#i feel like a fake for using my physical pain and shit as an excuse

[fearnecallowayappreciationblog]

just had a crying breakdown on the phone with my bf life is good 😍

[notsogreatpotoo]

you should totally use this ask as an excuse to tell us anything you want about any of your ocs. specific physical details, unrevealed background lore, how they'd interact with my sonas/other people, etc. anything really. go hog wild

eeeeeeee!!!!

okay so

I just finished Written In The Sand and put up chapter one of Recall (the sequel) (links in masterpost connected to pinned, spoilers ahead) so I’m going to talk about Alder :]

Alder has a complicated relationship with violence and death because not only is he the winner of the hunger games, but he also is pretty used to making sacrifices for others. He scars his face on purpose (partially to give his tributes a chance, partially because he doesn’t associate it with harm (based on cultural scarification, it’s difficult to say it’s more harmful than say, a tattoo or something and it helps him feel like he has more autonomy so in the end I doubt I would say it’s violent or in the realm of self-harm)), he kills to protect other people, he ends up doing mercy kills. Basically he believes that it would be better for him to take on the guilt than to burden someone else with the same consequences of needing to hurt someone, so while he really hates death and violence, he will sometimes actively pursue it. This happens when he works out a deal with Snow so he can protect his sister and his Mentor/Victor friends. It ends up at the point where the certainties of violence and death (aka, him knowing how to hurt and kill and what will happen if he does) are preferable to uncertainties; for example, when he baits a target so he can get them alone, he hates the flirting and finds satisfaction in killing them not only for what they did before but what he was forced to do to get them alone. He’s also aroace (sex repulsed, doesn’t think romance is repulsive but does not want romance in his life, figures this out later in the story) and so while navigating professional conversations in the Capitol is perhaps the same level of uncertainty as navigating conversations based around sexual / romantic / intimate matters, he will choose professionalism any time he believes it would still be effective. He also gets angry a lot, and due to shit parenting, doesn’t really know how to express his anger productively, so he bottles it up until he has an opportunity to turn it into despair or sadness, or to get it out, which further complicates his relationship with violence. He doesn’t really believe that he could ever be nonviolent because of how he’s been manipulated, but something he would hope for if he thought that hope wouldn’t lead him to more disappointment would be that someday he could protect people without resorting to violence.

Alder is not even a legal adult until part of the way through Recall, so how he interacts with people is largely in flux because he’s still figuring shit out. However, I think he’d immediately panic if we set him in another universe because while we’d be taking him away from the source of his pain, he would not be there to bear the brunt of it in order to shield his people. (His sister, Finnick, his tributes, Johanna, Haymitch, the other Victors, etc)

Despite wanting to go back asap, I think he’d probably get along well with anyone competent, or at least be polite with them. He would immediately set people off if they hated liars / could spot liars, because not only does he suppress his emotions, he manipulates the heck out of everyone he doesn’t know well. He’s pretty serious, but he does enjoy when people are natural goofballs because while he doesn’t exactly know how to interact with that kind of person, it’s a marked difference from fake Capitol elites and badly coping people from the Districts. Alder- despite his tendency to think fast- probably could not keep up with people like Wade Wilson, though he’d wouldn’t end up upset, just confused. He’d be fine with powers if he knows about them before they are used, and while he might get along with Quinn and Logan, he’d be just as likely to put up an emotional wall to hide the panic that comes from being massively out of his depth. Probably wouldn’t be able to hide it completely.

Alder has a ton of me in him, so like me, it’s hard to say if he’s going to be able to adjust / adapt quickly or get massively thrown off by changes. It depends on where he’s at. Unlike me, he forms very deep attachments to people around him, even if he doesn’t particularly like them. (Example: Eero, an older District 7 Victor, is absolutely an asshole, but if Eero ever needed anything, Alder would take care of it immediately.) So if he’s required to work on a team, he’s going to need people on that team to like him or find him useful in some way. He is used to receiving rejection in subtle ways though, so he will distance himself if he thinks it’s necessary or that he’s bothering someone.

Willow is Alder’s friend, and while she later is taken from District 7 for trying to stop people from taking Ash (Alder’s sister), she kind of jumpstarts Alder’s realization about his identity. She confesses that she wants a romantic relationship with him before he leaves to be a Mentor for the first time, and while he tries not to think about it, he ultimately comes to the conclusion that he loves her in a way that is completely platonic. He has to work through guilt about that after she is taken, but he realizes that if he loved her romantically, that doesn’t mean he would have loved her better or been in a better position to save her, which helps. Alder also has more realizations about himself through observing the Victors; many of them use romance or sex as a way to reclaim their autonomy, and even those around him who have sworn off it did it because of past or present trauma. While Alder is happy that some of his friends have ways they’ve dealt with trauma that don’t seem as harmful as his, Haymitch’s, and Chaff’s drinking problems, he is quick to observe that he is alone in this (at least in his circle).

Delu comes in pretty late in Recall, but has a bigger role in The Other Side Of The Coin (the third / final work in the series, currently in the planning stage). Delu replaces Trace as the new escort for District 7. Alder becomes really close with her, and she’s one of the first people in Alder’s life to realize without being told that he doesn’t want sex or romance in his life, and that it’s nothing personal and it’s not a statement of defiance. While Delu is not aro or ace, she ultimately decides that she’d rather spend her life as Alder’s close friend and teammate than find a spouse to settle down with. They both teach each other a lot; Alder teaches Delu about the Districts and Delu teaches Alder about how ugly the Capitol can be to their own, not only to the Districts.

If you can’t tell, I love my imaginary son a lot. I’m gonna stop now, but here’s a line from Recall that I haven’t posted yet lol (it references the fact that Alder doesn’t get to see Ash as she grows up):

Ash grows older. 7’s tributes don’t.

[alvie-pines]

i cant go home. i dont want to go home. i cant do it.

i cant listen to her again, telling me my depressio n isnt real and im faking it as an excuse to be lazy, saying any drop in my grades is from me being lazy-- especially not now when im going through such a horribly aggressive episode, triggered by so many things--multiple health issues and protests and weeklong unscheduled schedule interruptions and seeing my therapist less and adhd frustrating me to the absolute ends of my frazzled nerves. my grades are suffering and im TRYING to get better and im using EVERY RESOURCE AT MY DISPOSAL RIGHT NOW but its still looking like its gonna be a difficult semester for my grades and i fucking despise the commentary that i know will be coming even though im an adult in college (and i cant lie about my grades, i cant)

i cant listen to the things she'll say about my cane, not after the way she talked about my chronic pain before i used it. i cant listen to her tell me its my fault and i need to stop being disabled as fast as i can. ive barely gotten myself comfortable using a cane, i am not prepared to take five steps backwards for the four steps i just took forward. i fucking begged her to let me see a physical therapist. while CRYING. i also asked to see a doctor back when it fucking started and was immediately dismissed. i dont want to hear her act (once again) like my chronic pain is my fault when, if its anyone's fault, its probably HERS for NOT LETTING ME SEE A PROFESSIONAL WHEN I NEEDED ONE.

im not perfect, im still struggling, but god are things easier to deal with when i dont have to also fight off a mother who thinks its her fucking job to make me feel like shit every time something bad happens to me

i dont want to live with her again but theres no goddamn way i can afford rent on minimum wage, especially not with my disability limiting my work options

[imgreynow]

It would appear that my communication styles are not transparent with this race of two leggers. Vicious, mean , hateful , taker , lying dishonest cheat. No fucking ball having excuse of a man , this boy has only given pain to the world. UNDERSTAND ? COO.

So moving forward with the newfound realization , and self awareness (esp per outside council I'm thankful for ) what does this mean that I can have accountability for how everything I've ever "SAID I "LOVED" .

Truly I did not. Love ? I couldn't love if I tried.

the horrors that exist include destruction of multiple family systems , as a piece of greaseball addict shit...... I let down a human who was clean living for five years off of a killer poison......until I ( the fucking 7#;(I),92)

Until I came around and just fucking HURT AND ENDED TWO HUMANS lives as anyone ever knew them. It was my fault that a grand human was swept off her righteous feet. Oh how can u say that ? Well you know like....normal real pure absolute selfless relentless peace seeking insanely loyal brightest lamp soul of a human aura cosmos put in my orbit.

It's best to start with where this all came from . To share the ending with me. So it starts with my best friend RIDIN ,,, oh down the mufuckin road with me. smiles both of us, life was being lived or something. well bright days , flare burning nights. Purpose driven with a constant responsibility........just KILLING IT PER YOOOOOSSZHHEE. So boy meets girl girl meets boy. Through Facebook . Oh man ....happiness floods me now guys as I speak my truth . Anyways. Yeah how did we meet because this company had me Rollin daily.......every day. She .....being the selfless love seeking (love like LOVE ) BADASS she is drove out to me and changed my life with an awesome first date where a hit movie in the form of the film "THE SECRET" CHANGED my not so hit of a movie in the form of my life movie. Bam. She came to me ?!?! What well lemme just say I fell in love at first sight at first look at first FEEL of her magnetic human energy just shining brighter than my flare on the black pearl 2. I could not make this up. So stay on track.....by the way for safety's sake the protagonist is named...."HEY-SEWS" (cuz she loved like JESUS) so she's be HEYSEWS OR heys. HEYS. For short k lol antagonist is named zero.

Okay so. Heys met zero and zero felt like a fucking hero. Fell hard into the love. Well I didn't because I don't know love.

I know shocked me too. Showing up emotionally or spiritually physically or at all one hundred (100) percent was not what she got but it was what I lied to her about cause I was heading there with my true love and then , by a pump jack next to a tumbleweed on a road. And dirt.

A chemical touched my brain that would end up being the .......thief of my. Well anyways a savage nasty addiction ....had me . Although at the time , I did not know it had me and anyone I ever would of loved to love. I E. My only mother niece nephews all family ever dogs and of course my soul mate that is soul less because a devil took it . Me. Blah blah right anyways in this one whore town is where all of me died and along the way brought down .too many ppl to wanna count with him. I swore I was done and good and had IT NOT IT HAVING ME ..shit I loved her ? I didn't love a substance it's fake ? In a bag ?Mexican lucrative national violent business cartel super labs have cooks making it just south , I love Gatorade tea , snacks , you know. Pre workout stim free of course ..weed ....beer and wine in moderation . I can say that I have no love for my chemical research I studied I misread the label... :(

Where was I .....stay tuned

[pies-writes-and-more]

ex-boyfriends are a pain

Warnings: ex boyfriend being a dick, referred to as Asshole, some swearing

Pairings: Sugawara Kōshi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, & Bokuto Kōtarō all with a Fem!Reader

A/N: this was originally written for @thisnoodlewritesao3 because ex-boyfriends can suck shit but how much do you wanna bet that the Haikyuu boys would have your back no matter what? Kinda threw this together so I hope you guys enjoy!

haikyuu masterlist

Sugawara knew you could fight like the rest of them. Hell, it was the first time you fought with Tanaka that made him go wow okay I need to hang out with Y/N more.

