong magic).

Merlin taking a REALLY blasé attitude towards the magic reveal, in which the gang are talking about magic and how bad it is until he scoffs and goes “Y’all clueless, magic is common, useful, and loved everywhere except Camelot, you knobs”. Cue “... you grew up outside of Camelot, right? Can you do magic?”, which results in Merlin looking at them all dumbfounded, going “of course I can do magic?? I’m actually very good at it?? I use it every time I go home to help out my mum? Did you think I couldn’t do magic??!” and everyone is so taken aback that they just... leave that as it is.

FREYLIN!! In which Merlin manages to save Freya, and after a few years of sneaking away to visit her every couple of weeks, finally decides Fuck Destiny and Fuck Arthur and Fuck Camelot and runs away to live with her. Merlin manages to lift her curse and they get married and build their perfect little home and have a very adorable child, but it all comes crashing down when King Arthur and his closest knights, one of whom is very badly injured, stumble upon their home. Magic!! Love!! Reconciliation!!

MERLIN AND LEON HAVE ALREADY MET AU VERSION 1!!! When Merlin is a child, he gets lost in the woods, and a patrol of Camelot knights finds him. Young and kind squire Leon offers to take the child to the closest village, alone, and discovers his magic; he spares him and changes his mind about magic. When Merlin comes to Camelot years later, he’s got no clue who Leon is, but Leon knows him, and protects him from the sidelines. Super Fluffy!!! (More detailed outline here!)

MERLIN AND LEON HAVE ALREADY MET AU VERSION 2!!! When Leon is a young squire, he and his patrol come across a toddler doing magic in the woods. He is forced to help kill the child, and though he becomes secretly pro-magic, it haunts him for the rest of his life and he can’t forgive himself. Years later, Merlin comes to Camelot, and Leon can’t figure out why the younger man is so scared of him. SUPER angsty (and gory and triggering, like SUPER), but then with fluff at the end. There will be a reconciliation. (More detailed outline here!)

~

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As have both parts of This Prompt!! Part 1 <3

#32 HAS BEEN POSTED!! IT’S VERY ANGSTY GUYS SO READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS! #48 HAS ALSO BEEN COMPLETED!! UP NEXT IS PART 6 OF CONTROL!! :D

I’ve also added a cheeky few prompts on the end of The List!!

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Prompt: Veritaserum is one of the most powerful potions in the wizarding world, a few drops able to make the one who takes it to reveal their deepest secrets with no hesitation. So of course Fred and George learn how to make it for a prank, however it quickly backfires when they test it out on Y/N, who happens to have a crush on the older Weasley twin.

Warnings: swearing? Kind of angsty for like two seconds, That’s it really.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t written in so long, finals are kicking my ass and I barely have time to myself anymore. That being said, I hope you enjoy! This idea has been rattling around my brain for a while.

You sat in the Gryffindor common room, sipping hot coco and enjoying the rare silence as you read a book. You had just gotten to the end of your chapter when a pair of red haired boys walked in, interrupting your solitude.

“Hello Y/N” George greeted you, sitting in the open spot next to you, George following his movements on the other side of you.

“What do you want?” You asked, not looking up from your book. You could tell by Fred's’ tone that he was planning something, and you had no interest in being a part of it.

“Now dear Y/N, why do you think we want something from you?” Fred asked, having a very similar expression to his brother.

Instead of replying you simply gave Fred a look as if to ask ‘do I look stupid?’ Fred got the message and his face shifted from a fake casual look to a smile.

“You know us so well” He laughed, causing you to shake your head and close your book.

“Unfortunately” You sighed, putting your book to the side to give the boys your full attention.

In fact, you did know the twins well, almost better than they knew themselves. You had met them in your first year, and when you were sorted into Gryffindor, the three of you became inseparable, in fact, you were one of the only people who were able to tell them apart. However, you couldn’t deny that you and Fred spent a bit more time together, whether it be in class or on the quidditch pitch, you were constantly making each other smile and laugh, and you knew you could tell him anything. Well, except for the fact that you also happened to have a massive crush on him since fourth year. That would remain a secret.

You watched as the boys moved to sit on the couch across from you, now facing you with a similar smile on their faces.

“We have what could quite possibly be, the best prank in Hogwarts history” George said, trying to sell you on their idea, which you still haven't heard.

“What would you say” Fred started “if you could ask Snape any question you wanted. Anything from test answers to the color of his underwear-”

“Eww” You interrupted

“Exactly! The blackmail potential, the humiliation, the revenge. What would you say?” George finished looking at you.

