#me: GIRL YOU LITERALLY HAVE A HELMET ON dont even say anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-droids · 4 years ago

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Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

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

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

You came back in one piece this time. Barely.

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

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

Dameron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You're finally alone.

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

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

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

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

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

You don’t even think you want to anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

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

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

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

There. There’s the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cum.

You lose. Fair and square.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You lose count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that’s it. That is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you just start giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval. No. This is good, this is how you want to stay. The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect. “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze. A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you. Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out. “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again. Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it. Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement. “Gah—look what you did. I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times. “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs. It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again. The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason. You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap. Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again. You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing. Not saying anything. Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker. So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes. You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is. Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings. You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it. You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue. But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo. It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks. Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier. Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?” Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters. You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency. After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what? Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once. You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you. It seems appropriate. And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap. You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again. Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips. He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does. The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun. You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?” You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it. Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling. He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

#poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #Smut #no-droids

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dasomlimie · 3 years ago

Note

sorry about this but yk part 3 of baji boyfriend headcannon? let’s say. If you guys went swimming or to the beach, he lets you ride his motorcycle, his/your birthday. You guys are doing late night couple cooking? (i hc he is the worse cook to man kind, his food taste like how blob fish look.) -yata yata

⌗ BAJI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND PART 3 ꗃ

a/n ; more bf!Baji because anon said so, i'll put "keep reading" thingy tomorrow

ok when you mentioned about beach the first i think was how his hair would be wet and he would either look like a very handsome greek god or him having a seaweed on his head there's no in between

would be the type that throw you to the water no matter what like one time you were done applying sunscreen then suddenly you were in the water

if you go to the water park he would try to drag you to ride every ride then would swear he would protect you even though he was lowkey scared of it

his hair would be in a man bun

BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN BAJI IN MAN BUN

anyways in the end the both of you would be extremely tired bcs he would never let you rest

ok now move on to late night ride we all love this

he would text you at the most random time if you're up and ask you to come out

then you come out w your sleep wear [ idk about others but i wear either sweatpant or shorts depend on the weather and some random big ass tshirt to sleep so yeah lets say you wear some sweat and oversized t-shirts when meeting him rn ]

he was leaning on his bike [ imagine how hot he was ] with extra helmet and jacket you were half asleep [ maybe ] when he said something you couldn't make out it was something like "i can't sleep lets get a take out and sit somewhere"

what he mean by somewhere was abandoned building a.k.a your secret hang out w Baji, oh back to the earlier he would help you wear your helmet and pat the top of it [ once someone did this to me and i freshen up because i was shocked like its feel like being bonk like *bonk* then suddenly you wake up ]

then slip his jacket on you, he have a soft smile "sorry for waking you up" he whisper kissing the back of your hand before hopping on his bike you following after him

"hold on tights bubs dont wanna my baby to fall off" he said w a chuckled then heart start thumping loudly when you wrap your arm around his waist then rest your cheeks on his back like you never did that before

after getting your food and you freshen up, less sleepy the both of you would laugh your ass off about something then when you calm down Baji would place you into his lap wrapping his arm around you then his head resting either on your shoulder or on top of your head the both of you would having a heart to heart talk followed by how the both of you appreciate one another :( it was all so sweet i wanna cry

then suddenly you both laugh about stupid thing as if you both didn't give a heart to heart speeches

OHHHHH HE WOULD TRY AND TEACH YOU TO RIDE HIS BIKE LIKE AOBSXKSBIXBSKSBSKSB it would go to ways thought

either you know how to ride a bike, he would be impressed 🤩 and update into the gc of the toman boys

or no, then he would try and teach you how to ride the bike AOBSSKBSKSBSKS so cute it would also goes two way

one, you learn suprisingly quick

two, you keep failing w changing gear? break? huh idk anything about bike AOBSSKBSKSBSKS

of course if the both of you live together [ aged up ofc ] you would try to cook together and it was mainly you cooking and Baji was by your side his hands keep being slapped by you when he keep trying the food or eat the ingredients [ i remember when i was trying raw carrot and lowkey like it i keep eating the chopped one and end up being scolded by my mum because i ate almost all of it and being told to cut the carrot again ]

and then he would end up hugging you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder not wanting to let you go

and if he tried to cook i don't think he is a bad cooker— he is a bad cooker but hear me out first ok? hear me out

he only know how to make peyoung yakisoba the instant one ofc and its taste really good like woah

now move on to he cook another things, he would burn down the kitchen instead of burning down the food like you leave him for a minutes and suddenly the stove was on fire while the uncooked food look like it haven't been touched weird but ive done this before dont even ask how

ok but if he really put an effort and carefully try to cook he would be a pretty decently cook.... jk lol haha

his food would be either burnt or half cooked

sometimes would look ugly af then pretty af [ but it was raw thought ]

his mother lowkey know all about you!!!! because he always talk about you to his mother aodbskdbsi so cute

his mother like you very very much maybe not when you first met but suddenly you both clicked then boom bestfriend

he would be type of boyfriend who yell your name in no matter what places and wouldn't be ashamed how excited he was looking at you

now lets talk about jealousy...... Baji is a very fine guy we all can see it how he have his own fangirl [ most of it was older than him, and they were afraid of him tbh but there's always a bold one ]

if one of his fans try to flirt with him he would look at them then say this with a very serious voice that send you shiver down to your spine "i have girlfriend" then when he saw you he literally turn 180 and smile at you like a simp he is

like he smile "y/n!" he yelled jog toward you then hug you tightly to show that girl he have s/o

that type of guy that would protect you from you bully confronting them then suddenly they're on their knee apologizing to you <3

!%! © HNEULWH— i did not allow my work to be used or adapted in any form without my permission !#//

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #baji headcanons #baji x reader #baji fluff #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke headcanon #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo manji gang

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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katsumox · 4 years ago

Text

bakusquad skating hcs

cw: cussing, bakugou being a bitch, cuteass couple shit?? idk

notes from candy girl: uhhh excuse my subpar writing, i dont do this v often, and you don't know how to skateboard in these.

also..... skaterboy brainrot fhrjisfnvksjn

BAKUGOU KATSUKI:

kirishima, denki and sero are the reason behind this menace on wheels

didn't really care for it until the boys got him into it but now he's such a skate elitist like shut uppppp

has certain fits for skating,,, stuff that makes him look good but can get scuffed up a bit

(hella techwear and darkwear. that is all)

one of those boys who are like, super into skating but only because he wants to be good at it

gets unreasonably pissy when anyone gets too close to him while skating

DEFINITELY quietly critiques everyone in the park while waiting to enter the bowl and shit

will talk hella shit about how great he is and how bad anyone else is

BOWL HOG BOWL HOG BOWL HOG URGGGGGHHHH

will legitimately attempt to fight you if you enter the bowl while he's doing a session

he's a good teacher if you wanna learn to do cool stuff fast, but he's kinda mean about your initial skill when you first start

will CACKLE at you if you eat shit while trying to skate

doesn't really night skate due to his grandpa-ass sleep schedule

is 100% the only guy here who takes his safety a teensy bit serious, but only wears kneepads and occasionally wrist guards

(under his clothes tho)

he'll make you wear all of it though, OVER your clothes, talking bout sum "You're not gonna fuck up your bones on a shitty skateboard with these on, got it, princess? Now relax, damn."

if you ask he'll just say its because you "Have weakass bones and need to save your strength for hero training, dumbass." not that he cares, though.

he doesn't

*wink wink*

KAMINARI DENKI:

does not give TWO SHITS about his safety while skating

(literally does not give a damn and has the gnarliest falls and scars because of it)

i don't even think he owns any pads or guards lmao

when he's not skating by himself or with the bakusquad, 9 times out of 10 he's skating with shinso

thinks he's a Cool Skater Boy**TM but kinda looks like he doesn't know what he's doing because he constantly does stupid shit

like he carries around monster energy and wears VERY specific fits just to skate, but fucks 'em up bc he does dumbass shit for laughs

pestered bakugou into getting a board along with kiri and sero

tailgates bakugou just to piss him off, but generally likes riding alone with music blasting in his ears at night time

has a playlist for it and everything

(has lost multiple pairs of airpods like this)

LOVES night skating in general and is always the one to suggest it to the rest of the squad because he likes the nighttime ~vibes~

(will take you night skating and share airpods with u<3)

has hella boards.

pennyboards, longboards, cruisers, etc.

would totally give you one to keep, sweet baby :')

SUCH A NICE TEACHER OMG

won't let you do anything too dangerous,,, he hates when you get hurt

if you do get hurt, he doesn,t have bandaids, but he'll kiss it better!!

kind of bad at explaining things so he tries to do it with you ON the board, and holds you while doing it :))))

"So, you uhm... you kinda just woosh, and then you do uhhh.."

"Denki, honey, why dontcha just show me?"

"Or.. what if we do it TOGETHER!! That'd be fun, wouldn't it, babes?!?"

this eventually leads to impromtu cuddling on the park bench<33333

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU:

this boy also does not wear protective gear

however... Red here has a valid reason,, i mean he can harden before anything really nasty happens

would 110% carry cute bandaids for ya if you ever fall

(key word is" if" because kiri takes your safety so damn serious it's probably not gonna happen)

typically throws on whatever he has to go skate but the main aesthetic is athlete meets streetwear

is the most likely to take you skating with his friends (he wants you all to get along aweeee)

secretly wants to go on a skate date really in the morning so the two of you can skate around, watch sunrise and then go for breakfast<3

gets SO annoyed when people take too long in the bowl

like hurry up bitch we've been waiting (but he won't say that cuz he's nice)

doesn't really know complex tricks like bakugou but is the best teacher in terms of getting balance and stuff

only has two or three boards because he used to accidentally break 'em a lot but would still give you one

he's so nice about how to skate,,,, like he corrects you so kindly and he'll fix your posture and stuff for you and ughhhhh<3333

will compliment you SO MUCH when you do something right!!

"Eiji,, im doin' it!"

"Aww you're doing great, babe!! Keep going and w-OAH SHIT"

ya'll took a break after that, because you ended up scraping up your knees and hands

its okay though because kiri had bandaids and kisses to make it better :)

SERO HANTA:

records denki + kirishima's stunt escapades for fun (sends a BUNCH of snaps of them doing dumb shit while they're out)

wears all protective gear besides helmets and elbow pads, but says he would wear the pads if he could

(he's lying, he's just trying to get you to be safe)

will hold your hand and walk next to you when you first try to skate :)

likes to hold your hand in general, so onse you get good at skating and don't need him to hold you anymore, he'll do it anyway

takes you skating with the squad and their s/o's

brags about how well you're doing to the other boys (until you fall, that is)

unlike denki, he pulls off the whole laidback Cool Skater Boy**TM thing really well

prolly because he's not really trying

he skates the least out of the group, mainly because he's always out doing stuff with you<333

also carries bandaids like kirishima but they're boring

makes every outing with you a date, and skating is no exception. actually, skating has become one of your favorite couple activities

always makes a point to take you out afterwards, whether that be for boba or for ramen or something.

"Well, we're done here, so what do ya wanna eat, chiquita?"

"Hmmm... what about onigiri?"

"We had that last time, but anything for you, mi reinita."

~fin~

wanna be on the taglist??

send in an ask, babe<3

#moxie writes<3 #bnha x black!reader #bnha headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #denki bnha #denki x reader #sero x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima hcs #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #skater!bnha #skater!bakugou x reader #skater!bnha x reader

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tomorrowsdrama · 4 years ago

Text

2020: A Year in Thirst

In 1985, Gabriel Garcia Marquez gave the world Love in the Time of Cholera. In 2020 (er, I guess it’s now 2021), I give to you, Thirst in the Time of Covid-19 or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace the Thirst, a brief recap of all the dramas I watched in 2020 and whether such dramas made yours truly parched..

The list contains dramas that premiered in 2020, but also dramas from previous years. If I watched it or attempted to watch it in 2020, it’s on the list.

EDIT: Ok, I’m going to have to do this in multiple parts because apparently I watched more dramas in 2020 than I remembered and talking about them all in one post would just be too long.

This also serves as a sort of greeting to all the people who recently followed me. I don’t know how or why, but thank you for being interested in my thirst, and also so sorry for everything you have/will witness here! I started this side blog last December 2019 as a place to dump all my fangirl feels and thirst with unbridled abandon and let’s just say, the thirst REALLY ramped up in 2020 during quarantine and all the political chaos/uncertainty. The state of the world may be uncertain, but my thirst will always be a comforting constant! LOL. If you want to thirst or fangirl/boy together, I’m all ears.

Anyway, let’s start with the drama that was partially the inspiration for this list.