You could be so feisty when you wanted, so sweet other times. It all depended on your mood. So when he saw your ex-boyfriend walking your way, Sugawara watched your body language first. Did you seem like you wanted to deal with this on your own? Or did you want some help? He never wanted you to feel like he wouldn’t let you fight your own battles, though this was a little harder knowing that this Asshole had hurt you for so long.

Sugawara wanted nothing more than to make the guy hurt like he had hurt you... but no, he restrained himself for a moment, Daichi also watching as if ready to back up his best friend if he got himself into a scuffle.

Maybe if Asshole hadn’t caught you off guard and in the middle of your thoughts, you would’ve been fine, but instead he had grabbed you and dragged you off to some secluded hallway.

“The hell are you doing?” You glared at him, trying to wiggle your arm from him. Your eyes frantically searching for anyone or anything to help get you out of this situation as he pulled you away.

“We need to talk,” Asshole huffed, standing a little too close for comfort. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and my texts and now what? You’ve blocked me?”

Your insides turned uncomfortably, shifting your weight as you tried to find a way to at least step away from him a bit, “We’re not together anymore, there’s nothing that needs to be said-”

“Y/N! Daichi’s looking for you!” Sugawara’s voice was a welcome surprise. Your eyes shot over to where he was standing, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew. You could tell he knew how uneasy you were just because his eyes met yours and his head tilted slightly as if to ask want me to kill him?

“She’s busy,” Asshole grumbled, not even bothering to look up from your eyes at him.

Sugawara didn’t move. For a moment he just stood there with his fake smile on before walking closer and pushing the guy away from you gently, “Hey! You look real familiar,” Sugawara beamed up at him, holding his chin as if in thought. “Have we met before?”

“No?” Asshole just glared at him and then his glare turned to you, “Who the fuck is this? Your new boyfriend?”

“Aha! Boyfriend! You kinda look like that crazy EX-boyfriend that Y/N used to have. Now that was one weird dude. Imagine leaving your girlfriend at some restaurant cause you got caught up with your friends and forgot about your anniversary,” Sugawara’s forced a laugh, flopping his arm around your shoulders playfully. “Thank god you got rid of that guy right?”

Even you had to question whether or not Sugawara was being funny or serious. He definitely knew this guy was that ex-boyfriend... didn’t he?

Asshole just huffed, standing up straighter and puffing out his chest slightly just to exaggerate that he was, in fact, taller than Suga.

“It’s funny. It was after that breakup that the Karasuno High School Volleyball team vowed to never let Y/N get hurt ever again.” Suga’s eyes drifted over to where Asahi was just slightly in view, standing tall as ever.

It would only work since Asshole had no clue who Asahi was, and couldn’t see that the muscle-y third year was almost in a panic attack over the upcoming game. All Asshole saw when he followed Sugawara’s gaze was the scary tall third year that everyone seemed to gossip about at every game. Your ex turned back to Suga, as if thinking that would be any better.

From the half of Suga’s face that you could see, it was really not something you’d want to be in front of. Suga could get really scary if he wanted and you imagined that right now, Asshole was experiencing just that.

Your ex grumbled something about “not being worth it” and turned on his heel, rushing away from you two.

You felt a breath leave your chest almost immediately, your heart pounding against your ribcage, “God Suga, thank you so much,” you smiled weakly up at him, quickly wrapping your arms around him and giving him a tight squeeze.

“Anytime love,” he smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “You know, I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’d say you upgraded big time,” he smirked, tapping your nose lovingly.

You laughed and smiled up at him, touching his cheek gently and stroking your thumb along his skin as you admired his expression, “Absolutely. 100% upgrade. Would never even dream of going back.”

“Good,” Suga grinned, holding your hand against his face for just a moment longer, “cause I’m not letting you leave me that easily.”

Ushijima remembered your ex boyfriend, but not in any physical way. He couldn’t remember what the guy looked like - how tall he was, or what colour his hair was. But what he did remember is how you looked after every argument you had with the guy. 

More often than not, you’d come over to Ushijima’s place or Tendō’s after yet another argument, tears streaking down your face and your whole body just crumbling into one of their hugs.

Ushijima had hated seeing you like that and he would hold you for as long as you wanted.

It was after one really bad fight with that guy that Ushijima told himself that he would confess to you eventually. He knew you deserved all the love in the world, and the only way to guarantee you’d be getting it is if he took it into his own hands.

You were far too good for him, but he knew he loved you enough to try.

Maybe he should’ve gone back and looked into what this guy looked like. That probably would’ve helped him in this situation.

“-you think I don’t know that you were trying to steal my girl this whole time?” a guy was yelling, up in Ushijima’s face (as much as you can be in a guy’s face who’s a few inches taller than you). “I should’ve known you two would get together after the way she was constantly talking about you.”

Maybe it should’ve clicked in Ushijima’s head that the guy who was angrily attacking him in the almost empty gym was your ex-boyfriend, but instead, Ushijima kept glancing around him to see if there was someone else that the guy was yelling at.

“What the hell are you looking for? She’s not gonna come save you or anything. I thought you were supposed to be some big man - ace of the volleyball team. What are you scared or something?” your ex cackled, hands on his hips all proud-like.

Ushijima finally caught on that this guy was talking to him, a frown on his face, “I’m sorry but do I know you?”

It hadn’t meant to be a question with any sort of malice to it, but the guy seemed so dejected hearing it. Here he had come all this way, built up all this courage to confront Ushijima Wakatoshi for stealing his girlfriend... and the guy didn’t even know who he was.

“I’m Y/N’s ex boyfriend,” the guy glared up at him, getting angrier.

“Oh.” Ushijima nodded to himself slightly, now remembering the guy’s face and starting to walk past him.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“What’s there to talk about?” Ushijima asked, still walking ahead. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a self-absorbed egotistical idiot you would still have her. But you don’t. Someone was bound to come and show her what she actually deserves.”

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but had just been about to come into the gym to make sure Ushijima was ready to walk home. Your fingers trembled a little hearing your ex’s voice and just how angry he sounded. You were annoyed, you were angry. you wanted to go in there and punch the guy in the face. How dare he act like you were some item to be stolen - you chose Ushijima. You loved Ushijima. There wasn’t anything to steal - you were his and he was yours and there was nothing about your ex in it at all.

But you couldn’t deny that you loved hearing Ushijima’s flat and blunt tone cut through all of your ex’s defenses. He stood there a stuttering mess, coming up with excuses after excuses as to why he hadn’t been a better boyfriend (news flash man, you were just an ass), even while Ushijima started to exit the gym.

“Oh. Y/N. You’re here,” Ushijima’s stoic face broke into a smile as he found you, immediately leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead and taking your hand.

“Have an unexpected visitor?” You point out, glancing into the gym to see your ex getting all riled up some more.

“Nothing worth our time. Come on, let me walk you home,” he said, taking your bag from you like he always did and leading you home.

You knew Ushijijma could’ve cut your ex down to pieces if he needed to, the ace of Shiratorizawa could be very scary when he was angry. But evidently, your ex didn’t seem to be worth the time and the thought of that made you very happy. Ushijima was right after all, that Asshole was not worth either of your free times and he certainly wasn’t worth getting into a fight with.

Still, Ushijima seemed to watch you carefully to make sure you weren’t upset that your ex had come by. He bought you extra snacks at the shop the two of you stopped at on your way home and listened intently to all the things you wanted to talk about while the two of you ventured onwards.

“Thank you, Ushijima,” you smiled at him as you got to your door.

He nodded, “I like walking you home, no thanks needed.”

“No, thank you for... saying what you did to that Asshole back at the gym,” you weren’t really sure what you were thanking him for, but just felt like it needed thanking.

The boy just smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek as he handed you your bag, “You are worth 10 of him, Y/N. I won’t waste my chance with you like he did.”

You beamed hearing this, wrapping him into a hug before disappearing into your house and waving to him from the window. 

Later Tendō would point out that he would’ve kicked held the guy up while Ushijima beat the shit out of him, if Ushijima ever wanted that but the ace just shrugged, “The greatest defeat I can do to him is make Y/N happier than he ever could. And I plan on doing that every day for the rest of my life.”

Bokuto loathed your ex boyfriend. He always proclaimed that if he so ever laid eyes on him, he would spike a volleyball into the guy’s face.

Now was his opportunity.

You had been working with the managers of the volleyball team to help set everything up before one of the tournament games, just filling up water bottles and bringing them to the court. You weren’t sure how or why your ex had followed you onto the court but he did.

“Y/N,” he called you from behind you, grabbing onto your wrist to keep you from rushing off.

Your eyes widened as you realized who it was, frowning and pulling your arm away from him almost immediately, “What the hell are you doing here?” You asked with a glare.

“We need to talk - I don’t like this new guy you’re dating. He’s an idiot.” Asshole huffed, shooting a thumb in the direction of Bokuto who was currently getting ready to practice spiking.

“Who I date is none of your business. You should get out of here before he realizes you’re here-” you tried to warn him. Really you did.

There was always a deafening sound whenever one of Bokuto’s blocks hit the floor - the kind that sent shivers down your spine. But hearing it land so close to you, right behind where your ex was standing, made you actually jump, your eyes watching as the ball bounced off and rolled further away down the gym. You and your ex both froze, staring as you watched the ball disappear, a ringing left in the air from the powerful spike.

Both of you turned to see who had almost attacked Asshole, finding Bokuto standing there with his arms crossed against his chest. Even Akaashi was glaring at your ex, chin tilted up in a defiant sort of way.

“Next one,” Bokuto pointed straight at your ex, a firm look in his eyes, “I aim for that ugly mug of yours.”

You could feel your ex tense up, fists balling up angrily at his sides. He opened his mouth to say something, but Akaashi quickly cut him off, “You should leave. Our ace doesn’t get angry often, but when he does, he doesn’t hold back on spiking power. Besides, if you want to talk to our Y/N when she doesn’t want to talk to you, you’ll have to go through all of us.” He motioned to the rest of the team, all of whom were glaring in Asshole’s direction.

You couldn’t help but smile. How lucky were you to have found a family like this - one who were so willing to stop their practice before a game just to make sure you were comfortable. 

