#and the other half was me questioning my humour and sanity

[risibledeer]

boat boys, shortgrass and greenbeans- what more could you ask for?

(ps-drawing reqs are open btw i need inspiration helpp)

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Earlier that morning

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

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

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Earlier that morning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[4cupsanxiety5tbspdepression]

a conversation i had at the gay personality store:

me: can I buy the football gay personality?

check out lady: no - sorry - you're 5'0'', it's not available to those under 5'8''

me: wb a ballet gay?

check out lady: you think you have the discipline to be a ballet gay?

me: ... no - what about a fashion gay?

*check out lady looking me up and down*

check out lady: uhh ... what about older sister gay? it's on sale for half price right now. you aren't strong but you got to do all the emotional heavy lifting. you also have the added weight of unrealistic expectations. and you get to repress it forever !! you might even have to marry a man you don't love !!

*shoves it onto me*

check out lady: why don't you hold onto that for now !

me: are there any other personalities for me? oh - can i be a funny gay?

check out lady: sure but the only ones we have in stock left are depressed funny gay and self loathing funny gay. i'll sell you two for the price of one !

me: what does that even entail?

check out lady: well you're gonna trauma dump onto strangers on Tumblr. you'll deflect all your trauma with humour. you'll also make bad memes and get all your validation from gays on the internet. you'll have mental breakdowns at 2 where you question if anyone even loves you.

me: i don't think i want th-

check out lady: no, this seems to suit you

me: can i get a girlfriend with these personalities?

*she starts laughing*

check out lady: you think - you think you're gonna get a - oh sweetie - you're gonna stay in the closet until you're in the casket. you will have an unhealthy relationship with kids cartoons and your mother.

me: wait what?

check out lady: alright your total comes to - your sanity and self esteem - how would you like to pay?

me: my soul - i guess?

check out lady: perfect. no change sorry ! bye ! thanks for coming to the gay personality store !

[newsies-and-the-nutcracker]

Newsies but it’s French (Canadian) pt.2

(aka me just getting increasingly frustrated the longer it goes on until I’ve completely lost whatever bits of sanity I had left lol)

~ king of new york scene ~

“We’re in the papes??” “You’re in the papes.” why do I find this so funny help-

“For the good of Jack, we can stop complaining...” not the whole thing but that sounds so out of character for Race I can’t-

After a quick google search, I can confirm that Race says “The world is at our boots.”

The newsies are very confused

Apparently he was meant to say feet.

“I’m talking about our feet!”

…

hOW IN THE WORLD IS THAT EVEN CLOSE TO ‘THE WOILD IS YA ERSTER’-

Okay I’m done

“My own face on a piece of wood!” good for you ig

“I’m respectful. I’m looking at you.” please-

“I am pretty, am I not?” yes race you’re very pretty

“My own bed and an indoor toilet!” wait… does that mean you literally have a toilet outside?? In the open???

“Nothing more normal for a famous journalist!” Irdk how I’m supposed to process this-

“Leave, idiot! It’s her, the king of New York!” guys is this actually what he says in English?? Race why are you so m e a n

“Some…” *checks notes* “depressive defeatists” ?? I just want to know how you got that from “Buncha wet noodles”-

“We were on the verge of drowning ourselves in alcohol.” WHY AM I ONLY NOW FIGURING OUT WHAT SOME OF THESE LINES MEAN AS I’M WATCHING IT IN F R E N C H ???

They cut out a lot of the background comments during the dance break and now I’m sad

After Katherine’s little dance: “It’s a joke, I hope.” wow

“You’ll see what the Delancey’s do in their pants!” that sounds so wrong I-

“Friends can leave, let them be!” I don’t think that’s what they were trying to say but okay

~ letter from the refuge scene ~

“There’s guards here, they’re mean.” WOW JUST TEAR MY HEART OUT WHY DONTCHA-

“If they tell us to jump, we obey, if not we’re screwed.” ow

“The rooftop misses me.” I give up.

“It’ll go. I’m in shape.”

“End.” the only time they decide not the put ‘the’ unnecessarily in front of something-

“Good, that’s enough.” how rude

yeah that’s all for that song. I hope you guys weren’t actually expecting me to find much humour in that one

~ watch what happens reprise scene ~

“You are a love.” ??

Guys where I live if you say “tant mieux pour vous.” it means “Too bad for you” and that’s literally what Jack just told Davey-

“Stop. I understand. It’s useless.” eh close enough

“Good blood, where do you have to go to avoid you guys?”

“It’s impossible. We are inevitable.” since when did Davey actually become Thanos?

“And this here girl, Sally, she’s great.” :(

“We say that you wrote a good article.” “You seem horrible.” they’re much more salty in this version-

“Yes, it’s true. And, he is dead.” uhh guess who’s not going to Santa Fe-

“We can forget that and go back to work?” the person who wrote this had a real passion for butchering Les’ lines lol

“Be positive. No one is dead.” mmmmmmmmmmm-

“Is that what you’re hoping for??” MMMMMMMMMMMMMM-

“There’s no question of cents, Jack!” yk what? sure. i don’t even care at this point-

“We’ll do what?” he sounds like he doesn’t even want to win.

“We’re already winning.” “Agreed.” ABORT ABORT THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO S A Y JACK-

“And ‘voila’ why I think that Joe is an idiot. It’s a rattlesnake.” “... Yes.” you heard it right here, guys. if it’s a rattlesnek, it’s an idiot

“And you know why a snake whistles?” WHAT

“He is scared.”

“Go see, the poor of the head that’s spinning.” This is shredding whatever bits of sanity I had left-

“Why send the brutes?” idk why Davey

“You have maybe reason!” “Thank you!”

“And I have an appointment!”

no but when you say you have a ‘rendez-vous’ here where I live, it means you have like a doctors appointment or something lol

~ the bottom line reprise scene ~

“After his release, I surprised him myself!”

“If that’s the case, we’re going to bring him in... in softness.” nice of them

“... or the little thief?” I’m really starting to think that they lack like 99% of words in the French language-

“I was fighting in a war.” “And that turned out well for you?” get wrecked joe

“Rally as much as you want, no journal in town will talk about it.” guys I don’t have enough serotonin for this-

“Everyone here knows you’re horrible!” they made Jack sound like a little kid in the translation, and honestly I’m not even disappointed lol

“We’re missing time, little.” I don’t even know what to say-

“Your abject surrender was always the bottom of the problem.” sure why not

“Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cave-” well isn’t he nice?

“Be happy you’re alive, little. That’s the essential.”

“Yeah, so go!” ?? how is that even remotely close to “Yeah, so behave!” ??????

“I exercised my favourite American punch!” uhhhh good for you?

“You can sleep here, on this old press! It’s very firm.” help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up-

~ brooklyn’s here scene ~

“The sellers need our help! The sellers need our help! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving!”

“We’re from Brooklyn, we’re the sellers from Brooklyn!” UHHHHH EXCUSE ME???

“We just learned that our friends are going wrong!” please you heard they were ‘going wrong’ like five days ago-

“You know we’re there for you, since always.” oH rEaLlY???

“Brooklyn is there!”

“Strikes aren’t nice, but they’re passionate!” well I’m glad you think so

“Let’s shout it, Brooklyn is there!”

“Aaaaand sooooooo!!” “Sooooooooo!!” “Soooooooooo!!!” “We will send you half road, just to Queens!”

“The pigeons are going to get soaked!” aaaaaand we’re back to the pigeons-

“What sad way to finish your career!” they sound so sarcastic I can’t-

“They’re not serious, but if they think we’re laughing…” i feel low-key threatened-

“Let’s shout it!” well if you try hard enough, you can make it sound like “loud and clear!”?

“Manhattan is theeere, Flushing is theeere, “Richmond is theeere, Woodside is theeere, and the Bronx too!!”

“Sorry, little. No news of him.” I just… why does it translate to “little”?

“You are alone, we could say.” “No.” “Yes.”

Medda really isn’t taking no for an answer-

“The sellers of journals of New York!” I’m crying why is it such a mouthful-

“You want to be treated like an adult? Act like an adult!”

~ something to believe in scene ~

“It’s Specs!” wow kath throw specs under the bus like that-

“And if I was a boy you’d be looking at me with a butter black eye!” I’ve officially given up on the French language I’m sorry-

“You win a fight when the other guy bites the dust.” and another one gone and another one gone-

“If there’s a way I could grab hold of something,” has literally been shortened to ‘if I could.’ IF I COULD-

“If I could stop time.” I’m so mad

“Really?” “Really.” ahhHHHHHHHHHHH

“But it’s going. It’s going.”

“... who didn’t even know she gave me a hope.” WHAT EVEN IS THE POINT IF THE TITLE ANYMORE??

“But it’s going. It’s going.” The thrilling sequel

“No. I’m scared of you.” “No!” yeesh-

“I believe in something.” good for you

~ once and for all scene -

“He is with us.” but like… how much?? only 99 percent????

“We could hold a hoedown here.” I feel like the person translating this just gave up by the end of the show-

“Happy to have found you again.” what did you like lose him or something

“The close.” ok yes that’s funny, but it gets even funnier when you realize it could also be translated to “the farm.”

“A little grease, and she’ll be like new.”

“This is for the guys who kill themselves at the factories.” w h a t

‘THE BANNER OF SELLERS OF JOURNALS’ I’m still not over this

~ everything that comes after that ~

“Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is an idiot!” ey watch it-

also what the heck is ‘quiconque’ I swear I’ve never seen that word in my life

“We will find a way, but let’s seize the moment.” first it was “the chance” and now it’s “the moment” google translate are u okay-

They really went and changed ‘bully’ to ‘monster’ didn’t they

“You can make it.” he really makes it sound like Jack is about to die or something-

“It’s disgusting!” you’re disgusting sir

“And the world will know, we’ve been taking notes.”

“It’s a joke!” nope lol

“Goodbye, fool!” I’M LAUGHING WAY TOO HARD ABOUT THIS-

“Well you already work for my father.” “Yes.”

“Super, Jack Kelly!” I CAN’T-

“So, Jack, you’re staying?” yeah sure close enough-

“Sellers of journals on a mission!”

Das it ‘my friends’ lol. Hope you enjoyed.

[saladejin]

Solace (M) | 02

4-part Jimin x Reader | fantasy au, school au, magic user!Jimin | Fluff, angst (basically unresolved), smut with some plot 

Summary: Why not spice up your high school life with a teleporting boy of your very own? You find yourself not having a choice in the matter. While he figures out how to fix his mistakes, strap yourself in for an adventure to remember…

Warnings: First-time porn writing (so fairly vanilla). Penetrative sex, light dirty talk, light fingering, profanity.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6.8k 

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  You felt Jimin’s presence tingling next to you on the bus ride home. Nobody questioned why he was there, and nobody questioned his relationship with you. Everyone was absolutely thrilled to meet your ‘family friend’, and you watched in astonishment as the charismatic boy wormed his way into their hearts. Even despite the language barrier.

You were silent, and you hoped he could feel your looming interrogation.

When you hopped off the bus with Jimin trailing behind, you waited for the long vehicle to turn the next corner before snapping your head to the side and marching towards the startled boy furiously. He backed up until he was pressed against the scratchy bark of the nearest tree trunk. 

“Okay, so I thought you were just lost and scared, but what have you done now?” You stared at him intensely, wishing you knew a plethora of violent curses to sprinkle into your sentence.

“Can we get home? I promise I’ll talk!” He urged, but eventually had to repeat himself because he had spoken too quickly for you to understand. He was cornered against the tree, but he still stood a head and a half higher than you. He could have overpowered you easily, and from what you had seen there was some kind of weird magical power at play, but oddly enough you still weren’t scared. Maybe it was because you usually knew when someone could be trusted.

“Okay,” You sighed, stepping back so he could relax his posture.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this, but fine. I want to help.” 

He smiled at you again, but you squeezed your eyes shut and started walking in the other direction briskly.

“Stop that, Jesus Christ.”

It was a quick walk that took minutes, but it felt like stretching hours to you. The front door to your house creaked way too loudly, and you wondered if you should just grab Jimin’s hand and sprint down to your room or actually consult your parents first. You glanced behind you only to be greeted with the warm wide-eyed innocence and confusion in the strange boy’s gaze.

Curse you and your eyes.

You sighed and stepped into the house full of foreboding. Jimin’s gentle footsteps sounded just after, and you spluttered with exasperation when he started to take his shoes off in the entryway.

“Forget that! We need to talk!”

You spoke quietly since you were still not sure if your parents should know, but that notion was soon thrown out the window when your mother poked her head around the corner of the separating wall.

“(Y/n), Jimin, you’re home! I suspect you’ll just go down to your room as per usual?”

You gawked at her as she smiled nonchalantly, but tore your eyes away when a hesitant hand clasped around your wrist and pulled you towards the hallway.

“Of course, bye!” Jimin replied casually. You watched as your mother shrugged and continued to work on whatever files she needed to as a lawyer. You could not believe how easily she was taking this, but at the same time you remembered how your friend had shown the exact same sense of familiarity with this boy.

“You’re asking for trouble, I can’t believe the minds of all the people I love have been messed with!” You muttered to yourself, noticing Jimin’s hesitance and taking over in leading the way to your bedroom with a huff of annoyance.

You told him to wait while you tidied up your room, because God knew how disgustingly messy it could get. You rested your head against your cupboard door with an audible ‘thump’, questioning if all of this was a dream and that you were just completely imagining this guy into your life. Were you really this lonely?

“Can I come in?” He asked, and you heard a few quiet knocks before the door was nudged open anyway. You rolled your eyes.

Was there any point in asking if you’re just gonna walk in?

He entered your room and looked around with a lazy smile gracing his features. You couldn’t help but admire how well the white school button-up, tie and black pants looked on him. Then again, where he had even gotten them from was still in question…

“I want to understand what you say, so let me have a translating app at first,” You grumbled, whipping out your phone and turning on a translator. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it was better than nothing at all. You learned languages faster by listening and speaking, so even though your Korean was a little rusty now, it wouldn’t be long before you could just talk with him normally. It would probably be only a few hours, in fact.

“Okay, so I can’t tell you absolutely everything. I know it all seems bizarre right now,” He began and took a seat heavily on the edge of your queen sized bed.

“Nah, no way,” You scoffed with sarcasm dripping heavily from your lips.

“I know, I know,” He chuckled. You swallowed thickly and willed yourself to stop talking so he could continue. Why did his voice have to be so damn melodic?

“I’m from Korea, obviously, but I come from a group of people who have…certain powers.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, having figured something along those lines. He eyed you carefully, but had long established that you were far from a threat.

“I-I seriously fucked up. Hyung’s the one that knows all about that teleporting stuff, and I shouldn’t have mucked around with it. I’m always causing trouble even thought I don’t mean to.” He ran his hands down his face, clearly frustrated and disappointed with himself. Your heart clenched at the sight and you couldn’t help moving to sit next to him as a comfort.

“I know he’ll be mad, and usually I’m honest but I want to see if I can just fix everything before he notices. It’ll be better for everyone this way.”

You focused your eyes on the carpet below your feet in concentration. You kind of got the gist, but trying to wrap your head around believing in powers and teleporting was proving difficult. You knew you had to keep an open mind with this guy.

“Normally I wouldn’t believe this sort of thing, but after seeing everything that went down today I’m questioning my very sanity,” You gnawed on your bottom lip, still concentrating on the ground.

“Don’t,” He chuckled, “I’m the one whose sanity you should be questioning. I used nearly all my power trying to make a space for myself in your life.”

You raised your eyebrows and sat back a little, memory jogged from his words and suspicion flooding back into your mind as you thought about what he had done.

“Yeah…why’s that? Couldn’t you use that power to get back? Why did you mess everyone’s memories up like that?”

His brows furrowed as you spoke, and you instantly knew he had something against referring to it as ‘messing up’, but you didn’t really care at this point. Your friends and family had been changed somehow, and you needed to know why.

“You see, I’m not entirely sure on how to return just yet. You treated me with kindness, so I saw the opportunity and took it. I know it seems ugly and selfish of me, but if I didn’t think I could trust you then I would’ve found somewhere else to base.”

Your voice died in your throat. Hearing that he trusted you made all of your doubts crumble away like dust, and you looked at him in awe for a few seconds while he studied the ground just like you had before.

“I’m guessing you used the magic to change clothes too?”

He pursed his lips and threw you a deadpanned expression before his lips quirked up into an amused smirk.

“It’s not ‘magic’, that sounds childish and lame. They’re powers, and yes I used them to fit in as much as I could.”

“Wow, okay you used your ‘powers’,” You curled your fingers in the air to tease him a little before continuing and getting to your feet to pace the room.

“There’s more people like you? I can’t believe this kind of thing has actually existed this whole time. What powers are there? What else can you do?”

You hurled questions at him but his amused smile only grew wider and wider. Your voice wilted away as you glared at him, prompting him to say what was on his mind. He leant back to rest on his elbows against your bed, and you had to ignore how tempting he looked. Maybe he was still using some of those blasted powers on your heart.

“As I said before, I can’t tell you about all that. I think I’ve explained what was necessary for the situation.”

“Ass,” You grumbled in English, but he must have understood since he raised his eyebrows and let out a laugh that told you he was pleasantly surprised.

“Sorry but I have to live with you now. You can brag to all your friends about the charming family friend staying with you.”

You mirrored his shit-eating grin and laughed back.

“And how long will you continue to be a dirty scab?”

He puffed out his cheeks, but the humour dancing in his twinkling chocolate eyes faltered slightly. Your spirits sunk a little when his cheerfulness retreated.

“Whenever I figure out how to get home.”

“Can I help?” You sighed, letting him know you would try your best to support him. He ran one hand through his hair as he threw you that same grateful look from the classroom.

“You’re already helping me without realising, but yeah I’ll let you know if there’s anything else. Thank you (Y/n).”

“It’s okay,” You smiled tightly, “How do you regenerate your magic? Shit…powers?”

While you were prepared to hear some weird concoction of blasphemy, you weren’t prepared for the confident boy to fall apart in front of you. He puffed out his cheeks and averted his eyes suddenly. You raised one brow and felt confusion sweeping you off your feet once more, but at this point you were a little used to it.

“Um, I-I can’t tell you that. Yeah, can’t tell you,” He mumbled after clearing his throat, nodding his head as if he was reassuring himself more than anyone. You narrowed your eyes at his flustered features, as it seemed like he’d woefully tried to cover it up, but the tips of his ears were still reddening with every passing second.