1. The Wolf

Brief Summary: Sweet hot boy raised in the wilderness/by wolves meets sweet beautiful girl and they fall in love. Shitty evil people do shitty evil things to them to cause a misunderstanding and they are separated for years. Sweet hot boy is given the “Sexy Bloody Tormented Killer Makeover” TM and turns into a VERY VERY BAD HOT Wolf Man after being tortured/brainwashed by an evil asshole king who “adopted” him. Bad Hot Wolf Man reunites with sweet beautiful girl but because of third party machinations in the past, he thinks that she betrayed him so he is suuuuuuch an ass to her (while still maintaining hotness). But even beneath the asshattery (and sexy jerky smirks), he can’t help his love for her and it’s just *chefs kiss*. The angst, the pining, the mutual sacrifice for each other, the torment of wanting to be together but not being able to be together because of external forces/circustances, oh I am getting in a tizzy just thinking about it. I won’t reveal anymore so as not to spoil the drama, but just know the ending may destroy you.

Is she thirsty? Am I thirsty? AM I THIRSTY? Oh honey, if you don’t know the answer to that, then you must either be new here or you haven’t been paying attention to any of my posts in the past few weeks. Look, from the first moment the camera panned to Darren Wang’s very well-defined and tan chest and windswept hair, all semblance of shame and dignity I ever tried to feign on this tumblr was immediately thrown out the window. The feelings that he inspired within me were purely primal. My cavewoman ancestor from millennia ago stopped gathering food in the harsh wilderness for a brief second to transmigrate into my body and go “me want big strong man!”

I mean, below is literally our introduction to Wolf Boy. Am I supposed to just witness this and not feel anything? The director knew what he/she was doing. Anybody who worked on the drama who says they didn’t intend to exploit Darren Wang’s assets is a BOLD FACED LIAR. And this isn’t even Wolf boy in his hottest form.

That would be this:

Damn, your girl needs a moment here. When Wolf Boy turns into Bad Hot Wolf Man, wheeeeewww. The things that came out of my mouth and the thoughts that popped up into my head.

Examples of shameless fangirl drooling can be found here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/636986055498792960/dangermousie-this-should-be-illegal-i-mean Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637238885944033280/dangermousie-i-am-fucking-dead-the-end-this Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637793196830769152/dangermousie-wolfie-acquired-a-kid-omg Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/635272988321775616/dangermousie-i-dont-know-about-you-guys-but and here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637621638524977152/dangermousie-hnnnnnnnngh-i-am-beginning-to-forget

Honestly, just check out The Wolf tag on @dangermousie tumblr and you won’t be disappointed. Prepare to become obsessed, horny, and heartbroken.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? Have you ever thirsted so much that you couldn’t separate what reaction was hormonal and what was objective? Like the guy is so hot to you that when your friends ask you what do you like about him, the first 10 things you can think of are “he’s hot!” and then you try to remind yourself that you’re not a shallow person who actually cares about things other than looks but at the same time you can’t for the life of you think of a non-hot based trait that you like about the guy Yeah, that’s what happened here so sorry, I can’t give you an objective opinion. It’s not that there’s nothing objectively good about The Wolf, it’s just that my judgment is too clouded by Darren Wang’s abs and big hands. But from what I can tell by other people’s posts, even if you didn’t thirst for Darren Wang (Are you made of stone? But also, can you please teach me your magic so I can go back to being a semi-functional working woman?), The Wolf is still a very enjoyable drama with its own non-Darren Wang related merits.

2. My Beautiful Bride

Brief Summary: A drama about a strait-laced banker who wears a dorky backpack and rides a bicycle everywhere while wearing the dorkiest looking helmet ever and his beautiful bride-to-be whom he is hopelessly devoted to. This being a kdrama, and an OCN drama at that, things aren’t all what they appear to be. Yes, you read that right, an OCN. ROMANCE. DRAMA. Turns out the beautiful bride-to-be has a dangerous past that soon comes back to haunt her and she mysteriously disappears one day from strait-laced banker’s life in the typical kdrama way to protect him. Part of the reason she leaves him is also because she doesn’t want him to know about her past because she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him. Little does she know, he knows everything about her past and accepts it all. The only reason why he doesn’t bring it up is because he knows she doesn’t want him to know about that part of herself and he loves her so much he’s willing to do anything to make her happy. But also, another thing she doesn’t know is that underneath that boring but perfectly ironed suit, is a finely chiseled, super efficient fighting machine who did his mandatory military service in the special forces. He is like the terminator meets Liam Neeson’s character in Taken. He has a very particular set of skills and will stop at nothing to get his bride back.

Is she thirsty? Please just watch this video and you will have your answer: https://youtu.be/Ut9MhxWadHM

Prior to The Wolf, My Beautiful Bride was probably the most thirst-inducing drama I watched in 2020.

I mean, just look

at this

at all of this

I don’t’ know how Joo Young saw that body and never questioned whether he really was just a banker. The writers of the drama must be super heterosexual men who are blind because so many of the characters in the drama question why someone as beautiful as Joo Young would ever want to be with someone like the banker. Um..Um...aside from the fact that he is financially well off, treats her well, is loving and respectful of her, and prioritizes her over everything else, JUST LOOK AT HIM. I was so thirsty for Kim Mu Yeol in this role that I would accidentally tag this drama as My Beautiful Banker sometimes. The banker was on a relentless one-man mission to take back his bride and turn me on in the process and ooooooh boy was he successful on both fronts. He is seriously sex on legs every time he beats up a baddie in his quest to find answers about Joo Young’s whereabouts.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? I binged the first six episodes of this drama in one afternoon partly because of my thirst, but also partly because it’s a very well made crime-action-gangster drama. This is an OCN drama so you can expect a competently made production with well choreographed/bloody action scenes and a solid script.

3. Scarlet Heart Ryeo / Moon Lovers

Brief Summary: IU plays Hae Soo, a modern woman who is somehow transported back in time to the Goryeo period. There, she gets entangled with a group of royal princes. Her two main love interests are Wang So (played by Lee Jun Ki) and Wang Wook (played by Kang Ha Neul). The princes vie for the throne and some of them for Hae Soo’s affection. Lee Jun Ki does what he does best, which is play a sexy tortured deadly man who looks way too good with blood splattered on his face. Kang Ha Neul is the seemingly kind prince/daddy long legs character who turns out to be not so kind or daddy long leggy. Hae Soo is...well IU did the best she could with what she was given (which was a hot inconsistent mess).

Is she thirsty? Scarlet Heart Ryeo is like the honeypot of thirst traps. It’s essentially a reverse harem set up with a prince for everyone.

Like them young and cute? Then try the 10th prince, Wang Eun.

Want them big, tall, and kinda dumb? Here’s the 14th prince Wang Jung for ya.

Want an evil bastard with an affinity for guyliner? Try out 3rd prince Wang Yo.

Tall, slender, and scholarly? 13th prince Baek-ah will fill your needs.

Is a kind/gentle man who will ultimately disappoint you because he doesn’t show up when you need him most more your speed? Well, let me introduce you to 8th prince, Wang Wook.

Kinda scary but oh so hot and with a ton of baggage? We’re talking, I overpacked and brought 10 overstuffed large suitcases levels of baggage. 4th prince Wang So is the guy for you.

And if you prefer someone with no personality, presence, or memorable traits, I got a two-for-one deal for you in the crown prince Wang Mu and 9th prince Wang Won.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? There is political intrigue, scheming, romance, fluffy hijinks (my least favorite parts of the drama), angst, beautiful costumes, and pretty decent fight scenes. Scarlet Heart Ryeo is a pretty solid fusion/fantasy sageuk mostly thanks to Lee Jun Ki. The only person who has ever carried a larger load on his back is Atlas. I’m not saying all the other actors are horrendous. It’s just very clear that the one elevating the material beyond the inconsistencies/messiness/elementary politics of the script is Lee Jun Ki. Your enjoyment level of the drama will likely increase if you are a fan of any of the main actors.

#the wolf #darren wang #my beautiful bride #kim mu yeol #scarlet heart ryeo #moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo #lee jun ki #kang ha neul #ji soo #cdrama #kdrama

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thewandforthecrown · 3 years ago

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okay so yk how i said i wrote a fic about carlos being trans, well here it is, its also some implied jaylos so if you dont like that then dont read! (its 1046 words)

fic under the cut!

To say that Carlos was nervous for the game was an understatement. First of all he was Not very good at tourney, like, at all. Secondly, he really liked Jay and wanted to impress him, which again would be difficult considering his tourney skills or lack thereof. Another problem he had was well, he was trans; that’s not a problem in of itself but, he wore a binder.

One of the most well known rules of binding is: don’t bind while exercising. But the thing is, he did not want to stand out at this new school more than he already did. As far as he knew (other than Evie and Mal) there were no other trans people at the school, and if there were, they passed pretty damn well. He eventually decided to just wear it during the game, how bad could it be?

Pretty bad apparently, this is the reason he wanted to just sit out on the bench, he wasn’t very good anyway. Jay insisted to the coach that he played though, which, in a way, made him happy; he was happy that Jay believed in him. The game was going pretty well until he was knocked over by Chad (?), well at least he thinks it was Chad, he can barely tell with the helmets on.

But when he was on the floor, he felt like he couldn’t get up, like he couldn’t breathe. Then thankfully, Jay lifted him back up and ran with him, which meant he ended up helping to score a goal, the winning goal in fact. It would have been fine if that was the end and they got to go back to the dorms to shower and rest.

Remember how Mal gave Ben the love potion cookie? Yeah. Ben started to sing, confessing his love to Mal, and apparently, the rest of the tourney team were now his backup dancers. His body was screaming at him to just sit this one out, but again, he could not risk standing out more than he already did. So, he joined in.

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

When walking back to the dorm Carlos couldn’t help but breathe heavily, trying to get his breath back. Thankfully it was only him and Jay walking so the rest of the team couldn’t judge him.

“You alright there?” Jay asked, looking down at Carlos.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired from the game, I am so unfit I swear” he laughed it off. He couldn’t help but clutch his chest, trying to breathe normally in front of Jay but failing. Jay knew Carlos was trans that wasn’t the issue here, he just didn’t want Jay to be disappointed in him for putting himself in danger.

“You sure that’s all?” Carlos could sense that Jay may have had an idea of what was going on just from the way he asked.

“Yeah” he insisted

Jay gave him a look, he knew something was up. Carlos knew Jay wouldn’t bug him to tell him but felt bad keeping it from him.

Carlos groaned, hiding his face in his hands before saying “I wore my binder during the match, there, happy?”

“Carlos, that’s really dangerous, dude-”

“Don’t you think I know it’s dangerous?! But what’s even more dangerous is having this whole school full of cishet preppy perfect kids knowing I’m trans okay? Come on we already don’t fit in, I don’t need anything else to make them hate me more than they already do”

“Okay, Carlos, calm down, it’s okay, and cishet? Bro, have you met anyone at this school?” Jay laughed

“Wait what?”

“You know, Audrey? Ben’s ex?”

“Yeah”

“Dude, she’s literally trans, have you not seen the trans flag sticker on her notebook?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t” he felt stupid for not noticing something so obvious like that.

“What I’m saying is, if the most popular girl in school is trans, no ones gonna care if you are”

“I guess, but still I’m the only trans guy on the tourney team”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, if anyone gives you shit for it, I literally will not hesitate to beat them up”

“Oh shut up” Carlos said lightheartedly

“I’m serious!” Jay laughed, before stopping walking and holding his arms out to Carlos. Carlos immediately tackled Jay into a tight hug.

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

As soon as they got back to the dorm, Jay insisted that Carlos change out of his binder. Which he did, eventually, he did stand in the bathroom staring at his reflection for at least 5 minutes before Jay knocked on the door, asking if he was okay.

“Not really” he replied bluntly

“What’s up”

He stayed silent, Jay heard the shuffling of clothes on the other end. Carlos opened the door, looking at the floor. He went to put his binder in the wash basket.

“Do you think the cleaning people will care if I put my binder in the wash?”

“Carlos, why would they care? It’s a binder”

“I guess” he then put it in the wash, before sitting down on his bed.

Jay sat down next to him “Dude, I get that you’re scared about people knowing you’re trans but, I just know that everyone here would be accepting, this place isn’t like the island”

“There were so many queer people on the island though, and everyone here seems so perfect”

“Are you saying queer people aren’t perfect?” Jay joked

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean”

“Well I’d have to disagree ‘cause you’re queer and you’re perfect”

Carlos looked up at him, before looking down to hide the fact he was smiling ear to ear. He then leant into Jay’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist. Jay then put his arm around Carlos, pulling him closer.