Asshole soon stormed off and you sent a smirk over to Bokuto who just sent you a grin, “Did you see that crazy spike?” He asked excitedly as you came over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I did. If that had hit me, I would’ve died,” you teased, poking his chest.

“I would never hit you! I am an expert with aiming!”

“Didn’t you hit her like last week with a stray receive, Bokuto?” 

“AKAASHI NOT NOW!”

You laughed, watching as Bokuto frantically waved his arms to his best friend, insisting that that was an accident and he really was very good at aiming. 

“Thanks for getting him out of here,” you smiled up at your boyfriend, giving him a tight squeeze before glancing at the ref who was setting up for the game. “I should head up to the stands. You better get all fired up for me okay?”

“Anything for you, babe. I figured actually hitting him would’ve just made him angrier.” He laughed, pecking your lips. “Cheer extra loud for me!” He called after you, jumping up and down to warm up his calves.

“You ready, Bokuto?” Akaashi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bokuto nodded, grinning to himself as he thought about how perfect that spike was, “I’m all fired up thanks to the prettiest girl in the world. Let’s do this!”

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[thatoneguitargirl]

𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤 | max mayfield x reader

requested by anon this is quite possibly my favorite fanfic I’ve ever written so tsym for requesting !!

Max Mayfield gets jealous because her girlfriend seems to be a little too close with Lucas

my masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

MAX MAYFIELD WAS NOT NORMALLY ONE TO GET JEALOUS. Especially when it came to her love life. She knew her girlfriend was loyal and completely in love with her. Yet she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy every time Lucas Sinclair was around.

(Y/N) was more physical with him than she was with anyone else in the party. The two would whisper jokes into each other’s ears during D&D, team up in two player arcade games, and their constant force field of sarcasm. It was more than Max could take.

The party was all sitting around in Mike’s basement after finishing a particularly grueling campaign. Max and (Y/N) sat draped over each other on the couch while Mike and Will cleaned up.

“I can’t believe that half of your attacks even worked. You must be rigging the die or something,” (Y/N) suggests, and Dustin smiles to himself in triumph.

“You’re just mad that all your rolls were shit,” Lucas mocks and (Y/N) fakes offense.

“I just can’t roll. If it was real life, I could totally take those monsters”

“Pfft- no, you couldn’t! You could barely walk up the steps without running out of breath,” Lucas fires back.

(Y/N) looks back to her girlfriend for support but finds none. Does everyone think she’s a weakling? “Guess I’ll just have to show you my strength”

(Y/N) gets up from her seat and pretends to crack her neck. She shakes out her hands and smirks, “Come on, tough guy. Fight me!”

Lucas stands up in front of her and cracks his knuckles. “It’s on!”

Max and Dustin watch the entire exchange. Dustin was used to their playful fighting, but Max was biting her lip skeptically. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now”

(Y/N) swats her as if to say that it’s ok. Lucas stares down his opponent. Too bad while he wasn’t looking (Y/N) kicks him in his shins and he buckles at the knees.

Lucas falls to the ground and (Y/N) pins his arms to the ground. She puts her knee on his chest and smiles.

Max watches as they move, and she feels sick. “One, two...” Dustin counts, but before he can get to three (Y/N) is launched off of him and across the room.

She stumbles on her feet and prepares to fight again. Lucas repeats her same moves and suddenly they’re in the same position, roles reversed.

Max closes her eyes tightly and excuses herself. Something about getting a breath of air. (Y/N) watches in concern as she leaves, but Lucas is still in the fight.

“What? Got distracted by your girlfriend?” He asks and (Y/N) tries to break free.

“Stop it. I think something’s wrong”

Lucas isn’t having any of it, so he pushes her wrists down into the ground. This sets off a fire in (Y/N) and she gains the strength to knee him in the balls and escape from his grasp.

Lucas writhes in pain as (Y/N) picks herself up and runs outside to search for Max. Luckily, it wasn’t too hard. For she found the redhead girl sitting on the steps with her head down.

“Maxie? Are you ok?” (Y/N) asks and she can hear the sniffle of someone pretending they weren’t crying. She sits down next to her girlfriend and tries to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Max brushes her off and (Y/N) resolves to just sitting beside her. “Why did you leave so suddenly? Do you feel sick?”

Max wipes her face and turns to look (Y/N) in the eyes. “How come you like Lucas more than me?” She asks.

(Y/N) looks taken aback. “I don’t like him more than you. Max, I love you. Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re obsessed with each other. You talk to each other more than anyone I’ve ever known and you two can get so close sometimes- it makes me think you two should be together”

(Y/N) softly smiles and wipes her partner’s face with the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ve known Lucas since forever. He’s basically my brother. But, he could never compare to you” She grabs Max’s hand and rubs circles on her knuckles.

“You’re definitely much more beautiful. And better at games. And give the best cuddles anyone could ever ask for”

Max slightly smiles and (Y/N) moves her face closer. “Plus, that dumbass can’t hold a candle to the make-out queen of the world”

Max thinks her girlfriend is going to connect their lips, but she’s unpleasantly surprised by a kiss on the cheek. She raises an eyebrow and (Y/N) whispers, “Not until you acknowledge that you’re the only one I want”

The ginger girl chuckles quietly and says back, “Ok, fine. You’re totally in love with me?”

“And?”

“And I’m just as in love with you”

The pair connect in a kiss filled with affection and unparalleled closeness. It was the perfect moment.

But soon their soft, passionate touches turned into something more. The two teenage girls became much more heated and lustful...

“Holy shit! I was just checking if you two were still alive. Not trying to inhale each other!”

The pair turn to see an obviously traumatized Dustin and start laughing uncontrollably. He immediately heads back into the house muttering swears under his breath, leaving Max and (Y/N) to ride out their fit of laughter. Alone on the steps of Mike Wheeler’s house, perfectly and completely in love.

[jessiebites]

CRYING ALMOST SEEMS POINTLESS, so she doesn't waste the energy on feelings that linger like sadness. It was one of those things that Jessie knew she couldn't stop once she started, so she makes like her older brother used to in times of crisis, taking those feeling and shoving it down so far that it turns into numbness, a blank canvas to draw on top of later when there aren't watching eyes. Jessie hums in response, the pad of her thumb runs over Nausicaä's effortlessly, dancing against her soft skin to find some sort of relief of the weight on her shoulders. The touch is more soothing than expecting, but it could be the magic underneath it all. Jessie wants to feel it even if it's not active, rising the woman's hand to her own cheek to feel the warmth.

To put it simply, she doesn't want to talk about it. Despite it being years, almost ten on the dot, her transformation almost seems fresh. Like a wound that keeps reopening every time she has a birthday or she sees her father on the news and on the cover of magazines. To the rest of the world, she's a missing persons. An unsolved case. To Jessie, she's a woman who's fate is too unfortunate to even consider going back home. She's giving herself a pity party now because she didn't when she was alive. At least it's better to have the heaviness surrounded by someone, because being alone sounds like the worst possible solution.

If Jessie could, she'd take Nausi upon her offer to take the pain away. The thought was nice enough to cause her to smile a little bit, nudging a small kiss to the back of her hand before dropping it. A failed excuse for some kind of physical contact she's been lacking from all the god damn running. Jessie gives the witch a bone, despite there being no basis towards it.

"When I was a lil girl, I always thought that life was so ... meanin'less." She mumbles, rubbing her hands along her thighs. " I didn't enjoy anythin' except for my horse and my ex fiancée. Without those things I don't think I could tell you anythin' about myself back then." It's sad, but true. Her life circled and orbited around Emily, around Emily's dreams of becoming more than just the daughter of a small town butcher, around Emily being sick. Everything else was just a blur beside that love, because what else matters when everything else is shit? It's the love that gets Jessie by every time. It's Jessie's love that caused Emily to pull away from her to begin with.

"Then I left home and felt as though life was even more shit when I had one less of those two things. It got even worse when I met my maker. One after another things just kept gettin' heavier an' more shitty, an' I feel like I haven't made it out of the hole I dug myself in a decade ago." It's a very .. summed up version of her past that said absolutely nothing about anything, but just enough to explain the weight's impacts. How she feels the dirt beneath her feet begin to rise and engulf her in a pile that she can't breathe out of. Jessie pushes it back again, smiling sadly.

"But I'll be alright," a pause, a fake smile, a hand to brush back red tresses from her face that the breeze keeps pushing forwards. "I am immortal, and despite my loneliness I will learn to let it pass."

Her heart went out to the girl. She might not know what it was like to be a vampire, but she could absolutely relate to a before and after, and sometimes magic, as much as it was a part of her life and existence, really did get in the way of a life of normalcy. And apparently it was magic of the darkest variety that had turned the first vampire, but that was more mythic, more legendary, than true insight and veracity.

She did what she could to lull her into a state of calm, knowing that this wasn’t an easy feat. Heightened emotions for the supernatural were one hundred times sharper than they would be for someone that wasn’t. Heretofore, she didn’t know Jessie’s plight, but she did know pain and that was something she could hone in on, connecting to the elements, and by proxy to her. There were few words that needed to be spoken, and silence was sometimes the best kind of healing to be had. Feeling her head contact with her shoulder, Nausicaä rests her eyes, sending as much healing energy as could be remedied, gently stroking the onyx and bloodstone necklace. It had been tied by a black vegan leather cord around her throat but was long enough to dangle over her heart. ❛ It is, ❜ she spoke serenely, her voice just a hairsbreadth lighter than her normal speaking pitch, which wasn’t very loud at all—and in the siren’s timbre, she could ease the pain and frustration from the afflicted, weaving spells and charms just by merely speaking alone.

Nausicaä connected to her exhaustion, sensing it as though it were her own, but knew these intense sensations were actually coming from Jessie. So much so that she felt the burning desire for a fresh cup of the strongest coffee she could find, maybe even gravitating toward Italian or French roast.

❛ There’s no need to thank me, I am happy to help you, Jess. ❜ She coaxes her voice into what could only be described as honeyed silk cadence. Holding her hand gently, and savoring the lovely sunset, it had been a good day as far as magic had gone. Putting that out of her mind, she concentrated on the injured vampire.

❛ Do you want to talk about it? ❜ she inquired, but only just. She didn’t want to insert pressure on Jessie’s behalf if she wasn’t comfortable in doing so. She often wondered on how the woman turned, and what it had been like. They hadn’t had that kind of heart to heart yet, but she was positive they would flow to that conversation in due time. The heaviness she spoke of, that was something she understood. She didn’t think it ever went away. It might lessen, but it would always be there, waiting in the wings like a plume of despair.