“It’s cute and all that you’re flustered, but I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s probably something sexually natured, right?” You crossed your arms and cocked one hip, waiting for him to just come out with it already.

You hated when people thought you were too innocent to think past the mental age of twelve, because your parents had tried to bring you up that way. You had been sheltered, and the fact that your mother had even allowed Jimin to come down to your bedroom with you had been a clear enough indication of his ‘powers’.

“Alright, I guess it is ideal that I’m stuck with someone who has common-sense,” He grunted lowly, still continuing to divert his attention until he finally raised his eyes to meet yours.

“The way we naturally regenerate is usually over periods of time and rest, but the quickest and easiest way is to have sex.”

You fully expected it, but hearing it from him made your heart thump against your rib-cage dangerously.

“It…it taps into your partner’s locked power-store due to the connection being made. It’s the way our group chooses to regain energy because it’s more efficient,” He explained softly while clasping and unclasping his hands together in front of him.

“So you all just fuck each other? I thought that would’ve used more energy than gained,” You ignored the blush dusting your cheeks to ask whatever came to mind first. You wouldn’t let yourself be juvenile because you were genuinely curious. Let’s face it, you were today years old when you found out that powers even existed in the first place.

“We don’t fuck each-”

“Wait! Does that mean everyone has a power-store, or powers, and they just haven’t unlocked them yet?” You gasped, mulling over his words and immediately zoning in on the one part that stood out.

“I can’t tell you anything! Crap…” He widened his eyes and pressed his lips together, obviously already having given away too much. You felt bad, because you didn’t want him to feel as though you were manipulating him for information.

Even though he should be better at keeping it to himself anyway.

“Look, I’m not gonna jump on the internet and blurt everything to the world, okay? You already said you trusted me, so trust me.”

He looked up through his parted fingers while he had his head buried into his hands. He looked pretty helpless again, but you hated it so much when he looked like that. He needed your help, and you were ready to give it to him.

“Enough questions. It’s late, and I guess you have to come to school with me in the morning right?”

He nodded, exhaling deeply and getting to his feet with a regained composure. His hair was still so fluffy and perfect even after all that messing around with his hands, you couldn’t believe it, but he did have powers so it shouldn’t have been that surprising.

“If I go out into public with you, maybe I can find some clues somewhere. Plus it will seem dodgy to your parents if I just loiter here.”

“I can lend you some of my dad’s clothes and you can sleep on the couch in the living room,” You beckoned for him to follow you before heading down to your parent’s bedroom. Luckily your father worked late so borrowing some of his casual clothes wouldn’t be much of a hassle.

“The lounge is just out there, and there are blankets on the far one too,” You smiled, feeling bad that you couldn’t just get out a mattress from somewhere. Your household rarely had guests since your extended family lived way too far to make regular visits.

“Thanks (Y/n), I owe you one,” Jimin smirked before heading into the living room.

You made your way back to your bedroom giddily. Scenarios flipped through your mind about your school life and how it would now change with Jimin threaded tightly into it. Would he have other friends or would he stick with you? You knew you had to lead it along with as little suspicion as you could.

A sigh left your lungs as Jimin’s perfect face and smile moved to front of your mind. He was so warm and kind, and you really didn’t know how long you could be around him before you lost control of your feelings. Perhaps you already were falling into the deep dark pit, but it had only been a day!

A familiar voice caused you to stop dead in your tracks, and you roughly tugged a pyjama shirt over your head in a sudden flush of apprehension. It was your mother, and by the sounds of it she was in one of her happy-go-lucky moods where she’d opened the wine and let loose for the night. She wasn’t an alcoholic, but both of your parents enjoyed their wine too much sometimes.

“Oh no dear! You sleep in with (Y/n), how could you forget? Your aunt would have a fit if she found out I let you sleep on the couch, silly boy.”

The dread settled deep in your stomach as staggered footsteps sounded from the hallway, and suddenly a shirtless Jimin appeared while being pushed forwards by your mother. You exchanged wide-eyed glances with the boy as he was left to stand in front of you.

“(Y/n), how could you let him believe that? He went to sleep on the couch,” Your mother laughed, and you let out a fake one to try and make things seem normal.

“Um, maybe he wanted to tonight?” You suggested frantically, but your mother was already laughing and making her way back down to her computer. You gulped and ran one hand down your face in slight vexation.

“Yeah, so maybe I forgot a few things when altering their memories? And the universe tried to fill in the blanks by itself?” Jimin chuckled awkwardly and clutched his shirt to his chest. You took a deep breath and whipped your head to the side so you didn’t have to look at him in all his half-naked glory for too long.

“Get your ass back in here before she stirs more trouble,” You demanded through gritted teeth, but your anger almost melted away when you saw his guilty expression. He instantly rushed into your room without question and you rolled your eyes.

“If I were you I’d put that shirt back on too.”

“It’s a hot night though, why?” He raised an inquisitive brow while climbing into your bed and throwing the shirt onto the floor despite your request.

“It’s distracting…”

His face remained blank with shock before he suddenly smirked.

“Oh, am I charming you already?”

“Shut up Harry Potter, the only one you’re charming is my mum apparently.”

You growled and hesitantly got into your own side of the bed. His presence was too loud, and there was probably no way you were going to sleep soundly with him that close to you.

He groaned, and you sniggered at the thought of him being embarrassed with himself. “Don’t make it weird.”

You faced the opposite wall with your back to him because you were too uncertain of how your heart would react if you were able to see him lying next to you. It was too hot to really sleep with too many clothes on, but you opted to keep on a shirt anyway just because your dignity called for it.

“We’ll fix this sleeping problem tomorrow,” You finally said, feeling the drowsiness tug at the edges of your vision. Jimin only hummed gruffly in response, a sound that was much deeper and raspier than expected. You wondered why everything he did was so mesmerising.

“In all honesty, do you use your powers to make yourself like that?” You asked quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Your ceiling fan whirred gently, and you moved to rest on your back so you could look up at the stirring blades through the darkness.

“Like what?” Jimin asked with a slight crackle to his voice. It sent a sharp shiver down your spine, but you willed it away as you tried to focus on speaking.

“Like, charming. You said it yourself and I’m not denying anything, so I want to know if it’s real or if the powers do that.”

It was almost as if you could hear his bashful smile, like you could just sense it being there.

“I’m flattered, but no I don’t think it’s the powers. Unless it happens because we’re born with them ... Oh God, fucking damn it all,” He groaned again and you giggled into the dimness.

“You don’t have to try and hide things, I’m not someone who spreads gossip. Plus, you’re shit at keeping secrets so I’ll find them out eventually, depending on how long you stay.”

“I just won’t talk to you then.”

“As if.”

“…”

You tried to fight the urge to look at him but already knew you were going to fail. You tilted your head to look from the rotating fan to where his head was resting on the other pillow, and felt your heart rate speed up after seeing he was looking at you already.

Shit, I thought he was looking at the roof like I was.

He had a playful smirk flashing as he stayed silent like he said he would, so you crossed your arms underneath your bedcovers defiantly. The shine of his eyes was one of the only things you could make out, but you could already basically picture how cocky he was looking right now. With his perfect black hair that perfectly framed his perfect cheekbones…

“You’re so annoying, couldn’t you have picked someone else to help your sorry ass?” You growled and turned around so you were facing away from him again, struggling to keep a fond smile off your face. He was already growing on you, and it hadn’t even been a full day! Why did it feel like you were developing a silly crush already?

“Poor (Y/n),” He drawled mockingly. Your body went rigid as you felt him moving in the bed. You had to keep the fact that he was still shirtless off your mind if you wanted to calm yourself down.

“You already know I chose you because you were the only one who stood up and helped me out. Yeah, I saw you stand up. I knew you were probably going to be the one helping me the first time I laid eyes on you. Like a saviour,” He continued in a low tone.

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets as a slightly muscular arm draped itself around your waist. You felt his head creating another dip in your pillow just behind your own. The arm tightened around you while you struggled to keep breathing normally, but to your surprise he still kept a somewhat respectable distance between you both.

“Sorry, are you okay with this? It’s just that I usually cuddle up to people while sleeping. If it doesn’t happen now it most likely will when I’m unconscious.”

The genuine concern filtering from his voice made you relax. You breathed out and leaned back into his hold, enjoying the warmth and protection it gave all at once. Was this what it was like to be in a relationship? You weren’t in a relationship with Jimin, but you figured that this is what it would feel like to have a boyfriend.

“This is…really nice,” You managed to get out, wondering how to assure him that it was more than okay.

“Hmm? You’ve never done this with anyone? Like, spooned?” Jimin murmured, but it was really close to your ear and you felt the shivers travel down your spine again. You were suddenly nervous that he had noticed too, because now you were closer than ever.

“N-no, but I’ve just discovered that I don’t hate it.”

Jimin let out huff of amusement and you felt it resonate within you. His head was almost nuzzling into the back of your neck, you could feel puffs of warm breath tickling your skin. His arm curled further around your body and he even wormed the other one underneath the pillow where your neck met the comfortable puffiness.

“Or…do you ‘not-hate’ it because it’s me?” He chuckled jokingly, but your eyes cast downwards to watch as his lower hand appeared right before you.

“Can’t say there’s anyone else I’d do this with, to be honest,” You smiled in defeat, loving the feeling of being wrapped up but still feeling a little uncertain on what to do. You could just imagine how this would go down with a boyfriend, him maybe pressing sweet little kisses wherever he could, you holding his hand and lacing your fingers together so you could stay that way even deep in your sleep.

His chest rumbled in amusement again, and you were amazed at how connected you felt to him just by cuddling like this. You felt like you could fit together like a puzzle piece, but even though it was calming you still felt wide awake. You suspected the main reason for this was because the whole concept was so strange to you. You would lose sleep, yet you really didn’t want this feeling of stable security to end.  

New flash, it was about to.

“(Y/n), that’s not the greatest idea,” Jimin muttered through a sharp inhalation, and your eyes suddenly popped open when he moved his hips away from you. Confusion came and went as you realised you’d shifted further towards him in a moment of dreamy distraction.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I forgot about that,” You laughed sadly, annoyed that you’d ruined the perfectly platonic moment. His arms uncurled from around you and you shifted around to see him sitting up on the opposite edge of the bed. His back muscles were on full display as he crouched over slightly. You cursed your eyes for getting used to the dark too quickly, but also thanked them when the boy straightened his posture and took a deep, hollow breath.

“It would’ve been fine, but I forgot that I depleted my power today, so I’m a complete dunce,” He lamented, seeming so frustrated with himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked, even though you felt pathetic for asking it.

“The damage is done, I’m alright,” He smiled and sighed before getting back under the covers to face you. He rolled his eyes knowingly and shifted over to you again. This time you two were facing each other, and just like you had suspected, your heart went wild again.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” He reached up to smooth out your creased brows. You hadn’t even realised you’d been frowning until then, but the guilt wouldn’t go away. You watched as his eyes flickered to your slightly parted lips before they tried to avert, but ended up trailing the line of your exposed neck until they stopped at the line of your shirt. His teeth released his bottom lip as he realised what he was doing, but you understood his struggle as you recalled not wanting to look away from him before.

You couldn’t contain yourself, it was too much. You shuffled closer and brought one of your hands upwards to lightly brush against his cheek. His piercing eyes only focused on you as you moved your fingertips along the smooth skin of his neck and collarbone. You had to make a decision, you knew you had to.

“Okay, do you have a condom?” You asked boldly, knowing that you didn’t have anything. Jimin’s mouth fell open in pure shock as he heard the words. You swore you caught the searing heat running alongside that shock as his eyes sharpened and pinned you down again.

“(Y/n), you really don’t-”

“Jimin, I know what you need to get home, and you already know I’m here to help,” You sat yourself upright and leaned closer to him, watching how he trailed your movements with a fiery lust hidden deep within his scorching gaze. You followed the dipping of his Adam’s apple with your eyes.

“And what if I don’t have one?” He dared, eyes lidded and one brow raising in question. The gesture was so effortlessly attractive that you felt yourself burning up from the inside out. You smoothed the palm of your hand against his chest and ran it downwards against the tensing muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes were trained on his darkened ones as his breathing hitched a countless number of times.

“You’ll just have to pull out then.”

He finally snapped.

Suddenly he was towering above you, and you felt excitement pricking at every nerve in your body while he trailed his eyes along your half-exposed torso. You were only wearing the shirt since pants seemed unnecessary, but now you were thanking your past self for the decision.

“No, we should wait until we have one,” Jimin grimaced, obviously battling with his inner desires. You took one moment to ogle at his figure as he sat rigidly above you, but eventually your own needs won you over.

“I’m on the pill, and if you don’t come inside then that’s even less of a risk. Trust me, I know what I’m getting into.”

“Then you’re either really stupid or really brave. But probably stupid,” Jimin smirked, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he left you no time to respond.

He swooped down to mould his body to yours. Your lips were captured by his thicker ones as he hungrily devoured you, and his hand eventually worked its way underneath the hem of your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips against the soft skin of your stomach caused you to gasp, and that allowed him to let his tongue slip into the opening of your lips. Soon the sinful wet sounds filled the room.

“I really appreciate it though,” He breathed against your mouth, hot undignified desire consuming his gaze and tone simultaneously. “God, it might seem weird, but I’ve been wondering what you taste like all day.”

You sighed out a small moan when Jimin knocked your thighs apart with one knee. He lowered his body once more to press into yours, but instead slowly rolled his hips so the delicious hardness of his clothed cock met the damp cloth of your underwear. You whimpered slightly louder, but he swallowed the sound with another salacious kiss.

“Can’t believe you’re so worked up already.”

He panted, leaning away from your lips to darkly stare down at your sorry underwear. He looked up with a few strands of his black hair falling into his eyes, plush lips red and swollen from the ravaging upon your skin. Angling his face upwards to stare down at you with dark lidded irises, he ran one teasing hand along the expanse of your raised thigh. What shocked you more, though, was when he reached down to press a deft finger directly to your clit.

You jolted at the sudden sensitivity and placed one hand over your mouth to stop any noises from escaping. He only smirked in triumph as he watched you fall apart underneath him, but ran his tongue along his bottom lip again as he increased the intensity of the swirling movements. You writhed at the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling while he worked you up expertly. Continuing to speed up and slow down the circular motions of his fingers against your heat, and before you knew it you were coming all over them.

“Oh, Jimin…fuck,” You groaned, head thrown back as you tried to regain coherent thoughts. You vaguely felt your thighs being pushed further apart again, and could hear his staggered breathing.

“That has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” He grunted while smoothing back his shadowy hair. You felt cold air rush past your lower lips as he removed your underwear swiftly.

“I’m so hard, I don’t think I can wait.”

You lurched forwards instantly, still feeling the afterglow of your orgasm lingering in your mind and limbs.

“Then don’t, have me any way you want me.”

You leaned forwards to tug down the boxers you’d lent him, already seeing the precum leaking from the head of his cock and drenching the inside of the clothing.

I’ll need to wash them well.

When he was finally freed, the sigh that fell from his lips was tragically beautiful. You watched in amazement as he gave himself a few pumps with one hand, the pleasure contorting his features and causing the heated arousal to give you another kick in the gut.

“I need your power, it’s so strong and I can feel it…fuck, I can feel it,” He groaned and pressed you back down into the mattress. You complied easily, already mewling at how badly you wanted to have him. He was so desperate, yet so were you. Needy whimpers trickled from your lips as he worked you open with his skilful fingertips once more.

“Need to…please (Y/n), is this okay?”

“Don’t even ask, dumbass.”

He grunted in acknowledgement and reached down to tug the shirt over your head before catching your lips in another sensually heated open-mouthed kiss. You huffed as his cock entered you in one smooth motion, your soft walls expanding to accommodate his thick girth. He grunted right next to your ear breathily and you shuddered when he trailed his wicked tongue from your earlobe to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“So wet and tight, Jesus.”

You lost yourself to the aching feeling of the stretch, but then he was thrusting into you slowly. He really couldn’t wait, but it wasn’t like you wanted him to anyway. He sped up his movements with unbidden grunts of effort; pleasure building for both of you with every passing second.

Your toes curled and you clawed at his broad shoulders as he pounded into you mercilessly, chasing his high but still hoping for you to reach yours. You felt sweat pooling from various parts of your body, but admired the way Jimin’s muscles gleamed with it as he continuously jerked his hips forward. The rhythm became messy as he drew closer, but you could not care less.

“I’m close, oh shit…Please Jimin, don’t stop,” You begged, the pleasure coursing through you and making your eyes flutter shut. He was repeatedly hitting just the right spot, and you felt yourself clench around him as you spiralled heavily out of control.

“No, if you- while I’m in there I won’t be able to stop myself from coming inside,” He panted, reluctantly pulling out much to your dismay. The pads of his fingers flew to your pulsating clit just as he had before, and luckily you felt the orgasm still coiling deep within. You reached forward to help jerk his throbbing cock until he was a mess beneath your hands.

There was a low rumble of a groan from the boy above you before he finally came and almost collapsed on top of your rapidly rising and falling chest. You reached your peak as well and it left your jaw hanging open in a soundless scream as the euphoric pleasure swept through your every nerve. You vaguely noticed how his forearms shook in a monstrous effort to hold himself upright.

Normally you would move to cuddle up to the guy who had just given you the best fucking of your life, but for some reason you couldn’t fully regain control of your senses. You swam in ecstasy and flittered your eyes open to try and see what was wrong, but everything seemed to be oddly serene.

“I can’t believe I met you today and we already – wow,” Jimin gasped as he gradually came down from his climax and rolled over to rest on his back. You tried to swing out one arm to reach for him, but your limbs just wouldn’t obey your commands.

“Should I be ashamed?” He muttered half to himself, but soon twisted his head around when he was met only with silence.

“Oh, shit sorry,” Jimin clicked his tongue and moved to gather you into his arms carefully. You chuckled softly at his concern, but still wanted to know why you couldn’t use your body for simple functions such as movement. His eyes glittered with appreciation as he held your body close.

“Every time I-”

You slowly met his gaze as he cut himself off to sigh, brushing some hair from your forehead in a sweet gesture.

“That whole time I was actually sapping away at your power store. You had a lot to offer and I couldn’t help myself since I was pretty much starved.”