“I would say you’ve both lost your marbles. Snape hardly speaks let alone confesses those types of things” You said

“But what if... We had a way to make sure he did” Fred asked.

You finally put the pieces together, your jaw dropping to the floor. “How did you-”

“Snape has a book of rare spells and potions” George started

“And we checked it out for the weekend” Fred finished.

“So you stole it” You stated

“More like borrowed, for educational purposes” Fred argued

“Its all set up. We’ll sneak it into his pumpkin juice before class, spread out the word and by second period tomorrow, we’ll have gotten revenge from all the torment. All you need to do, is make sure the potion works” George said, making your eyes widen.

“I’m not taking that!” You practically yelled. You trusted the boys to not ask you any questions that were too personal, that being said, there was still a lot of room for embarrassment, or for the potion to go completely wrong.

“Oh come on Y/N, worst case scenario it doesn’t work” George defended, but Fred could tell you still weren’t convinced.

“Hey” Fred said, leaning forward and gently grabbing your hand, squeezing it comfortingly “I promise we wouldn’t ask if there were risks that could hurt you”

You were to focused on containing the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach from Fred’s touch to notice how George looked between the two of you, or how he suddenly seemed to have an idea.

“Ok fine” You said, causing the two boys to cheer, before George turned and dug out a small glass vial from his bag.

“Two drops should do the trick” George said, adding a few drops of the liquid into your drink from earlier. 

You picked up the drink and eyed it, considering backing out but the thought of finally getting back at Snape for humiliating you, and so many others took over. Taking a breath, you finished your drink and set down the mug.

“How long until it starts working?” You asked after a few seconds, not feeling any different.

“It should take effect immediately” Fred said, looking at you for any sign of discomfort or change in mood. “What’s two plus two?”

“Four” You said

“You need to ask better questions than that! Something to prove she can only tell the truth” George said, turning his attention back to you “How old where you when you had your first kiss?”

“Fourteen” You said, surprised at how the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“What’s your most embarrassing story from Hogwarts?” Fred asked

“I once accidentally called Professor McGonagall mom in front of the entire class in first year... fuck you weren't supposed to know about that. Stop asking embarrassing questions you git!” You yelled at the older red head, who simply laughed and shook his head.

“No, I think this is quite fun actually” He said, before George continued.

The questions went on for a few minutes, asking you things from what your favorite color was, to the worst date you’ve ever been on, but finally, the two red heads seemed convinced.

“Alright, it seems like its working” George started, but the glint in his eye showed that he wasn’t quite finished yet. “Who do you have a crush on?”

You couldn’t cover your mouth fast enough. You couldn’t think to run away before the name was tumbling from your lips. You couldn’t do anything but sit and watch in horror, as you answered the question.

“Fred Weasley”

The room went dead silent, the only sound coming from the clock in the corner of the room. 

“Y/N I-” Fred started, but you stood up and ran out of the room before he could say anything else.

“I knew it!” George shouted with glee once you were out of earshot, causing Fred to whip his gaze to glare at his brother.

“George what the fuck!” Fred yelled, anger evident in his voice.

“What? You’ve been pining over her like a sad puppy for over a year. Now you finally know” George defended, watching as his older brother quickly stood to follow you.

You had ran as fast as you could, weaving through students and running through corridors before you finally found yourself sitting at a hidden spot by the black lake, finally letting the tears you had been fighting go.

You had liked Fred since fourth year. You had been yelled at in front of the whole class, and were so humiliated you skipped the rest of the school day. Fred had found you, and talked with you all day, making you laugh and smile, not leaving until you finally felt better.

Ever since then your feelings grew. This last summer, you had spent the summer at the Weasley’s and found it a bit hard to sleep one night. You had gone outside to watch the stars, and Fred had joined you. You spend hours talking about life, your futures, your friendships, and at one point, he had looked at you in a way that made you wonder if maybe your feelings weren't one sided. Now you could see that wasn’t the case.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching you. Without looking up, you already knew it was Fred. You were now sitting with your knees pulled into your chest, your chin resting on the tops of your knees as you looked out at the water.

“This spot taken?” Fred asked, motioning to the spot beside you. You didn’t answer, just shook your head, giving the boy permission to take a seat next to you.

“The potion should have worn off by now, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it anymore” Fred said softly, as if not to spook you.

“You don’t have to do this you know” You mumbles, still refusing to meet Fred’s eyes, who were now looking at you with confusion.