#joey's fics #should i main tag this #fuck it i will #carlos de vil #descendants

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veeranger · 4 years ago

Note

Thoughts on Halo Reach's plot and best to worst noble team members?

you know ive actually been a lot more critical towards reach lately because i think it fails on the biggest thing it advertised: noble team. characters have never really been the strong suit of bungie’s writing (idk who destiny is so dont @ me) and while this isnt usually a major issue, it is an issue when a game wants to sell you on this squad of your teammates it wants you to care about or at least be fond of. ODST and Reach both have a cast of characters that could be really interesting but since halo is a shooter and not really a storytelling kinda game series all they really get are a few lines here and there and some cool moments, nothing really solid or anything to get a glimpse at who they are. maybe thats kinda the point though since spartans are all fucked up broken people like inherently. i dont think thats why bungie did that though

as for reach’s actual plot, i think it works well for what it is, a playable tragedy that tells you the conclusion up front. halo fans who are any level above completely casual knew that reach got completely glassed right before the start of halo ce and the advertising of this was very clear. the fact that you’ve never heard of spartan 3′s or noble team before was a pretty clear indicator of what their fates would be before you even turned on your xbox. the game literally opens with your smashed helmet embedded in the ground as a tombstone to your inevitable heroic sacrifice. reach invokes the same kind of feeling as star wars rogue one, you just know things wont end well for our main characters but you know that their deaths will pave the way for the main series protagonist to eventually win the whole damn thing 3 games/movies from now.

so even with this in mind you go through reach and you think “wow things are going pretty well, we’re holding out own against the covies and even striking back at key targets” and maybe you forget whats going to happen or you dont and you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. and boy fucking howdy does it drop. jorge dies thinking he just saved reach and as you fall through the atmosphere you realize how hopelessly fucked you are. thats where the game enters its second phase, the “we’re fucked but still fighting” phase, as opposed to the first half of the game where things were still somewhat hopeful. noble six wakes up like a week later to half the planet burning and civilians being slaughtered as they try to evac. the first level of the second half of the game features you busting your ass hard to clear an evac point for civilians only to see them all get shot down and die. its brutal stuff, especially for halo who had never shown the conflict though that lense.

what follows is a parade of squadmate deaths as your numbers dwindle with every level until its just you and emile, and then just you. unlike in rogue one you actually aren’t immediately told what the key item in this quest is, in this case its cortana, the equivalent to the death star plans in rogue one, the most important thing in the universe since cortana will be the one to slipspace jump to halo 04 and kick off a series of events that will lead to the survival of humanity. but once you get this item suddenly it all makes sense, carter is told this is “what his spartans died for” and to you that means a lot more than it ever would to him.

reach ends with a profoundly impactful epilogue level where you just. are doomed. you can’t hold out forever and even if you could there’s no rescue coming for you. noble six gave their life to save the universe and never even knew it. the fact that their death isnt a cutscene but you actually yourself have to try to stave off death or just take as many elites with you as you can before they get you, it really adds so much to the impact of the final noble team death. nevermind that six isnt a real character it does work in this case because you’re seeing it from a first person perspective.

so overall my thoughts on reach is that despite the major flaw of not making you care enough about noble team (unless you do, this is my personal view) it does its job very well in portraying the desperate struggle of humanity against a threat that they cannot possibly comprehend or rightfully stand up against, but despite devastating loss the small victories they achieved still ended up mattering in the end.

now as for noble team i wont do a best to worst but ill give my thoughts on everyone

carter: hardass commander type, not much to say imo. his death scene was his best moment and i wish his relationship with kat had been fleshed out more because it was so so funny to see her pull his strings to get what she wants. you can tell he has the respect of everyone, especially emile.

kat: the only girl! i actually like cat, im glad they gave her a buzzcut instead of trying to make her sexy or anything even if they did give her that ass in her armor. shes the typical smartass better than you genius character but it works, especially with that accent. i wish i could be friends with her, there was that scene right before she died where she confided in six that this was also her first glassing. her death was kind of shock value to me and i wish she could have at least died with a little more dignity like the rest of noble team but alas :(

jun: probably my least favorite. i cant really remember much of this guy. he’s the only one who got to live and i kind of hate him for that because he was the least interesting of the bunch.

emile: certainly the most iconic of all the noble spartans. he comes off as sadistic but not a maniac, he listens to carter when he speaks and is on good terms with kat even through his obvious inability to really connect to other people. this is certainly because of the fact that he’s a spartan-3, he’s probably the most “inhuman” of the bunch. i wish his relationship with jorge was given a little more, i liked how despite his pushing jorge early in the game he still mourned his death, and yet refused to carry his dogtags because he knew six was the one who was entrusted with them. his death was very iconic i think everyone remembers that.

jorge: the big man himself, his death is what set the tone for the second half of the game and was probably pretty impactful to most people playing. i always thought it was interesting that he was a spartan-2 and not a 3 like the rest of noble, i wonder why that was. his relationship with halsey was interesting and it showed that not all spartans hated the devil woman for what she did to them. his defining characteristic was his big heart and that was especially interesting for a spartan-2, that he managed to hold onto something like that through all the shit he probably went through.

#wow i talked a lot about reach #Anonymous #apple post

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rvb-is-gay · 4 years ago

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ok so now that the final episode of rvb0 is out for everyone, lets get into some discussion about it! please note that post isnt a topic of debate but rather just my personal thoughts about everything, so dont go arguing in the replies

(fair warning ahead of time for any fans, this is mostly criticism and negative feelings about it, so keep scrolling if you dont wanna read it)

When RVB0 was first announced, I remember everyone was first upset that the Reds and Blues weren't in it, including me. But now that I've watched the whole thing, I can say with confidence that my only issue with RVB0 isn't the lack of the Reds and Blues, but rather everything. the dialogue, some of the animation, the characters, the delivery, the pacing, the ridiculous amount of clichés, etc. I don't dislike RVB0 just because there's no Reds and Blues. I dislike it because I just found the entirety of it bad.

When I first started watching it, I went in with an open mind that maybe this season could actually be really good. I’d also be lying if I said that there wasn't a single scene that I liked. There were actually a few, but they still didn't make up for just the overall badness of the season. But please note that I don't blame the voice actors for any of this or even just Torrian Crawford for the season coming out a giant mess. Many people worked for this season and always had the opportunity to improve or change things but didn't. But anyways, let’s get into some of the criticisms I have for this season.

1. Smaller and more opinion oriented criticisms

This isn’t really criticism or anything important, but rather just a few things I found a bit weird to me personally.

First, the term “ragtag team of misfits” was used to describe Shatter Squad (and was even actually said out loud by One in the last episode, which sounded just so cliché and dumb in my opinion). I don't think this describes them at all?? Everyone has, at the very least, decent relationships with each other (save for One and East who were competitive with each other (which I also fucking hate in RVB that all the girl characters are always competitive with each other)), but that still doesn't really fit the term ragtag) and they all fight very well. I think ragtag fits the Reds and Blues more than it does Shatter Squad; they're bad at fighting, they argue and fight all the time, they're idiots, and that's why we love them. If they had just stuck with “a team of misfits”, that would've made more sense, but again, this is more of a personal opinion than genuine criticism.

Second, I don’t really like the aesthetics this season had. Everything felt a bit too neon and bright and then some stuff just felt like it came straight out of World of Warcraft or something. It didn’t really feel like RVB.

Third, my feelings about Carolina constantly calling Wash David can be summed up by what Michael said in the first episode of Halo 4 LASO: “Now we’re just gonna throw his name around all willy nilly. It used to be a secret.” When someone is called by their real name in RVB or just any story in general where everyone goes by code names, it’s usually a big deal and indicates something serious. Carolina wore out Wash’s name the first time she said it and it just got more and more irritating from then on out and lost its value.

Fourth, who was the blue and purple soldier in the first teaser we got? Was that One? Did they decide to change her armour colour? I don’t know, I just randomly remembered that and thought it was weird but I guess it must’ve just been a colour change.

Now, onto the more serious criticism.

2. Animation and dialogue

The second thing I wanna talk about is the animation. Don't get me wrong, the fighting animation is probably the best compared to everything else and it was pretty good to watch, but the talking and idle animations and gestures were..... kinda yikes. I know that it could be chalked up to “well we’re not used to seeing animated gestures since all of RVB usually has everyone just holding their gun and using the regular Halo models” but there were still some pretty bad parts.

Take the scene from Encounter at 3:26 as an example (I uploaded the scene to YT to put here, but obviously it was blocked for copyright):

This scene is probably one of the worst when it comes to not only the animations, but the dialogue, pacing, and delivery. When I first saw this, I honestly laughed. Here's a list of my problems with this scene and what made it so laughable:

The overexaggerated hand gestures. I get that because everyone's in armour and a helmet, it can be hard to show expression, but this feels like a bit much. Especially when One says “what? You’re pulling us off the mission? You cant do that!” I think that one scene in season 15 when Grif stays behind on Iris while everyone leaves and it slowly zooms in on Simmons’ visor somehow does a lot better at expressing feelings than this.

East immediately making the connection between Axel and Zero feels weird. I don't know if its just me who feels this way, but I think it should've been a little bit longer before she immediately is just like “you know Zero don't you”

Axel saying “I... I do... I did” also sounds weird and like he was trying a bit too hard to sound dramatic. I don't really know how to describe it its just such a weird delivery of the line.

The way they all immediately start yelling at each other.

One saying “Axe, I trusted you” right after saying “tell us the truth”. Girl, you gave him no opportunity to explain and just immediately jumped to not trusting him anymore. Speaking of which, I don't think this was ever really mentioned again and had no meaning or importance to it.

The echoing of “I trusted you” also feels cliché to me, but this is more of a minor thing.

I think this one comment on one of the episodes on the RT site that says the dialogue “seemed acted rather than natural. It didn't really sound like how people normally talk, more how actors talk in plays” is how I feel about all of the dialogue in RVB0.

3. The villains

Zero and Diesel both felt like they didn't really have any motivation at all for being villains. Phase is probably the best when it comes to this. She was essentially abused by her father as a child and forced to undergo being experimented on. This is an actual good and understandable motivation.

Diesel we know basically nothing about, and then on the other hand, all Zero wants is power. But for what? Why? I can understand that power is a pretty common thing for people to want, but it still kind of felt like there wasn't really anything there.

Some previous good villains in RVB include:

Temple: Temple witnessed his best friend be brutally murdered right in front of him by 2 soldiers who didn't give a shit and just left him to die, especially right after he told him he was having a baby. Of course it’s understandable that he has a hatred of Freelancers after this. Any normal person would.

Felix: Felix was probably the best villain of all of RVB, to be honest (right beside the Director). He was just somehow so likeable and had so much personality, despite being an asshole. His ultimate motivation was money and being rich, which is another thing I can understand; the more money you have, the more you can essentially do whatever you want and live in luxury. I mean, even so many people in real life do horrible things just for money. I don't even have to give examples for this. Felix in general is also just a psychopath.

The Director: The whole reason the Director did what he did was because he lost the person he loved most in the world: his wife. He was willing to do literally anything to bring her back, leading to all of his actions in the Project Freelancer saga. You can find many examples of movie/TV/book/etc characters/villains seeking vengeance as a result of loss of a loved one and grief. Despite being a horrible person, the Director actually managed to be a villain you could even sympathize with, making him even better.

Sharkface: Although a bit of a more minor villain, similar to Temple, Sharkface is a villain because he wants revenge on the people that killed his team, the people he considered to be the only family he’s ever had.

4. Tucker & the swords

The fourth thing I wanna talk about is the whole thing with Tucker and the swords. I always found it kinda weird how both Tuckers sword and now Locus’ sword in the chorus trilogy were the same, but then in RVB0, Zero’s sword looks and acts completely different, but that might just be a little nitpick of mine.

As for Tucker, it was so good to see him. Although I don’t know if it was just me, but he seemed a little OOC. What I didn't like about seeing Tucker again was that he did literally nothing the entire episode. He was useless. He said “I can fight” at one point but then all he does during the battle is get held at knife point, run away, and then get stabbed and have his sword taken. Tucker isn't an amazing fighter, but he’s definitely a lot more capable than just this. We’ve seen him in action many times and I just feel like he could've done a bit more. It almost feels like he was purposefully nerfed and tossed aside just to advance the plot.

Another thing that I and probably a lot of people are upset about is the fact that Tucker might not even own his sword anymore?? When East stabbed him, he apparently died and the sword was rebound to Phase, but it wasn't very clear that this was the case. Although the beginning of the next episode starts with hospital beeps and a flatline, I don't think it was still really clear enough that Tucker actually died long enough for Phase to reclaim the sword because I saw a handful of people confused in the comments and, like me, even thought it was just bad writing at first and that the writers completely forgot about the rules of the sword established over several prior seasons.