You admired the expanse of his sculpted body as he spoke, not really caring that he had used you in such a way. You let him know you were okay with a small smile, but felt your eyes drooping as the weariness clutched at you once more. The last thing you heard was a gentle promise that meant so much more to you than it probably should have.

“Don’t worry (Y/n), I’ll always look after you.”

 ~

 Now that I think about it, he could just take my strength and leave right? He got what he needed. He doesn’t need to stay, and he was probably only going to wait around until you gave him what he wanted anyway.

He only used you, (Y/n).

You awoke with an unknown fear setting every inch of your body alight. Immediate thoughts of how stupid and reckless you had been began eating away at your mind. Wouldn’t this strange ethereal human being abandon you as soon as he had the chance? It would only seem logical from his point of view, but even though you forced yourself to accept it you just couldn’t shake the doubt and regret seeping from your heart.

He’s probably long gone, or maybe he didn’t even exist and I need some serious help.

Before you could let the dread swallow you whole, a strong pair of arms enfolded around your frame and tugged you closer. You felt warm and familiar fingertips tracing patterns into the skin of your lower back, and your head fell against a slowly rising chest which contained a rhythmic heartbeat that somehow managed to melt your doubts away. Almost as if basking in the glow of a cosy brick fireplace during a winter evening.

“You didn’t leave?” You whispered while cringing at the hope tinging your tone. You pulled your head away from his body to look up at his shining chocolatey irises. You would definitely miss seeing them when the time came.

“And how could I do that when I don’t even know how to get back?” Came the slightly confused and hurt scoff. His kissable lips tugged into a frown and you watched as a small crease formed in between his brows.

“You think I’d leave you so soon after last night? I’m not an actual monster.”

You smirked and lowered your head in a sudden bout of guiltiness.

“Believe it or not, it’s only been a day Jimin. If you were smart you’d probably talk me into giving you what you needed before getting the fuck out of this town.”

Jimin chuckled airily as he rolled away from you to start getting dressed for the day.

“You know, there’s such a thing as being smart and civil at the same time.”

You cocked one brow while continuing to grin mischievously, “So you admit you’ll politely convince me to restore your power before respectfully taking your leave?”

Jimin craned his neck around with raised eyebrows, facial expression silently muttering ‘really?’ before he huffed and shook his head in fond amusement.

“If I were you I’d get ready. I don’t know if school times work differently here but my guess is we already woke up later than we should have.”

Your smile faltered as you turned to check your phone, a curse exploding from your mouth as you realised you had to be going in a matter of minutes. You gathered with a jolt that your underwear had been replaced with a new fresh pair, and your shirt had been returned to its rightful place on your body. Maybe you felt a little worse now about making it seem like you didn’t trust him.

“And believe it or not,” Jimin suddenly began by quoting your earlier words, “I don’t make it a normal practice to fuck people I barely know. Do I need to remind you that it was you who came onto me?”

You looked up from your phone only to squeak in surprise at how close he suddenly was. You had to press yourself into the wall behind you to mask your shock. The playful glint in his eye made your breath catch in your throat, but you didn’t bother trying to keep your thoughts to yourself any longer.

“You and your arrogance... If you need more ‘power restoration’ then maybe don’t try when we have literally two minutes.”

He laughed loudly and backed away from where he had caged you into the wall, finally allowing you to throw on your school uniform with an angry mutter. Something eventually clicked in your brain and you whipped your head around to observe Jimin fiddling with his school tie, occasionally grunting in annoyance when the article of clothing wouldn’t comply with what he had in mind.

“Jimin, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been speaking in English since…well since last night.”

He opened his mouth to answer but was immediately interrupted by a loud beckoning call from your mother. You violently cursed again as you snatched your hairbrush from your desk and then grasped Jimin’s hand before rushing out of the room. If you were late to school you’d never hear the end of it.

“I’ll explain when we have some free time,” Jimin assured while giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Although it was your hand, it felt as though your heart was receiving the gesture the most because that seemed to be the only thing he was managing to squeeze; and God, it fucking hurt like a bitch.

See this?

You glanced down to where your hand was laced together with his.

This is the hole you dug for yourself.  

And from here on out, you were going to be in pretty deep.

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[dwindlingashesburnt]

Undertale ideas

...I don't generally like angst, but a majority of Undertale angst seems to centre around Sans in some way, the concept of resets or of genocide routes, or of one of the people capable of resets going "ahahahah no consequences I can do whatever evil things I like and you can't stop me!!!"

Well

I'd like to propose a different variation for undertale angst - namely someone capable of resets going "oh fuck oh no there's no consequences oH FUCK HELP ME"

I mean.

Think about it.

All three capable of resets - Chara, Frisk and Flowey - have every single basic rule for life on Earth flung out the window, and are then told on top of that "btw no consequences for you, lol". Are they going to say "hell yeah, sweet"? Nope.

They're going to freak the fuck out. The fundamentals of how they understand the universe have just been torn out from under them - they're KIDS, they haven't made their own rules for their worldview yet, not really, they just have the fundamentals.

Think about those fundamentals:

What comes up, must go down, everything falls -> uh yeah gravity magic exists so that immediately goes out the window

What happens, happens, time cannot be rewritten -> ...resets.

There will be some form of consequence or reaction for every action taken -> ...well kind of a bit, but resets ultimately mean it doesn't make any difference, there are no TRUE consequences which means it likely very quickly fewla like there are none true or technical

For Chara and Frisk specifically, magic breaks the laws of physics, as does stuff like the snow in Snowdin, the whole concept of intent causing harm an of SOULs existing is also likely to rip the floor out from under their feet. I know most of this would be somewhat old news for Chara but I'm thinking it may end up being the straw that breaks the camel's back type thing

For Chara and Flowey specifically, their very existence is now likely to tear a pretty huge gap in their worldview. Flowey is now FLOWEY the flower, has no soul, potentially has his magic messed up due to the different form and or soul issues, does he even need to eat as a flower? Does he need sunlight, hell, does he photosynthesise? What about Chara - the fuck, how are they even existing? How if at all are they linked to Frisk? Were they aware since their death? Do they know anything about Frisk?

Further point for Chara and Flowey -> how much time, if any, has passed since the last time they were aware? Is the Underground drastically different to what they remember? What about their brief trip to the surface, when compared to Frisk and or Frisk's experiences??

Frisk specifically-> HUGE UNDERGROUND with MONSTERS and MAGIC and hoooollly shhiiiiittt what. Shouldn't that fall have killed them?

All -> the concept or lack thereof of an afterlife is probably a pretty huge knock to their worldview too

So now you must imagine these kids, who have had everythig and anything they could base their understanding, predictions, actions or reactions on, torn out from under them, leaving them completely lost and probably extremely panicked. Oh, they also have literally no idea what's happening....unnnntil they do, ok, they now have a huge amount of power that doesn't really help them at all with little knowledge to back it up and NO GROUNDRULES to guide them

Like this post sucks so bad compared to the idea in my head but like. I'm imagining Flowey and Papyrus getting on well because Flowey came up with his own rules to replace the usual gravity and time and consequences...But they don't make that much sense, his rules, however Flowey has made em a fundamental part of his worldview so anytime he sees them violated it sends him right off the deep emd, flailing as the world is again pulled out from under him, often resulting in panic, and or anger, and or violence. But he gets on well with Papyrus because Papyrus is very good at figuring out the fundamental rules of Flowey's worldview, and then operating within those rules - meaning he is one of few or perhaps the only person whom Flowey doesn't inevitably get distressed spending time with

I'm also imagining that Chara and Frisk very notavly don't make their own rules, but stubbornly cling to what should be their foundation but no longer is. This results in them taking a rather short route to a rapidly impeding breakdown as they frantically keep trying to prove the usual rules in any way they can. They try good consequences for their actions at first, but that doesn't really work out too well, and they can't figure out how to get out from the Underground so they inevitably get killed and end up resetting no matter what they do (meaning no sense of permanancy can be added to the other issues), so instead they start gradually doing things that SHOULD have worse and worse consequences. But they don't, not really. For one thing, it can be undone in a blink of an eye, for another...Well. There's no real consequence for Toriel or amy of the unnamed monsters anywhere in game. You don't find out the consequences for Papyrus' death until much later - late enough that it probably no longer feels like a connected sequence of events to these two kids who went throygh who knows how many resets getting from a to b anywsy - and Papyrus certainly doesn't hint at any consequences himself. He forgives them - who wants to bet that feels more like a slap to the face than anything else, to these two increasingly hysterical children who are starting to feel the world isn't quite real, they aren't quite real, none of it matters because no matter what they do they're not meeting any real consequences...

Imagine when Sans pretends to offer mercy. Imagine the kid(s) feel a dull roaring in their ears, because just when it seemed like they'd finally met some sort of consequence...Imagine them sprinting up to Sans with renewed fury as what's left of the two kid's sanity splinters along with the last remains of any solid worldview. Imagine they finally manage to kill Sans and sort of go into shock for a minute, because no. Nononono that wasn't supposed to happen, he said that was the consequences, that was no real consequence, what are they supposed to...

They don't care what the consequence is at this point, just something real and solid that proves that their actions affect things in the world and have been acknowledged felt and witnessed by other real living people.

Imagine Chara, in a fit of dark humour, asks Frisk, wheezing between paindul laughter as they demand to know "Do you think you are above consequences?"

Frisk can't breathe for a moment. They gasp, their breath hitches. A "Yes" escapes and then a child or two is half laughing, half crying, absolutely hysterical as they rock, trying to comfort themselves and each other. Neither of them notice until a good twenty minutes later that a near constant mantra of "yes yes I am we are above consequences yesyesyes there are no consequences none yesyesyes we are above, we are, oh god please help, helpmehelpmehelpus, yes, yes, yes" has barely stopped since Chara asked that question. They think, or would have, if either of them could think anywhere near coherently, that they may have had a bit of a panic attack there. Just a bit. They have no idea how long they were freaking out for - they try to check, turns out it was a couple of hours. They thought it was ten minutes.

IMAGINE THEY HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO ERASE THE WORLD they don't, but only because of the same type of mental block that stops you crunching your finger like a carrot. the realisation that they have that option, however, sends them into a near catatonic state for the equivalent of hours (saves and resetsare screwy). Then one or both of them decides now would be a good time to reset

IMAGINE THESE TWO KIDS GOING ON A COMPLETE GENOCIDAL RUN AND THEN FACING EVERY SINGLE PERSON THEY SLAUGHTERED AND WERE SLAUGHTERED BY, AS THOUGH NOTHING HAPPENED

imagine what that does a the psyche of these two kids who aint even 18 and quite possibly arent even teens?

Imagine Sans and or Papyrus thinking they're stuck in this hell of resets. Imagine Sans, determined that there is his friend, and there is the evil anomoly.

Imagine the people in control of those resets being as much if not more of a victim than the rest. Imagine Sans coming across a hysterical child having a fit of emotion and fear that mostly involves screaming and crying or laughing a lot and breaking things, because why not? It's not like they'll face any consequences for it.

Sans eventually figures out what's wrong with Chara and Frisk, very roughly anyway, and immediately goes...Ohhhhhh. Shit. Fuck. Fuckityfuckfuckfuck.

Papyrus is mildly bewildered by Flowey suddenly mildly changing his rules upon Frisk falling into the Underground and taking the reset option from him. Maybe Papyrus tries to guide Flowry to a healthier mindset or get him to a therapist, and instead ends up in a whole load of trouble. Flowey is concerningly dpendent on him and they're both feeling the strain

Just...just imagine the possibilities, yaknow?

I just think "oh fuck, no consequences" has pretty great angst potential. At LEAST as much as "oh yeah, no consequences" has

[the-messr-m]

Chocolate

Remus cut a sad figure in the luridly colourful shop, his faded robes clashing with the vivid sweets that lined the shelves. The bell jangled over the door announcing his presence in the empty shop. It was an early weekday morning, he purposely avoided the crowds. He greeted the shopkeeper as he appeared from the back room, his robes as colourful as the shop around him, Honeydukes emblazoned in gold across his chest.

“Early morning, professor,” the shopkeeper, Ambrosius, observed, “curfew’s barely lifted.” Remus’ throat tightened as he nodded to the notice in the front window, the Ministry urging people to stay indoors until the sun was safely up. Remus murmured some kind of response, guiding the conversation to the task at hand.

“Twelve of your finest chocolate bars, if I may, Ambrosius.”

“That’s quite the stash.”

“Not for me, I’m afraid, for the students. The dementors -” he said by way of an explanation. “I’m not too partial, myself.” He smiled ruefully, nodding towards the chocolate bars the man was now collecting.

The older man behind the counter raised an eyebrow, “Come now, professor, you can’t fool an old man,”

“As a child, of course. Now a nice dark chocolate every once in awhile suits me fine. It’s usually not a luxury I can often afford,”

“But these dozen -?”

“The school is very kindly paying. Or, rather, a portion of my wages. But it’s more than made up for in meals and board.”

“Well in that case, why don’t I throw in a little sampler for yourself.” Ambrosius beamed with glittering eyes. “We have a new chocolate bar, so dark it’s practically black -”

Remus choked, as though he had just inhaled something unpleasant. Like a wasp. He cleared his throat in an attempt to cover it.

“ - very rich flavour, a few shards are enough, even the sampler will last quite a few days for the most fervent chocolate lover.” The man behind the counter continued as though nothing had happened.

“That’s, hm,” Remus cleared his throat again, “that’s far too kind, I -”

“Already done.” The shopkeeper held up his hands in a motion of finality, still beaming.

“Thank you.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment as Ambrosius finished bagging the twelve chocolate bars, plus the dark chocolate sampler, a small box about half the size of the others. It was velvety black and stood out against the varicoloured packets of the other bars. As he took the payment offered by Remus the shopkeeper looked up again.

“Fantastic thing you’re doing for your students,” he praised in a soft voice. “Those demen-” he shook his head, unable to say the word. “...Awful. Just awful. We’ve been trying to make sure we have enough chocolate stockpiled so no one who needs it goes without.”

Remus gave a polite nod. There was another moment of silence. Remus’ cash still in the shopkeeper’s hands.

“Do you think he knows?” Ambrosius suddenly whispered.

Remus’ head jerked upwards to meet the owner’s eyes. “Who knows?”

He leaned across the counter slightly, lowering his voice. “Sirius Black.”

Remus took a sharp breath in through his nose. Then a slow breath out, steadying himself.

“Knows what?” His voice was sharper than he would have liked.

“Do you think he knows about the chocolate? That it helps?”

Remus blinked, squeezing his eyes shut firmly, until it almost hurt, trying to push out the memory that sprung up.

****

1980. Azkaban.

They had been sent to the prison to try to get information about You-Know-Who from a recently captured Death Eater. They didn’t get much. The Death Eater in question didn’t have much sanity left before entering Azkaban - the result of prolonged crucio they suspected - and the prison and its guards stole any further sense from their rightful victim.

After less than an hour they left, moving quickly through the tomb-like building towards the exit, like drowning men reaching for the surface. When they finally got out onto the slippery rock that housed the towering prison they boarded the small self-sailing boat that clung to the tops of the waves in silence. The journey over they had talked ceaselessly, trying to distract themselves from their task. They couldn’t fathom words now.

They didn’t talk until they got back to land and, arms around each other, Apparated back to the Order’s headquarters.

“Well,” Sirius drawled, closing the front door behind them, “that was shite.”

He reached a hand inside his robes, and with a flick of his wrist produced a block of chocolate.

“Here, Honeyduke’s finest,” he offered it first to Remus.

Remus had looked at him skeptically.

“The guards - it helps,” Sirius’ eyes flicked to the floor as he spoke. “I, uh, before I -”

Remus didn’t make him continue, instead he wrapped his hand around the one Sirius proffered with the block of chocolate.

“I remember.” He remembered how terrified Sirius had been when he ran away from home, that somehow his parents would make good on their threats and find a way to get him arrested and sent to the prison in the sea. He remembered himself and James and Peter talking him down, telling him it wasn’t possible, he hadn’t done anything wrong. But Sirius had obsessively researched for days until he heard that he had been officially disowned, blasted off the Black tapestry for good. He remembered the sigh of relief that came from the boy then - they couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Remus took the offered chocolate, broke off a row, and handed it back to Sirius, who quickly did the same. They each took a bite and slumped against the walls of the narrow hallway.

“Oh, thank god, that actually helps!” Sirius spoke through a mouth of chocolate. Remus hummed in relieved agreement, slumping a little further against the wall, his head falling back against it. They stayed like that a moment, shuddering with the fear and emptiness the dementors had dragged up inside of them, waiting for the warmth of the chocolate to wash it away.

“Let’s never go back there. I don’t care what information they say they have.” Remus had groaned, only meaning the first half of what he said. Sirius huffed out a mostly humourless breath, straightening to walk out of the hall. He wrapped an arm around Remus’ shoulders as he did so.

“Let’s bloody not.”

****

Remus made to speak but all that came out was a small cough, like someone had snatched his voice away. He tried again.

“Black’s mind would be mangled by Azkaban. Who knows what he’d know anymore.” His voice was grim. “We can only hope not.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “Well bad news for him, I know his face. No one here’ll be selling him anything.” It was a weak attempt at humour, though they both appreciated it. Remus gave him a weak smile, gratefully collecting his change and grabbing the bag from the counter.

“Well,” he raised the bag, “thank you. Hopefully I won’t need all of this.”

The shopkeeper didn’t seem quite as positive anymore.

“See you next time. Enjoy the sampler, professor!”

Remus stepped out of the shop, the bell in the doorway ringing far too cheerfully, and out into the cool air. He clamped his mouth tightly shut, swallowing hard to try to keep down the bile that was rising in the back of his throat. After a couple of deep, steadying breaths he began the walk back to the castle, though bile still sat burning in his throat. He peered into the brightly coloured paper bag and noticed the single black box, half the size of the others, and remembered a warm hand in his, the weight of an arm across his shoulders, the promise of happiness spreading through his veins, and he was sure he was going to be sick. It had been a nice gesture but the sampler box was going to stay unopened in the bottom of his desk for the rest of the year. He didn’t think he could stomach another bite of chocolate ever again.

[whitewolfbumble]

The Fallout - Part Two (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, language, nightmares, abstract talk of suicide, forced kiss

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Thank you for the positive feedback I got from Part One!! I really means so much, and if you like this one please let me know!! I was only planning on posting about once a week, but I made it all of two days before posting this one so. Will have Part Three out later this week!