“Do what?” He asked

“Try and make me feel better. I know were friends and everything, but I know you don't feel the same way, and I’d really rather just be alone then pretend everything is ok between us.” You said, trying not to let anymore tears fall.

Fred heard these words and felt his heart break. Fred, unknown to you, had also shared your feelings. Your smile could light up any room. You were so unconditionally kind to everyone you met. Your laugh was his favorite sound, and he had made it his goal to try and hear it as often as possible. He had been trying to drop hints, flirtatious comments, or small gestures, and that one night at the burrow, where you were under the stars, he thought he had finally made it clear how he felt. Apparently not, and he didn’t want to waste any more time trying to be subtle.

“See, now I know the potion isn’t working anymore” Fred chuckled, causing you to look at him with a confused expression.

“What?” You asked

“I do feel the same way” Fred said softly

“Fred... you don’t have to say it if you don't-” You started

“Hold on” Fred interrupted, digging through his pocket and pulling out the same small vial from earlier, before tilting his head back and taking a swig. “Now ask me”

“Oh my god, Fred I-” You asked.

“Ask me who I have a crush on” Fred said simply.

“Fine... Who do you have a crush on Fred?” You asked quietly, almost afraid of what the answer would be.

“Y/N L/N” Fred answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

“You do?” You asked, a smile forming onto your lips.

“Yes” He replied, a smile growing across his face as well.

“Well why do you like me?” You asked, a hint of teasing to your voice.

“Well, you’re beautiful, you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met, you are so kind to everyone you meet, you’re super smart, you have a great ass- wait fuck that wasn’t supposed to come out” Fred said, about to continue but you kept him from going on by finally closing the space between you and pressing your lips to his.

Fred responded instantly, smiling into the kiss before moving his hands to your waist, while yours went to hold his face. You stayed like this for a moment, moving in sync with each other before finally pulling away for air.

“Told you I liked you back” Fred said, making you laugh before re connecting your lips but only for a moment.

“So I’m the funniest person you’ve ever met?” You asked.

“Yes... hey not fair!” Fred complained, making you laugh once again.

“Ok ok fine” You said, allowing Fred to reconnect your lips once again, before breaking away again.

“You think I have a great ass?”

“Yes- Y/N!”

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

A/N: Hiiiii! I hope you guys enjoyed! I’ll hopefully be writing more in the future since the school semester is slowing down a bit, but until then check out my other work if you want or leave a request. Thank you all for reading!

[attllhak]

Adoption AU: Midna

AKA: The one where Twilight got shot.

@tortilla-of-courage @ghostdragonace @sekiumiarashi @anadorablekiwi

Also, mind the tags for this one, since it is the fic where Twi gets shot I did look up the warnings list I gave my best friend when I shared it with them. It shouldn’t be too bad, but better safe than sorry.

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

Twilight wasn’t terribly happy about this arrangement. He understood what Keapora was trying to do, he did, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

It was a group project for their history class, about the French revolution. Everyone was assigned a historical figure to research, and at the end of two weeks they would need to present an argument on why their figure shouldn’t be executed. The class would vote, and if you lost then a carrot that Keapora’s daughter, Zelda, or Sun as his family called her since they knew so many Zeldas, dressed up to look like the figures would be executed. Twilight’s brother often helped her, and people didn’t usually survive since everyone loved watching Keapora execute carrot nobles with the tiny, functioning guillotine he had.

Twilight was one of the people that was really valuable in group projects because he actually did the work. He was especially sought after because he never made a big deal of it, unless the others did absolutely nothing, and even then he cornered the teacher after class instead of calling anyone out. Dusk, another Zelda, was another of these very valuable group project members. She was a little more vocal about being used, but only because she approached the teacher while class was still in and did so regardless of how little effort was put in. Twilight didn’t know Dusk personally, they didn’t run in the same circles very often, but they got along well enough.

Midna, however, was another story.

Midna was a foreign student, whose parents had immigrated not long after she was born. Her mother’s brother and his family moved with them. Twilight was more familiar with her, but only because they had ended up in the office for fighting once.

Not each other, they had never hit each other. In fact, they had been on the same side. The person they were fighting was Midna’s cousin Zant.

Zant was a grade above them, and a real piece of work. He thought because his family were immigrants that he could claim discrimination any time anyone wasn’t willing to do what he wanted. Plus, if you asked Twilight, he was just a bit loony, and every time he saw the guy he got a worse and worse feeling about him.