❛ I haven’t had much luck with the heaviness, I’m afraid. We might be speaking of two different things, but I hope the heaviness you feel lifts, because I would want this for anyone. If I could give it away, I absolutely would. ❜

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

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

***

This.

This shit, right here.

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

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

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

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

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

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[the-tiniest-one]

Hello! I saw you asking for requests to be sent in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for kakashi and gai (separately) with a plus size civilian s/o? Or one or the other? Thank you in advance ❤

MIGHT GUY

SO we all know Guy is ALL about 3 things. Youth. Passion. Protecting Precious People….and guess what? When you happen to cross paths with the Leaf Village’s Blue Beast, he trips over himself to let you know just how PRESH you are.

I don't see your status as a civilian as much of a road block for him. He needs someone grounded and with soft hands to hold.

Someone who will think he’s the strongest man in the world, a superhero.

He protects the ones he loves with his life and once you're in that circle there is no way out of this man’s giant heart.

You somehow enter Guy’s line of sight, maybe on a walk to class or work too early in the morning…. and from that moment you pass by and he catches sight of your pretty face, he is out for the count.

Now. Lets remember….Guy is CONFIDENT (sometimes more in spirit than in actual ability, he is the fake-it-till-you-make-it KING).

Also important to note: Guy is NOT the same as Rock Lee in his pursuit of women. He’s not about to blow every kiss at you from the jump or shamelessly confess everything out right. Don't get me wrong, he’s shameless….but Guy wants to be seen as someone cool, sexy, a real macho/mighty man... He wants to be slick Kakashi his eternal rival. He’s going to try to be velvety smooth….without success.

He would find any excuse to be in your eye line while flexing or saving a poor disguised student he employed for his contrived scheme, in this case... Neji or Lee in a dress from falling off a building LOL. (“They would be asking him to please explain again how this is training?”)------You might be a civilian. But Genjutsu of that level does NOT work on you LOL.

You are the one to finally introduce yourself to a slumped and defeated Guy after about a week of his adorable attempts at trying to bate you in with his goober acts.

“Hello, my name is (y/n). I was hoping maybe you would like to get a drink sometime?” you say with a half smile.

He would raise his head, teeth BEAMING….the power of youth always prevails!

Best. Decision. Ever. Guy charming and not to mention SHREDDED.

When he accepts your date offer, He would stand and grin, maybe saying something a little cocky like; “A handsome, war hardened devilish shinobi such as myself will always find time to satiate the voracious desires of such a heavenly woman so bursting with the essence springtime.”

He would be so so so respectful.

That being said, you're HIGH AF if you think you aren't making a B-line to walk by Kakashi on the way so Guy can tactfully walk by loudly so that his rival notices he’s with a cute girl.

He’s going to be the chivalrous type. The kind of man who makes sure your hands are around his giant bicep whenever he escorts you anywhere….which from this point on is almost anytime he is home from missions or not training.

Guy is perfect. He’s tall, JACKED, and such a sweet loving man.

He is obsessed with your shampoo. His nose is always in your hair.

Lets face it. Guy is 100% the most physical man that has ever walked the streets of Konoha. If you aren't big on touching, then his is not the man for you.

One hand will always be around your waist, holding your hand, arm around your neck, locked on your curves or anywhere else….respeeeectfully of course.

He will always be up on you and in your face so get ready for that LOL.

He will be proud of you. He will be boisterous to an exhausting level about your achievements.

He will be exhilarating in every way.

One of Guy’s greatest strengths is also one of his most unfortunate downfalls. He is wildly protective. Never underestimate his ferocity when it comes to you. You may have to communicate more than once where the line is when it comes to him watching over you. Even though you aren’t skilled in combat as he is, you also are not a child and he will take some time to learn what you require and what you don’t.

He always means well.

You have some faults and things to work on as well. Guy is tender as hell, an emotional, hot blooded, love sick fool who can and WILL take things you say to heart so be sure if you notice him freaking out or trying too hard to make you happy, to hold him and let me know often that he is perfect the way he his.

In the end all of the passions and butterflies that Guy provokes from your heart are entirely justified.

He will ask you to marry him after a date, probably at sunset, one knee, giant ring he spent way too much on.

He claims you deserve the world and you tell him that instead of the world “you would settle for just having his hands, his lips, and his heart.”

Do your best to return his love to the best of your ability because not everyone gets the chance to be loved by the Hidden Leafs Handsome Blue Beast.

KAKASHI

I’ve never seen Kakashi as someone who would end up with another shinobi bombshell.

Instead I think he would find himself interested in someone who is a total badass in another line of work.

Example; You first encounter him one day while advising Lady Tsunade on the information the Hidden Leaf Village (and a few others) pay’s your company large sums of money to collect, aggregate, and report.

Kakashi stands guard during the meeting, watching you speak with an eloquent grace and authority he finds captivating and maybe a little seductive.

By then end of the meeting he is curious about you...wondering what you thought of him, what you think about everything.... You never even look his way.

He falls in line with you as we escorts you out of the building, walking beside you in the otherwise empty stairwell.

You smirk and take the liberty of speaking first. “Did you enjoy the show Scarecrow?”

From that moment on he’s hooked.

Now I also don’t find the idea of him falling for someone with some FULL curves to be all that outlandish….He has never given .00000001% of a shit what other people think.

He also shares the famous Pervy Sage’s taste in “women he describes from research” and romantic books about women shaped like gourds so with that logic in mind….dude likes thicc, full, curvaceous women for sure. It's basically cannon at this point ;)

Kakashi is someone who has learned emotional detachment through pain. You are the first person who shows promise in tearing down those defenses.

Your relationship not necessarily a slow burn. Kashi isn’t a kid, just because he hasn’t fallen head over heals with anyone before, doesn’t mean he is a mystery to himself or oblivious to his feelings.

That being said, I do think he will protect you by keeping a relationship with you under wraps for the first year or so.

If anything EVER happened to you….he wont let that happen.

The secrecy could be hard on you at first.

Watching more than a few women flirt shamelessly with your Kashi is beyond ROUGH.

Especially considering most of them are tough as nails ninja women with perfect bodies. You aren't used to feeling threatened by other people men or women, so you have a hard time learning how to deal with it.

Kakashi is always quick to remind you that he is serious about your relationship though.

He looks at you with a ferocity only seen by people who are no longer alive. His voice is low and serious when he gets close and tells you, “(Y/N) You are my entire life. I will never leave you. I promise I am yours until the day I die.”

After a few times of him promising you that he really is in love with you, you believe him and can be secure in his word.

As his girlfriend, you take his breath away.

The way you speak, move, sleep….

Even the way you casually conduct yourself at home and in public makes him more than proud to know who you are. Let alone get to go home to you.

Guy is the first one to catch on believe it or not. He notices Kakashi peaking over the top of his book at you as you walk down the opposite side of the street. He’s known Kakashi since they were kids, he puts a reassuring hand on your boyfriends shoulder and vows without spoken words to protect you when Kakashi can’t be there….and Kakashi understands. It helps him sleep just a little better knowing he has help.

Stargazing on a rooftop one chilly autumn night, Kakashi grabs your hand and proposes to you with a small silver ring, slightly ashamed for it’s lack of a stone.

“I want you to be my wife.” is all he says and you wrap your arms around him whispering in his ear “You have had my heart since the first day I met you…. And you always will.”

His heart melts into a puddle at the sound of you telling him he will have a wife. Finally have family that loves him this much.

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[obeymeluv]

Cute + Awkward Headcanons (SFW/NSFW)

Trying to turn a bad day around, so I thought of these

Lucifer

Sometimes you can’t tell if he’s giving you bedroom eyes or if he’s actually angry. Lucifer has spent THOUSANDS of years glaring at his brothers and doesn’t know if he’s just staring or glaring

I think he’s super out of practice with romance so he’s hella awkward but when he gets that first positive sign that you’re into him, the charm and pride wakes up and suddenly he’s smooth AF

Flirts so formally he misses his shot 8/10 times

Has a habit of trying to police you like one of his brothers and it’s a knee-jerk, 1000+ year reaction to looking after 6 man-children of various difficulties. Always owns up and apologizes

Has accidentally almost made you pass out from kissing too long. Forgets you don’t have the same lung capacity

BRUISES YOU TO HELL! FORGETS SO MUCH! FEELS SO BAD!

That’s why he has the gloves, to soften his grip because he was one of the strongest in the Celestial Realm and that translates to power in the Devildom

Only complains to you about his back pain from long nights burning the candle at both ends. You find it cute and sad at the same time

Is probably physically very heavy given his stature and the weight of his wings, so if he falls asleep on you, you’re trapped

Rare midnight snack dates when he MUST finish papers by the deadline.

You may or may not have had a Demonus date in his study when a particularly bad batch of paperwork was finally done

You’ve probably cracked at least one (1) antique wood chair

Quickly learned he CANNOT spank you because that shit seriously bruised your ass. You either need a strengthening charm or he has to re-learn how to use his strength around people

That caused one awkward visit to the infirmary because you didn’t know if you were just sore, pinched, dislocated, or cracked. Turns out you were fine. There was no mistaking that hand print, though

It was the second time he’d apologized so profusely in his life. There was no pride left in this man.

You had a special cushion to ease the pain and it looked top of the line (hella fancy. Could probably resell it as fake Gucci in the human world.)

Lucifer gives me big dom vibes and orgasm denial/over-stimulation kink because of his pride basically demanding you beg for him. You passed out at least once from over-stimulation.

When you first start dating he wouldn’t want to own up to any awkward boners so if you sit in his lap while he’s taking a paper break, he’ll make every excuse under the sun (”That’s my belt,”, etc.)

Mammon

This boy is nothing but awkward moments, are you kidding me?

It’s a lot of ‘open mouth, insert foot’ because he can’t be upfront with his feelings. It’s partly not wanting to lose any ‘cred’ he has with people, but also because he’s embarrassed and can’t be honest

There’s lots of tracking you down to sort out things you might have overheard (that he didn’t honestly mean if they sounded bad)

Super sentimental about anything to do with you. You once kissed a piece of Grimm as a good luck charm for his exam and he’d kill someone over it. Always has it on him.

This lovable doofus just assumes you’re dating because you’re always together and you’re perfect and he’s your best man so who’s better?!

When you actually ask him out (with something silly, like ‘I think us dating would be pretty cash money’), he’s so confused. (”But we’ve been dating for, like, a month! Right, human?!”)

He talks big but he’s weak. You’ll always be able to fluster him

Wanted to make love to you on some Grimm and quickly realized that it’s uncomfortable. Porn lied to him and the idea’s ruined. You guys cut the session short to find every piece of Grimm so you can actually lay in the bed

 Tends to plunk his head down on your chest and demand scratches/cuddles and has bruised you several times.