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST // PART ONE

You were deeply, to your bones exhausted. You dragged yourself to your bed over an hour ago but still, you had yet to fall asleep.

You laid on your side, breathing slow, deep, and steady. A big black cuff was wrapped somewhat loosely around your wrist, your other hand picking at the threads. You had been thinking creatively today about what you had said to Bucky and you were surprised he didn’t ask you a play-by-play on how you coped.

And what would you have said to that? That you hadn’t coped for years, and that when you did the only solution you could think of was a band-aid and low-key torture device?

You were relieved when you had told him that night that you didn’t have it all together and certainly didn’t know exactly what would work specifically for him. But that you would do everything and try everything you could possibly think of to help him.

He had seemed… happy? relieved? at you words inexplicably. You figured he would be upset or frustrated that you couldn’t give him the “How to Heal Post-Hydra Torture and Mutilation” manual. You still didn’t understand why he acted that way but you didn’t question it too much, at least not to him. You’d take this little miracle.

Absently, you kept on running your nails down the cuff. The cuff had its tough material worn down a bit over the years but you barely felt it now anyways. This would be a last resort for Bucky, and you wouldn’t let it get to that.

You had come up with the idea a long time ago, make-shifting something primitive in the early days before coming up with the current model.

It wrapped around your heavily scarred wrist, a few inches wide and about half an inch deep. The braided material at one time was firm and scratchy but had softened with nightly wear. A thick little rope extended out and was attached to another cuff that was tight securely around your bedpost.

Embedded inside the cuff were several sharp barbs secured deeply inside. In the night, if you were to pull or lash out- say due to a nightmare- the cuff would pull tight and barbs would slide into your wrist waking you up.

For a while you had wondered if it would kill you, cutting your artery with you bleeding out before anything could be done about it.

When you were on your own this wasn’t too much a worry actually. If you died, you died. You were broken and alone so it wasn’t the worst outcome you could conceive of. But that mentality was short lived. You hadn’t survived Hydra and escaped them to just give up. And then you met the Avengers and again your world changed for the better.

But a version the cuff stayed with you, now with barbs too thin and small to do any real damage. You hadn’t woken up from the pricks of it in the longest time, your dreams far tamer as of late.

You sighed, dragging your free hand across your eyes. Would Steve have asked you to help Bucky if he knew- really knew- about you and how you supposedly healed from Hydra? Would Bucky? Maybe you wouldn’t have told them anyways, even if they asked outright. So the next question was should you be getting involved after all?

Your sigh turned into a full-blown groan. You may have in your life doubted your sanity and your reality, but you have never doubted your resolve. This was the mission now. You would complete it. You wouldn’t fail him.

This lack of sleep was messing with you hard.

Time to sleep, you half-pleaded half-demanded to yourself.

But your heavy lids snapped up when you heard a blood-curdling scream erupt down through the Tower halls.

_______

Bleary and basically half-dead at this point, your wide eyes didn’t give you away to the few that had gathered at the end of Bucky’s hall. Like they were hesitant to go any further. The screams echoed and chilled the darkened hallway, and in the shadows the mismatched group almost looked to be huddling together at the furthest point from Bucky’s room.

Steve and Sam were in their pajamas, Nat was in her leather mission suit, and Tony was dressed to the nines.

“I didn’t think this was a formal event,” you said above the screams, no real humour in your voice.

The others looked at you a little floored as you came up behind them, not hearing the elevator ding above the screaming chaos.

Despite the total lack of humour in your exhausted voice, the mix of disapproving and concern filled their faces. Particularly Steve’s, as he looked from you back down the hall towards Bucky’s room as another bone-vibrating wail exploded from his room.

“And I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing,” Tony’s rebuttal sounded, nodding to the cuff still attached to your wrist with its rope trailing along the floor.

In your tiredness you had removed it from your bedpost but hadn’t remembered to remove it from your wrist.

“Shit, I guess you got me,” you said tersely, mouth dry. Sideswiping the joke you stepped a few feet closer to Bucky’s room.

“Go to bed guys, I’ve got this,” you said, eyes remaining on the door at the end of the hall until Steve reached out and took your arm.

The screams and gargles and sobs wouldn’t stop coming. It sounded agonizing, like he was being burned alive.

“Y/N, this is worse than the worst I’ve seen.” Steve started, eyebrows pulled together. “I can go in… I know I asked for your help, and I know he asked you too but… I mean if you’re busy with something…”

He looked down to the cuff around your wrist. Honestly.

“Yeah, Banner and I were having a great time. But go to bed. Everyone,” you turned to look at the others. “I’m on night duty from now on so get out of here.”

“Listen man,” Sam started, his quiet voice getting all but drowned out in the noise. “You haven’t slept yourself in days. This is bad. Let her try.”

You turned back to Bucky’s door and waited until one by one they got onto the elevator to leave. You could practically feel Steve linger before taking the elevator with the others, the cheery ding of the closing doors the last sound from them.

Why you offered to do this you weren’t sure. Looking down to the door you suddenly felt the cold floor against your bare feet and a shiver set through you.

You knew why. You knew exactly the pain and torture Bucky was experiencing right now. It clawed at you and made you ache so deep inside it hurt.

A second of silence took over the hall before a deafening scream pierced through you. It chilled you to your bones as you pushed down the memories that were lurking under the surface of your mind, trying to break free.

You started off suddenly quick down the hall, not necessarily running to Bucky but maybe running away from the dreams those screams brought up in your mind. The faster this could end the better.

Your hand went to on the cold knob of his door but it wouldn’t budge. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., let me in.”

Bucky wouldn’t have known to alter the security settings when he arrived, and in an emergency, members of the team had full access everywhere, including private quarters. A dull red light flashed on the security panel beside the door. That must’ve triggered the gang to show up if the screams hadn’t reached them first. Vitals are monitored by F.R.I.D.A.Y. and you would bet Bucky’s were spiking right now.

“The door is unlocked, Y/N.” said the A.I.

“Small mercies,” you muttered back.

You braced your body and mind as best you could before opening up his door.

You knew immediately why Steve didn’t run in. The pain was heart-wrenching and almost doubled you over as you entered.

The room was boiling hot and a hot puff of air slammed into you as you entered. What pushed you back a step though was the wall of sound that hit you hard across your whole body, the full force of his terror flaying across you.

Bucky was fighting fiercely, voice hoarse and body contorting wildly. His bed lay across the room against the side wall. You pushed in and close the door, standing back against it, feeling unable to move in anymore as the sound completely filled the room to the brim.

When someone woke you up from nightmares with loudness or intensity, you tended to lash out violently against them without realizing it. Hence the necessity of the cuff to wake yourself up. Gentle wakenings generally made you confused (nothing in your life had been gentle and you didn’t trust it) and then lash out violently, again reflexively.

Panicked voices pushed you into a protection or defensive type mode. If the person around you woke you up panicked, there was danger nearby. You would automatically stop and assess the danger before attacking.

But it only worked sometimes. Minimally. Maybe Bucky was the same?

You gulped in a big breath of warm air and took a chance at this.

“Bucky, stop! You’re hurting me, please! Stop! BUCKY!” you screamed over top of his cacophony, body hunching over at the effort in your tired lungs.

He crumpled up, his long limbs snapping back to his body in a second.

You tried again, screaming.

And again.

You took a small step from the door and yet again screamed above the din.

“Bucky, stop! Please, help me!”

Blue-black eyes snapped open suddenly. Bucky let out a terribly deep gasp and gargled out as if the air he was breathing was poisoning him. He coughed and sputtered, body moving up the bed to a crouched position in the corner, fists balled up and sweat dripping off of him.

Hurt and panic rolled off him in waves, and you weren’t even sure that he knew you were there. He was sputtering and it was clear by his unfocused dark eyes that reality had not quite come to him yet. But he didn’t attack either.

In with the pain there was no malice in his eyes, just terror, so you slowly approached.

“It’s me, Bucky,” you said lowly and as soothing as your hoarse voice could. “There is no danger here. There is nothing you have to fear. It was a dream. You’re back now.”

You spoke as slowly as you approached, trying not to tip the delicate equilibrium in the room off kilter. Maybe Bucky frozen in terror wasn’t ideal but at least he wasn’t actively trying to murder you.

Eventually you made it to the bed and your heart lurched. He was tattered, breath wheezing from pain or horror or both. His body shook violently, unable to stop the fallout of the dream coursing through him.

Slowly you reached a hand to his shoulder, barely touching him.

“It’s me, Bucky," you said again softly. "I’m here to help you, remember? I’m going to help you.”

You moved from a feather-light touch to rest your palm on his blazingly hot shoulder. He cried out in pain, like the comfort of your hand was causing it.

Your arm twitched, wanting to jerk back but you held it still. Comfort wasn’t going to be painful anymore. You’d show him that.

Slowly, as to shake the bed as little as possible, you brought your leg up on it and then the other, crouching just behind him.

“I’m here to help, you’re going to be okay Bucky. I’ve got you now.”

You didn’t detach your hand from him but moved it down across his chest to hold him from behind. He was blindingly hot and sticky with sweat, firm muscles quivering with spasms and shaking breath.

As you placed your other hand around him he crumpled beneath you.

“You’re falling apart,” His body twitched violently and jostled you hard but you held fast. “You are. And that’s okay, you can fall apart Bucky. I won’t let you stay broken, I’m going to hold you here until you’re okay again. I’m going to hold you together.”

That’s all you had wanted. Someone to hold you and take away the pain.

You stayed awake, holding him and humming softly in his ear. You were terribly uncomfortable, half on top of him as he was curled somewhat beneath you. Your arms were stretched and holding him as tight as you could manage. You were aching to your bones but the pain didn’t matter. You had had worse. So you mentally gritted your teeth and held fast.

You held him and whispered to him and hummed to him until his body relaxed just slightly enough for him to sleep some few hours later.

But you stayed up. You would stay awake so that when his body convulsed or a whimper escaped his lips you could nudge him out of it with a squeeze of your arms and a hum from your lips.

When dawn appeared through the window you turned your head around and squinted out, making out a red sky and fluffy grey clouds. It was over. You both had gotten through the night.

This would get easier. You both would make a plan that didn’t involve sleeping torture devices or stay conscious indefinitely.

Despite your intentions and all things considered, the next night went substantially worse.

_______

Bucky was dazed and out of it when you woke him up, understandably. You had told him the basics and he only nodded tersely at it, muscles and jaw tight. Obviously not the state he ever wanted you or anyone else to see him in.

“Tonight will be better, we’ll start coming up with a plan,” you said encouragingly, shifting your weary, aching limbs off his bed.

Another nod from him. He probably wanted his space so you left it there, leaving him to his morning routine.

Somehow he turned from a tense and pained man into the normal looking blue-eyed Bucky by the time he rolled into the kitchen. You were still a fucking exhausted mess, only having enough energy to change your clothes. Steve would want an update on what happened, and you owed him at least that.

You were already in the kitchen before he arrived, filling in Steve and Nat in hushed voices on the course of the night.

“So he slept?” Nat more stated than asked, eyebrows raised a little impressed.

“Wait, you woke him up?” Steve said, more surprised than anything. He looked you over once, eyes going up and down the length of your body before shaking his head a little incredulously.

“Why is that the shock here?" you asked irritably. "Yes, I woke him up; it was morning after all and I haven’t slept in two days now. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, voice low. “I don’t mean today, I mean last night from the nightmare. I’ve tried when it’s been bad… He either doesn’tuntil he wakes himself up or near kills me if I do get him up.”

Both options left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth if any indication was his grimace. Steve looked you up and down again, and you guessed his gaze was checking for injury.

“Not a scratch, Cap” you half-yawned. “But I still didn’t like the way I had to do it. We’ll come up with something better.”

You got two puzzled looks at that, but Bucky walked in and you changed the subject.

“Any news on the agents that got away from the base three?” you asked Nat.

“Actually, yes. But we got this one.”

“No,” you said flatly. “Let’s hear it.”

The mission the Team had gone on a bit over a week ago was generally pretty basic, save a couple details. You, Cap, and Bucky had gone to the first base. It was a fair size but the tech was old. Good for you three seniors, as Clint had put it. Steve had insisted Bucky come, as he knew the base layout without the help of any schematics. Bad call, but whatever.

Nat, Sam, Thor, and Banner went to the second base, a positive fortress that was half on a mountainside and half-built into it. That required a fair amount of scaling and manpower.

The third was covered by Tony, Clint, Wanda, and Vision. The base was advanced, fairly recently upgraded with tech and missiles. After finding the three Hydra bases in such close proximity the Team had decided to split up and hit them all in one go.

The schematics that you didn’t have from base one, but that Nat uploaded in part from base two, detailed a patchy tunneling system spanning the distance from the base you took to the third base. It was almost 35km long. Once learning a few key dangerous Hydra players had gotten away, the next thought you had was how much forced labour went into those weaving underground tunnels. Forced and tortured labour.

The Team had been mapping the tunnels, as not everything was documented. They were old and hidden for a reason. You assumed there was another base somewhere out there that had the missing information but so far nothing had turned up. Hydra buried their secrets deep and you weren’t holding your breath that you’d find out this one. Not in time, anyway.

So the mission evolved into finding out as many exit points the tunnels had and searching the area for those missing Hydra agents. Those snakes slipped down whatever hole they entered without any trace so far.

“A fourth base. Underground, actually,” Nat stated unsurprisingly. “Three-quarters of the way between the third and second base.”

“In a mountain?” you guessed.

“Near one. Looks to be called "Vier"? Ring a bell?” You closed your eyes for a brief moment before tilting your head far enough to the side to crack it.

It was only half a name, but it was all you needed.

“Yep,” you said tersely.

Steve looked from Bucky, who was watching the three of you as he grabbed a bowl of cereal, back to your face. Your eyes and face were blank, though the tight way you clenched your jaw gave you away to your friend.

“Recommendations?” he asked, cutting to the quick.

“I would recommend you call a meeting, Steve,” you said, giving nothing else away.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said slowly, agreeing as he watched your expression darken.

_______

So your morning (or entire day) of sleeping turned into something much different.

Researching, explaining, and filling in some blanks to the Team was how you spent your time. You didn’t take charge of the assembly, but took your cues from Steve and launched into whatever blanks he asked you to fill (when you knew) or pointed out where best to find the answers.

“Hydra has bases everywhere. It’s the whole cut off the head thing," you said, gesturing abstractly. "No matter what base is destroyed, there’s already another waiting in the wings ready to go.”

You walked over to a glass screen in the lab and pulled up the digital map of the now four bases. You pointed to the fourth one.

“What we are looking at,” you said trying not to sigh. “Is the Vier Gliedmaßen. Four connected bases- obviously Hydra- some 65km apart at most. Each base has a different… specialty, I guess. One chemical research, one human imprisonment and experimentation, one tech development, and one stronghold for secrets and weapons, basically. They all work in tandem.”

Your knowledge wasn’t extensive on this to be truthful, but compared to the rest of the Team you were the expert you suposed.

“It was mostly myth, really," you said with a shrug.

“And you have entered this Vier Gliedmaßen before?” Thor questioned. His eyes flicked intently between the map and you.

“No, not exactly. But also yes. I regained consciousness in one section of the fourth base, which I stayed in until they knocked me out and we moved on. Didn’t enter into any tunnels or the other bases, that I recall. No other clues I could give here.”

“And Bucky?” Natasha asked, looking to the back of the room in his direction. Everyone followed, while Bucky eventually looked down. He took a moment to speak, considering it one last time before speaking quietly.

“I don’t think so," he said. "I recalled the other one, but can’t remember much.”

“Well, then we storm the base, apprehend the enemy, and be done with it,” Thor stated.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Steve took over, stepping up from the periphery of the circle of Avengers. “With these intricate tunnels, we can’t cover all of them and we don’t have the map to them, much less every exit point. If we go in there, we could get lost, stuck, or into a bad situation fast. That is even if the intel we have hasn’t be falsified.”

“Okay, tech talk time,” Tony piped up before immediately launching into some mumbo tunnel-scanning jumbo you only half registered in your tiredness.

From there the day unfolded into planning and rebuttals, mapping and dividing work. Ultimately you couldn’t know that anyone was still in that fourth base, much less the people you wanted to find. If they had any inkling that you knew of this secret base, they would be stupid to flee there.

It was already dark by the time you were able to retreat to the sanctuary of your room. Really, you didn’t have much feeling about your little space in the Tower- you not sure you could feel at “home” anywhere- but today it was a heavenly sight for your eyes to see.

You could barely keep your emotions in check over the last couple hours and velvety comfort of your room was so well deserved. It was dark and silent and wonderful. Alone in your room you collapsed down on your bed without bothering to remove the leggings and shirt you slipped into that morning.

You were in that woozy state between awake and asleep when the screaming started.

Your hand shot up to your throat before realizing that the screams weren’t yours.

It took you a minute to pry yourself up, rubbing the sleepy pain behind your eyes for the millionth time that day before padding down to the icy floor below yours.

No one greeted you this time as the elevator doors opened, and it was quite quiet on Bucky’s floor. How kind of them to leave this to you.

But maybe they didn’t hear. Maybe there was no screaming? It wouldn’t be the first you had imagined screams that weren’t there. And you had definitely had more sleep bolstering you up in those instances.

But a blindingly sharp shriek echo down the hall and rattled your sleep-deprived brain. You thudded down the corridor, your usually quiet glide nowhere to be found.

You opened Bucky’s door and was hit with that expected bracing heat and wall of cries.

“Bucky, I’m here,” you said, voice barely above your usual volume and certainly not above the screams.

His thrashes were more violent tonight and he jerked and strained against the nightmare. This onslaught was faster, more intense.

Making up for the reprieve from last night, you thought.

“Bucky, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Your knees hit the edge of the bed and you shuffled down to put a hand on his shoulder…

Your instinctual reaction usually was first to the draw, followed secondly by your mind which cognitively snapped the facts into place for you. Generally, it was seamless. It meant you often physically reacted in muscle memory before your brain could process what was happening around you. So when someone came up behind you or in a fight, you reacted faster and better.

But this was now the third night you hadn’t slept. Not a record for you yet, but it made you move painfully slow, reactions lagging. Bucky, on the other hand, was lightning fast and you realized a second too late, not in his right mind.

In the mass of tangled wet hair and crumpled sheets, dark eyes snapped open, angry and hard. The blue in them had practically disappeared leaving nothing but an inky dead stare. Simultaneously a big metal arm came flashing toward you with a heated yell ripping through his throat.