They’d met the year before, when Midna and Zant had switched schools. Zant had tried picking on one of Twilight’s little brothers, and Twilight was not having that. Midna had the same thought, apparently, since she was pretty quick to get involved too. Then Zant punched Twilight. Midna punched Zant. One of Zant’s cronies jumped in to defend him. Twilight’s brother Legend saw this going down and decided to lend his fists to the cause when he noticed Twi and Midna were outnumbered. Things devolved from there.

In the end, Zant’s cronies, and Legend, booked it before the teachers got there to break it up. All three of them got dragged into the office and had parents called. Twilight had been miserable until Midna leaned over to compliment him on his form and show him funny videos on her phone. They didn’t talk much, but there was a mutual respect there.

Midna was not like Twilight or Dusk. She was very useful to a group project, but also had a tendency to publicly call out everyone who didn’t help. During the presentation. Twilight had howled the first time she got to the ‘credits’ slide and it was all just her name, and then the other group members listed as ‘standing around looking pretty’. He wasn’t alone.

So he understood what Keapora was doing. By putting all the kids who were invaluable to group projects together it ensured that they wouldn’t get taken advantage of and that they’d all be able to only do their part.

He didn’t have to like it.

It was because he was on the soccer team, he figured. He knew the other sports kids used that as an excuse to get out of projects. And Dusk was on student council and in debate.

That was the only reason he could find that Midna didn’t trust them to do their part. Or maybe she was just jaded. He understood that feeling.

Either way, after the first ‘huddle’ to begin dividing the work where Midna had complained about doing all the work, Dusk pulled Twilight aside and they worked out a plan to get Midna to trust them.

A large part of this plan leveraged the fact Midna already seemed mostly cool with Twilight, so he’d be mostly on the charisma front (which had confused him, since he was far better with animals than he was people), and Dusk would focus more heavily on gathering and sorting research. This, worked less well than Dusk had hoped.

Fortunately, Midna came around the day they got kicked out of the library for getting into a screaming match about a few contradictory facts they dredged up. They left the room still steaming, but Midna was laughing pretty loudly. After that, the three of them got along pretty well.

The project went pretty smoothly after that as well, and they agreed if any more screaming was to happen they’d relocate outside. This worked really well, and soon enough they fell into a system. Dusk even offered them her house to get together after school to work on it. This worked well for Twilight, who had four and a half brothers and counting, and thus didn’t exactly live in a house conducive to group projects. Or any projects.

The three ended up spending a lot of time together working on it, and even managed to get to the point where they were well ahead of the rest of the class. Twilight was even hopeful their carrot might survive (though not so hopeful he thought it would, he knew better than that).

Of course, the universe didn’t seem to think he should be able to take a break. Ignoring that Wild had just gotten another cast off and he’d had to rescue Legend from a few more fist fights, he didn’t think anything big would end up happening. It was just the usual shit where his biggest break was going over to Dusk’s house to work or disappearing on his Epona for a few hours.

But, he wasn’t oblivious. He noticed the warning signs, he just dismissed them.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have done this.

Zant had always made Twilight uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he seemed to really hate Twilight after the fight they’d gotten into, and made worse by the fact Twilight got along well with Midna. Midna mentioned he was always a little jealous of her for various reasons, and that they’d never been close. So he didn’t think much of it when Zant started acting weirder than usual. He asked when he noticed Midna was getting more fidgety and nervous, but accepted it when she brushed him off. He paid no mind to the fact Zant started skipping school.

He never brushed things off like this again. His therapist said it was paranoia based on trauma, but Dusk agreed with him that it was a reasonable caution. After all, he was the one who got hurt.

They had finished the project early, after spending the entire weekend at Dusk’s place to work on it at Midna’s request. In hindsight, it should have been worrying that Midna was avoiding her home, but no one said anything about it since she just brushed them off.

The three were sitting in the library, sorting through the last few bits of information and the presentation to make sure they had everything. Twilight was sitting closest to the door, which is probably why he was the one who did the stupid thing.

They had been there for maybe ten minutes when an announcement for a lockdown came over the intercom. Lockdown drills had been happening since Twilight’s dad had been in school, after he’d done something really stupid and brave in the face of danger, so no one thought much of it. Mostly, they just moved all the papers and the laptop they were using under the table so they could keep working.

That is, until Twilight noticed how worried the librarians looked.

Suspicious now, Twilight rapped twice on the top of the table and hissed to the girls his concerns. Midna agreed, but looked suddenly really, really pale, and a little scared.