When in the hospital, Wash tells Tucker that he almost died. Although I actually liked this scene because it was nice to see wash and tucker bantering again, I think it could've been made better and made the plot clearer if instead of saying he almost died, Wash said something along the lines of “Tucker, you died. Your heart stopped, but they were able to bring you back thanks to their advanced medical tech” and then in response Tucker freaks out because that means his sword will now work for Phase and now they know how urgent the situation is.

I really really hate that Phase just has Tucker’s sword now and nothing is even said about it. If Tucker was to give his sword away to someone, I think many people would prefer that it was at least someone close to him, like Junior for example, but instead it goes to a random girl he hardly knows.

5. Pacing

The fifth thing I wanna talk about is the pacing. This season was definitely a lot shorter than normal and I think that’s one of the things that really prevented it from being good. The entire story just feels rushed and while I understand that it can be really difficult to build a good story and characters in such a short time, I think there’s still ways you can do it without it feeling like there’s so much missing. I think the long intros and outros are also responsible for less time and maybe they should’ve considered cutting them to give more actual episode time. Here’s a few things that were poorly done as a result of bad pacing:

The final battle against Zero: The whole battle just somehow felt like a typical video game boss battle that ends super quickly to me. Shatter Squad didn’t even defeat Zero, he just up and got disintegrated or whatever from Black Lotus.

Shatter Squad giving up on their mission: After receiving the silly deep voice filtered message from Zero, everyone on Shatter Squad just immediately gives up on finding him.

One’s speech: One’s speech wasn’t awful or anything and I didn’t really have any problems with the speech itself, but rather just how quickly the team went from “we can’t do it.. it’s over..” to “you’re right! I’m in! Let’s go get them!” Compare this to Doc and Sarge’s speech to the Reds and Blues after Church and Carolina leave in season 10 episode 20. It just felt a lot more genuine (this is probably because the Reds and Blues had a lot more time to be developed, though) and was only given after some time passed rather than 2 seconds later. The scene and context also transitioned well into it and at first, nobody was on board with what Doc was saying, which is more realistic in my opinion. People’s minds won’t just instantly change, they’re still gonna think about it and maybe have a few doubts at first.

Phase and West: During their fight, West talked a lot about how he regrets giving Phase away to Starlight, that he won’t hurt her, and is even willing to die for her. Their scene together ends with Phase punching him in the head and then leaving to join the others and nothing else about them is mentioned. We don’t know if Phase forgave him or not, we don’t know how West feels, etc.

Tucker’s sword: Phase still has Tucker’s sword and like the scenario with West, nothing about it is mentioned. We don’t know what she’s going to do with it, if she’s going to keep it, if Tucker’s gonna do anything about it, etc.

6. Clichés

Clichés aren’t inherently bad and can be really impactful and good if done right. But when it comes to RVB0, it’s jampacked with clichés that aren’t good. Here are a few examples:

Everyone gives up until a speech is given: All of the points for this are the same as above, but I wanted to include this scene as a cliché as well.

Every female character is competitive with each other: RVB falls into this a lot, like I mentioned earlier. It happens again with East and One, although luckily they seem to resolve it, but not until literally the end of the season.

West’s fit about East: All of the lines and delivery in this scene were just atrocious and cheesy. I think West’s dialogue just could’ve been a bit more original, but instead we’re given this boring predictable “I won’t lay a hand on her. I promised her. I promised her mother. I promised she’d be safe” spiel that has no emotion to it in his voice.

The whole “I got this, you go ahead” thing: This isn’t like a super cliché thing, but I found it pretty interesting how it happens twice in the same episode.

I think this is pretty much all I can think of at the moment. If I think of anything else, I’ll add onto this. Overall, I think RVB0 would’ve done a lot better as just an RVB spinoff so that it could have more episodes and seasons dedicated to developing characters and a good plot. I’m really disappointed with this season and I hope whatever comes next is better than what RVB0 was. I hope the team that worked on it can learn a few things that come from the good and valid constructive criticism given to them. And if I had to pick, I think I’d say Raymond was my favourite out of all the new characters. He just felt the most relatable and realistic to me.

#rvb crit #rvb0 critical #rvbz critical #post #mod sol

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plainvanillapotato · 4 years ago

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the 100 diaries S2 E1

quarantines diaries: may 26 2020

season 2 episode 1: “The 48″

aaahh yess some elevator music to set the mood....BAAMM excessively loud scary sound. was this really necessary tho. cuz i was wearing headphones while watching this and that shit made my ears hurt. i know im weak like that.

hey! hey! hey! where really is monty??? i fucking swear to god...

i love that clarke goes apeshit for monty. shes gots his back!! i stan.

ooo thats a deep cut. that helmet came off a little too easy. “ill be contaiminated” current quarantine mood girl. mood. clarke is really taking this girl hostage. anything for monty.

what in the world?! somebody say sike. yeah clarke where the hell are you? i would like to know as well

bellamy lives! also what is monroe’s hair. its cool but like how does she do these elaborate hair styles with no mirror. no shampoo. no conditioner. no brush.

boy finn is not doing well at all. but he still manages to get some water to quench his thirst

what is that? klingon? did licoln really lick that arrow? lincoln be into some kinky shit.

“death by a 1000 cuts every single member of your clan will take a turn stabbing you. and then they’ll feed to the bugs.” that sounds that rough and all but im sorry all i see are the bugs from a bugs life

bane from batman is that you??? wow raven be prepared for that. we love a prepared queen. goodbye bane she said.

no its not ok. murphy. fuck this trope of having no bullets. die murphy. die. why do you keep coming back. i swear murphy is like a cockroach. you think you killed him but he keeps coming the fuck back. at least hes self aware as he says i would have shot me too.

“im not pressing charges”. ok. maya. no one asked tho. but they still have a justice system?? of all the things that they keep

ohh these restraint are necessary. you know clarke be out here ready to cut a bitch.

what the hell are they pumping into maya?

wow dante being a fairy godmother with that box of clothes. he said bibity boppity boo

yess get that heel. resourceful queen. haha clarke “isnt like other girls” when she see a heel isnt thinking wow i would look really good in those. shes thinking i could use that as a weapon. but of all the outfits in that trunk thats the one that clarke picks?

so grounders really be superior beings. natural selection? this just triggered my ptsd from my gen bio class. not a fun time. if im being honest tho i would be probably one of tho people that would be wiped out by the radiation.

solar radiation. so basically these spacers are super human in comparison to these smucks. is this how jasper survived and recovered so quick from that spear? im still not over how the boy was speared but then was fine within like 5 days

he said first give me that heel. dante really is magical isnt he. but i really wished that clarked cut a bitch first before the heel was taken away.

what is this cult? why are all these kids wearing button ups? ummmm this is reaaaaally suspicious.

is murphy really helping raven? are they giving murphy a redemption arc he literally made a child commit suicide. killed not one but two people in cold blood. shot raven. and hanged bellamy **i know. i know. i know that bellamy hanged murphy first. but we’re not going to talk about that. bellamy is too pretty to stay mad at for too long.

“i don’t want to die alone.” well i dont care murphy. get the fuck out of here. you were the one that shot raven and the reason why she is here.

oh wow that really is a monster. frankenstein’s monster who?

monty and jasper reunited. i love this bromance so much!

“you’re bumming me out im gonna get more cake”- jasper (19:42) what a mood!! i could really go for some cake rn. i dont have anything to celebrate but do i really need one to eat cake. this also reminds me of the cake in Matilda

low on vitamin D? just drink some sunny d

maya and jasper? octavia? forget her. this girl has cake. *men love a woman that knows her way in a kitchen*

clarke really wants out. i thought it would take longer than this. clarke really isnt trusting any of this. i mean neither am i. buts thats a lot of stairs

maya pulling a gun clarke. she got that gun real quick. damn maybe maya is more edgy than i thought

raven and murphy having a heart to heart? the most unlikely pairing yet? but do i crack ship it? fuck it. sure.

is murphy really talking in third person. i thought i could not have hated this character more. i love that after murphy gives that whole my life was rough story. raven said “boo-hoo” (25:35).

woah KANE is here to save the day but i gotta say i just want to give bellamy a wet wipe. theres so much blood on his face its covering up his prettiness

youre really not gonna give murphy up now raven? he shot you. i guess his pity story worked

yess bellamy!! that is the proper reaction to murphy! fuck your rules. fuck your law. fuck you kane. #free bellamy

ABRAHAM LINCOLN (31:55) you have got to be kidding me. i fucking called it. so i guess this were Washington DC used to be. honest abe is quaking.

dante has a dark backstory. hes gotta be a villain. hes just gotta

bellamy and finn teaming up together yes please. i love finn and bellamy breaking the rules already. they make a good duo. btw this is such an interesting format of the show both of clarkes love interests are not with her. i hope they have a bromance now. or even possibly a real ship. who knows. cuz its seems like finn falls in and out of love pretty fast so it wouldnt be that ooc in my opinon

dont watch clarke eat like that dante. i get creepy vibez

monty knows magic tricks.

clarke is buying into this cult a little too fast for me.

camp JAHA **tears**

did not expect to live to see kane as chancellor

really...a baby. ofc this show would. whats worse than a child...a baby.

#the 100 #the 100 diaries #bellamy #finn #bellamy x finn #clarke #monty #jasper #the bromance is very much alive #octavia #lincoln #octavia x lincoln

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angelwars11 · 5 years ago

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At Ara'Novor (Part 3)

What's up what's up everyone!!💯 We're fucking back with the 3rd and final part, the ending to At Ara'Novor 🎊 I wanna say something before you all read this. This story was created over 2 MONTHS ago: planned and started in December to 3 parts completed and posted in January. This story has been an amazing journey with my Captain @colorfulloverbatturkey and I literally would not have made this story without having meeting her, she's literally the best; the story is emotional and can pack quite a punch to the feels of any Star Wars nerd or Fanfic reader!

The 3rd part was made super long anddddd... There's a special BONUS at the end for our loyal readers, anyone who's followed and read this story from the very first post. The BONUS is a gift to all of you💕 my fingers are tired now from typing so here it is! I finally give to you *drum roll* At Ara'Novor part 3 and BONUS. Content warning: (ooo, our first one😱🤣) There is cursing in this part (not Star Wars universe related) I mean like, the F-word and stuff. Also, we've snuck in a Rex thirst scene for all our fellow Rex lovers😍 (not explicit or anything but still, here's a warning)

Btw! Here's a link to part 1! And here's a link to part 2!! Enjoy!! 👋🏼 "I'mma head out."✌🏽 *gives a two fingered salute and uses instant transmission*

Previously.... On "At Ara'Novor". Cody made it back to the village and told General Kenobi Rex was missing was a little girl. Cody sends out Jesse and Kix to retrieve them and bring them back. Rex spends some quality time with the little girl, he soon learns her name is Eida, and they bond over a long conversation. Kix and Jesse finally reached them.

*echoing footsteps*

"Captain? Rex, are you ok?" Kix said, spotting his Captain on the floor before him. Silence was the only response he'll receive so he rushed over to Rex immediately, crouching down next to him to start, he obviously needed treatment right away. He was about to lift Rex‘s hand off the wound when he cocked his head to the left and hissed, "Her first, I'm ok." Kix eyed him doubtfully, but proceeded to get up, appeared on Rex’s left and kneeled down before the shivering girl. He took off his helmet, "Hello there little one, is it ok if I examined you real quick? It won’t hurt, I promise!“ Kix smiled. He treated many children during other raids and commissions, and the practice of trying to help and calm down scared vod made it easier.

He knew how to comfort patients. Eida looks up to Rex for reassurance, and when he nodded, she looked back to the medic and said with a trembling voice, "Okay…" Kix smiled and pulled a blanket out of his bag and handed it to Eida, who gladly took it and wrapped it around herself. She sat patiently as Kix checked her heart, her pulse, and her lungs. He also checked her reflexes and shone a flashlight in her eye, after which she blinked furiously. Kix chuckled "Ur all done, kid. you got a few bruises and you’re probably still in shock, but you’ll be able to sleep it off.“ Kix knew she didn't understand what "shock" was but sleep, definitely. Poor thing looked exhausted.

Eida snuggled back into the warm blankets and stares at the medic. She was looking at Kix's face and tries to process something, then Jesse takes off his helmet as well, this confirmed her suspicions and her eyes grew even wider, "You all look the same!“ She pointed in awe, looking between the three.

"As I said, they’re my brothers!“ Rex said, smiling as best as he could in his state, but it looked more like a grimace and Jesse smirked at Eida. "Sir, you’ll have to take your hand off so that I can inspect the wound.“ Kix said, kneeling beside the Captain, opening his bag and pulling out tools. Rex hesitated because he had his hand on the wound for so long and he was feeling a little nervous, but he did it anyways with a hiss. Shaking with effort he slowly moved his bloodied hand away from the sticky, painful wound. Kix shone another light onto the injury, inspecting it. "Kriff, I think we have no choice but to start treatment right away. You’ve been sitting here far too long!“ He murmured, handing the flashlight to Jesse so that he had free hands.