Your hand snapped back from his shoulder to your chest as his arm crashed into your throat and his heavy body gripped tight, pushing you breathtakingly hard several feet back against the opposite wall.

You strained as intense eyes held your stare and a metal arm gripped both your neck and wrist now caught together, causing shooting pain but ultimately keeping you from death by throat crushing.

But the next crushing you felt was his lips crashing into yours.

Bracing and painfully hard, you stood stock still for a moment as his body pressed into yours, lining up against your hips. It was brutally harsh and a groan sounded in your throat, Bucky’s seal around your lips not allowing so much as a sound escape. It was dominating and unrelenting and you experienced a terror rippling through your body at the stark familiarity. In a second you shut your emotions down, not having the luxury to be distracted by the pain or shock.

You wretched your head away as best you could, maneuvering slightly to bring your knee up to his groin then in quick succession your free elbow to his throat.

You had a split second before he either crushed your windpipe or slammed his body back against yours, so your body kicked into full gear. Whatever sleep you had desired a minute before was gone with a flooding of adrenalin to your system.

Knees launching up to his chest before he could close the distance, you pushed them out to give you a brief moment of space before bring them up to his chin hard. He pushed back only slightly but it gave you enough room. You had a split second to make your move before it was futile. You knew he wouldn’t give you another chance.

You used your momentum to swing your leg up to his shoulder then wrap around his neck. You grabbed your ankle with your free hand to secure him in. The swing and force of your entire body weighing on his neck drop him down enough for you to swing up your other leg up and hook it onto your shin. You were locked in, your legs much stronger than his neck by a long shot.

You threw all your weight back and to the side, slamming the both of you to ground, making sure his head hit the floor hard.

Pivoting quickly you flipped over and around, ending up basically sitting with Bucky’s head between your crossed legs. The awkward angle forced him to let go of his death grip before he could squeeze his hand and end this struggle and your life. He managed to get a hold of your ankle and yank harshly down, but you didn’t give him time to do much else.

You saw a flash of blue in your sparring partner, but you didn’t stop until you had reached under his arm and torso, legs bracing and setting up your next move as you sent his body flying to the side behind, flipping him over. A loud crash echoed as he landed, shoulder and jaw hitting and smashing a small round table near the bedroom door.

The air hung around you buzzingly silent in your ears, no sound coming from either of you. He didn’t move, so you didn’t. Waiting uncharacteristically until you heard anything from him before reacting, you stayed still on the ground. That interaction was all in all about ten seconds but it pretty much depleted the spare reserves you had. Thank the gods for the adrenalin kick that coursed through you.

“…Y/N?” It came distant and a little forlorn. But it wasn’t the Soldiers voice, it was Bucky’s. You wondered distantly if the black eyes had turned to blue again.

“I’m here, Bucky,” you croaked out, breathless on the floor. “You’re alright now... we’re alright. ”

You tilted your head back and watched him for a second as he stood up. He looked around him, face contorted in confusion at the rubble around him, panting heavily.

“Y/N…?”

You groaned slightly, turning over onto your side before sitting up.

“Yeah, Buck,” you said, trying not to wince. "I'm still here."

You couldn’t pinpoint anything hurting specifically yet, just a whole body stiffness at the sudden jarring interaction. Bucky looked more or less alright, save a drop of blood coming down from his temple.

“Nightmare… a bad one,” you added, with a flourish to the broken table and large indent where your spine had been thrown into the drywall.

“I… I don’t…” he sputtered, his dark locks half blocking his view as he looked around him, confusion still holding fast.

You sat up and made your way back to the bed, sitting down with one hand resting on your knee and the other on your lower back like you were ninety years old. Well, actually, considering Hydra freezing and thawing you through the years, that wasn’t far off.

“So, the mission? All the fourth base shit?” Still breathless. That was pretty pathetic. Way to look weak after a ten-second fight. “Back burner. All of it. They can figure it out. You and me, we’re going to work on this nightmare stuff. Priority one.”

He wasn’t quite there yet obviously, his eyes a beautiful deep blue, but filled with confusion and shock.

“But, you—”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, what was the last thing I said?” You really weren’t interested in repeating yourself. You needed sleep, not conversation.

“Priority One, Y/N.” came the oddly smooth and collected voice among your panting.

“See?” you said, pointing a finger up to the ceiling.

It’s clear as you two went through the motions of getting ready for bed again, Bucky didn’t remember much of what happened. He would pause and look around confused, trying to stitch it together, face scrunched up at the effort. And whatever he remembered, it certainly wasn’t kissing you.

You waited for him to shower and fix the sheets while you picked up the debris around the room. Besides the furniture, the worst was a broken frame with an old time-y photo of Bucky and Steve in front of a current photo Tony had snapped when the Team welcomed Bucky to his new home that first night. He had been floored that after how the mission went down the team had still thought of it.

“Y/N…” Bucky waited until you turned to him before he continued, your hands still holding the broken frame. His brown hair was wet from the shower looking almost black. It had done nearly nothing to relax him as his shoulders were slightly higher on his frame, the wet ends of his hair start to soak through his shirt.

“Thank you… And I’m sorry if I hurt you... Truly, I am.”

You turned away from him and the sincerity in his voice, using the frame in your hand as an excuse as you placed it back on the shelf.

“Forget it… Let’s just forget all of it,” you said as your hand went to your bruised lips.

And you hoped that in the light of day he would not remember. That conversation, and the conversation of why you knew he had done it, was not one you were ready for.

PART THREE

[all-hail-trudos]

I posted 14,742 times in 2022

That's 1,079 more posts than 2021!

65 posts created (0%)

14,677 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@irishironclad

@absolute-chadette

@girlysword

@animepopheart

I tagged 706 of my posts in 2022

#saved for later - 56 posts

#neural cloud - 29 posts

#pnc - 19 posts

#gfl - 19 posts

#girl's frontline - 13 posts

#girls' frontline - 13 posts

#project neural cloud - 9 posts

#pokemon - 8 posts

#saved to research later - 7 posts

#arknights - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#bitcoin is a pseudo-commodity traded as an assumed fungible entity even as most people view it more like an investment than anything else

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Second thing I'm loving about Arceus Legends: the move pool has been DECIMATED. Like almost literally decimated, shrunk down to a fraction of what we had in Gen 7, and half of SWSH's already shrunken move sets. Most pokemon learn less than a dozen moves on their own, and type coverage is difficult to get without going to the move tutor.

I know some people will question my sanity for being excited about this, but let me explain. Small move pools completely erase the meta. Each pokemon only having access to like a dozen moves means teams can now be more diverse. Nearly everyone's fav can suddenly become relevant again under conditions like this so long as they have decent stats. (That includes my own beloved eeveelutions). And small things like Buizel/Floatzel having access to Aqua Jet and Crunch vs Psyduck/Golduck learning psychic type moves becomes extremely important.

ALSO, you can swap out pokemon in the same turn now if you do it right, and that is AMAZING. Between these two things, pokemon battles feel more dynamic now than they have since I first started playing, and the experience is an extremely welcome breath of fresh air.

21 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

#4

Postmodern liberalism subscribers are so afraid of Catholics who aren't ashamed of themselves that they banned a man who's only fault was being loudly Christian and making a couple shit posts. If anyone sees theironclad make a return with a new blog, let me know. I miss his salty Irish humour

25 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#3

I don't know if someone's said this already, but Shez looks like someone's early '00s anime oc. Crazy purple scene kid hair. Big doe eyes. Stacked. Dual wields swords, one of which looks like a weird combination of a saber and a katana. She absolutely fits the bill.

40 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#2

IT'S HAPPENING

JILL IS COMING BACK IN FIVE DAYS!

The crossover of two of my favourite games is getting a rerun on April 26th 2022! I'm so happy!

142 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

All the jokes about Battinson on tumblr belie the fact that there is a surprising amount of maturity to The Batman, making it arguably the best batman movie, and I would even say the best superhero movie to date.

Matt Reeves directs a movie that's a character drama masquerading as an action flick. Everyone knows (or should know by now) that Bruce Wayne is an orphan by now. His origin story has been adapted plenty of times by now. But no other work in recent memory has explored the idea of him still being traumatized by that into his adult years. Robert Pattinson does an amazing job playing a genuinely antisocial and clinically depressed superhero who fights crime with the vague hope of making a difference. When he wears the Bat suit, he feels like he has a reason for living. When he takes the suit off and becomes Bruce Wayne again, he might as well be dead. He hates himself, he hates his life, and he has no time for the family business empire that's beginning to crumble around him. As many people have commented, as Batman he is unequivocally badass. Possibly more badass than Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale's interpretation of the same role. But as Bruce Wayne he is a sad, strange little man who needs therapy and a hug. (Like, seriously, guy needs a hug. Selena Kyle touches his cheek and the man melts into it like it's the first friendly touch he's had in years.) But over the course of the movie we see him change. Bruce Wayne slowly becomes more than a daylight/public alter ego and becomes more important to him. He accepts that it's necessary for him to take responsibility and do more than fight crime. And it's this underlying aspect of the plot, the unmitigated despair gradually resolving into purpose and a sense of personal importance that really shapes The Batman and makes it genuinely better than all the takes that came before it.

436 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[numinex919]

What Doesn’t Kill Me - Chapter 1

My BSOTTO would know I didn’t start out a fan of AU Reylo. And yet, like all good sisters of the Thirst Order they lead me to the Dark Side. Welcome to my other fanfic. It is no ‘After Crait’, it’s smuttier, darker and, you know, AU, but I hope it’s still something you guys enjoy. Yes, ‘After Crait’ will continue. 

@delia-pavorum, @raven-maiden, @kitten-the-cat, @strawberrycupcakehuckleberrypie, @newerconstellations this one’s for you guys.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171611/chapters/35183441

“That smokin’ hot guy over there?” Rose jerks a thumb towards the end of the bar. “He has big dick energy.” Her words are a little slurred as she nods emphatically.

Rey throws a quick glance at the object of this startling pronouncement, worried the possessor of said energy might have heard her friend. Rose’s voice is loud, even in the aural chaos of the bar, and she half expects to meet a smug/outraged/disgusted glance.

“Oh. Wow.” Is all she can say.

Thankfully he’s not looking their way, but man, she’s wondering why the whole bar isn’t staring at him.

First thing she notices are his hands, nursing what looks like whiskey over ice. They are beautiful, with long sensitive fingers whose blunt, square tips make them appear infinitely capable.

Of pleasuring a woman . . .

Or snapping a man’s neck.

A shiver runs over her as she watches him bring the glass to his lush mouth. Proud nose and brow, thick sable hair.

She turns back to Rose who smiles knowingly and mouths ‘big dick energy’ before saying in a still too-loud tone, “This is why you don’t need a little weasel like Hux bossing you around constantly. He has small dick energy. It’s why he’s so aggressive, like a weeny little dog. With a weeny little—”

“Yes, Rose we get your point, hon.” Paige grins good-naturedly at her sister and rolls her eyes. “Rey can’t very well start causing a ruckus in her first week of work at—what’s it called again?”

“Hosnian Solutions”.

“He’s probably just the kind of boss who’s tough on new employees.” Paige shrugs and sips her strawberry margarita.

Rey ignores Rose’s counterargument which still involves the word ‘dick’ and sneaks another glance at BDE guy.

He’s big all right.

Shoulders and arms sculpted and thick through the thin knit of his jumper. The depth between chest and back says there is even more muscle on his body. She snatches another quick peek at his face.

He is staring straight at her.

The shocking intensity of his gaze is almost physical and her lips part over a silent gasp as they lock stares.

His eyes are velvet dark, full of shadows. A scar runs down the right side of his face. Whatever happened narrowly avoided his eye socket. The mark disappears under the high neck of his clothing.

She wonders how far it goes . . .

Another shiver wracks her and she drops her gaze, even as part of her wants to defy the provocative glint she sees in his, instead of backing down.

You do not meet that sort of challenge from that sort of man.

He epitomizes the word ‘dangerous’.

Not just to girly hearts or womanly sanity. The man is panty-dropping hot, but he looks like a bloody serial killer.

Those few seconds of contact have sucked all the air out of the room. Rey takes a moment to gather her blown mind and incidentally re-oxygenate it.

Then she risks another shot at contact.

The bar is empty. Not empty-empty, even though a fire alarm could probably have gone off and she wouldn’t have noticed, trapped in that stormcloud gaze.

It’s empty of him. He’s gone and the way in which her heart and stomach elevator plummet, she half expects to see them hit the floor.

She can’t stop her desperate gaze from sweeping the room, but there’s no tall, dark stranger with powerful shoulders and thick, silky hair.

Every other man is a pale imitation.

Gritting her teeth against the ridiculous disappointment, Rey turns back to her friends.

Finn, Rose’s boyfriend is joking with Paige about her best friend Poe. Everyone is giggling about his obsession with the latest home digital assistant. His insistence on calling it ‘beebee’, because, duh, it’s shaped like a ‘B’ has lead to some hilarious mistakes.

Like when he ordered flowers for his friend Tallie-short-for-Tallisa and ended up sending her a beehive starter kit.

“Tallie is allergic to bees.” Paige’s expression is deadpan before she breaks into giggles.

“It’s not beebee’s fault!” The object of their conversation walks up, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

Poe might be unpredictable and downright annoying at times, but he can at least laugh at himself.

Unlike the guy. Rey doubts he’s ever smiled in his life, despite the generous mouth, his face is not one that appears prone to humour.

“Hey. Poe.” Finn’s strange awkwardness catches Rey’s attention. He has his arms out for a manly hug, but is half-hesitating as though he thinks this might not be welcome. Poe seems oblivious, going into the greeting wholeheartedly, slapping Finn on the back and calling him ‘buddy’.

Just for a moment, Rey wonders if they’ve had some kind of argument, but she dismisses it a moment later as the strange tension eases.

Another round of drinks are ordered and she is grateful for the distraction. She needs to forget the stranger and regain her usual calm.

But she glances around the bar far too often in search of a pair of dark eyes, the strangest feeling prickling up her spine.

* * *

“What do you think of the girl?”

Kylo experiences his shock as an inner flinch. Outwardly he’s aware he hasn’t moved a muscle.

No one ever sneaks up on him. But such is his absorption in the cctv feed from the front office that Hux, who only knows how to verbally backstab, has managed to do so.

He snaps his attention to the slim redhead. “What girl?”

His tone is a ferocious snarl.

Hux twitches nervously but also looks mildly surprised.

The girl is currently in full view on the screen he’s just been staring at. “Does she know?”

“No.” Hux’s tone is instantly laced with gloating satisfaction. “She thinks we are what we appear to be on the surface, a company that finds permanent solutions to business problems. If she’s ever questioned, no one would be able to discover our true operations.”

The redhead’s pale, icy gaze flicks over Kylo. “What we really are.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. Why are you so concerned, Ren, she’s just a secretary.” Snoke’s right-hand man’s contempt is palpable.

He ignores the question. “Particulars?”

“Rey Neminem, nineteen, recently completed her A-levels in London, whatever that means. Moved here two months ago. Friends with two sisters, Paige and Rose Tico, Finn, no last name and Poe Dameron. All check out.”

“Boyfriend?” Kylo has no idea why Hux’s hesitation over answering should make him want to slit the other man’s throat. His blade hand clenches.

“No. No boyfriend.” Hux flicks through the digital files busily, unaware how close he’s come to dying.

Kylo relaxes his fist. He is Master of the Knights of Ren, as the group of assassins he belongs to are known, he should have better control. He’s been slipping lately.

The girl.

He’s not surprised she was in the bar the other night, it’s close to Hosnian Solution’s offices and Friday drinks after work appears to be a popular activity. Nothing that can be considered a problem.

His response to her is a problem.

Meeting her frank, hazel eyes had been like breaking the surface of a dark pool after going too deep.

Shocking, invigorating, instantly arousing, a fucking revelation.

He’d left, fast. Not looking back. He’d gone straight to his penthouse apartment, slamming the door. After a moment of hesitation heading to the bathroom.

Staring at himself in the mirror he’d seen eyes like black pits of terror, pulse jumping in his throat, scar itching. He’d ripped his clothing off, breath sawing in his chest.

Then he’d taken the throbbing length of his erection in his hand and did something he had only done a couple of times in his mid-teens.

Before Snoke, his apprenticeship, his uncle trying to kill him, before it all went wrong.

After the first couple of strokes he realizes he needs . . .

Fuck. The scented body oil makes his grip a smooth glide that almost buckles his knees. He closes his eyes, imagines it’s the girl’s hand, her mouth, stroking the length of his cock.

The way she catches her tongue between her teeth when she laughed at her friend’s jokes is so fucking sexy. He pictures her running it up the underside of his erection, laving the head, sucking the tip before taking as much of him as she can down her throat.

“Fuuck.” His hoarse shout echoes through the large bathroom, creamy jets of cum shoot across the black marble countertop. His knees really do give out and he crashes to the floor on hand and knees, still milking his cock, lips tight over bared teeth, over the feel of it. The heat pulsing through him in a wave close to euphoria.

He is ruined.

By a pair of gold-flecked eyes, flushed cheeks and wispy hair in a messy bun, fine bones and boyish figure.

He recalls his only coherent thought in the aftermath of his loss of control—Thank fuck he never has to see her again.

Yet here she is.

[goddamnitlady]

Notes to self: past, change, and most probable route of  future development. [JiraOro thread]

Orochimaru is now going through a shift in thinking in the JiraOro roleplay story. I need to type it out for me to understand it. No need to read it. 

No but seriously, Nikki, I'll put it under a readmore and let you choose whether to read it or not. I mostly fear that you'll sit back and think "okay so this is probably the best guess on how it will end" and then we will neveeeer write the two agaaaiiin. ;A;

Fears aside... If you read it, do leave a comment for my effort, as I started writing this halfway the football match and finish it only now. I think myself clever for having been able to put it into words. 

The situation at the start of this OroJira story  Orochimaru is convinced he does not have any goodness left in him any more. He thinks he has lost everyone and everything. He's like Sasuke. He’s in darkness. So deep, that he is beyond saving. He aims with is bad actions ("someone has to do the dirty work") to give children better lives in a better world than had been offered to him. ”Results justify the means,” he said.       This 'calling', to make a better peaceful world for the next generation, is in his mind the only good aspect about him. Fulfilling role of 'fixer' is how he can live with himself. Take these good intentions away, and their absence will expose he's just monster. That he’s the same type of monster as the villains who hurt him as a child. So he clings to this role. “I’m different. I’m doing these horrible things for the greater good.” He fills himself with self-deception, because deep down he knows he is wrong.