“Midna, are you alright?” Dusk hovered a hand over Midna’s shoulder, and Twilight crouched down next to them to watch as well.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Midna waved them off, but both of them could tell she was lying.

“Midna, do you know what’s going on?” Twilight asked her, glancing back at the librarians every so often.

“No, well, maybe,” she was now wringing her hands in her cloak, chewing on her lip.

“Midna, what’s going on? Is this for real?” Dusk set her hand down and Midna jumped, Dusk retracting her hand as she did.

“Well,” she hesitated, but Twilight offered her a smile and Dusk nodded. “There have been a few, issues, with my cousin. You know, Zant? He uh, he’s not been doing well recently,”

“Not been doing well?” Twilight led, hoping for something more.

“He’s been getting more violent,” Midna admitted quietly. “And, and he’s starting to scare me a little bit,”

Twilight and Dusk shared a look, both coming to the same conclusion.

Before anything more could be said, however, the library door was thrown open, and the librarians screamed and ducked behind the counters. Twilight jerked up to standing, having not slid under the table with the girls.

Sure enough, Zant was standing across the library, panting hard and looking more than a little crazed.

“Call the cops,” Twilight muttered to the girls, frozen where he stood and just waiting for Zant to spot him. “One of you call the police,”

“Link,” Midna hissed at him, probably well aware of what he was planning. “Don’t you even think about it!”

“Just make sure the police are on the way,” Twilight hissed back, ignoring the use of his real name.

“Link!”

“Twilight,”

He ignored both girls when Zant finally spotted him. He knew what people looked like when they were going to shoot. Legend and Wild both learned to shoot for fun a while back and would practice on old milk jugs in the yard. He had more than enough warning before Zant even brought the pistol up to aim.

Twilight took off at him at a dead run, knowing full well he was dead if there was enough distance, ignoring the cursing from the girls.

He shoulder checked Zant hard in the stomach and managed to duck beneath the first shot. Unfortunately, he was very close to the gun and it didn’t have a silencer. He stumbled back and rubbed his ears, trying to dispel the ringing in them. This gave Zant enough time to get back to his feet and regain his breath. Twilight noticed and pushed the ringing to the side and lunged for the gun.

The two tug-of-warred over the weapon for a few beats, Twilight trying to get it away from Zant and Zant trying to get it at an angle so he could shoot Twilight. Twilight kept trying to push the gun pointed down and Zant was desperately pulling on it and trying to shove and hit Twilight.

This went on for several long moments, though Twilight didn’t remember exactly how long. He was way more focussed on the fight than how long it was.

He most certainly remembered his hand slipping and the gun coming up, and the second gunshot was burned in his memory, never to be erased.

The pain didn’t register for a few heartbeats, and shock set in almost immediately. He lost his grip on the gun and stumbled back, eyes wide in shock and horror, mouth open in a silent scream.

Zant stumbled back as well, and both boys seemed frozen. Zant grinned, however, and lifted up the gun again to finish the job.

Twilight had never felt so scared before or after.

And then a loud crack sounded, and standing behind and over Zant’s now crumpled form was Midna, chair held by the legs over her head.

Midna caught sight of Twilight, and dropped the chair, swearing really loudly.

It was at this point Twilight lowered his hands to his stomach, and the hole that now existed there. He didn’t dare look down, instead keeping his eyes on Midna and the look of horror on her face.

“Is, is it bad?” He tried for a joke, but it probably fell flat. It was then that Twilight, a little dizzy, tipped over onto the floor.

He didn’t remember much after that. He remembered Midna screaming his name, his real name, and Dusk dropping into view, phone held up to her ear. He remembered vaguely being moved somewhere else, and then being rolled onto his side and pressure on his back and stomach. He thinks he cried out at that, but his head was already starting to swim a little, and the shock wasn’t helping. His next really clear memory was in the ambulance.

He blinked and groaned, and Dusk popped into view over him.

“Easy, Link,” she reached up and moved some of his hair out of his face, smiling but not able to hide how shaken up she still was. “It’ll be okay, you’re gonna be fine,” she sounded like she was convincing herself.

“Midna?” He asked, then blinked at the muffled sound of his voice.

Dusk held his hand down, chuckling at him. “A mask,” she explained, “to help your breathing. You were gasping. Midna needed to talk to the police, since it was her cousin. She’s going to meet us,”

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Dusk smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “We’re both okay. You’re the one we’re both worried about,”

Twilight just nodded, and sort of drifted out of focus again. There was a bit of activity when they arrived, but then Twilight was put under and rushed into surgery so he didn’t remember anything that happened afterwards.