"You mean… perform surgery? Right here?“ Rex said, his eyes widening for a second and he shivered. It's starting to hurt quite a lot again. "Yes, Sir, if you try to move the wound it'll only get worse. It is cauterized, but still sensitive, and it's in a place where it will only rip open further if jolted wrong. We’ll have to perform mild surgery here.“ Rex took a deep breath. Don’t be whiny. You’re a soldier and you’ve been worse off than this. He thought to himself. Rex looked over to Eida, who was staring at the wound with terrified eyes. When she looked up at Rex, he said "Kid, I need you to go outside, this could turn really nasty, I don’t want you to see that." Eida's eyes widened even further, and tears started to form once again.

"No! Don’t hurt him!“ she whined, shuffling closer to Rex and wrapping her hands around his left arm. "We’re not gonna hurt him, we have to treat his injury. We have anesthesia, uhh, something that'll block the pain. Don’t worry.“ Jesse reassures her, he walks over to Eida, extending his hand for her to take. "No, I'll stay!“ she refused and clung to Rex‘s arm even tighter, Rex held in a slight groan as her nails dug into his forearm, but she wasn't the reason, it was the goddamn wound. It's hurting more. "Kid, please you really should'–" Rex started, but then Eida crossed her arms over her chest once again, pouting.

He sighed in defeat. Knowing that arguing with this girl was pointless. "Fine. But please, go over there, you really shouldn‘t watch something like this.“ He said, nodding to Jesse behind her. Eida accepted his terms and slid further away from the three men, still looking at Rex. He smiled back at her reassuringly, only to flinch a second later when Kix started to sterilize the wound. Here goes nothing Rex thought, focusing on a spot on the ceiling as Kix injected a bit of anesthesia close to the wound. "Sir, just so you know, we can only use a bit of anesthesia here, because this particular anesthesia doesn’t do too well if combined with bacta, and we don’t want your injury to get worse. So, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid you’ll have to fight through this one." Rex rolled his eyes.

Of course. Great.

Kix started by delicately removing pieces of dirt, shrapnel and other things that don’t belong in a body from the wound with tweezers. "This–isn't so bad." Rex murmured to himself. However, he could still feel every little thing Kix was doing. that's going to be a problem. "Yeah, about that��there seems to be some form of unusual crust in some places, an infection's starting to develop… we’ll have to cut those away, otherwise the bacta-spray won’t properly help with the healing…“ Kix said, glancing at Rex sideways, only to be met with a neutral expression. "So… it’ll...hurt, probably. Sir.“ Kix said. "Yeah no kidding, just get on with it so we can get out of here!“ Rex gritted through his teeth, letting his head fall back against the wall again. "Yes sir. “ Kix said. He quickly grabs a scalpel and steadies his breath. "I'm gonna start now.“

It was completely quiet in the room as Kix slowly cuts away the crust of the wound and placing the pieces on a towel. The only thing that could occasionally be heard was when the Captain's breath caught in his throat whenever Kix hit an extremely painful spot. Kix was almost done cutting away the last bit of crust when...

*ACHOOOO*

Rex let out a blood curdling scream when Kix’s scalpel dug deep into his flesh, startled by the pain and the sudden noise of Eida sneezing. "God dammit!!" Rex slammed the back of his head into the wall behind him and he whined, the wound in his abdomen was burning with incredible and unbearable pain. He moaned and rocked his head side to side and tries to ignore the raging river of lava deep within his abdomen, "Kriffing…. K-K-Kriff… F-F-Force." he was trembling violently as the pain smacked him in rough waves, like an ocean during a storm. Jesse immediately rushed to Rex’s side, holding him down by the chest and trying to calm him while Kix was quickly wiping away the fresh blood that was oozing out of the wound. Rex whimpered when Kix grazed the jagged edges of broken skin and he stared up at the ceiling.

All the while Eida walked backwards, away from the man she had hurt. "M- I'm sorry I–" Eida whimpered, moving closer to the still grunting Rex "I–I didn’t–" "Just be quiet!“ Kix shouted, he didn't mean to but it was the stress. He tries to get the scalpel out of Rex while Eida ran out of the room towards the exit, her cries filling the entirety of the cave. "Kix that really wasn’t–kriff!" Rex screeched at Kix, only to be cut off by the excruciating pain coming from his abdomen.

*panting*

"Jesse *chokes* go after her…dont–fuck! Don’t let her run away!“ He was squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to move so Kix could patch him up again. Rex held his breath but let it out very quickly as his lips trembled, his head hurt and it was just everything. Everything hurts, force, why does it hurt so much. Jesse made sure Kix would be alright on his own before he grabbed the blanket the girl dropped and jogged after her, the tiny sobs still echoing off the walls.

Rex's breaths were drawn in and out in shallow gasps and panting, the wound was burning. "Hey, Rex, I need you to breathe for me. I know it hurts but you gotta take a breath alright. " Rex took weak, shallow breaths, heat surrounded his wound and it hurt so badly, but he followed Kix's direction well. Kix moves to grab the medical equipment again but Rex was trembling too much. Not good, not good at all ori'vod. So he placed his hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Sorry sorry. " Rex apologized and tried again, Kix only nodded in an encouraging manner. That seems to work. Rex stilled and Kix continued what he was doing before while his brother kept up tranquil and steady breaths; he just hoped that Jesse caught up with the kid in time.

Jesse found Eida sitting at the exit of the hideout, her cheeks and nose bright red from the cold and probably the crying. She was resting her head on her knees, leaning against the wall to her right. Jesse carefully sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, to which she flinched. “Hey–it’s ok. It’s only me.” Jesse cooed, taking his hand off her shoulder to drape the blanket around her, protecting her from the crisp night air. They both sat in silence for a while, looking at the dark forest trees that hovered above at the top of the ravine. “I'm sorry. " she suddenly apologized, followed by a sob. “It’s not your fault, ad'ika. Accidents happen, don’t blame yourself.” Jesse said calmly, turning his head to face her. “He got hurt because of me! I didn't want to hurt him." Eida sobbed, new tears forming and rolling down her cheeks.

“Rex is fine, I checked up on him. He was just startled, nothing more!” Jesse half lied, kind of. Rex was hurt but he'll pull through and Jesse figured that lying was definitely okay in a case like this. *sniffles* “Really?” she quietly asked, wiping her face with her hands. “Yep, he’s okay. Honestly, I was about to sneeze as well, it’s verrrrryyy, dusty down there!” Jesse joked while wiping his nose and Eida let out a giggle. “So, are you ok now ad'ika? Wanna go back inside? I think they should be done by now.” Jesse smiled, standing up and offering his hand to pull her up. She was hesitant. “Aren’t they going to be mad at me?” She asked, her worried eyes looking up at him. “No, I promise.” He replied, and she took his hand and he pulled her up with ease.

They walked back inside to see Rex sitting upright, wearing a fresh set of blacks. Slightly pale but a bit of color had returned. A medical patch was visible through the tight fabric where his wound was. Kix was putting away all the supplies when they both lifted their gaze to the figures walking inside the room. “Hey! There you are!” Rex smiled warmly at the sight of Eida. She walked over to him in tiny steps and mumbled “I'm-I'm sorry.” keeping her gaze to the ground. “What for, ad’ika?” Rex questions, wanting to lift the child’s spirit. “Yunno…when I sneezed.” she explains, looking up at the two men. Kix kneeled down beside her and with sincerity he said, “No, I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, you did nothing wrong. I'm sorry.”

Eida was hesitant, then extended her arm,"I accept your apology, sir!” She was obviously trying to sound grown-up. Kix chuckled at that and took her little hand to shake it lightly. She then turned to Rex, taking a seat beside him, looking back and forth from his face to his covered up injury. “Are you feeling better now?” She asked, pointing to his stomach. “It still needs to heal, but yes, I am feeling better.” He smiled. His brothers stood behind the two and watched the cute interaction.

– – –

A few minutes later, they had everything packed up, Rex was wearing most of his armor again, for warmth and protection, and he was being supported by Kix; after insisting that he could walk alone and almost falling over. Eida was getting sleepy and the night air was extremely cold, so Jesse carried her on his hip and it seemed so paternal. Her head lolling slightly with each step that he took. Rex leaned heavily onto Kix and whimpered, this worried his brother. "What's wrong?" Rex tilted his head and shook it dizzily, "F-F-Feel hot. " Kix felt his forehead and murmured to himself. His hand felt amazing to Rex and he moaned with a sigh. Jesse looked over, "What?" "He has a fever, we need to hurry it up a bit." Kix walked a little faster while dragging Rex along, Jesse followed and tried his best not to jostle around the sleeping child.

– – –

Corel Village

Time: 0740 (7:40 p.m.)

The sun had completely set hours ago and it was so cold. A lot of voices echoed from the huts surrounding the outer part of the village, this is the part Rex and the others passed by. They overheard the villagers discussing plans, comforting each other and tucking in the children. They also heard footsteps that could be identified as military boots pounding into the dirt and the voices of many brothers speaking through their helmets with hushed voices, talking about further actions and how much they wished they were on a warmer planet. As soon as the four walked further into the village they were immediately recognized and spotted by two brothers in 501st blue, who approached them in a hurry. “Captain Rex, sir! Jesse! Kix! You found him." One of them gaped, it was Tup, one of the shinies. He strolled around to Rex’s right and supported him with his left arm. “He needs to lie down, come on Captain.” Kix led them to the nearest shelter.

Dogma, who was the second approacher, started to walk with Jesse. He was still carrying the now sleeping child. “So, what happened?” Dogma asked in his usual loud and nosey voice. “Shh, keep it down will you? She's asleep!” Jesse hissed, gesturing to the girl. “Right. Sorry.” Dogma replied, now more quiet. “We found them in a hideout about 15 klicks from here. The Captain was shot while trying to rescue the little one on their way there. That's all I know.” Jesse whispered. Dogma nodded. “And what now? Where do we put her?” He asked, looking at the kid and raising an eyebrow. “We are not ‘putting’ her anywhere. We’re gonna find her parents, so she can go home safely!” Jesse said, rolling his eyes at Dogma. “I don’t think that's our job. She’s back in the village, whatever happens to her is not our problem.” Dogma replied, visibly annoyed. “Leave that up to me, will you? If you won’t help me, I'll find the kid's parents myself.” Jesse said, starting to walk towards the biggest hut where he assumed the Generals would be.

He walked through the door and immediately trailed over to where the Generals and Commanders were. The group wasn't talking at the moment, they were just staring at a hologram and it looks like it's one of the masters from Coruscant.

"Yes Kenobi, when you finish up there then come back to Coruscant immediately."

"Of course." General Kenobi responded and then the call ended.

Ahsoka turned around when she noticed another's presence behind them, Jesse stood in the doorway with Eida snuggled into his arms, for a soldier who was placed into violent situations he was shockingly handling her with such care very well. Ahsoka became distracted when her eyes landed on the tiny little thing and she moved closer and chooed. "Awww, she's so precious. " And Eida made a gurgling sound and rubbed her cheek into Jesse's armor, then she sighed and stopped moving again. Anakin and Obi-Wan had noticed they came in but they were too busy talking about war issues and the call they had received a couple seconds ago.

"What's going on?" Jesse whispered. "Oh, we'll have to return to Coruscant soon after this. " Ahsoka shrugged and then stared at the child again. Jesse chuckled under his breath, Ahsoka was so predictable when it came to younger children. Sometimes. "You wanna hold her?" Ashoka nodded with such an eager movement, Jesse softly handed Eida to Ahsoka and she immediately walked over to a table in the corner and cradled the youngling. While Eida was occupied Jesse deemed the time was right to go ask Commander Cody a question. "Sir?"

Cody turned around and nodded, he was watching the generals argue again. "Yes." Jesse straightened up a little at attention, "I have a question sir, about the villagers. Sir. " Jesse added an unnecessary "sir" At the end, but it was only because of stress. Cody smiled and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You can relax. The battle is over vod. " Jesse physically relaxed, shoulders slumping slightly and he sighed in relief because sometimes it hard to stay at attention when you're tired. “Captain Rex rescued this girl. ” Jesse pointed to where Ahsoka was standing. She was poking the child on the nose with a soft "boop" sound to make her laugh. She was entranced by Eida's adorableness. “We need to get her back to her parents, but we don't even know how to start to look, Sir?” He asked the Commander for a solution, perhaps he would know. Cody stroked his chin in deep thought, looking at the girl.