Telling him he's awful, and why he’s awful, make Orochimaru go either... 1) smirking arrogant because it means he's successfully changing the world.  2) trying to convince you he IS doing the right thing. This is akin to "LALALA I CANT HEAR YOU. I HAVE MY HANDS OVER MY EARS. I'M A GOOD PERSON LA LA LA." Orochimaru is so lost, that he can't be reached.

A big danger: at once acknowledging the immense scope and amount of wrong he did in his life, will utterly destroy his heart. It will destroy his sanity. So he doesn't acknowledge it. He only acknowledges the surface -- that he has no chance at redemption. 

No redemption? He's doubting that now. This doubt is sparked by the training process. The training shows that no matter how bad Orochimaru is, Jiraiya will always call him out on it, and tell him to be behave. He appeals to an inherent good nature in Orochimaru's. He has a firm believe in that inherent goodness.

That's so novel.

Like... “What does Jiraiya see in me? Is he right?? I want him to be right!!!!! Sure, there are punishments. But those can be suffered through. And they pass. And then there's the orgasm reward... :))) .”

He loves the rewards. He loves feeling good. He loves being loved. He loves being called 'Good boy'. He likes 'Good', because it makes him feel forgiven, and 'boy', because youth was before his sins. His eternal obsession with youth, eh?

This training gives him a break from his exhausting sin-denying. This training proves that not all that he touches crumbles/rots/dies, but that he can make a person happy. He enjoys serving for the sake of giving away attention and love and spoiling Jiraiya. This shared happiness gives him hope. Hope, that they can connect because somewhere deep down there IS good in him.

This brings me to how powerfully Orochimaru loves Jiraiya. Jira (bitterly?) believes there is hope for Orochimaru. That belief makes every piece of Orochimaru’s world-making wobble. Orochimaru’s previously rock-hard convictions become unsteady.      Jiraiya is the one he trusts most in his life, more than even Kabuto. He now trusts Jiraiya more than he trusts himself. Jiraiya is often right. Orochimaru now distrusts his own decision-making. He now distrusts his own mind. But he relies on his friend. “If Jiraiya thinks there’s hope, it must be true, right?”

He likes to think it could be true. 

Nikki, remember that meme? That silly meme where I had to fill in stars for Orochimaru’s romantic/platonic/sexual feelings to a muse... and when you messaged me Jiraiya's name, all the options were maxed out to ten stars? xD

He LOVES Jiraiya. 

He loves how good Jiraiya can make him feel, both physically and spiritually. He enjoys the safety, friendship, banter, homeliness, attraction, powerlessness, humour, being useful, because Jiraiya doesn’t back down he feels like he’s found back his equal. His other half. He feels loved. 

At the start of the story Orochimaru intended to make Jiraiya part of his dark world by trying to convince Jiraiya that the “end justifies the means”. That attempt failed SPECTACULARLY.

To keep Jiraiya from leaving him, Orochimaru set out try to change himself to become part of Jiraiya's world. First stop was his (mutually agreed upon) physical submission. Orochimaru is changing his behaviour. But Jiraiya won’t stay if it’s just sex, because it cannot be “just sex” between them. There’s too much history. 

Now Orochimaru has begun mentally submitting, too. Not being allowed to speak and not being able to think because he feels so good, has been a powerful agent of mental change.      This is where the big shift is happening now that I need to get down in text.      Orochimaru begun to acknowledge (in those muse&mun converstions) that he cannot bear to keep Jiraiya around if Jiraiya isn't happy. Nikki, this feeling is escalating to a degree I had never dared to predict.       Jiraiya's happiness is now the most important thing to him in the entire world. It’s vital. Sex might feel nice but it doesn’t heal an aching heart. Keeping Jiraiya captive by force (as was the very first plan) is out of the question. Awful! How could he have ever thought up such a horrible scheme! Orochimaru has already begun to rely on Jiraiya’s judgement more than his own. The way to keep Jira... and to make him happy... is to become good. It’s the only way. He now knows this. He’s preparing for this. 

Orochimaru MUST change. 

The Talk: gaining insight in the consequences of his past actions.  This talk will happen at SOME point, probably. In this talk he needs to learn what damage he has done so he know what to NEVER do again. 

He first has to acknowledge he has hurt Jiraiya immensely. 

He must listen to his thoughts.

Acknowledge his pain respectfully. 

Learn what harm he did to Jiraiya. 

And only when Orochimaru understands the full scope of his actions, he can try to give Jiraiya some peace and tranquillity. 

This talk is not for him. This talk will be for Jiraiya. (Because I’m super duper interested in your Jiraiya’s coping mechanisms and his pain and his making-sense-of-the-world). (And because I love hurt/comfort. Let my muse give comfort. It will be a ‘fix the canon’ thread!) (No one can dish out pain like you do so I dread this thread too. Never anger a calm man, is a saying. A tumblr roleplay saying should be, Never ask angst from the Fluff/Smut Queen.)(But I’m dumb). 

He loves Jiraiya. He doesn’t want him to hurt. Doesn’t want him to hurt in Orochimaru’s presence or absence or anytime at all. Jiraiya’s happiness is more important than his own. 

Hearing about Jiraiya’s pain is going to hurt him as fuck, but it will be a manageable size. It is 'merely' the severe damage he has done to his most important friend. This talk in my replies won't be about Orochimaru's hurt, not about Orochimaru’s traumas, and won't be about the unphantomable damage Orochimaru did to the entire world (which would destroy him). This talk will be bite-sized (but he’ll still almost choke on it) aims to give katharsis/resolution. 

Failing this talk, means that he's going to need to let Jiraiya (or the loved one) go. Their happiness is more important than his own. (I've encountered this version of events with Sasukes and Anko and an OC.) 

Succeeding this talk, meaning if he can give Jiraiya some form of solace. This interaction will fulfil the same function as Orochimaru (in canon) giving Sasuke solace by summoning the Hokages. This person whom he loves and is the first one he can connect to, will become his moral compass. He will become devoted to them. He won't ask for forgiveness. He will only ask if they're happier now. 

Let's suppose they touched hearts, then how will that change him? Lovingly supporting this one person he hurt before, by now doing good, so the Precious One is happy, gives off a feeling of success. Actual /warmth/ in his chest, no self-deception. This spark of warmth will catch onto his rotten heart and become a tiny flame of light in his chest. This successful attempt will give him back his faith in his ability to do good for the sake of goodness (instead of evil for the sake of goodness). 

He will want repeat his successful experience by helping more people reach happiness the right way. With this special person by his side (Jiraiya/Sasuke), Orochimaru can now actively try to acknowledge bigger and bigger chunks of his past misdeeds. And bravely begin working to correct them. 

Suddenly he is already halfway on the path back to the light.

If Orochimaru has loved one to walk beside him on that path... (a person who Orochimaru can give his brand of intense spiritual and physical love, a person who shuts down villainous behaviour as soon as he suggests it, and for whom Orochimaru can be a caring support ideal housewife) ... then Orochimaru too may just finish the path all the way out of the Darkness and back to the Light.

The Enemy of the World, now turned gentle.

That would be nice... I think.

......

Thoughts?

[dothewrite]

Hai hai~ I requested this on another blogged and really liked it and wanted to see it in your writing style as well! Could I please get a jealous Tsukki trying to get his fem S/o away from Tendou, who has a major crush on her, but she is completely oblivious and just finds Tendou so funny and friendly until he tries to kiss her? Maybe end it with some fluff? Or even some jealous NSFW with Tsukki? (Tsukki is my ultimate fav, but Tendou is my ultimate trash husband 😭😭 I love them both so much)

I’m so sorry this took like, six years to finish, but I swear it’s here. I did it. Take my firstborn if need be. I chose to end it with fluff instead of nsfw, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! (Alternatively titled: nobody has any concept of boundaries.)

“Hey.”Tsukishima flips close his textbook and turns his head in his palm to stare athis brother. “How do you kiss a girl?”

Akiterualmost chokes to death on a misplaced gulp of air, and slaps at the tableseveral times. Tsukishima waits for him to finish dying and answer.

“Do-do you have a girlfriend?!”

Tsukishimarolls his eyes. “Who doesn’t by now?”

Hisbrother flushes violently and looks a bit mutinous at the comment, but doesn’tcomment. “I- I just can’t believe you’re finally asking me this question. Kei,I can’t get over how you’re growing so fast these days.”

“Ihave always been growing at the same speed. And who are you? Mom?”

“Doyou want me to answer you or not?!”

Tsukishimasighs a world-weary sigh and nods his head. His eyes are bored, half-lidded,but the slight tapping of his index finger against his cheek betrays what wouldotherwise be a perfect disguise of indifference.

Akiterulooks mollified, and clears his throat. “Well. First, of course, you have to besure of their consent. I think you should place your hands somewhere slightlyabove the hips-”

“That’snot what I meant,” Tsukishima interrupts, “I meant, how do you kiss.Your girlfriend. Boyfriend. Whatever.” He pauses, and peers at his brother.“You have had one, haven’t you?”

“Ohmy God.” Akiteru’s face is now several degrees hotter and he feels like hewould rather evaporate into the stratosphere than admit to being lessexperienced than his baby brother. “Yes, yes I’ve had one. I don’t have one atthis very moment, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a reliable source ofinformation!”

“Alright.”Tsukishima grins. “Go on, then.”

“I-Okay. Right. There’s the, uh, lips first. The key is to keep the rightatmosphere- make it palpable, so it doesn’t just flop like some goodnight kissfrom Mr. Teddy. Then- then you, ahem,you know. Go for it. Not too firm or anything, you don’t want to crush theirteeth-”

“Doyou move your tongue quickly, or slowly?”

“Oh my God. U-uh, it’s usually… slowly…”

“Notever in a rush, eh?”

“Howcan I rush something as intimate as a kiss?!”

Tsukishimaeyes his brother, now steaming from the top of his head, and just shakes hishead. “Guess you’ve never been in a closet in the middle of class, then.”

“TsukishimaKei. Don’t let me hear of you skipping class to make out with your girlfriend!Education is important for your future-”

“Okay.Thanks for the info.” Tsukishima spins his head the other direction and tunesout his brother’s confuddled spluttering.

Itwasn’t particularly informative, but there is definitely something that he’smissing that Akiteru’s got. Thoughtfully, he twirls his tongue slowly in hismouth in as many patterns he can think of.

He spiesher haunting a small spot behind the volleyball gym the next day. A bitcurious, he wonders if Coach Ukai would let him off lightly if he was a fewminutes late to practice, and considers jogging up to meet her.

Hiscuriousity, however, is quickly satisfied when a splash of red hair suddenlymakes an unwelcome appearance behind a medium selection of bushes and runs overmerrily to where she’s standing. It’s clearly who she’s waiting for in thebeating sunlight.

A record-breakingwave of irrational yet completely justified irritation hits him like an uppercut.

Hemoves quietly a few steps to the side, behind a metal pillar, and observes. Heresents that he’s too far to catch any of the dialogue.

Of all people, hefumes silently behind flashing glasses, ithas to be that piece-of-shit blocker.

To befair, he’s probably as much as a pain in the ass to Tendou Satori as TendouSatori is to him, but she’s Tsukishima’sgirlfriend, and he really, really hates how warmly she’s smiling at another guy.

It’sall tolerable for now. Except, they’re a polite distance from each other, andthen suddenly, they’re not. Tsukishima’s a quick, intelligent jumper, but hisknees are locked into stone pillars as he watches Tendou lean in, his fingershovering ‘somewhere above her hips’, and press a kiss against her startled lips.

Damn right she’s startled. IfTsukishima had a gun, he’d fire at least four rounds into the imbecile’s head,but he doesn’t and all movement from his neck down has temporarily suspendedservice.

Shetakes a surprised step back, anchoring her heel into the soft ground and pushesTendou off her gently. He tips back into his original space, looking a bitsheepish, and she smiles embarrassedly at him. Tsukishima watches with hawkeyes, still mildly furious at the fact that she’s still capable of smiling, andshe shakes her head whilst saying something to him that makes him shrug.

It’snot a proud shrug, it’s an apologetic, regretful shrug that good humour stillruns through that keeps it light. Tendou grins wolfishly at her, most of thebravado gone, before nodding, and heading back the way he came. He throws up acalm wave over his shoulder, and Tsukishima’s girlfriend smiles fondly.

Tsukishimacannot say he is feeling quite so fond.

Withconsiderable effort, he props his stiff joints back into their positions andmarches over with ease that he definitely doesn’t feel.

She turnswhen she hears his footsteps, and his pace falters when something in her smilesets itself in place. There’s less searing brightness as it had been before,less of an innocent cluelessness that had tickled the edges of her cheeks.Instead it softens and melds into place, fitting her sweet countenance with agentle heat that powers the way she opens herself up to welcome him.

Hissteps grow gradually slower and slower as he nears, and against his will, hisknuckles loosen their grip around his fingers.

“Hello,”she greets him almost shyly. “I thought I’d be too late to catch you before youwent in for practice.”

“Hello,”he echoes. The word falls almost alien from his lips, and his breathing mellows.She takes a step closer into his space and reaches out for his hand with herown; he laces his fingers through hers instinctively, feeling the cool padsunderneath her nails nudge into the back of his hand. “I noticed you, so I hungback.”

Hersmile flickers into an apologetic grimace.

“I’msorry that happened.”

Tsukishimawas mad, he really was. But somehow the emotion is slipping away from his mindlike liquid, and each drop drips onto dry floor, lost and forgotten.

“Iwas pretty pissed off,” he says anyway, without heat. “It’s not the greatestthing to see after school.”

Shenods, slightly ashamed. “I got a message from Tendou, so I thought why not killtwo birds with one stone, and see what he wanted whilst I waited for you tofinish changing.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “It was just amisunderstanding. I let him know I didn’t see him that way, and that I wasn’tavailable.”

“Sohe came to confess,” Tsukishima mutters. “Well, at least we know now that you’repopular when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“It’syour face. It scares them away when you’re around.”

Hescowls at her, and she laughs in return. “We’re still good friends. He was agood sport, and I was flattered.” She looks at him expectantly from underneathher fringe. “I hope you don’t mind that too much.”

Sincethis is his only chance, Tsukishima takes advantage of it and heaves the heaviestsigh he can manage.

“Hewouldn’t exactly be my choice offriend, but yeah. I don’t mind. You’ve the right to be friends with whoever youwant to be.”

“Youdon’t like him because he reminds you too much of yourself.” She grins.

Tsukishimashoots her a look that questions her sanity. “Definitely not. We’re polaropposites, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Butyou’re both so- it’s the same type of intensity, you know? But in differentways. You’re both slightly unhinged.”

“Whateven.” Tsukishima tugs his hand out from her grip and crosses it over hischest. “Are you trying to set me up with him?”

Sheshrugs, but her shoulders are shaking with laughter. “I can always call himback, you know.”

“He’snot kissing me,” Tsukishima warns.

“Itreally wasn’t much, Kei.” Her soothing voice is back, and Tsukishima lets hisarms slowly relax back to his sides. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll giveyou one. That way we’re all kissed by the end of the day.”

Forthe longest time, Tsukishima had completely forgotten the purpose for hisactively seeking her out after their final period. He’d been the one to suggestmeeting up, after all, but the business with Tendou had completely pushedanything rational out of his mind.

Now,it all comes back to him. His slightly random purpose, and his conversation thenight before with Akiteru.

“Alright,”he says. “Let’s bet on it.”

She rollsher eyes ever so slightly, but she’s smiling. “Terms.”

“Whoeverblushes first, loses. You win, I’ll skip practice and I’ll treat you to thewaffle ice-cream set. If I win, you take a picture of us kissing, and you textSatori that I’m the better kisser.”

“Kei,you really are unbelievably petty over the most insignificant things, aren’tyou?”

“Humourme,” he suggests, with a face as blank as the new moon.

“Whata big baby,” she laughs. “You’re on.”

Tsukishimatugs her by the waist, without warning, and they crash into each other chestsfirst. A gasp of air is forced out from her lungs and it leaves her slightlywinded, and that’s when Tsukishima swoops in with his upper hand.

Hestarts it off, as Akiteru advised, with the utmost patience. It’s a slow brushof lips, and he shifts them ever so softly against each other and his tonguewets the space between them with firm, slick brushes. Her face remains cool tothe touch, and he presses closer. They can no longer feel their own lips uponeach other’s, only the diagonal warm that heats the both of them from theirfaces downwards. Tsukishima taps the tip of his tongue briefly along the seamof her mouth, asking for permission, and when she weakens, he drags his handsup to cup the sides of her face as he slides his tongue against hers. Searing,slow strokes, as he had pointlessly practiced last night, in sudden circles andtwisting patterns, he pushes against her own tongue, leading her heartbeat in amerry dance around the lack of space that’s left between them both. He brusheshis fingers lightly against the arch of her cheekbones, before drawing them tothe curve of her ear. She whimpers against him, a delicious sound that he divesinto and presses it back into her mouth with a harsh lick and a sudden suck.

Hecan feel her begin to shiver against his frame, and he lets one of his handsfall against her curvature to rest gently on the small dip behind her back.

Tsukishimapresses her into him one last time, and nips her bottom lip with enoughpressure that it leaves it a bubbling red. He pulls back, and doesn’t botherhiding his satisfied and equally lascivious smirk at her red face, dazed andtrying her best to focus on his eyes again.

Hedips her slightly to the left, and soothes her bruised lips with a soft finale.

“Youblushed,” he finally manages after two attempts to clear his throat from thehoarseness. “I believe I’m still quite bloodless. I win.”

Herfollowing laugh is exasperated, and impossibly fond. She can barely stand up toher full height anymore, but Tsukishima doesn’t mind propping her up againsthis side.

“Ican’t believe you practiced that,” she remarks after catching her breath. “Youcan’t have come up with that on the spot.”

“Iwin,” Tsukishima repeats, slightly ruffled at being caught out. “Let’s take apicture, and you’re sending that message.”

“Toprove to a man I rejected that my boyfriend is a petty guy.” She nods. “Got it.”

Hemakes sure that she’s tapping the message into her chat before he finally hightails it into the gym.