Accidentally fought you once or twice for his glasses while half asleep. Levi, Asmo, and Satan used to take them and hide from him

You learned he’s actually hella blind (contacts with non-prescription sunglasses or prescription yellow glasses) and have walked him around the House of Lamentation several times when his glasses went missing

He’ll complain about his brothers having it out for him and getting back at him, but it turns out they just wanted to make an excuse for you guys to hold hands. It’s like a date!

Made you hit your head on the headboard once when he was doing missionary style. Had to stop and check on you, then it got awkward. He cuddled and kissed you the whole time, though. Even got you an ice pack!

The type to flirt with you, try to lean on something, and take himself out on the way down

You’ve had a few of those cliche ‘trip and fell on each other’ moments

Has accidentally swung you into doors and walls trying to scoop you up and run/march out of a room

Levi

This boy is also super awkward

When you’re alone, he’s an absolute sucker for any kind of affection you can give. This boy will literally slither across the floor to make himself comfortable in your lap so he can game.

Pet his hair. He loves that.

Will also have to re-train himself on how to be with you in public. With him, it’s not making fun of a ‘normie’ as much.

Not big on PDA but will definitely hold your hand. How ELSE are people going to know you’re together?!

You get cute matching shirts or jewelry with the ‘Player 1, Player 2′ theme

Does a lot more snake-like things with his tongue. Especially when frustrated. Rub his jaw and chin to see it come out a little bit. It’s like a happy floppy dog tongue, just not as long or wide.

Craves a soft, warm thing to sleep on. You will be his new bed.

The first time you had sex, he broke out his demon form because he looked at you and loved you. He knew he’d get jealous if anyone ever saw you.

Was a little clumsy but determined. Sank in and started going at it, but wanted to look down and watch. He got his horns stuck in your hair and had to stop.

Is #1 fan when you’re naked. (”Ugh. Smother me.”) Boy can’t stand it. He needs it.

Tries to dress a little nicer (even if it’s casual) when you guys go out on dates.

You pack little snack bags when he stands in line for midnight releases and GODDAMN he’s gonna marry you?!

If you’re napping together and someone comes to wake him up or needs you, he just glares at them from underneath you, tail swishing threateningly. No one takes his human, okay?!

He has over-the-ear headphones but I bet he carries earbuds and has probably done that ‘share an earbud’ thing to hold you close and listen to music

Do you need to get up while he’s still sleeping? Untangle yourself and tuck your pillow in his arms. He’ll be fine. Bonus: you get to see the snuggling in action.

Between all the anime and centuries in the Devildom, he’s gotten used to using tails as another way of expression. They act subconsciously based on what the demon’s thinking. He’s surprised both of you several times by accidentally wrapping you up in his tail because he doesn’t want you to leave.

When he gets visibly uncomfortable in social situations, slip him something with your scent on it. It’s comforting. If you make up an excuse to get him out of there (he’s your escort and all), he’s over the moon.

Satan

Had more awkward moments than he’s willing to admit, but he’s more open about them than Lucifer. Basically, if someone guesses it happened, he won’t deny it.

BOY HAS A BOWTIE KINK. PLAY WITH HIS. STEAL ONE AND WEAR IT!

Has probably tripped over books walking you through his room or rushing to answer the door (not that you’d know how happy it makes him).

There’s a 50-50 chance that he’ll steal a glance and act like he didn’t, hiding behind an upside down book or something

Has definitely dropped books on his head after charming them down from the shelf. Your voice just sucks all his concentration up. You get bonus points for checking on him because some of those books are HELLA HEAVY

Say the right thing during a quiet tea session and you might hear him choke

Has probably been outed by one of his friends. Satan always seems to make friends without trying and gets invited to tons of stuff. What didn’t seem like a date turns out to DEFINITELY be a date (according to the friend).

Plan some silly treasure hunt/detective date and this guy is yours for life (especially if you’re the prize at the end).

Isn’t the most upfront about the disdain for his demon form, or how he feels weird about not being a true angel (just an extension of Lucifer), so expect a lot of raw, near-tears conversations in his demon form.

Hold him, run your fingers along the inside of his wings and the tips of his horns and Satan hugs you like there’s no tomorrow. He’ll cry, but he doesn’t regret these tears because they’re healing.

Weak for hand kisses. Smooch them hands.

Not super into PDA, but he’ll do other things to show he cares like carry your books and make sure you know what the weather’s like before you leave

Satan still hasn’t lived down the time Lucifer and the others broke down his door because they smelled blood and thought he’d hurt you. Turns out you guys were having sex and he just bit too hard.

Wouldn’t talk to any of them for a week. He swept you up on an impromptu hotel vacation and you continued to avoid everyone by shopping and eating at cafes.

The type to hold your panties hostage or like a trophy. Gives them back eventually, and enjoys watching Mammon almost have an aneurysm as he tries to figure out why his room smells so strongly of you.

Tea dates, cat cafe dates, and plenty of couple pictures with cat filters. Satan’s Devilgram activity goes up substantially when he’s dating.

You’re not his lock screen, but you’re his background. 

Asmo

When you two start dating Asmo is literally the happiest demon in all of Devildom. Yeah he’s smug and cute like ‘how could they NOT fall for beautiful me?’ but boy is literally so stoked. All of that babble’s just a cover for how sickeningly happy he is

Thinks the world of you.

Wants to spend all his free time with you, be it napping and cuddling, shopping, getting pampered, or just doing your nails.

Now that he has that real, true love he doesn’t want to be without you.

You trend on Devilgram at least once

SO MANY PICTURES

Took you shopping for perfumes and has the tester strip you used to pick your perfume taped to his vanity. Then he can smell it whenever he likes!

Gives you a small thing of his cologne for when you get lonely or want to smell like him

Boy is super, super extra. Probably has matching shirts that say he’s yours and you’re his.

The type to get couple’s pillows, cups, and pajamas. You also get couple’s massages.

If you wear lipstick, he’s definitely made you a custom one at some exclusive-invite Devilgram event. He put your initials on the base of the tube and thinks it’s the cutest damn thing. His pride and joy--it’s basically a child.

There’s no shame in the bedroom with this one. I really doubt he’d have awkward moments because he has a lot of experience and has run into a lot of things that he’s handled one way or another. It’s gentle coaching and some sweet teasing.

The most embarrassing thing he’s ever done is probably moaned/whined at the wrong time. Or said something semi-naughty at a bad time. He’s not easily shamed so that doesn’t really matter, either.

He melts at the gentlest touches and will be SO dramatic about it, like half fainted into his bed.

Is easily hypnotized by jewelry. He’ll massage your ears if you have earrings in, cooing over them and wanting to look at them. If he’s laying on you and you’re wearing a necklace, he plays with it the whole time.

Beel

Smart but distractable. Beel’s love language revolves around protection and food so pack him a lunch for practice or bring him something from a town date with one of the bros and he’s super excited

He means well but forgets his own strength so there’s a lot that can go wrong in the bedroom

Has probably broken his bed several times

Had sex on the kitchen counter and the bros only found out because one of them was setting up dinner prep and one of the legs just gave out

Big, snuggly bear. Best hugs.

Hardest to wake up because he tends to sleep well and easily. It’s a side effect of being connected to Belphie. Will hug you to him and keep snoring. You have to get someone else to wake him up because he’ll just snuggle you the more you move around and talk

I headcanon that Beel does a tongue thing like Levi, mostly because his cardinal sin is gluttony and that helps get the food in his mouth faster. It’s not as slender or serpentine as Levi’s, but it definitely moves.

Has licked you in his sleep as an affectionate thing.

Loves to snuggle into your hair when he sleeps.

Bite mark king. He’s so affectionate and earnest when he makes love that he just ends up leaving all kinds of signs on you--mostly bite marks but when he’s conscious of leaving too many, they turn into hand prints.

Makes the purr sound when he’s inside of you. Purrs very easily.

Most of his awkward moments come from being oblivious. He’s the kind of guy you have to out-and-out tell you’re flirting with him, that you like him and want to date him.

Beel’s also very shy with flirting. He thinks you’ll just understand that he’s flirting when he shares food or wants to hug, or just anything. It can be missed because he’s generally chill and friendly.

Was royally embarrassed by Asmo (on accident) when he didn’t eat as much at dinner one night and you were ‘too tired’ to come down. Beel went to carry your food up and Asmo somehow found out he’d eaten you out right before. He was filled up on the human energy and you couldn’t walk to come down.

If you ride his face, grab his horns to hold on. It does something for him and his hands go crazy and he really eats.

Scratch his back and he’ll be your forever heater.

His PDA is carrying you because why not? It’s a workout AND you’re close. It makes him give that big, nice smile.

Belphie

The biggest issue is that he falls asleep on you all the time. He doesn’t mean to but he’s TIRED, okay?

Has a name for the cow pillow. Calls it ‘my moo.’ You are one of seven people that know that. Apparently it’s been a thing since he was little.

Has accidentally called you ‘my moo’ when he’s sleep delirious. It means you’re highly thought of. Beel used to be his moo, too, and now he’s been replaced.

This sloth will smother you. He’s like a koala that demands total contact to sleep

Gives you back rubs and massages. Sometimes he stays awake through them, sometimes you get sleepy and that makes him sleepy so he ends up falling asleep on your back.

Not big on PDA, but his version of caring for you is making sure you’re not bothered by annoying people. Wants you to sit with him at lunch though, and he’ll sulk if you don’t.

His favorite kind of dates are where you stockpile food and drink in the room and just feed each other while lounging in cozy blankets

If you make him any kind of pillow or blanket for a birthday, it’s at the top of his collection. Everyone will see it when they walk into his room.

You’ll plan dates in the star room where he just holds you and points out constellations until you fall asleep. Knows a lot of the mythology/stories behind them and shares that.

No matter the size, Belphie likes to cuddle between your boobs. He says it’s for your heartbeat and that they’re comfy like pillows. His tail wags like crazy when he does this.

Also big on physical contact due to his time in the attic. You just have to be alone.

Brush and play with his hair. That’s what he likes most.

Just hold this boy, okay? He needs it.

If you guys are trying to nap and the other brothers are being noisy, he’ll do the demon scream thing to tell them to shut the hell up. He’s an absolute angel to you though. You’re tired too, he knows.

If you get a little purple streak or something in your hair, he’s smitten.

Get him a kanigiri and the boy is super stoked. He’ll wear it all around the House of Lamentation. Bonus points if it has a hoodie or something he can throw up to annoy Lucifer.