“Good question. No one has reported a missing child, maybe her parents are injured. Knocking on every door will take too long and will only further stress the villagers. We shall find the girl’s parents tomorrow.” He nodded and turned around to work on some reports. “And where will she stay the night, Sir?” Jesse asked, to which Cody turned back around. “Uhh, the barracks are too loud, definitely. We can’t just drop her off at a random house either…” Their conversation peeked Ahsoka's attention and she walked over to them, "I'll watch over her, she can stay with me for the night." She offered. Cody and Jesse exchanged looks and then they agreed. "Alright Commander, good luck." Cody smirked and walked away. Jesse placed his hand on Eida's forehead and sighed, "Well, guess I gotta head back out. Watch her for me will yah?" Ahsoka smiled, "Of course." And Jesse gave one last look before leaving the hut.

Ahsoka sat on the bench a little longer till her Master walked over and placed his hand on Eida's head. "Hm, and who dropped this little one off?" Anakin smiled to himself when the little girl snuggled closer to Ahsoka. "Jesse did. I'm taking care of her till tomorrow, then we're going to look for her parents." Anakin nodded and slipped away, "Well, get some sleep snips. The both of you." Then he left the hut with just Ahsoka and Eida still inside.

Rex's POV

Rex laid on a cot in one of the many shelters. He felt hot again and he was confused on where he was, he thought he was back in the Hideout with the kid but then he looked to his left and saw a brother. He was laying next to him on another cot and didn't look too good either.

"Hey vod, looks like you finally woke up." His brother waved at him with a wonky smile. Looks like he was on drugs. "Uhh–" "Hey! Don't bother, he's conked out too!" Another brother on his right side yelled and then silenced himself when Coric walked past them. He gave them a suspicious glance and smiled with enjoyment, then he walked away.

"Shitttt, now look what you did! He's going to get Kix!" The drugged brother on the left hisses at the other. Rex stared at the ceiling in exhaustion, why are they so goddamn loud. "It's not m-m-my fault!" The other brother on his right yelled and then crossed his arms over his chest with an "umph", there was a shuffling sound and then a raspy and brute like voice from the cot on the other side of the tent. "Hey! Shut up will yah! Before you get us all in trouble." He demanded. Rex raised his hand and smirked when the two on either side of him sat up to defend themselves, this caused an all tent brawl of yelling insults back and forth.

*curtains shuffle*

*immediate silence*

Kix walked in with Coric right behind him, he had a sly smirk on his face when the yelling of insults quieted down. Kix walked to the middle of the room and glanced at every single one of them, giving them the stinky eye. "So, does anyone want to make anymore commotion and bring more droids down on top of us! Or are you going to be quiet." It was not a question, if one unaware and unlucky shiny opened their mouth to answer then they were all done for. A shiny who was a cot down from the brother on Rex's left sat up slightly and his mouth opened just a smidge, found the unaware shiny, and then the brother on the left from Rex launched himself over and pressed his hand over his widening mouth. "Be quiet." he whispered in warning to the vod'ika who just nodded along nervously. "Good. Now go back to sleep everyone." Kix walks towards Rex's cot with a satisfied grin, he likes having control of the patients. He was notorious for it.

Kix was checking a couple things next to Rex and then waited for Coric to finish checking up on his patient, Coric walked over and then he took some stuff out. Antibiotics. When did they get those? "Hey Rexter, stay still for us ok." Kix said and then he began to unwrap the bandages around his chest and abdomen. Coric stood away but he was ready for anything, IF anything happens at all. The bandages were unwrapped and Kix immediately started to check the wound while Coric searched for clean bandages. Rex looked down at his stomach and hissed, it looked kind of red but it was also healing at the same time. "It's infected, we'll have to use our antibiotics on it so it'll start to heal faster and then we'll bandage it up." Kix talked Rex through the process of what they were about to do. This usually calmed down his patients.

*panting*

"Ok." Rex nodded. Kix dabbed the alcohol onto a wash cloth and then he nodded to Coric who had a tight grip on Rex's arms. The wash cloth touches his abdomen and he yelled and groaned while gritting his teeth. The antibiotics stung like the fires of hell were dancing on top of his stomach, it hurt so bad! Kix rubbed it in and then went for MORE of the stuff and Rex couldn't handle it again. He reacted in an involuntary flight-or-fight response as he tries to get up off the cot but Coric pressed all his weight into his arms, "ahh, k-kriff! Let g-go! You son of a-a Bantha!" Coric however only smiled down at him and made a "tsk tsk tsk" Sound with his tongue, "Your insults don't scare me sir. And I've heard worse. " He calmly teased and continued to hold him down.

Kix reached down with the wash cloth in his hand, ready to wipe it on his abdomen again. Rex stared at it and then looked up at his brother's eyes pleadingly and Kix just looked at him with a blank stare. He wasn't going to pull away in mercy, that just wasn't his style. The cloth landed on the wound again and he screeched, slamming his head down into the pillow behind his head and he moaned loudly. All the clones in the tent were trying really hard to go to sleep and not piss off the medics by watching them take care of the Captain. It was very hard not to, if they managed to look away and simply ignore then they should earn a gold medal for not being intrusive. "Rex, breathe for me." Kix whispers.

*inhale*

*exhale*

"K-Kriffing…Haar'chak." He exhaled and shivered, Coric patted his right shoulder and Kix inspected the wound and nodded in satisfaction. "You're alright Vod. We should see some improvement by tomorrow. You can settle down now Cap." Kix began to wrap up his side while Coric stared at the brother behind him lying on the cot on the right side, he gave the medic something and then smirked. Rex looked over to see what the trooper gave him, in his hand was a wrapped piece of candy; the wrapping was red and has a golden stripe on it and it was round. Coric held it in his hand cautiously and when Kix spotted it he laughed to himself and snorted. "Yeah, he can have it. Apparently this di'kut says it calms those who are in pain. And guess what, his theory was actually true." Kix gathered up his equipment and Coric shrugged and tosses it over.

"Huh." Rex lazily caught the small orb and stared at it, then he glanced over at the fellow bed-ridden brother. "Do it vod. You won't regret it." He nodded with a silly grin and then leaned back so he could go back to sleep. Rex unwrapped it, observed the tiny thing and without hesitation he popped it into his mouth; with everything he went through, a little candy was the least of his concerns even though it was contraband. The chocolate melted in his mouth as the saliva began to break it down and Rex moaned in appreciation, then he turned over and snuggles down into the blankets. Kix came back around and smiled to himself.

"Guess it worked." He asked Rex. "Yeah, definitely." Kix took the rest of his stuff and touched Rex's forehead again. "Still have a slight fever. Here, drink this and it should be gone by tomorrow." Kix handed him a small cup filled with liquid. Rex tilted his head back and swallowed half of the white, pasty stuff and he instantly gagged. "Choy bu kriff!" Rex cussed and Kix snorted, he said, "It's not that bad, now take the rest of it and go to sleep. Night." And he walked away. "Goodnight Kix." Rex felt slightly disgusted, yet warm and better, the wound had stopped hurting a while ago and he was just happy. He hopes that tomorrow he'll be blessed to see Eida before they most likely get picked up by the larty. But for now, he needs some well-earned rest.

Corel Village

The next day, 0700 (7:00 a.m.)

*birds tweeting*

The beams of the rising sun warmed up the surface of Corellia, painting the landscape in a warm hue. It felt good to not be in a cold environment anymore. The troops were already up and busy cleaning up the village, aiding the injured and slowly starting to load up the ships again. Jesse and Kix were ordered by Captain Rex to pick up Eida from the main hut to help them search for her parents. When the two entered the house Eida immediately ran towards them and jumped so Jesse could pick her up. He scooped her up into his arms, "Hey ad'ika! You slept well, I assume?“ He chuckled. Eida nodded, smiling brightly, "Yep!" She wiggled in his grasp, "Glad to hear it.“ Jesse replied. "We came to pick you up, it’s time to find your parents, don’t you think?“ Kix chimed in, motioning for them to go outside. "Yes! I miss them so much!“ She said, getting excited about seeing her family again.

They walked outside and just stood there for a minute. It was quite a big village. Where would they start their search?

"Do you know where your home is? Could you point us in a direction?“ Jesse asked Eida while Kix was looking around. "Um, I don’t go outside alone, always with my family. But our house is close to a big fireplace and our house has little bells hanging on the door.“ Eida replied, trying to picture her home in her head. She then looked around, trying to remember which way they would always take to get back home. "I think that way!“ She yells, pointing to their left. They started walking in that direction, they pointed to every house and hut asking Eida " This one?“ Every time, to which she shook her head. About a couple minutes passed and Jesse thought about what they could do in the meantime. "So, what are your parents names?“Jesse asked, maybe it would help with the search. Also, he was trying to start a conversation.

"Uhh…“ Eida was confused, "Uhm, I don’t think children call their parents by their names, Vod.“ Kix replied, chuckling slightly. "Oh.“ Jesse replied dumbfounded. It surprised him every time when they were out on missions how little they actually knew about the outside world. They continued to walk for a while, pointing to more houses and asking Eida if they were hers. They reached a fireplace which was surrounded by beautifully painted benches and tree trunks. "This is the fireplace! Over there is my house!“ Eida squealed excitedly, scrambling out of Jesse‘s arms and running towards her door. The two troopers followed her, coming to a halt beside her. Eida had already knocked on the blue and yellow painted door, it had intricate swirls and circles painted onto the wood and there were purple bells hanging from the doorframe.

The girl hopped from one leg to another, when a Brunette woman, around the age of 24 opened the door. Her eyes widened immediately and she picked up Eida with a relieved sigh and held her close, stroking her hair. Kix and Jesse watched the pair, smiling. The woman looked back into the house and shouted, "Lillian! Eida‘s home!! She’s back!!“ while tears streamed down her smiling face. She turned back to the men, never letting go of her daughter and grinned, "I can’t thank you enough! We were worried sick! Thank you for bringing her back!“ Jesse stepped up to explain what happened, "Actually, Ma‘am, our Captain rescued her, not us. She was running into the forest and Commando droids followed her. Our Captain was shot, but he‘s fine now.“ He glanced over at the medic and Kix nodded.

In that moment, another woman with black, curly hair came running towards the door, and when Eida spotted her she squealed, "MOMMY!“ and practically jumped into her arms. Meanwhile, the Brunette woman extended her hand to the two men, who shook it gently. "I cannot express how grateful we are, my wife and I, we didn't want to believe she was..she didn't make it. Our two other children got hurt pretty bad, so we couldn’t leave them to go look for her yet! Please tell your Captain how thankful we are! If there’s anything we can do. "— "Thank you, Ma‘am, but it's our job. We’re glad the little one is safe now!“ Jesse replied. "Then… I'd like to at least thank your Captain personally. If it weren’t for him, She might not be… I don’t even want to think about it!“ The woman said, looking at the two soldiers with hopeful eyes.

Her wife came to stand next to her, putting her free arm around her while still holding the happy girl in her other arm. "I’d like that too! It's the least we could do." Lillian smiled. Jesse and Kix looked at each other, not sure if that was allowed and then they both shrugged and turned back to the family. "The Captain is in one of our shelters, he’s still healing, but I don’t think he would mind saying goodbye to Eida!“ Jesse replied while turning to gesture in the direction where the shelters were. "We should go now since we are leaving quite soon.“ Kix suggested, checking the time. The two women looked at each other, silently communicating. "I’ll come with you, my wife has to stay with the other kids.“ Lillian replied. The Brunette nodded, thanking the soldiers one last time and gave her daughter a pat on the head and her wife a kiss, then headed back inside when she heard their son cry.

*door closes*

– – –

The four were on their way back to the shelter. During their walk, they talked about the attack on the village and about the rescue of Eida. The two men found out that Lillian helped to fight off the droids while her wife tried to find all the village younglings and helped the injured. "That was very noble of you." Jesse respected her. They arrived at the shelter a few minutes later and went inside to discover it was way more empty than it was when Kix was last in there; most of the beds were empty and a few troopers were already starting to put away equipment and getting ready for pickup. To their left was Rex. He was sitting on his bed leaning against the wall behind him, reading a holopad.

When Eida spotted him she wiggled out of her mom's grasp and ran towards him, jumping onto his bed, to which he dropped the holopad; startled by the sudden movement. When he spotted Eida though, he smiled brightly.

"Hey there ad‘ika! Glad to see you’re okay!“ He said warmly, putting the holopad beside him on the table. "Yes! Your brothers brought me back to my home! That’s my mommy!“ She said excitedly, pointing to Lillian, who approached the bed. She extended her hand to the Captain, who took it and offered a small bow of his head. "Captain, you have our eternal gratitude. Without you, our daughter would've never made it home. Everything you and your troops have done to protect the village will never be forgotten." Lillian gestures to him and to the many men gathering their equipment with a soft, motherly smile on her face. The gratitude was gleaming brightly in her eyes like the hot orb of Helios. Rex felt warmth crawl up to his cheeks. Not many people thanked him for his work and his sacrifices, he'd accept awards, medals and even the Jaig eyes that now rested upon his helmet but they were definitely not like this. He looked at her and then at Eida.