He came to a few hours later in a hospital room with stitches in his stomach and back. Dusk had collapsed over his right arm, and Midna leaned on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the IV in his arm. He couldn’t see any family, so he figured they hadn’t gotten there yet.

Midna looked up after a few beats, and Twilight smiled at her. That had her bolting up.

“Twilight!”

Dusk lifted her head on his other side, her own face breaking into a grin when she saw him too.

“You’re up!”

“Yup, I lived,” he paused. “Actually is my phone here? Can someone take a picture of me to send to my brothers? Wild always does it when he breaks a bone, and I wanna see why he finds it so funny,”

“You’re high on pain meds, aren’t you?” Midna deadpanned at him.

He laughed, until he realized that made his stomach hurt. “Ow,”

“Okay, maybe not,” Midna admitted, then handed him his phone. “What’s your passcode?”

“Midna!” Dusk cried.

“What? He asked!”

Twilight happily opened up his phone, ignoring Dusk.

“Say cheese!” Midna grinned at him, holding up the phone.

Twilight lifted both hands in a peace sign and grinned. Midna took the photo and sent it off into the group chat without another word, even as Dusk made disapproving noises next to them.

Immediately a string of excited and relieved texts started pouring in, and Twilight had to remind himself laughing hurt.

The injury wasn’t bad, he found out. He wasn’t sure how getting shot could be ‘not bad’, but apparently since the bullet went through the damage wasn’t severe. He was expected to be back at full in less than a year, but had to be pulled off the soccer team for the rest of the year, and discouraged from rejoining the next year. That was disappointing, but livable.

About half an hour before his parents arrived, Midna offered to paint his face for him.

This had confused Twilight quite a bit. What did getting paint on his face have to do with what had happened?

Midna explained that for the Twili, her people, facial markings were important parts of identity, and you can earn them for doing certain things or surviving awful events. Twilight argued that he wasn’t Twili, and Midna pointed out she was, and that Zant was as well, and since both of them were involved she got to make the call. At this point Twilight was mostly confused as to how he would have even earned facial markings.

Midna just sputtered. “You got shot! AND you defended me and Dusk from Zant. You fought my cousin for the gun so he wouldn’t shoot anyone else! That, as far as I’m concerned, makes you a hero! And heroes obviously get facial markings. Not to mention I’m pretty damn sure getting shot counts as a ‘pretty damn awful experience’. So yes, you qualify for markings.”

Twilight blinked at that. Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.

So he let Midna paint his face.

When his family, and Midna and Dusk’s parents, arrived Midna was sitting on the bed next to him, a paintbrush in hand and Dusk holding a small pot full of a specific kind of paint Midna had ducked out to get. Twilight had half a diamond shape on his head at this point. The three teenagers all froze to turn to look at the newcomers.

“Hi,” Twilight waved at them.

“What’s going on here?” Time asked, eye roving over the group.

“I’m painting his face,” Midna explained.

“Why?” Time asked, and Midna’s father, who also had an elaborate series of markings on his face, leaned around him.

“Yes, why are you doing that?”

“Because,” Midna explained, “he got shot. And he fought Zant to protect us from him, and as per tradition, that qualifies him for facial markings. So I’m doing them for him,”

“Zant?” Midna’s father asked.

“Yeah, he showed up and tried to shoot up the school,” Midna explained as she went back to applying paint to Twilight’s face. “He busted into the library where we were and Twilight tried to fight him to protect the rest of us. He got shot and I whacked Zant in the head with a chair. Then we huddled off somewhere else to hide until the cops showed up.”

“No, Zant was the shooter?” Her father repeated.

Midna froze and turned around. “Yes. Did you not know?”

Her father shook his head. “They didn’t catch the shooter,”

Midna’s shoulders dropped, and both hylians behind her looked equally horrified.

“What?” Midna asked.

Her father shook his head again. “They didn’t catch him,”

Midna took a deep breath, then shook her head and turned back to Twilight. Her hand was shaking now, so she didn’t go back to painting. Twilight lifted his hand to pat her knee.

“I’m sure they’ll catch him soon,” Malon offered, slipping into the room to take up on the couch against the wall. “He’s pretty easily identified, after all,”

“Right,” Midna nodded, then shook herself once. “Right, it’ll be fine.”