Might get you a little stuffed cow toy so you have something to hug if you have to go away or can’t be with him.

The type to be restless if he can’t sleep with you. Will come to your room in the dead of night and ask to snuggle. It’s the only time he’s nice about it (and vulnerable), so say yes.

You get to be a human body pillow. He loves it very much.

[baepsaesbae]

Eclipse

Pairing— Day Fairy!Hoseok x Night fairy!reader    

Genre— SMUT, fae au, angst, idiots to lovers

Warnings— Oral (F receiving), nipple play, explicit unprotected sex, hair pulling, both praise and slight derogatory dirty talk bc I can’t make up my mind, slight swearing

Word Count— 3.3k  

Summary— The summer solstice is here and it’s time to celebrate. Your favorite part of the solstice is that you get to see Hoseok, or rather, the love of your life. It’s too bad you haven’t told him how you really felt, even though it has been centuries. Maybe this year will be different. 

A/N— This fic is part of The Fabled Collab hosted by @joontopia, @kimtaehyunq, and @whipped-for-kpop-fics. Hoseok is my sunshine, so I just had to write about him! Thank you to @s0seo and @taegularities for giving me motivation to write. Lastly, huge shoutout to Eden from @thebiasrekkers​ for making this awesome banner for me! As always, let me know how you guys like the fic! My askbox is always open <3

Fae clans have many holidays and rituals, but solstices are by far the most celebrated. Solstices mark the pivotal event that shifts the seasonal responsibilities between the sun and moon clans. The summer and winter solstice are always the biggest events of the year, with about a week of festivities leading up to the final event. 

Sweat ran down your spine as the sun beat down on you. You’ve been holding up a stupid banner for what felt like an eternity.

“Okay wait, you’re gonna hate me but I think we should put it back to where we originally had it,” Sunghoon said with furrowed brows.

“That’s it. We’ve been doing this all morning. Figure this out yourself,” you angrily threw down the banner and stormed off before Sunghoon had the chance to yell at you.

You ignored the friendly calls from other fae that were setting up decor nearby. It was way past your bedtime. Cranky and drenched in sweat, you were definitely not a happy night fairy. Heading straight to the pond, you derobed and found comfort in the cool waters that  washed away your stress instantly. You gazed up at the blue sky while floating on your back. The day truly was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. However, nighttime was better in your very much biased opinion. The dark sky littered with countless stars that glittered like diamonds was an unbeatable sight. 

“Hey there sunshine!” a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You dipped back into the water and turned to the source of the sound.

“Hey there, perv. Care to join me?” you beckoned.

“I wish I could, but I need to go finalize some plans for the handoff ceremony--”

“It’s the same EVERY year. C’mon Hobi, you don’t need to go,” you whined.

“I’ll meet you back here at sunset, how does that sound?” he tried to appease you.

“Midnight. I’m already exhausted, I don’t wanna wake up early,” you blew raspberries into the pond.

“That’s fair. I’ll see you then okay?” Hoseok waved before flying off.

On top of parties filled with indulgences that would blow the mind of any feeble human, Hoseok was the added bonus that made you eager for each solstice. Admittedly, you two have had some sort of flirtationship going on for the past few centuries. Your friends always teased you about how madly head over heels you were for him. As much as you wanted to believe that he loved you in the same way, something always felt off.  

Hoseok always reciprocated your flirtatious advances, but it felt more like a game between friends rather than something substantial. You’ve even observed his interactions with other fairies, and it didn’t seem like he gave you any special treatment. He was simply a good friendly guy that everyone loved, but not the way that you loved him. 

You were dying to know how he truly felt about you. All these years of playful banter had been fun, but they had also been simultaneously eating away at you. There’s no way he doesn’t know that you love him. At the same time, what if he thinks you’re just a good friend? You needed to know for sure, and you intended to confront him about it at midnight.

“Good evening,” you greeted Hoseok shyly as you approached the pond’s bank. 

“Good day to you sunshine,” Hoseok called back as he kicked at the water.

“How’d the meeting go?” you asked.

“Boring as always. You’re right, it’s the same every year. But the elders still want to go over everything again to ensure that the ceremony is perfect,” Hoseok sighed.

“Thanks for coming to hangout with me even though you’re so busy,” you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all day! You’re the perfect person to unwind with after a long day,” Hoseok smiled. There it was. The radiant smile you fell for the first time you ever met him. 

“You sure I’m the perfect person for that? What do you do when you’re back in your own land surrounded by other day fae?” you prodded, hoping to steer the conversation onto the ‘what are we’ topic. 

“I have my friends there for sure, and I appreciate them too. But it’s different with you. Maybe because I can only hangout with you twice a year. You’re like my super special friend, yaknow?” Hoseok tried to explain. 

“Uh yeah, for sure. Like a special playdate kind of thing huh?” you tried to hide your hurt feelings.

“Exactly! You get it. It’s like you’re my favorite dessert that I can only have twice a year,” Hoseok nodded.

“Right…” you whispered softly to yourself. You spent the rest of the night listening to the unfruitful discussions Hoseok had during his meetings. All the excitement over the festival had drained from you. Now, you just wanted it to be over so you can go sulk in peace. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Hoseok observed, “You haven’t interjected once about how stupid our traditions are or how you’re looking forward to having long nights again.”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m just tired. Sunghoon really worked me to the bone yesterday, that damn day fairy,” you faked a yawn.

“Hey, be nice! Wasn’t it you who volunteered to help us anyway?” Hoseok shook his head.

‘Yeah, because I thought I’d be able to work with you,’ you thought.

“It was a bizarre streak of altruism, that’s all,” you shrugged. 

“Nah, I know you’re a kind fairy deep down!” Hoseok playfully nudged your shoulder. Normally you would welcome this type of physical affection, but for right now it served as a painful reminder that you were merely seen as a buddy. 

You actively avoided Hoseok for the remainder of the week, counting down the hours to when it would finally all be over. You made up some lame excuse to not hangout with Hoseok every time he approached you. He must have caught on by the final day, either that or he was extremely busy. Afterall, he was the MC for the entire ordeal. 

Apparently, your abrasive reputation preceded you because no one wanted your help with anything. As soon as they saw you coming, they would randomly find themselves very preoccupied with something that made them too busy to talk to you. The only person who would put you to work was Sunghoon, who was one of Hoseok’s best friends. You wondered why he was always so nice to you even when you complained the entire time you helped him.

“That’s the last table! They all look great, thanks for helping with the set up,” Sunghoon gave you a thumbs up.

“You know it’s pointless setting up all these tables. Most of the fairies are just gonna be dancing or fucking all night long, no one is gonna be sitting down,” you said.

“Are you gonna be one of the fairies partying?” Sunghoon inquired.

“Definitely not,” you answered curtly.

“Then I’m happy at least one of these tables will be utilized,” Sunghoon nodded, “Try to enjoy yourself tonight okay?”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

The entire forest seemed to come alive that night. The trees swayed with the enchanting music while cheers of merriment erupted around the party scene. You sat alone at a mushroom table with your third (or was it fourth?) cup of berry wine. You glared at the fairies who had lost themselves to their pleasures, whether it be the wine or the toadstools, or perhaps even both. Fairies who had given into their more lustful urges could be seen on the outskirts of the dance floor, some in the innocent stages of kissing and others entangled full fledged fornication. Scoffing at the obscene orgy, you stumbled off to get another cup of wine. Even though you weren’t really participating, you had to admit that fairies knew how to throw a party. 

“Hey ___, I noticed you’ve been by yourself the whole evening. Want some company?” someone asked behind you as you filled up your mug to the brim. You turned to see two Sunghoons merge to become one hazy Sunghoon in the blink of an eye. 

“F-ffuck off Sunghoon,” you slurred.

“I wanted to thank you for all the hard work you did for this year’s summer solstice,” Sunghoon continued, unfazed by your harshness, “Wanna dance to celebrate?”

“Nope,” you answered as you pushed him aside.

“Yeah she seemed pretty pissed dude,” Sunghoon said while taking a large swig.

“At you or in general?” Hoseok inquired.

“Dunno man, she’s always been like that. However, she seemed more aggravated than usual, which is hard to imagine,” Sunghoon chuckled, “Did you do something to her?”

“No! I’ve been replaying everything we talked about at the pond but everything seemed fine! I even told her that she was my super special friend and---oh shit,” Hoseok’s face fell.

“Idiot,” Sunghoon tsked. 

Both fae clans had gathered by the main stage, intently listening to the same speeches that the clan leaders have spoken for centuries. You watched apathetically as the everlasting flame was being formally handed over. The crowd roared as the flame changed from a deep crimson red to an icy silver color with a blue hue, signifying that the solstice had come to pass. 

If the festival wasn’t wild before, it had only gotten more out of hand after the official ceremony. Seeing the other fairies go wild in every sense of the word made you nauseous. The noise level intensified as you watched your fairy brethren engage in rather promiscuous activities. Someone even beckoned for you to join in the fun, but you just walked away. The only person you wanted to have that kind of fun with was Hoseok. It infuriated you that your thoughts always drifted to him. You filled up your cup one last time and walked away from the ruckus, towards an empty grove. Hopefully you would be able to wallow in self pity in peace there. 

The stars twinkled above you, and dim moonlight speckled the ground around you as it shone through the trees. You could still hear the party, but it was much fainter now and served as nice background noise to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. With a deep exhale, you fought to hold back tears. You felt so foolish. Too many years have been wasted in vain for an unrequited love that you should have seen coming. It was so stupid of you to hold onto a sliver of hope that Hoseok would like you back. 

“The party is that way,” a familiar voice called out to you.

“Then why aren’t you there?” you didn’t try to mask the annoyance in your voice.

“I saw you walk away, I wanted to check up on you.”

“Why the fuck would you even care?” you sat up and hissed.

“Why are you being so hostile? You’re the one who has been avoiding me all week!” Hoseok raised his voice.

“I’m sure you didn’t have much time to spend with me anyway,” you huffed.

“That’s not true. I spent every moment of my free time looking for you, only for you to turn me away. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Hoseok calmed down.

“Fine. I’m in love with you, okay? How fucking embarrassing. It hurt when you said that I was your super best friend or whatever. Seeing you afterward just reminded me of how dumb I am,” you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Oh sunshine, I’m the idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re my special friend because I like you too. I wanted to spend every second with you this week. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I’m so sorry ____,” Hoseok got down on his knees and pulled you in for a hug. You were stunned.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner then!” you pushed him off.

“I thought it was obvious from the way we flirted!” he argued. 

“You’re nice to everyone, it was hard for me to tell,” you pouted.