"Uh–Thank you, Ma‘am. But this is our job, it’s what I was trained to do. I’m glad to know that the little one is safe!“ Rex smiled, trying to sound formal. The woman smiled back. "If there is anything you’ll ever need, our family will forever be in your debt.“ She replied sincerely. Rex looked at her and wanted to reply but figured it would be best to just simply nod in appreciation, so he did. They both smiled at Eida, who was playing with a bandage that she found at the edge of the bed, trying to neaten it up again. The three of them kept a light conversation for a few more minutes when a trooper in 212th colors approached Rex‘s bed and stood at attention.

"Sir, everything is being packed up and brought back to the ships, we‘re leaving at 01000“ He said, handing a datapad to the Captain. "Understood. Thank you. " Rex dismisses the trooper before reading the pad.

The trooper saluted, Eida watched the military gesture before he walked away to help with the packing. "Well, I guess I better get up, before they put me away along with the medical supplies.“ He joked, starting to get up. "And I think it's our time to leave, tell the Captain goodbye Eida.“ Lillian said to her child, who was looking up at Rex with big wet eyes. "Can you stay?“ Eida asked, tears welling up. *sighs* Rex wished he could. He didn’t want to hurt the child. Don't get attached. he thought, but he knew it was already too late.

He would definitely miss the little ad‘ika. "I… gotta go home, just like you did little one.“ Rex sighed. He couldn't give her the, "I'm a soldier and I have a duty" speech, she was too young to understand. But the one thing she definitely would never hear from him is the truth, that he was "a slave to the Republic and had no choice but to follow his Superior‘s orders". "Will you… will you come back? Please?“ the little one sniffled. Haar'chak! Why was this so difficult? It broke Rex’s heart. He would love to come back. But he knew he wouldn't live long enough to do so. "One day, I will. We'll see each other again, little one. Ok?" Was all he could say. It was a lie, he couldn’t promise anything. But he couldn’t bare to look at the child's eyes and see her heart break.

*sniffles*

Eida started to cry and crawled over to the Captain to hug him, trying to hold back her sniffles as good as possible. Rex was startled at this, he wasn’t used to hugs, but he smiled down at her and patted her head. "Ok." Eida responded with a sigh into his chest and smiled to herself, Rex's core felt warm; like something in his heart was budding, he's had this feeling before when he bonded with his brothers between battles and during cadet training on Kamino. It made him feel good, like he was just, happy.

Entrance of Corel Village

01000 (10:00 a.m. Larty pick-up)

The ships were fully loaded and ready for takeoff by the time 10 a.m. rolled around and all the villagers gathered at the front to say farewell. The Generals along with Commander Cody, Commander Tano and Captain Rex spoke with the Village Chief, saying their goodbyes. "Your village should be armed and prepared well enough. If they come back, we'll send assistance if able to. The Separatists are relentless.“ General Kenobi informed the Chief kindly. "Thank you, General Kenobi. Your help is much appreciated. If there is anything you should ever need, our village is forever in your debt." The Chief smiles, he offered the Generals' a small bow. The Jedi mirrored the gesture while the two Clone troopers stood at attention and saluted. Eida watched the military gesture from the crowd once again, she was surrounded by her family.

All the troopers lifted themselves up into the larties and looked down at the villagers. The younger villagers cheered and waved. Commander Ahsoka joined her crew in the 2nd larty with her Master. *engines starting* A few moments later, the ships lifted upwards into the sky, leaving the small village below. Force, I need to take a nap when I get back. The Captain looked out the open bay doors and stared at the ground below, the only thing he saw was a little figure running over to the empty ground where they had been, waving. "Goodbye! Goodbye Rex!" Eida screamed. Fives and the others chuckled and Jesse smiled, "Heyyy! Stay safe kid!" He yelled out, even though she might not have heard them.

Ahsoka elbowed Rex in the side. He turned to look at her and General Skywalker, "Looks like you made a friend Rex." Anakin grinned and Rex chuckled and waved back at Eida. She smiled and then lowered her hand to imitate the military salute, she memorized what the troopers did to each other. Her figure grew smaller and smaller, so far away as they lifted further away and her mothers' stood at the entrance with her siblings they were watching her. Rex smiled to himself. "Goodbye Ad'ika." And they were enveloped in darkness.

*Bay doors shut*

~Fin~

That's the end of the story!!! 🎊 *pauses* *leans over to listen to Captain* Oh. Oh! Really?! Well then, hold on folks, just wait. I just received word that there's a bonus!! Yes, you heard right, it's not quite over yet!

BONUS

Coruscant

2 weeks later

Clone troopers walked up and down the lowered ramp of the Resolute as they were docked on a durasteel platform. Everyone was moving around in patterns, hopping left and right and dodging each other when they almost collided and then they just continued on. The shinies were struggling to keep up with their ori’vod, they are more experienced in these kinds of pickups but the younger clones were not; so if they got in their way they basically got trampled. Used as doormats. Tup watches his older brothers speed walk down the long ramp and disappear into the crowd, he decided to stand next to the wall and wait till someone told him to join in and actually work. Jesse’s gaze scanned the entire pickup platform till his eyes landed on the infamous blue Jaig eyes of Captain Rex. Jesse walked up to him, as he got closer he saw that the Captain was inspecting the cargo, new supplies probably. “Sir, do you need any help with this?” Jesse asked, pointing to the shipment boxes. The Captain shot his brother a quick look and said “Yes, actually I was going to get someone to help anyways, your timing is perfect.”

“Great.” Jesse reached over and started to heave up a big, heavy crate from the transport ship and set it down outside next to the ramp. When he went back inside to pick up the next one he spotted a metal crate that had colorful splotches all over it. He read the label and said, “Hey, Rex! We got some new paint! Finally, our armor really needs some touch ups!” he lifted the crate and carried it outside as well. “It’s been a long time since you touched yours up, too. And it’s been ages since you added anything to it!” He mentioned and turned to the Captain.

Rex looked at him and picked up another crate. “I don’t really have time to worry about my armor Jesse.” he said, thinking this would dismiss the topic. “But what about adding something new, how about a little tribute to that girl on Corellia, what’s her name, uh..” “Eida." Rex said immediately, “Uh… that wouldn’t be appropriate for a Captain.” Rex added, walking back to the ship. Jesse followed him and said “Ah, come on Rex. We could give her a name...Cuyan! You could put that on there! It wouldn’t be obvious!” Jesse recommended. “Jesse, I said no. Now, help me unload this ship so we can get some rest.” Captain Rex replied, picking up another crate, leaving a frowning Jesse in the ship.

5 minutes later….

The clone troopers finished loading up the cargo and made their way back into the Resolute, some empty handed; specifically the shinies, and the older troopers were holding extra crates. Ahsoka and General Skywalker observed from the platform as their men worked and Ashoka helped from time to time but usually the men wanted to do it themselves. Either they were trying to show off to their fellow brothers or they just didn't want the Commander doing their job, Ahsoka insisted and she helped maybe 5 troopers with the work till she couldn’t find any others. “Well, that’s the last of it.” Jesse smiled at the crate he just lowered to the ground, “Guess we’re going to lift off sometime soon around dinner. Wanna join me in the mess?” Rex looked over at Jesse when he realized he was addressing him. “Oh, um, yes. After I undress and everything.” he nodded before heading towards the bay doors which led to a hallway.

*silence*

“Alright, spit it out.' Rex said, he knew Jesse wanted to say something, he just groaned in annoyance when he heard it, "I swear it wouldn't be a bad idea just to paint 'Cuyan' on your armo–" "I said no! Now drop it." Rex glared at him. Jesse raised both hands in surrender and shrugged, "Ok, fine fine." He gave the Captain a side glance before keeping up with him. Jesse exhaled and shook his head, "I'll probably just ask Kix if he'll want to do it with me then. You know, it would be nice because I don't want to be alone doing it." Jesse tried to guilt trip him. Rex just continued walking and contemplated the idea for a moment, "Yeahh, you should do that." Jesse did not guilt trip him at all, he failed.

Jesse raised an eyebrow and followed his Captain down another right turn. "Oh, and I'd like to see the design you plan with Kix. Yeah." Rex smiled and headed down a left hall towards the bunks. Jesse stood alone in the blanched, brightly lit hall and watched Rex continue forward until he disappeared around a corner. "Ok Cap. We'll see about that." Jesse smiled to himself and walked in the opposite direction towards the med-bay.

Back in his quarters, Rex unclipped his chest plate and pulled it off with ease, he's done it so many times it's like muscle memory. He had his own space and didn't sleep with anyone else, just him; but sometimes it got pretty lonely so most times he goes to the mess, the sparring room or shooting range. Anywhere where there were fellow brothers he could talk to, or he used the comm. *sighs* Rex left his armor on the bed and stepped into the shower in the next room over. A small bathroom meant for one person use only so here he was, privacy finally and no obnoxious vod'ikas. The shower turns on by a simple press of a button and hot water was sprayed out in consistent rainfall, the perfect pressure and temperature.

(Warning: Rex thirst inbound *panicking sounds*)

Rex groaned as the water got into the creases and crooks, loosening the tightness in the overworked muscles; he closed his eyes and relaxed as the water droplets dripped down his bleached hair softly and it just cascaded down upon his perfectly toned body and the water defined his well organized, worked out frame. It pretty much massaged his aching muscles, his lips parted as he inhaled deeply in relaxation. Rex slapped his palm onto the wall in front of him, closing his eyes and allowed the water to flow down the back and front of his neck. The sensation of the steamy water calms me, it just takes my mind off of things. His thoughts swirled, it was like he was standing under an everlasting waterfall. The steam lifted from the shower and floated around the room above, making the tiled floor gleam and the mirror fog up.

4 minutes later….

Rex stepped out of the shower wrapped in a white towel and made his way back into the bedroom, he shuffles on some fresh blacks and mosied on out of his bunk. He planned to go to the mess and eat something before heading up to the sparring room. A good plan for a good day. Rex walked further and further from his room until he was far from earshot. Out of the corner Jesse snuck his way around and chuckled before smashing in the code to Rex's room, how he got the codes? No one will ever know. Jesse looked over both his shoulders, making sure no one saw him before he went into the room, the door closing behind him with a *swoosh*. He looked around the room and he couldn’t remember ever being in Rex's bunk before. The room was illuminated by a light coming from the small desk; the bed was neatly made, just like the rest of the Captain's room and there was a dresser where his clothes were probably located. Jesse decided against snooping around because he didn’t want to further violate his brother's trust. He did however, spot three photos attached to the wall right over the pillow where Rex slept.

The first picture was of: Rex, General Skywalker and Commander Tano, after a battle, the second one showed Rex and a few of his brothers and Jesse could easily spot himself on the picture too. He smiled at that. The third picture showed no one, it was just a beautiful sunset; a purple sky dipped into a ray of orange and yellow, peaceful and it made Jesse feel warm just looking upon it. Jesse didn’t understand the last one though. Why would the Captain hang up a picture like that? He shrugged and picked up the chestplate from the neatly stacked pile of armor and put it on the desk before him. He eagerly puts down the paint and his brush, when he halted in his movements. Should he really do this? He and the Captain trusted each other with their lives and he didn’t want to break that trust. Jesse placed down the brush and picked up a piece of paper from a stack resting on the desk and a blue pen, and started writing. When he was done, he read it over again, smiled and sat down to start his brilliant plan.

— — —

The mess hall was loud, just like after every mission. Rex didn’t understand how his brothers could muster up the energy to be this loud after an exhausting mission. Must be all the adrenaline. He decided to block out the constant chatter and continued eating his ration bars. Rex never realized how hungry he really was until he started eating. It’s like his body pretends not to be hungry just so that he can stay focused. He was peacefully eating his meal when suddenly, three of his brothers slid onto the bench across from him. Hardcase, Kix and Jesse. Ah, here we go again…

Rex looked up at them, slightly annoyed that they disrupted his state of tranquility. They were all smiling like innocent angels. "Heya Captain!“ Hardcase said in a loud, excited voice. "Hello Hardcase." Rex answered in a normal monotone voice, continuing to eat his ration. When no one said anything else he raised his head again and asked, "How are you guys? I barely saw you the last few days. Except for Jesse. Everything's okay, I hope?“ The three troopers looked at each other and then back at the Captain again. "Yes, we’re fine, as usual. I'm sorry in advance if I am reading too much into this, but is everything alright with you, Sir? Because you don't look so fine yourself.“ Kix asked, looking at the Captain slightly worried. "Yes, I'm fine. Just very busy, nothing else.“ Rex replied, and when the trio still looked at him doubtfully, he gave them a slight smile. That seemed to sell it.