WhenCoach Ukai, and possibly the rest of the team, stare at his definitelydebauched volleyball outfit, they decide that it’s safer for everyone’simagination to not ask at all.

CoachTakeda, however, sums up enough courage to tap him on the shoulder before hegets into position.

“Tsukishima,”he asks in his kindly tone, “I hope nothing was the matter. You’re half an hourlate to practice.”

“I’msorry,” Tsukishima answers, “I caught my girlfriend kissing another guy.” Hecan’t help but grin ever so slightly when Takeda falls back, shocked. “There’snothing to worry about. It turned to be quite entertaining.”

Minutesbefore he falls asleep that night, Tsukishima blinks at the sudden screenshothe receives from her at two in the morning.

It’s apicture of Tendou, sticking out his tongue with a cherry stem tied up in three separateknots.

I’d like to see him defend his title. Hisanswer reads. Three-way challenge. Youin?

[drusillathekiller]

and 16 & 17!

Thank you!

16. Which character do you wish was developed more?

Hmm…Well, my usual answer is Drusilla, which I go into a lot of depth about throughout my blog, so I’m going to switch things up a little and say Kendra. She was wasted potential personified.

Though they couldn’t appear to be more different, Faith and Kendra both work very well as ‘shadow selves’ of Buffy, dramatic foils who she fears becoming and who she very well could have become without the support of her friends and family.

On one hand, Faith represents the uninhibited, impulsive, primal nature of being a slayer. She relishes violence and it takes three dead bodies, a coma, prison time, and a few motivational speeches from Angel for her to come to her senses on that front. In that respect, Faith is very much the ‘id’, the unrestricted part of a slayer that is all about basic instinct and doing what she wants when she wants. Buffy is very much aware (and alarmed) that this could easily be her if she doesn’t keep herself in check. And indeed, she has her moments.

“I know Faith’s not gonna be on the cover of Sanity Fair, but… she had it rough. Different circumstances, that could be me.”

- Doppelgangland.

But equally, Kendra is someone Buffy also could have been had circumstances been different. While Buffy went under the radar of The Watcher’s Council until she was fifteen and was allowed a pretty normal life before then, Kendra was taken away from her parents to train under The Council when she was just two. She lived a strict, lonely life where she was taught utter obedience to The Council and was allowed no freedom or independence. Being under The Council’s thumb too much is something Buffy was equally mindful of (to the extent that she went renegade in the season 3 finale to avoid this fate). And had Buffy been recognised as a potential earlier in life, she could’ve easily been like Kendra. Where Faith represents Buffy’s fear of losing control to her slayer instincts, Kendra represents Buffy’s fear of losing control to the authoritarian system of The Council. Disciplined Kendra therefore represents the ‘superego’, with Buffy being the ‘ego’ who has to balance the other two sides of her out.

A lot of exploration is given to the parallels between Faith and Buffy (and rightly so, it’s one of my favourite ongoing plotlines and I wear my fuffy badge with pride). However, less examination is given to Kendra and Buffy, though I think that would’ve been equally interesting.

I would’ve loved to have seen Kendra stick around for the rest of season 2 after What’s My Line. Not just so these parallels could’ve been explored in more depth, but also to see Kendra flourish and slowly start to question the authority that she’s been told is unquestionable her whole life. It would’ve been badass to see Kendra eventually take charge of her life and rebel against The Council as Buffy did.

I’m also a strong advocate of an alternate season 3 where Kendra dies but was “only a little dead”. After she gets better, Buffy, Kendra, and Faith all patrol together and become a formidable team.

17. Which character do you wish had less of a focus on them in the show?

Perhaps Andrew. He was basically the sole form of comic relief in season seven, but for me it didn’t always hit the right notes. He was kind of like a walking piece of reference humour with half of his lines being shout outs to obscure comic books I’ve never heard of.

That being said, Tom Lenk is a great actor, and Storyteller was a really good episode. So I don’t have a strong dislike of the character per se, he just didn’t strike much of a chord with me personally.

I’ve always felt Jonathon would’ve been a better candidate for joining the Scoobies in season seven.

(20 Buffy asks)

[foreverycung-blog]

WANTED CONNECTIONS

SOME OF THESE MAY REQUIRE YOU TO READ THE INTROS OF THE MUSES!

HONEY

FATHERLY LOVE: doorman at the hamptons fontaine who looks after honey in a very fatherly fashion

THE BEST FRIEND: honey’s best friend. the intelligent ying to her ditzy yang. possibly a little manipulative as honey is rich n dumb but loves her best friend more than anything.

YOU FUCKED MY MOM?: a close friend who’s returned from travelling who’s slept with her mother.

THE GIRL GANG: two girls who are close with honey and her best friend and together make one little party crew

EVIE

FATHER: the saviour of her life. he took her from her abusive moms lifestyle that was making her abuse substances. he got her into therapy and took her in and protected her.

THE EX BOYFRIEND: evie was once the blair waldorf of the upper east side and she had a chuck but when she moved in with her dad she abandoned everything but when he stumbles upon her working in a book store hiding behind a comic….questions arise!

THE EX BEST FRIEND / BAD INFLUENCE: not quite enemies but this girl does not like that evie just stopped being queen b and in turn, took her position down with her. this girl wanted evie to go back to her bad girl self and encourages it non stop.

YOU RUINED MY LIFE: evie ruined your muses social life in high school and you’re ready to rip through evie but…she’s so different and is she reading marvel? once enemies turn into fast friends.

THE FOREVER BFF: best friends during the queen bee phase and she stayed when evie found herself. these two are inseparable.

LIGHT

THE ONLY PERSON TO TOLERATE HER: a best friend of sorts, someone who can handle her dark but can also bring out the light in her ( heh ) light is weak for giving them what they like because they are a positive light ( heh ) in her life.

THE SWEET BUT DUMB EX: he was so sweet…but so dumb! light fell hard for grant and left him quickly. he always put up with her attitude and for what! her to leave him for nothing? she’s even meaner as a defence but she harbours a lot of guilty about it. ( seven months ago )

SCORNED COUSIN: cousin on her mothers side, she’s grown up with the girl…until they were fifteen. your muse received acceptance to a prestigious writers camp and light took the letter and hid it from your muse for a year. when it came out it was a huge fight and their bond broke. recently they’ve been running into each other. they miss each other but they’re both too stubborn to move past it.

THE ANGELIC EX GF: this girl was too good to be true so naturally light dumped her when things got too deep after an “i love you” from your muse. light just can’t. ( a year and a half ago )

TABBY

THE BEST FRIEND: tabby is a lot to handle, she’s bossy and at times difficult. she needs a best friend with a good sense of humour, the ability to get their hands dirty when tabby is off doing something insane but also a balance of reigning her best friend in. someone 18-21 preferably. gender is open. really anyone who isn’t super soft.

THE ROMANCE: this is up on the main but i’d love someone with bde who has the ability to kind of chew tabby up and spit her out. tabby’s so used to being in control and dominating and manipulation every situation. i think it would be exciting for her to meet someone who was super unimpressed by her and made her work for it. maybe someone gritty, bad girl/bad boy vibe? basically, i want tabby to be the reacher for a while and kind of feel a little school girl-y over them, since it’s so out of her comfort zone.

THE FRENEMY: someone she attended school with and perhaps fucked over with her old website “the secret bitch” but they play nice with tabby because of fear of what else she could release but they’re not exactly on great terms.

THE SCORNED: someone who isn’t entirely soft who tabby released a secret of a few years back and she felt pretty shitty about and has made moves to make amends but it hasn’t really worked.

EYES & EARS: someone she relies on to relay gossip to her from a source she’s not tapped to. this can be more than one person!

NEIGHBOUR: they would live next door to the delucas, or at least mallory’s mother and tabitha and maybe pick up some of the slack in helping out when mallory & tabs mom was a wreck. she’s not wealthy so it’s a crappy apartment complex.

ROSIE

FAMILY ( found on the main )

( twin sister ) and they must be ( 19  ) and look like ( liana liberato / ella purnell / zoey deutch / any suitable fc   ) and the details are: ( fraternal twin sisters, rosie has always been the golden girl and her sister the “bad girl” since moving to new york  ) — you SHOULD contact me.

(OLDER SISTER  ) and they must be ( 24+ ) and look like ( phoebe tonkin / nina dobrev / crystal reed / any suitable fc ) and the details are: ( the eldest sibling who moved to new york with them despite being old enough to do as she pleases. close to the family but everything else at your discretion. ) — you SHOULD contact me.

ROMANTIC ( found on the main )

( BACK AND FORTH HOOK UP ) and they must be ( 21+ ) and look like ( aria shahghasemi  / daniel sharman / chloe bennet / ask player ) and the details are: ( kind of a magnetic kind of ship where they fight a lot and change their minds on one another but tend to keep going back to each other. ) — you SHOULD contact me. 

PLATONIC

PLEDGE SISTER; someone she pledged with last year and have remained close with!

DITCHED: someone she kind of ditched for her shiny new friends and it’s kind of awkward

GOOD INFLUENCE: someone who sees her bad decision skills and tries to reel her back

BAD GIRL: someone who is much wilder than her and she’s the one who tries to keep them from going too far

HOOK UPS: anita & open! rosie’s heart is taken with her wc but every now and then she hooks up with someone particularly cute.

KITTY

THE BEST FRIEND: probably a more intelligent muse, preferably female 21 and under. kind of a sanity to kitty’s lack of smarts.

THE EX BOYFRIEND: 18-21, they broke up in a blaze of glory after dating for a few months. he cheated, she caught him, she was heart broken.

IT WAS ONE KISS: a girl she kissed as revenge on her boyfriend but kind of liked it so she was kind of mean to the girl following it

PROTECTER: kitty…ain’t smart so someone who kind of pities her and looks out for her.

OLDER SISTER & BROTHER: they got into colleges based on their own smarts but it didn’t hurt that their dad was on the admissions board.

COUSIN: a less well off cousin family, their parents got into raging battles with kitty’s parents over money when kitty’s parents tried to offer a hand out with conditions and they’re forbidden to be friends so they fight on their parents behalf

FLIRTATIONSHIP: she flirt flirt

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Say You Do | Chapter Four

Other Chapters found, HERE Warning: Smut included.

Emily:

A weight is lifted off my shoulders as I sit shotgun in Harry’s sportscar. My previous emotions, being brought on at the mere thought of our wedding, enveloped me into a state of sadness and frustration. The moment the cold jewellery touched my fair skin, momentarily, my clouded emotions escaped me. Though my only mode of release was tears, it had to be done. Better done behind closed doors, than in public.

The car is silent, and I sit slightly angled so I am able to look at the scenery — both outside, and inside of the car. Harry was a sight I couldn’t get tired of looking at, even during this period of our life, he remains my salvation.

I can feel myself falling asleep as the car smoothly drives along a soft country road. I desperately am trying not to doze off, currently enjoying my location and my company, I want to feel this way for as long as possible. My body, however, is sleep deprived, from my constant tossing and turning, the overthinking and plotting.

“You can take a nap, if you’d like,” Harry is the first to speak as if he is able to read my mind. “We will only arrive in an hour.”

“I wish I wasn’t so tired,” I sigh, kicking off my shoes and resting my feet on the seat beneath me. “I want to admire the scenic route.”

“We will take this way home, then.” Harry glances over at me, shooting me a smirk. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.” He promises.

I give in, without a word. As I close my eyes, the touch of Harry’s hand intertwining with mine rattles my core, momentarily waking me as I glance down at our connection. It feels nice, and I decide not to decline the contact I had been craving but was too afraid to ask for. His minor action is one so powerful, I sleep soundly the whole way to the venue.

I wake up only moments before arriving and lay eyes on the beautiful church at the end of our journey. Our dear friends are finally getting married today. Today is one of the happiest, most important, days of their lives. For me, and even possibly Harry, the day before us would consist of an abundance of flashbacks, and envy, for the spouses to be.

As Harry parks his car, I can feel the eyes of the guests burning through the windows at us. I glance over, up towards the steps of the church, where a number of guests stand as they wait to enter the building. Some, are people we know, friends we had become distant with over the years and throughout Harry’s success.

Others are simply onlookers, excited to see a man of status attending the same gathering as them. This, somehow, makes me feel important, on a day that is about everything except Harry and I.

“Are you ready, love?” Harry asks me, squeezing my hand before shifting the car into park.

“Ready if you are.” I nod, smiling towards him.

Almost in sync, we open our doors, stepping out gracefully and looking at each other over the roof of the car. Harry smirks at me, now making a joke of us mimicking each other’s every move. We close our doors on the count of three and strut to the back of the car where we meet each other.

Harry’s hand reaches for mine over the trunk of the car, and with that, we walk towards the group gawking in our direction.

“Why are they staring at us like that?” I question, looking around in confusion. “Do I have something on my face?”

As we ascend the steep concrete steps, Harry takes a place behind me and lifts the small train of my dress high enough to enable easy steps on my part. I’m flattered, and in awe, by his actions, and take notice that the people surrounding us feel the same. We stop, momentarily, and chat up a few old friends. They compliment us, with bright eyes and convincing words, but that is hardly enough to trigger a genuine thanks from us.

“Emily, you’re glowing!” Our friend, Patty, chirps to me. She seems far too excited to be seeing Harry and me again, but I must admit, it is fun to play pretend with people you hardly see.

“Thank you! I feel fantastic.” I nod, smiling at her as she sways in her dress. “I have nothing to complain about these days!”

I lean on Harry, and we both laugh at my comment along with those around us. But, different from them, we are laughing for completely alternative, and obvious, reasons. At least we are keeping our sense of humour until the end.

Our interactions are kept to a minimum before the host calls us into the church to take our seats. Thankfully, we have been seated beside a couple we do not know. We have escaped interrogation, although, I must admit, we are good liars.

Watching our friends elope, and profess their undying love for each other, causes tears to escape my eyes. I find myself not being the only one here who is brought to tears, many women around me are patting their tears away with soft silk tissues. For them, their tears are those of joy, the ones you can feel raising up your eyes as you smile at a tender sight. On my part, the tears are bitter and burn as they enter my tired weeping eyes. Harry feels this vibe, wrapping his arm around me as he brings me closer to his side.

“I will be with you forever,” The groom ends his vow, and kisses the hand of his soon-to-be bride.

“I said something like that too, you know,” Harry whispers into my ear, before kissing my temple. “And I still mean it, if you’ll have me.”

I look up at him, a tear travels down my cheek, leaving cold remnants behind. He peeks down at me, his big, warm, hand raises to my cheek. His touch is so soft, as his thumb brushes the heavy tear from my skin. I lean into his palm, closing my eyes as if we are the only people in the room. I nod gently, before looking at him again. His green eyes radiate from my perspective, the high church lights cast down on us, and it feels like I am witnessing an angel.

That interaction was enough for me and, almost immediately, I felt better, and authentically began to clap for the happy couple. I was like them once, I already had my parade and shoved the love I had for my significant other down the throats of my guests. Having said that, the divorce rate in England is roughly fifty per cent, and I hope they come out on the better half.

As they walk out the doors and collapse into their awaiting limo, the guests are all piling up at the door, in a rushed and messy attempt to reach the venue in a timely matter. Harry and I do not hang back, and are one of the first out of the church and darting to our car.

I can feel my dress flying behind me, as Harry pulls me through the parking lot and into the car. We speed off onto the narrow road and follow the car in front of us to the next building. I feel wildly comfortable beside Harry, and for the first time, in a long time, it feels like we aren’t enduring any difficulties. I feel like my old self; I never want this day to end. Approaching the hall, which also doubles as a hotel in which we will be staying, I take in its beauty. The large white pillars out front and tall rounded doors give away the luxury of the setting.

Upon entering, we easily find our table. We sit with our old friends and shoot the shit for almost an hour before dinner is served. The room is packed, and filled with only the most beautiful mood. Harry and I take it upon ourselves to congratulate the newlyweds and present our gift to them as a generous check, encased in an envelope with both our names pressed onto it.

It was the least we would do.

As the night passes on, the tables begin to empty, as the dancefloor overflows. I smile to myself as I observe a few of the other couples dancing, from the comfort of my seat, and little kids gracefully playing and waltzing around like the adults, doing their best to stay occupied.

I’ve always admired the scenes of weddings, they’re continuously flowing with a loving enthusiasm, there’s never a dull moment, between the laughter of children dancing and the smiling sensation of the happy couples.

I take a taste of my wine, Harry’s hand caressing against my leg, his fingers cautiously moving the material of my dress to slip under it.

His warm touch clasped to the tenderness of my skin spontaneously permeates my soul with a sense of clarity. I glance over at him, noticing how he’s smiling with his eyes focused on the dance floor, nonchalantly causing my toes to curl slightly within my heeled shoes. My eyes mirror his gaze, my own smile painting across my supple lips as I witness a young girl and boy dancing, her little white dress floating with each step.

I feel him squeeze my thigh considerately under the table, granting a sudden urge of desire to sweep through me.

I bite down on my lip, taking a small breath as I sense the tip of his fingers rubbing circles against the softness of my skin. At first, I disregard the tenderness and the intriguing touch; I have longed for so long to feel his touch, but I’m sure it’s just in the heat of the moment.

I take another sip of my wine, placing it down as I perceive his hand inching higher, his fingers lacing the outline of my lingerie, immediately driving my head to revolve in roaring circles. I take a breath, my eyes narrowing over to meet a far-flung grin, anticipation becoming something that I’m struggling to avoid.

A shiver radiates down my spine the minute his fastidious fingers continue to grace the touch against the slender column of my lingerie, almost causing my breath to hitch in my throat. He nonchalantly reaches for his wine glass, takes a drink, the delicacy of his touch still enthralling me, moderately, and steadily.

I let out a breath as he stops tampering with my sanity, moving his hand to decline back towards my lower thigh, his eyes shimmering at me with that cheeky shine they have possessed since the day I met him.

“Lose ye’ breath? Hm?” He chuckles like the tease he used to be before things began to escalate into a rocky abyss of insignificance.

I don’t respond as I mildly bear my teeth to sink into the mellowness of my bottom lip, striving not to concede my irate sentiments to leave him of innocence and drag him to the hotel room.

It has been months since the sensation of his touch being pressed to my body pervaded my senses. I was freezing and fragile, now I appear rekindled and swelled with an intensity I can not fathom to detail. My eyes take intimation of his cut creased jawline, down to his crimson red tie, and the way his white shirt is rolled up his sleeve, exposing a few of his youthful tattoos engraved into his surface like a permanent cascading waterfall.