She dipped the brush back into the paint and went about continuing to paint on Twilight’s face.

“What are you doing?” Eyes turned back up to find Zant’s parents in the doorway now, after everyone else wandered into the room to settle down.

“Why is everyone asking me that?” Midna turned to face the ceiling. “I’m painting his face! I can do that! He’s earned the markings, and as the present Twili I can choose to provide them to him, even though he isn’t Twili. Believe me, I’ve considered whether or not this was something I could do, and I can. And besides, I’m already half done,”

“No,” Zant’s mother corrected. “I mean why are you painting his face for assaulting my son?”

“What?!” Midna whipped around, fury on her face.

Zant’s mother nodded. “He attacked Zant, and you rewarding him for it is a betrayal to this family,”

“Zant brought a gun to our school!” Midna burst, apparently pissed off and finally snapping after the stress of the day. “He tried to shoot me, he DID shoot Twilight! Twilight saved our lives by attacking him, and he got injured for it! He more than deserves these markings, and Zant should be in jail!”

Zant’s mother stuttered, then drew herself up. “That boy is a danger to everyone around him,”

“Yes,” Midna agreed and pointedly added a line under Twilight’s eyes. “Zant is unstable and dangerous,”

The woman huffed, and went to start yelling when Malon stood up again and blocked her from the door. “Let’s talk, hm?”

The door shut and Twilight had to put in a lot of effort not to laugh as his mother tore into the woman outside the door. After a few minutes, Midna’s mother joined her, and Dusk’s father followed with a camera in hand.

No one else questioned the paints again.

In the end, Zant’s mother filed for a restraining order against Twilight and Malon, which Malon said she would abide by exclusively because it was one less expense on them. Midna’s parents refused to separate Midna from one of her friends, especially one who put his life at risk to help her, and didn’t sign onto the order the way Zant’s mother wanted them too.

Twilight ended up with a very nice looking set of markings over his forehead that Midna told him symbolized courage and boldness and sacrifice. He was quite proud of them.

He got back to school the same day as the presentation, which he thought was pretty amusingly coincidental. His mother, ever worrying, did insist he use a wheelchair (one they had for Time from a few years before Twilight was born) so he didn’t put undue strain on his injury.

The presentation went well, and things worked out fine. They even managed to keep their carrot alive. Midna’s ‘credits’ of course popped up, but it was much more even than in the past. Of course, there was still the ‘sitting around looking pretty’ category.

Midna was listed. They had taken a vote. Everyone found this hilarious.

There was more laughter when Twilight was listed as having ‘bled for this’. Keapora didn’t find it as amusing as their classmates did.

Midna moved away not long after that, her parents worried about Zant. She explained she wouldn’t be able to talk to them anymore until things calmed down or Zant was caught since her parents were scared.

That was the last time either of them spoke to her.

(---)

The markings Midna painted on stuck around for a very long time. Dusk theorized that the paint was probably some kind of tattoo paint, meant to stain the skin for a long time. Even four and a half years later, the paint was still visible. It was beginning to fade now, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get it redone. The only Twili in the area was Zant’s family, and no one was asking them. It was quite the conversation starter though.

He hadn’t heard from Midna at all since she moved away, and he really missed her. Turns out when you fight someone’s loony cousin together you bond. Who knew?

The scar on his stomach didn’t bother him much, unless it rained really hard or really suddenly. Overall, despite his continuing visits to a therapist and the occasional nightmare, he had recovered from the entire event mostly unscathed.

Most of the time he didn’t get to think about it, helping out on the ranch and prepping to take over some day, alongside his now seven brothers, meant he didn’t have time too.

His therapist was worried his drag racing was a sign of self-destructive behavior, and a symptom of trauma. He ignored her, even though she may have been right.

And that was life. That was just the way it was.

Eventually Time got a call from the police captain, whom he knew quite well by now, letting him know they apprehended Zant, and charges were pending. Time promised they’d testify.

Twilight finally put in an application to a college, one of the really rural ones that offered classes in the sort of stuff that’d be useful when he took over the ranch from his parents one day. He got accepted.

About two weeks after Zant was convicted and carted off, and Twilight was looking at packing up for his first semester, he got a call from an unknown number.

Curious, but not stupid, he turned on the call recording app he’d gotten after the first few times he’d received a threatening call after the whole Zant thing, and hit answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey wolf boy,”

He nearly dropped his phone.

[princesssarcastia]

I posted 21,227 times in 2022

That's 5,091 more posts than 2021!