“My apologies for not being a sourpuss like you,” Hoseok laughed.

“So...what now? It wasn’t really a romantic confession but I guess our feelings are out in the open now,” you whispered as you leaned against him.

Suddenly, Hoseok pushed you back to the ground, straddling your hips. His dark hair nearly covered his eyes as he looked down at you. He was beyond beautiful, his white iridescent wings glittered ethereally in the moonlight. 

“Remember when I said you’re like a dessert I can only have twice a year? I’d like to make that a reality,” Hobi smirked. He bent over to kiss you. It was soft at first, his plush lips pressing up against yours. He gently cupped your face with one hand while the other wandered to your chest, undoing your blouse. Lust overtook the both of you as the kiss deepened and Hoseok fondled your breasts. You let out a small gasp as he played with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.  

“Spread those legs for me, sunshine,” he demanded.

You complied, slowly exposing yourself to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him while in such a compromising position. Hoseok gingerly kissed a trail along your inner thighs towards your core. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm under him in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, “Let’s play a game. You have to make eye contact with me while I eat you out. Every time you look away, I stop.”

“You’re evil,” you huffed before reluctantly looking at the beautiful being perched between your legs. 

“That’s my girl,” he purred approvingly before spreading your folds with his fingers. His eyes darkened with lust as you watched him lick tantalizingly slow stripes. He could feel your need for more, so he moved up to focus on your clit, giving it special attention as his tongue swirled around it. 

You tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping him tighter as he licked your clit faster. All your composure was lost as you looked down at him with pleading eyes.

“What is it? Need more?” Hoseok teased as his fingers traced your entrance.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?” Hoseok feigned ignorance

“Please touch me,” you said softly.

“We need to work on your begging, but you’re so adorable I can’t say no,” Hobi dove back into stimulating your clit as he slipped a finger inside of you. He smirked at how easily he went in, and immediately added a second finger. The new feeling had you throwing your head back as he grazed your g-spot. Right as things began to feel good, he retracted everything.

“Hobi!” you cried out in frustration.

“You looked away. Remember the rules to our little game?” Hoseok chided. You glared down at him as he immediately picked up where he left off, not giving you time to readjust. Fighting back the urge to close your eyes, soft moans escaped from your lips.

“Ready to cum, my dear ___?” he asked sweetly as his fingers dipped to directly attack your g-spot.

There was no time to give a proper response. Your back arched and your toes curled up as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Drenched in your juices, Hoseok glistened under the moonlight.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Hoseok praised, “But I’m not finished with you yet,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

He unbuckled his trousers, releasing the monster that dangled between his legs. You willingly spread your legs for him, eager for more.

“So needy, you haven’t had enough yet?” Hoseok tsked as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds.

Finally, Hoseok began to bury himself into you. He took his time, relishing how your warm walls squeezed him. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, focusing on feeling every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to bring him impossibly closer. The dark lust that swam in his eyes broke for a second, replaced by the warm smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. He bent down to kiss you, and you happily reciprocated. 

Hoseok moved his hips slowly as he fucked you at a deep yet gentle pace. Mouths still colliding, you shyly licked at his lips. Taking your hint, Hoseok’s tongue met yours. As the kisses deepened with more saliva being interchanged, Hoseok’s thrusts became harsher.    

“You’re so fucking sexy. Lemme see that ass baby,” Hoseok growled as he flipped you over.

He smacked your ass twice and watched it jiggle in awe before placing a firm grip on your hips. Almost animalistically, he bucked into you. Your body jolted forward with each thrust. You had never been fucked this hard before, and it was heavenly. Hoseok’s control over his body movement was insane. Your moans grew louder as his hips continuously rolled into you. 

One of Hoseok’s hands formed a tight grip on your hair, roughly bringing your head up off the ground. You couldn’t stop your wanton moans from filling the open air. 

“H-Hoseok,” you cried out.

“What is it? Is it too much for you?” Hoseok cooed in your ear as he brought your head back even closer to him.

“Mmm-no,” was all you could make out.

“I knew you could take it all, such a good slut,” Hoseok praised as he let go of your hair.

Unable to hold yourself up, you immediately fell back onto your chest. Your fingernails dug into the dirt as you could feel another orgasm swelling up inside of you. 

“I’m gonna cum again,” you wailed out.

“I’m almost there, wait for me baby,” Hoseok instructed.

With perfect timing, Hoseok let out a guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside of you. Sounds of pleasure bounced around the grove as you came in unison. Hoseok’s cum dripped down the sides of your inner thighs when he pulled out. 

“How did I do, sunshine?” Hoseok asked jovially as you laid on the ground before him.

“You knocked me out. I don’t think I can move for a while,” you weakly answered with a smile.

“Not a problem, we can just stay here for a while, sunshine,” Hoseok laid down beside you, beckoning for you to rest atop his chest. 

“I like when you call me that,” you yawned.

“Sunshine?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, that. It makes me feel special,” you nodded.

“Is that so? I’m glad it makes you feel special, because you are. You’ve always been the spunky night fairy that everyone knows but is too afraid to approach,” Hoseok laughed.

“What! I am totally friendly! Just not to those who piss me off,” you defended, “Which...I guess is a lot of people so I suppose I see your point. What made you want to be my friend if everyone thought I’m scary?”

“You treated me like everyone else. It always felt like people put on a fake facade around me since I’m the chief’s son. They’re nice to me to try and curry favor with my father, or maybe flirt with me to try and gain some special sort of status. I don’t know. I’m just me,” Hoseok shrugged. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re my sunshine,” you hugged him.

“That makes me feel great. I’ll do my best to see you more than twice a year, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“I guess I can clear my schedule and come over to visit you too,” you giggled, “Or maybe we can run away and make a clan of our own.”

“Are you serious?” he asked, “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to go somewhere where no one knows my name or expects anything from me.”

“How about we go to where the day meets the night?” you offered.

“Like what? An eclipse?” Hoseok said as he gazed into the night sky.

“Precisely. We can make an eclipse clan. We only have to do festivals for eclipses, and those are kinda rare,” you giggled.

“Sounds like a good dream, sunshine. Let’s seriously discuss it in the morning when we’re both more sober,” Hoseok kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight, my sunshine,” you whispered into his chest.

Published July 23, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

[revswanson]

i don't really know how to talk about why the ~lumbago~ thing being such a meme bothers me so much and why... but i really want to try and please, disclaimer or whatever, i KNOW that it's "just a joke", i'm not mad at any of you because i genuinely don't think anybody is trying to be malicious or anything

i get that it comes off as an excuse, especially with the joking tone and the general way that uncle is, and especially if you googled what lumbago is and saw that it's 'just back pain'... i get that uncle comes across as lazy and careless and like he doesn't want to work etc i've already made a post about that part

but the thing is that lumbago- lower back pain- is still caused by an injury or an illness. whether it be arthritis that is affecting him otherwise (as is incredibly common amongst older people, and as many of us know) or an injury sustained during his time with the gang/prior to. if he does have lumbago- and i don't really have much reason not to believe him, uncle is a lot of things but he isn't much of a liar- then it probably does actually hurt him. whatever is causing it or did cause it probably still causes him pain in other ways as well. growing old isn't easy or pain-free either, especially during that time when our seniors didn't have as many resources or such access to good healthcare as many do now.

and if it does hurt, i don't blame him for not wanting to work.. and he DOES work, we've talked about this ahem anyways. no, i don't blame him at all for wanting to rest his back. from the little we know about uncle we can tell that he had a pretty hard life and however it is that he ended up with lumbago, he deserves to rest. all of them do- this isn't me saying that i don't wish arthur and john and everybody else could rest because i do

everybody deserves to be able to feel safe and as painfree and rested and cared for and loved as possible, this shouldn't really be an argument in my eyes and i think that's why it all bothers me so much anyways

and at the end of the day it's kind of annoying that i can't post photos or about uncle in any way without people making lumbago jokes (not really on this site tho!!! you guys don't do it that much) and it's annoying that i can't look for like, uncle content lol, without just seeing lumbago lumbago uncle is lazy uncle sucks lumbago uncle hehe like PLEASE... he is so much more than his back pain lmfao what the heck

people want to minimize his pain and minimize his experiences while still maximizing on the humor of it all and making him out to be some court jester when he is, you know, a person albeit a fake one in a video game (gasp, i know) and he has thoughts and feelings (physical and emotional) and has had an entire life before what we see and a multitude of experiences that we will likely never know more about so we are simply left to wonder and one might think of some of the worst possibilities

uncle isn't just some court jester putting on a show for everybody.. "put me out of your majesty, your misery" he sees through anybodys shit and he expects anybody to see through his, he doesn't underestimate people, he doesn't lie and fake stuff because frankly i do think he's too lazy to do THAT.. also because he knows just how harmful putting on a charade is- he's real and if you don't like it or him and think he's just someone to laugh at that's fine but maybe i'm one of the only people who genuinely loves him as a character and wishes to know so much more about him

and i think that it's sad because in real life people minimize other people's experiences and traumas and pains especially those that we don't understand or know a lot about and man we should be working on changing that in our own lives, not furthering it all by placing these negatives on our favorite characters in our favorite medias

i think that's all i have to say about it for rn and again please keep making the jokes if they make you happy, please don't think i'm mad or calling any of you in specific out, i'm just a sensitive person and i get attached to characters like this

[themafia-terrapins]

lesson learnt

"kiki, enough! i can't do this anymore!" slamming his files down on his desk, he whirled around to meet his lovers gaze.

no.... that word didn't seem appropriate to call her.

"i need you raph, please don't do this to me" she cried but for the first time in years, her tears didn't affect him in any way. in fact, it seemed to have made more hollow.

"sometimes love isn't enough to stay. we keep pretendin that we're okay but we've not been for years. how many times will ya ignore these signs?" surprisingly his voice was calm, collected which was unlike the turtle usually. normally he was snappy, scowling at anyone who raised their voice to him. but today, he hadn't the energy to fight back.

"this is because of her, isn't it?!" through her tears, kiki's jaw clenched tightly accusingly at the terrapin in front of her. he didn't respond, his silence was enough of an answer to her.

"i've lived my whole life as your shadow, helping you grow and become the man you are. and you just suddenly walked into the darkness, not once thinking about me. not once thinking that the shadow will fade" taking a few deep breaths, tears dripped like pearls down her face and her neck. they felt endless, all the grief and anger pouring out through every crevice of her body.

"how did you change so much, where did i go wrong?" biting her bottom lip, she tried to control the urge to scream and cry. raphael tilted his head, peering outside the window in thought. a faint smile appeared on his lips, the rain pattering outside bringing his heart some ease.