I subtly lick my lips, savouring the aftertaste of my wine, beginning to wish to taste what his sweet lips provide, something I have not sampled in a while — something I crave — like a bee covets luscious, rectified honey.

I catch him off guard when I caress my hand to relax on his inner thigh, his eyes immediately diverting their full attention to me as I smirk in a spontaneous manner. He swallows the last bit of his wine with a hard gulp, pressing the glass to the table.

“Be nice,” He raspily clears his throat, eyeing a couple as they pass the table, oblivious to the devious shenanigans leisurely taking place under the table, out of view.

I inch my hand further up his thigh, gliding itself skillfully over his package, his jaw clenching as he gulps.

“Em,” He breathes, my hand allowing itself to stay positioned to tease his delicacy.

“Breathless?” I tease him the same way he did to me, entertained by his darkening eyes, and his trembling lips as he attempts to battle the same desire I am caving into. “Hotel?” I whisper, his eyes closing for a split second, his head descending in a nod.

“You’re going to have to move your hand, first.” He comments and I raise a brow, just now noticing his hand gripping my thigh mildly, but enough to make it known he is caving.

With a smirk, I cast my eyes between his own and his hand settling on my groin still, “So do you,” I remind him, his hand releasing itself from my thigh, mine doing the same, setting him free as he stands to his feet, he grabs his suit jacket from its position overhanging the chair, driving it up his arms before extending me his hand — the hand that executed an enthusiasm — a burning in my soul that I have neglected to welcome in a while.

Like a pair of giggly children, we subtly find our way departing the scene of the reception, managing to disappear without being observed by the main people of the wedding.

The tour from the elevator to the doorway of the room was a brisk walk permeated with a pang of intense lingering hunger. The moment Harry thrusts the door open, I enter, turning around and mounting him against the door as it shuts, his hands spontaneously clasping to the material of my gown embracing my waist, our tongues caressing and binding like two ships.

He groans into our kiss, carefully pushing off the door, guiding us towards the bed, my hands brushing off his suit jacket, enabling it to drop to the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. I begin to press my agile fingers to the buttons of his shirt, shakily undoing them in a hasty manner, his own hand unzipping the back of my dress.

When I get his shirt wide open, his bare chest staring at me in the face, I force the shirt down his flexed arms, another article of clothing making its way to the floor. He helps with tugging off my dress, my feet slipping out of the heels, my body now only clad in a pair of my black, skimpy lingerie.

I struggle to keep my hands to myself as the raging desire to feel every inch of his body infuriates me while he kicks off his shoes, my hands now vigorously drawing at his pants as we flounder our way towards the bed.

I decline against the fresh coverings, his body surging to hover over mine, the cloying sensation of his kisses weighting to the slender column of my neck hitches my breath in my throat.

The enraged desire and anticipation rise with every rich, sensational kiss his lips allow being caressed to my once cold and bitter body. My fingers tangle themselves within the silkiness of his short hair, the ends just beginning to curl.

My fingertips haven’t run through his hair in a long time, they almost misremembered the way it felt to have his smooth hair glide against each fingertip.

I am taken back as I feel the stroke of his tongue glide over my collarbone, his hands wandering my body like a map with no destination. I move my hands to release his soft hair from my grip, moving to feel every dip and curve his body has to offer, gliding over his abs like rocky mountains covered in dripping honey. My hands and eyes honouring the full power of his physique.

“I want you,” I feel him whisper swiftly against the edge of my skin, lifting his head slightly to allow the shade of his eyes to gleam into my own. I bite my lip, feeling the cold chain of his necklace tapping my warm skin, all thoughts becoming superfluous but one.

I nod, not managing to mumble my words, instead, I wrap my leg around him, surging his body closer to mine, a deep primitive tug that signals that I want him. My mouth takes bold possession of his lips, my tongue exploring the texture of his, the feathery strokes of his tongue causing my hormones to percolate furiously, bouncing against the seams of my skin, humming through my veins, igniting a hunger that has been caged for so long. As we kiss with promises full of fulfilment, his delicate fingers begin to slide down the lacy underwear clasped to my body, my head twisting frantically as I kiss him deeper, ready for what’s to come.

He surges himself closer to me, his hard thighs crowning my hips, pressing me against his arousal. I haul in a breath, my body closing tightly around him as he enthrals me with his entry, an engulfing emotion hitching my breath, the slowly repeated motions bringing back memories that have felt so distant. I haven’t felt him this close to me in a long time — I have not felt him.

Heat and power radiate between our bodies, both of us working together to create a fulfilment of passion and love; the long, gradual, ride of delight silencing the deep hunger inside me. Wildness beginning to brew beneath the gentleness he surging. I relentlessly move my hips against his, my nails gliding against the skin of his back in the passion onslaught of his desire, denoting a reckless savage lust, unlike anything I had ever felt before. Our tongues dip and swirl in sweet motion, his strength throbbing inside me at a faster pace — transcending physical pleasure. An urgent need and want flow in a commanding way between us as I arch my back to better accept him.

The stirring of primal needs hits its towering peak, his groans becoming more powerful, my lips forcing themselves not to pull away from his kiss, my teeth wanting to bite into the skin around his shoulder, but I divert the frustration to my hands on his back.

Ripples of pleasure make itself distinguished, molten waves melting inside me, a keening sound escaping my lips as I throw back my head, my eyes narrowing to half-mast.

It was potent — he was damn potent.

His sweaty body falls beside me, nothing but our deep, heavy breath fills the silence around us, my legs quivery and moist, his chest rising rapidly as he gazes up at the hotel ceiling.

“Fuck, that was great.” He breaks the silence, reading my own thoughts, it was not great, it was fucking euphoric. “I love you,” He breathes with a short breath, tilting his head to look at me.

The narcotic power of his deep voice draws a smile from my honey tasting lips, tampering with my sanity again.

“I love you,” the words effortlessly slip from my lips, “Please, don’t leave me.”

my thoughts escape through words, a craving that was fulfilled now revealing a vulnerability that I am not sure whether I want to be exposed.

I feel his hand reach over and press softly over mine, “I’m right here, Em. I’m not going anywhere.”

His husky voice sends shivers down my spine, my body moving closer to his, my mouth skimming the edge of his lips, allowing him to take control of rained, silky, kisses.

[etoilesdephan]

Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? (Chapter 9: Ne plus ultra)

Chapter masterpost

Chapter words: 2.7k

Overall words: 23.3k

Read it on ao3!

Trigger warning: Mentions of violence, suicidal thoughts

The stitches on his forehead and cheek felt more offending than the black and blue bruises covering too many parts of his body in a familiar knuckle pattern. The black eye and the swollen feeling was nothing compared to the concussion that he had gotten and due to which he had been instructed to bed stay. He constantly felt nauseous and though he got some painkillers, they did a poor job actually blocking out the pain.

Everything felt too intrusive to his senses.

The cotton was just as scratchy in the prison's medical ward as back in his cell bed. Every little movement created too much sound, too much rough rubbing of threads against the patches of exposed skin.

And the irritation that the feeling sent through his senses didn't help him relax.

On top of the pain inflicted by the fight, he was plagued with the flashes of fear and anger. More often than not he would wake up due to the discomfort that the tension in his muscles would create, and in his less aware moments of awakeness he would zone back in only to feel his nails digging into his palms, leaving painful crescents in his skin.

Through the spotty sleep, he found himself struggling; the general restlessness was eating at his sanity, the pain - distorted his vision, and his emotions were running incomprehensible scenarios through his mind.

Perhaps it was also the bareness of his scalp that made him so restless.

After the fight, the three prisoners had been taken off to different parts of the prison. Dan had only heard about what happened to Rudy and Stanley a few hours later when he had come to it again, head full of scratchy cotton of where the initial stronger painkillers had still been numbing out the pain.

Rudy had been sent out for psychological reevaluation after a brief medical attention. His attack and reaction had been deemed dangerous for the inmates, though admitted as self-defense.

There was a guilt-laced part of Dan that wasn't sure that the other man would ever return. He'd seen the stares before, how people would deliberately avoid the other man and how they snickered at him when Rudy wasn't looking, as if the man was a loony.

The closest thing to a friend that Dan had made in this forsaken place was taken away.

Stanley meanwhile had been taken to the high security cell. His case had been reopened and, from rumours that his weary mind had pieced together from the guards passing through, the most likely outcome was that Stanley's previously dubious sentence would be cemented now with the record of the attack.

Dan knew that he was supposed to feel relieved hearing that. He understood how much of his lifeline depended on being separated far away from this man.

Yet he couldn't help feeling a bit regretful still.

Though Dan didn't miss the idea of being used as a punching bag, there was a certain familiarity in the fear and loathing. He knew who to avoid and what was to come if he failed to accomplish it. He knew the punishment, accepted it as part of his payment for what had caused.

Now he was left with a questionable future.

It was his rational mind fighting with that deeply rooted darkness that had resurfaced over the months spent behind the bars.

Dan himself had ended with a lot of open gashes, most of which he had no memory of getting. His body had pumped too much adrenaline into his veins, numbing the nerve endings. Upon awakening, however, he'd very soon become very much aware of the soreness and discomfort.

And there had been something else off about how he felt.

He soon realised what had been wrong when he'd brought a hand up in a trained motion, partially to rub his head in hopes to soothe the pain, and partially to brush his fringe aside. Instead he'd been met with a line of short, pointy hair.

They had taken the liberty of cutting his hair in buzzcut to reach a particularly nasty open gash that needed stitching and later justified it that it had been only a matter of time when he would have had the little machine running across his scalp.

He'd not lost his dignity, but he had lost a characteristic nonetheless.

And he had lost that strange continuity in his prison life.

======

“Shit, Dan, is that--” The words were an unquestionable shock as Dan slumped down into the seat across from Martyn, a slight limp showing in his walk until he sat down, exhaling a sigh of relief. As if to add an insult to his injuries, he'd soon realised that somewhere along the way he had also sprained his ankle and that had put an extra damper on his mood.

“I didn't want my parents to see this,” He croaked out, offering the older man a small, almost apologetic smile. He had made sure to tell his mum off over the phone, saying that he had some things that he needed to discuss with Martyn this week. “Think this will go onto my record?” He half-joked.

“Bloody hell, what happened to you? This is inhumane, you need to--” Martyn's voice was loud, too loud for Dan's still mushy brain to be able to handle and he squirmed at the sound a little.

“Martyn, calm down. I got in a fight with another inmate. He's now being transported away,” There was tension that had settled in his back and he shifted a little, trying to stretch, only to scowl when pain shot through his body. “I'll be fine, I'm healing right,” He added when he noted the worry in Martyn's face.

“You can't do this, Dan...” The tone was low, careful, but ever so worried still as Martyn spoke, surveying the bruises and stitches, and Dan soon noted that the other man's eyes lingered on Dan's forehead, probably used to the fringe cover.

“Do you think I did this to myself? Honestly, Martyn, and here I thought that you knew me better,” Some hostility was beginning to boil again and Dan curled his fingers into fists when he felt the headache begin to return. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, allowing the spark of strong emotions settle down again.

“Sorry, I just…. Shit, you look like a mess,” Any other time, Dan would've laughed at the amount of profanities, but now he just offered a small, crooked smile to the other man.

“Don't I always?” Dan tried to humour only to receive just as a half-hearted smile from the other man.

“And the hair?” Martyn then motioned towards Dan's head. It made him wish for one of the hoodies again, where he could just pull the hood over his head and hide away similarly to how he had behind the hair before.

“For stitches and apparently they have a single haircut option behind the bars,” There was a certain cheekiness in Dan's words, but the reality was clear; Dan was uncomfortable. The makeshift amusement in his face was soon exchanged by a frown and his fingers bunched some of his uniform clothing tightly in his grip.

There was a silence, and though he appreciated that, his whole being was restless and he shifted in his seat.

“So.” He began again and the dark eyes trained onto the other man whose summer attire was almost an offending reminder of how long Dan had been locked away.

“So?” Martyn mirrored, but after being stared at for moments longer, the man heaved a sigh, entwining his fingers as he leaned forward with arms resting on the wooden table and the hesitation alone made Dan's chest throb “There were….. Some complications.” It seemed like Martyn was trying hard to find the correct way to word it, and there was tension in his shoulders.

Dan felt the colour drain from his already pale features and his heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach, only to jump with the next bit of shooting headache, spilling the breath so hastily that his voice could barely keep up “W-what...”

“They noticed something off during the routine checkups. Apparently there was some liquid in his lungs, but don't worry, they attended to it and he should be fine again. He's being monitored carefully to avoid a relapse.”

Dan released a shaky breath and slumped more into the chair behind him “Don't scare me like that,” he muttered and, out of habit, brought a hand to rub through his hair only to flinch away when his fingertips met with the short cut. He dropped his hand in his lap.

It felt like a first in a long time that his head felt so clear, even if for a second, when the news had been announced. For a moment he'd come to a conclusion that it was all over and they had lost.

“He's still out, and with how this is going, I'm just worried, Dan,” Eyes, achingly similar to Phil's in colour, were looking straight at him and he felt judged under the gaze though there was nothing but a genuine familial worry in them. “Look at what already happened to you; I don't think mum will be able to handle losing both of you.”

Dan blinked, at first surprised, then it dawned upon him. She'd said before that she'd accepted himself as her own son too, and though he'd found it heartwarming, he'd always set himself outside the Lester family. A stranger that is just always there.

He hadn't thought that they truly had accepted him as their own.

He leaned forward, holding the other man's gaze for a moment and there was a renowned life his dark eyes “Tell her that she won't.”

If he could do one thing correctly still, it would be this.

“She won't lose us.”

======

It was always an unpleasant reminder, whenever he stood by the sink, drawing the dull blade over his cheeks to rid his face of the light scruff that had taken over a week to properly grow. The metallic sheet mirror made his reflection a little distorted, but even if he kept that in mind, it didn't change the reality.

They said prison changed people.

For him, it just seemed like the prison tore the weak down and encouraged the most vicious.

He stared, and the familiar brown eyes looked back, but that felt like the only familiar feature at the immediate glance.

His skin was pale, discoloured with the varying degrees of healing bruising and his eyes and cheeks seemed to have sunk in, the black eye not helping. He looked at the man in the reflection, beaten and ill-looking, and he could barely piece together the person he had taken for granted during all those years of self-loathing.

Dan wanted to laugh when that thought crossed his mind.

Teenage years were angsty, and there had been a lot of of self-image issues that he had gone through. His grave humour always expressed openly the many things he had hated about himself, but slowly he had been finding his way to a stability.

The same stability that had been completely floored.

He had hated parts of himself before, but now the loathing had gone far and beyond and, as he looked in the mirror, he realised that he hated the person in the reflection. The one which he knew that he'll never get rid of if he wanted to fulfill the promises he'd made.

The blade made his skin feel itchy and he reluctantly set it aside, fighting the temptation to push the sharper edges into his skin more, eyes instead lingering on the edges and his teeth sank into his lower lip, chewing at it. It would be so easy to just cut himself away from all of this. To just run away from it all and save the trouble for everyone around him.

“Shit,” He muttered, and looked away from the razor and down at the sink, now filled with the water and he watched it for a moment before submerging his face into it.

He felt the bubbles tickling his face as they escaped his nose, and after a while his heart was beginning to jerk uncomfortably in his chest. When he finally pulled his head out of the water filled sink, a gasp escaped him loudly and he leaned against the edge of the sink, trying to catch his breath again.

When he looked up and at his reflection again, there was a solemn man staring back.

“Don't mess this up,” He muttered lowly and watched as the chapped lips of the reflection moved with the words “Don't you make this worse than it already is.”

And somehow, though he hated the man, he soon found himself nodding in agreement.

======

“Phil, I'm sorry...” He muttered, head hung low as he stood in front of Phil, too ashamed to look the other man in the eyes. He felt shorter, he was shorter than the other man and when he looked up, prompted by Phil's pale fingers on his chin, dark strands of hair fell into his view, but he brushed them aside with a trained hand movement.

The Phil in front of him looked so young, and his hair was just as long as Dan's, his skin was not quite as creased with the laughter lines yet and his frame was thinner. His lips were stretched into that familiar smile that always made Dan's chest tingle with emotion.

“Come on Dan, you know I can't stay mad at you,” And there was a dusty pink on Phil's cheeks, mirrored by the warmth Dan felt in his own.

“But you should, I'm being an irrational trash and I honestly don't understand why are you still putting up with me, living with me,” He felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes, but Phil just kept smiling that goofy, slightly crooked smile, his blue eyes soft as they regarded the younger boy.

There was a bit of hesitation, and Phil's cheeks grew pinker, eyes shifting for a moment before he took a small step forward, enough that Dan had to look up a little to properly look the other man in the eye.

“Don't you understand it still?” Phil asked and Dan swallowed, trying to shake his head but he was too mesmerised by those deep blues of the other man's irises.

“It's because I love you, Dan,” And with that, Phil closed the distance, their lips touching softly before Dan's eyes snapped wide open.

It had been a dream, again, but it was the calm nature of the memory, how it wasn't touched by the gore and guilt, that surprised Dan awake.

He lied in the stiff bed, eyes staring at the dark ceiling.

It had been 2012, just after all the troubles began and Dan had overreacted so badly. It was through all their fighting and Dan's meltdowns that they had ended up like that. Standing in their apartment, with Dan's shoulders slouching too much and he had been so sure that it would end there and then. Yet it had turned around completely, and it had been when Phil had finally confessed.

They had been dancing around feelings, sharing drunk and messy kisses before and messed around, but it had never hit the point where they actually committed to it, never truly agreed to the idea of being officially together. Too scared by how that would change everything, by how the world would react.

It had been the final push, Phil had later told him, those months of on and off fighting, that he finally understood that it had been time. He hadn't been able to imagine losing Dan and, Dan had admitted later, it had truly been a mutual fear back then.

So Phil had decided that it was time to confess.

Dan had been so used to nightmares, to the darkness and crimson flooding the peace of different moments of their life that he liked to recall. He had forgotten just where it had truly began, how it had felt and how, at his worst, Phil had taken him and raised him above the tallest mountains.

The strange amount of elation in his chest was unexpected and Dan found himself lying there, unmoving, for hours until the late summer sunlight finally began to pour in through the small window.