174 posts created (1%)

21,053 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wabblebees

@absentlyabbie

@mandaloriandy

@theunofficiallibrarian

@aniseandspearmint

I tagged 1,803 of my posts in 2022

#pretty - 188 posts

#art - 159 posts

#star wars - 82 posts

#dc - 36 posts

#meta - 30 posts

#that's my wife - 28 posts

#star trek - 28 posts

#tags tags tags - 24 posts

#fashion - 22 posts

#anyway - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#play stupid games (allow the corporate surveillance state into your home) win stupid prizes (unsuable tech you made essential to your life a

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

alright all the irl people who know anything about this actually LIKE the man so this is the only place i can say it, but

harry styles gets on my nerves.  the REASON he gets on my nerves is that he gives off the vibe of like—he’s like the human embodiment of being gay but not queer.  i don’t think he’s even gay (he may be, he may not, i don’t even really care) but that’s what it feels like to me.  it’s like the essence of the thing people are upset about, with pride being commercialized and becoming hollow and meaningless.

oh!  i know.  seeing harry styles speak (or sing.  or apparently do some fashion icon thing) and people get excited about it, is like watching other queer gay people go up to the amazon booth at the pride festival excited for free swag and thinking its cool that amazon is here.  that’s what its like.

60 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#4

“Because the unavoidable truth here is that the system is already rigged.  And its rigged in a way that has allowed a party without popular support to drastically reshape an entire branch of government for the foreseeable future by appealing almost exclusively to white voters in some of the least populous regions in the country.  That is not a mandate, and its not democracy.  It’s a fucking travesty! 

“We are at the end of a generational battle, and the heartbreaking thing is, we lost.

“And that hurts.  It’s going to hurt for a long time, for a lot of people, in ways that could take a while to fully comprehend.  But the next battle has to start right now; and it will be long—we didn’t get here overnight, and we won’t get out of here overnight.  But we must be willing to fight tirelessly and with every tool and tactic at our disposal.”

As always, John Oliver says it better than I ever could.  This is his episode from just after Amy Coney Barrett’s nomination to the Supreme Court, which was the point of no return on the path to overturning Roe v. Wade.  We were always going to end up here, but got does the knife still hurt slipping into your gut, even if you saw it coming.

77 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#3

to be honest i feel like both AOS canon and aos fandom don’t treat the vulcan genocide in the first movie with enough gravity.  like.  80-90% of the time people don’t even call it what it is, let alone focus on what the effects would be on the remaining vulcans.  we actually spend way more time talking about tarsus iv as a fandom than nero’s destruction of vulcan.  and the more I write for AOS the more that wigs me out a bit.

the WHOLE PLANET is GONE.  SIX BILLION PEOPLE were MURDERED in a matter of HOURS.  it’s mass death on the largest scale in what I assume is recorded federation history.  we could uh.  dwell on that.  a bit more.  there’s probably something there worth talking about.

78 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

#2

next steps re: lizzy biting the big one

starting with india, kenya, pakistan, grenada, or cyprus, countries begin to leave the commonwealth

liz truss tries to do some diplomacy about it and it doesn’t work

charles the third of his name or what the fuck ever tries to do some diplomacy about it, says something BREATHTAKINGLY RACIST and actively makes it worse.  countries start leaving even faster.

australia peaces out

scotland announces a new independence vote before the end of the year

wales, not to be outdone, announces an independence vote before the end of the MONTH

canada peaces out

someone starts a conspiracy theory on tiktok that liz truss had the queen poisoned just after their official meeting

Ireland announces the affirmative results of the reunification vote it held while you motherfuckers were distracted via the Sinn Féin twitter.   britain pulls a spain circa 2017 and tries to prevent it

king charles III dies of a heart attack from stress, smh guys he just wanted to live out the remainder of his life in peace while directly profiting from the imperial and colonial violence of his mother ancestors, he wasn’t expecting to actually have to WORK for it

king arthur returns, sword in hand, to reclaim his rightful place as king.  the tories, desperate at this point for some kind of miracle, let him do it. 

his first act as king is to demand the abolition of the british monarchy, because “strange women lying in ponds and distributing swords is no basis for a system of government”

someone calls a vote of no confidence in liz truss.  she fails it (in large part due to the conspiracy theory), they hold an election

Christopher eccleston becomes the prime minister

242 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ao3 crashing just as i try to click through to the last chapter of the fic i stayed up all night to finish is just fucking typical

2,347 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

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