"actually fer tha first time in years, i feel understood. the thing is i've never changed kiki, you didn't know the real me. fer months i felt alone, you pushed me away ta the point where i didn't know who you were. every event i would show up in, i would have ta fake every excuse because they asked where you are. every night i held on fer hope you'd come ta our bed but ya never did. every day i wanted ya ta hold me like ya used to but you'd ignore me. ya know how much that hurts kiki?? i expected everyone ta turn their nose up at me but you?..... i was finally at a place where i believed ya wouldn't. the irony" he watched her face twist with guilt, shock at his confession which had been clear he was holding on for a while.

"why-why didn't you say something?"

"what could i say? i thought i had found tha person i was going ta spend my life with, my soulmate. i hate that fuckin word but it's true... i thought we were ride or die. i really..... really thought ya were my everythin" tears glazed over his eyes but he sniffed, refusing them to fall. this had been a long time coming but even when you prepare for it physically, you never know how to feel emotionally.

"i-i'm sorry i-" she began but he shook his head, holding out his hand in silence. "no. just.... no. i'm not tha young man i used ta be, i carry too much in my heart, i can't carry the pain of this relationship. the apology that's coming out of your mouth is out of pity, i don't want that shit. please just get yer things and leave me be" his golden eyes connected with hers and she could see the tiredness in them and in that moment she knew that he was no longer hers, no the fight and spark that used to be there is long gone. and that's what scared her.

"i-....." holding her breath, she sighed and looked towards her feet. the blood roared over her ears, making it difficult to hear and see anything. tears welled up her vision but crying wouldn't do any good.

"i see" she swallowed the lump in her rotation and picked up her bag, walking towards the door. with every step her heart thuds wildly against her chest, words running a mile a minute through her mind but none seem appropriate enough to say.

"you should know if nothing else, i'll always love you. if not lovers, then acquaintances. i know all the apologies in the world won't rectify my mistakes. and i know i've made so many of them..." she trails off, her voice hoarse from the pain she's trying to reel back.

"i won't force myself in your life. i hope she brings you everything i couldn't. i hope she loves you for who you are and i hope.... i hope you're happy whoever you're with" she glanced behind her shoulder to see him sat on his desk, looking down at a frame.

"i love you. i think i always will" inhaling deeply, she turns away and the clatter of heels fades into the distance.

raph shifted in his place, a tear falling from his eyes onto the glass frame clutches tightly. he should have been happy and he was, he could anything he wanted. but he missed the younger raphael, the one that had more strength and fire in him. the one that could easily bounced back from heartbreak, the one that didn't let anything phase him.

maybe love wasn't written on the cards for him, perhaps he was destined to live a life full of shootings and pain. his love was a curse, why would anyone subject themselves to this life? it just wasn't worth it.

either way, lesson learnt.

[bbygirljuvi]

Gruvia Week 2021 Day 3 - Discovery

Author’s note: This emotional roller coaster turned out longer than I intended. Hope you enjoy ^^

Summary: It take place several hours after Alodron’s defeat, on the way of Drameel.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Group had stoped over in a small yard inside the forest before continuing their path to Drameel. It was the excuse they gave the army. They were campers which had been attacked by some wild animal on thir campsite. They would head to Drameel right after dressed their wounds. Aldron was just a town’s name they knew. To their surprise, army really bought that.

It was really small yard, just enough to lit a campfire. So everybody was spread around the forest. Less injuried members were gettering up wood and food to prepare dinner while Wendy was running around, healing big injuries with last drop of her magic.

Everybody was tired, injured and confused yet happy. Small victory smiles were visible on every face. Joyful whispers were rising from everywhere. Fairy tail was safe and together again.

Gray leaned on a tree which wasn’t too far away from campsite but private from other sights. He closed his eyes with a big sigh while Juvia went to get health supplies. The nauseous feeling had been crippling inside him since the event with Metro kept getting stronger and he was at his limit at this point. His head was aching, there was a still fresh wound end of the dried blood track, his left shoulder was at least dislocated and without adrenaline rush, he was feeling like fainting.

He opened his eyes with two different footsteps coming to his way. Juvia was carrying dressing matterials while Wendy was carrying a bowl of water. Both of their faces was twisted in worry. Was he looking bad as he felt?

“Gray-san what’s wrong, where did you get hurt ?” Wendy asked in rush. “Just my arm and head, not big deal” he said with a ressuring smile but nobody bought that.

Juvia was sitting in the corner, giving Wendy enough space to do her stuff. It wasn’t easy tho. He looked like a mess. She’d been aware that his condition was getting worse every passing minute as they walk but he wasn’t looking half as bad before she left, had he’s been faking it not to worry her? Her heart twitched with another wave of affection.

Wendy checked his head first and gasped a little. It was worse then she initially thought. “Do you feel dizzy or like vomiting Gray-san?” she asked. He gave a small nod then hissed in pain. That hurted, he thought.

“You’re probably having a concussion, I will heal it right away. You should still rest tho.” she said while using her magic. With that ice mage started to feel alive again. “Shit, I’m feeling awesome Wendy, you are amazing!!”

She mumbled something like thank you with one of her cute blushes on and tend towards his left shoulder, fixed it instantly too. This time Juvia talked “ We are so luck to have you Wendy-san~” she said with a bright smile. The gloom had been radiated from her was long gone. “I’m glad I can help my friends. Juvia-san what about you, Did you get hurt too?”

“No, just some scratches, Juvia is okey.”she said while giving an impish look to Gray. Which led him to blush and turn his head. Wendy didn’t know what was that about but she had a guess. “Is that so, than I’m heading to Erza-san. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need.” And left while ice and water mages were waving goodbye, warning her for not to overuse her magic.

Idiot,idiot,idiot he repeated himself as Wendy’s footsteps faded. She’s my power to live?? What will you do next time, kiss her in the battlefield? You extra little-

His inner scrolling cut short by a wet cloth. Juvia was cleaning his face. “Dressing time” she said, trying so hard not to grin like a cheshire cat. She knew it would scare him if she teased him about it longer than she already did. But remaining calm was hard when all she heard was her beloved’s voice echoing in her head. Juvia was his power to live!!

With that she bit her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop a smile from forming. Gray rolled his eyes to that but relaxed a bit. Her dramatic reactions were so familiar... Yeah, he had practically confessed but it wasn’t something new. Things wouldn’t changed between them. With that realisation he even smiled when she covered her mouth to muff her slipped out giggles.

“Oh,shut up” he said while rolling his eyes once again. But this time he was chukling too. “Juvia’s mouth is sealed.” She said while switching to his arm, cleaning the area with a bright smile. She had almost finished bandaging his right arm when he stopped her. “Wendy healed me, I should have done dressing to you first.” “Not until Juvia finishes mummifing Gray-sama” she said, pushed him back and continued her job. “Hah, I knew it, you had come out of nowhere to kill me. White mage was just an excuse, wasn’t it?” He said playfully. So he was comfortable enough to joke around again? He usually needed more time for his awkwardness to fade off. Progress, she mentally noted.

“Of course it was.” She put her best yandere impression on: “ She missed her Gray-sama too much while he was away, she come here to make sure he won’t leave her ever again!” Than laughed grisly.

“Okey, that was terrifying. You are terrifying Juvia” he played along. “Oh and you should be terrified, Juvia is dead serious, see?” she said, started wrapping his abdomen faster while touching that soft spot she knew Gray was ticklish more than she had to.

His response was immediate. “Stop, no, Juvia sto-“ his words cut off with a laughter. His eyes began to fill with the effort not to burst out. He was crawling in different shapes to save himself but Juvia was merciless. She cornered him between her body, large tree that he was initially leaning on and ground he was currently laying. And tickled him more aggressively as she finished bandaging his wounds. “I have a reputation damn it, stop.” he said between laughters and hold her wrists together in a, successful this time, attempt to stop her. But instead of trying to tickle him more or accepting her defeat, she hissed in pain.

He got up fast, questioning what was wrong while rolling up her sleeves. When he saw weird, bruis like wounds covering her whole arm, he yelped.

“Juvia!! Why didn’t you say anything?” Juvia was looking pretty surprised too. “Where Juvia had been pinned inside Metro was stinging a bit but she didn’t think it was something important...” Her voice kept getting lower once she saw his angry expression. “Your whole arm and-“ he checked under his long boots “ leg are covered in red bruises and you didn’t think it was important!?” Juvia opened her mouth but Gray was just started. “You never take care of yourself. Can’t I even trust you when you say I’m fine?” He started to unbuttoning her coat aggressively since bruises were going beyond her upper arms. He’s stripping me, she mentally noted and placed it aside for later. It wasn’t the right time, he was really angry.

“And you bandaged me with those arms! Always depriving yourself, UGH” She opened her mouth once again when he paused his silent yelling to search right ointment in first-ait bag. But before she could found an excuse, moment passed. He continued scrolling her while angrily rubbing oinment on her left arm.

“What should I do, do I need to strip you every time after a mission to make sure you are okey-“ he paused once again when his eyes slightly crossed over the scar on her abdomen, the one he couldn’t stand seeing. Oh-uh Juvia thought, knowing this would make him grumpier. And she was right, his grip tightened on her wrist. Continued his speech angrier which was about how reckless she was, how she was not listening her physical needs, how she should get her priorities right...

And at that moment, it hit her... She knew her feelings were not as unrequited as it was before. She had known it before that sweet words from several hours ago, she’s my power to live. She had known it before he had claimed her body by saying it’s his. She had known it before unpleasant encounter with Invel. She even had known it before he had promised an answer to her on starry night.

But at that exact moment, while he was grumbling about how reckless she was and angrily wrapping bandage above her elbow; she realised he may care her more than she dared to assume. And at that exact moment she felt loved, more loved than she felt her entire life.

He stopped when he saw her eyes were shining with tears. His expression softened with guilt. Lightened his grip. “I’m sorry. Did i hurt you?” She shooke her head and hugged him carefully, trying not to ruin his effort by rubbing ointment off.

“Juvia will take care of herself more from now on, she won’t act reckless, promise.” She said with a touched voice. It was obvious she was crying. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Gray tried to push her, to saw her face but she tightened her arms and buried her face deeper in his neck. “Nothing, really. Can we stay like this for a while please.” she said. Gray was about to object when he felt her tears in his neck, followed by a smile. That was a genuine smile. Gray had never been good at reading people’s emotions but Juvia was different. He would understand if she faked it.

So he mumbled “What is this for all of a sudden?” but still wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his blushed cheek on her hair. They were out of sight anyway.

They stayed in that position until Mirajane declared it was dinner time.