They all talked about the upcoming training and about other half–important things for a while. When the conversation shifted to an uncomfortable topic for the clone captain, he excused himself, got rid of his tray and headed back to his room. Jesse watched him leave and raised an eyebrow mixed with confusion and concern. When Rex exited the mess he felt eyes following him, but he decided not to turn around because he was way too exhausted to be bothered. Screw the sparring room. While walking he went over his mental checklist. He still needed to write a few reports and then he can finally go to bed. Rex reached his room at last and turned on the lights, scanning his room just like he always did; the Captain immediately noticed his chest plate resting on the desk—where he definitely didn’t put it—and walked up to it. Frowning, he spotted the piece of paper that was neatly placed over the piece of armor and he picked it up.

Sir,

Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your stuff. Just this chest piece. Since you weren’t going to paint your armor, I did it for you and look, you can thank me later. Hugs and butterfly kisses,

Jesse

P.S. I did look at the photos. I love you too, brother! :)

Rex rolled his eyes and started getting angry. What was this little di‘kut doing in my quarters? The next time I see him, I swear to all nine hells I– That's when Rex spotted the blue word painted on his chest piece, just above where the chest piece meets the stomach, 'Cuyan', was written in Aurabesh and looked to be very neatly done, with a few accents surrounding it. Rex wanted to be mad at Jesse for breaking into his quarters, and for vandalizing his armor, but all he could do was smile. He reached for the chestpiece and ran his thumb over the dried words.

The next day

0600 (6:00 a.m.)

The 501st was getting ready for duty. Everyone was in full armor already when their Captain stepped into the barracks. “Captain on deck!“ Someone shouted, and they all stood at attention simultaneously. “At ease, brothers.“ Rex replied, scanning the room for Jesse. He approached him immediately and Jesse was getting visibly tense. The Captain came to a halt in front of him and just when Jesse readied himself to get yelled at for breaking into the Captain’s quarters, Rex poked him in the chest once and said, “Don’t go into my quarters ever again, understood?“ He said it in a low but stern voice, Jesse looked up at his Ori’vod and he thought he was going to see a frown and eyes filled with disappointment but instead he saw the corners of the Captain’s mouth form into a smile. They looked at each other for a second, communicating without speaking, and Jesse said “Sir, yes, Sir.” and smirked.

Jesse was glad he didn’t get in trouble, he knew however Kix would reprimand him for it later but he wasn’t scared of him; until he gets his hands on a syringe. But Jesse was going to make sure he couldn’t find him for the rest of the day. All the troopers went on with their business. Carrying heavy loads around: crates, carts and machinery, they spoke with one another and quickly made way for incoming brothers who were carrying extremely heavy loads to the hangar bay. The sun was shining down on them again and the city in the distance was as beautiful as ever; hopefully they didn’t go back out into battle anytime soon and just stay here on Coruscant, where they were safe. But that was unlikely because they were soldiers.

Ahsoka waved from where she stood next to Anakin as Rex passed and he gestured back to them. Rex learned something during this commission and he was sure his brothers did too: that the ones you saved become your family in some way, they’re appreciative and never forget; especially the little ones, Eida will always remember the soldiers that saved her and her home. War has its ups and downs, negatives an all, but it can also have some positive things result from it as well. Rex passed Jesse and the boys and they all smirked at him. Captain Rex smiled back, gave a two fingered salute and they all grinned happily in response, especially Jesse. Mission accomplished, Jesse thought. Rex continued walking, he inhaled the lukewarm summer air, everything was the usual except for one thing; the Captain of the 501st seemed to be puffing out his chest more than usual, and some people even caught him smiling. What a strange thing to notice? Not something you see everyday.

The End.

Its over guys!! *falls to knees* It's finally overrrrr!! *voice echoes* This was such an amazing journey from start to finish and I just want to say, thank you for joining us! 💕💕 This was amazing and I loved every single minute of it and just.... *sniffles* My brain hurts though, just saying🤣 but anyways! THANK YOU for joining me @angelwars11 and my special Captain @colorfulloverbatturkey on this wonderful journey and I hope to see you again soon! (Not too soon though, cause I'm tired😵) Goodbye everyone!! 👋🏼👋🏼

The song down below is for y'all, this fucking story and my Captain @colorfulloverbatturkey 💕 because brahhh this is amazing and I can't say goodbye, so I'll see you again. Brah *cries* please like and comment, on this post and my partner's! And please please PLEASE reblog! Thank you all! Ok I'm actually leaving now, BYE! *teleports away*

29 notes · View notes

chocojjk · 6 years ago

Text

Eggs

summary: badboy! changbin if you squint

words: 7k

warnings: one mention of death by illness

a/n: this took way too long cause i got so lazy lmfao, slide into my inbox with prompts cause idk what to write after this

not edited per usual, im lazy :(((

you and changbin lived in different worlds

changbin has always been the schools most notorious bad boy

along with his group, 3racha

he was the typical bad boy -- gets into fights, wears leather, barely shows up to class, etc.

after watching countless of rom-coms, you and i, reader, should know that bad boys like to keep to themselves

and they won't bother you unless you cross their territory, not at all different from changbin

someone bullies one of his friends???

you might as well run now , because he will be coming for your ass

he catches you talking shit?

you should probably say goodbye to your mouth and have a doctors appointment ready

the point im trying to make is that seo changbin does not take shit from anyone

which doesn't really matter at this point because everyone has learned to fear him

on the other hand, you're, what they say is a “good girl”

too caught up with your books and your grades, in the library 24/7, worrying too much about the future you envision

you stayed away from drama as much as possible, happy with the 2-3 friends that you have

and,,,

well,,,

you probably saw this coming,, but just in case you didnt, ill say it

your two different worlds are about to collide

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

youve been searching for a little over 20 minutes to where he could be when you finally spotted him at the table all way in the back of the library

you let out the deepest sigh, you shouldve figured he would choose that table jfc

‘he really is sticking to his reputation’ you think to yourself as you made your way over to him

“hi, im y/n, i'm your tutor,” you say, giving him a soft smile

changbin doesn't even bother to reply to you as he got up and left

you were left standing there like,,,

what the fuck just happened ??

before you finally snapped out of your confused trance and chased after him

catching up to him you grab his arm, putting a complete halt to his movement

and suddenly the library was even quieter than it should be

every single eye in the room focused on the interaction that lies in front of them

the notorious bad boy and the goody two shoes,,, how incredibly cliche

he looks at you, his eyes dark and unreadable

the expression on his face was emotionless yet it felt like he was crushing you under his stare

finally noticing that your hand was still gripped around his arm, you quickly let go, letting out a small “ehem”

the tension in the air was thick, it felt like someone just put a dark cloud above your head and you couldn’t blow it away

god damn this was awkward

not even the good awkward where you can laugh about it later, this is the kind of awkward situation that hits you in the middle of the night and suddenly you're just cringing at every bad thing you have done in the past

“uhm, im suppose to tutor you,” you try to say confidently as soon as you found your voice, but really it was barely above a whisper

“maybe show up on time,” he says, his voice as dark and as strong as his aura

and with one final look at you, he walked out of there

you didnt bother anymore, you knew you were at fault

‘we’ll try again tomorrow,’ you think to yourself before your best friend, hyunjin walked up to you, pulling you outside the library

“dude are you okay?”

“uhmm, why wouldn’t i be?”

“i just saw you talking to changbin”

“ok and ?”

“he’s bad news y/n,” your best friend says, warning you

“ i dont really have a choice hyunjin” you reply

you think back to 3 days ago when you were called to the principal's office

not gonna lie, you were shaking in your boots,, only bad kids get randomly sent to the principal's office

as you entered the room, Mrs. Seo was already waiting for you behind her desk

“hi ms. l/n, i dont think weve formally met,” she says, reaching out to shake your hand

“ its nice to meet you”

“ please, sit down, make yourself comfortable,” she continued, pointing to the seat right in front of her

sensing your nervousness she quickly added a, “don't worry, you're not in trouble”

phew

your brain was starting to hurt from trying to rack what you must have done wrong to be seated in the big office

“ why am i here then if you don't mind me asking?”

“ ah yes, i need you to tutor my son”

,,,,,

(◎_◎;)

,,,

“umm, why me?”

“you're top 1 in the class, is there anyone better than you to do it?”

well,,, she wasn't wrong

you mentally pat yourself at the back for this, happy that your efforts were being noticed

“don't worry ms. l/n, if you succeed, i’ll make sure you get into any college that you desire “

‘pshhhh, im top 1 ms seo, i can do that on my own’ you think to yourself

“....and fully paid for.”

well, shit , how can you say no to that offer

its literally free education right in your fingertips

what's the catch??

“ you can do that?” you ask

“ of course. i know very important people. so what do you say?”

and after a few minutes of contemplating within yourself, you finally agreed

“ also, while you're at it, i want you to change my son's reputation.”

and there it is

“ i'm sorry?” you reply,, maybe you just misheard the fact that she literally asked you to change her son

“ i don't just want you to tutor him in english, i want you to make him a better person.”

“how do you expect me to do that?”

“be his friend. teach him the ways of life, i'm not always gonna be around to get him out of trouble. You're a smart girl ms. l/n you'll figure it out.”

without giving you a final say, she ushered you out of there but not before she added

“ one last thing ms. l/n, dont tell anyone about this.”

the way she said it was so scary, and its like a spell was casted on you and you could only utter out an

“ of course mam”

i guess from her standpoint, she made sense

“ i just dont understand why Mrs. Seo chose you out of all the people”

“ we’ve already gon over this hyunjin”

“ yeah yeah, its cause youre the smartest of the class-”

hyunjin continues to talk however you’ve tuned him out as your eyes went to focus on changbin, himself

greeting the rest of his friends, an actual smile on his face, much different from the changbin you encountered a couple minutes ago

he gets up on his motorcycle and was about ready to put his helmet on when he felt someone staring at him ( i told yall, tYpiCAl bad boy )

he whips his head around in quick search for the culprit

and for the second time that day, you found yourself looking in the dark brown eyes of the the one and only, seo changbin

his smile quickly disappearing once he found your eyes

putting on his helmet whilst still maintaining the eye contact, he quickly drove away and you can't help but continue to just watch his figure retreat to the size of a dot until he was completely away from your line of vision

the next day - friday

you were in the library, seated in the table changbin used the day before

unlike yesterday, you were there dummy early

exactly 30 minutes before the actual tutoring session

he wasn't going to get away this time

finally , the chair across from you gets occupied, a backpack loudly flopping its way unto the table

he doesn't say a word,

he doesn't even look at you

he just sits there, staring at the table between you guys

“uhm, i think we got on the wrong foot yesterday, im y/n”

you say, a wide smile on your face, trying to change the atmosphere

he scoffs at this

‘omyfuckinggod who does he think he is’

‘im gonna fucking murder this kid’

‘his mom was right when he said he needed to change’

as much as you wanted to just punch him in the face, you plastered a small smile on your face instead

“should we start?” you continue

“i guess”

for the next hour, you learn that changbin doesn’t even need tutoring

he was definitely smarter than he lead on

he knew the answer to every single question you asked and didnt even seem like he was trying

“uhmm, changbin can i ask you something?”

he just nods at you, urging you to go on

“are you failing your class on purpose?”

and with that he stands up, giving you a small smirk, “i think this session is over,”

“i-okay- i-i’ll see you on monday!” you say even though he was already a good 5 feet away from you

-----------

as you laid in your bed that night, you wondered why the boy chose to fail his class

but no matter what scenario you could think of, you just cant understand it

is this what privileged people do ?

they know that they can get away with anything so they dont even try ?

‘aish, why am i thinking about him,’

‘y/n stop it’

‘ahhhhh’

you tried forcing yourself to sleep, to completely shut off all thoughts

but damn that stupid smirk on his face just keeps reappearing

and with that you slapped your pillow unto your face, not at all excited for the days to come

saturday night - 9 pm

to be honest, you weren't the type to go out on a saturday night

however you stayed in bed the whole day binging your netflix shows that you completely forgot to run your errands

so now you're here, at the local supermarket, buying your weekly groceries

you may be asking why can't your parents just do it?

well,,,

you only live with your mom, and she was very busy running the night shift at the hospital + picking up extra shifts

so she's really never home

and when she is, she crashes right to sleep, exhausted from work

so ever since two years ago, when you turned 16, this has been the life that you were used to

you weren't complaining of course, she was only working to provide for you and your future

the least you could do is help around the house

after a good 7 minutes, you finally gathered everything that you needed

eggs, check

bread, check

peanut butter, check

a bag of hot cheetos,,,, check check and check

you nodded, proud of yourself for finishing it so fast and made your way to your car until a loud crash stops you from doing so

the next thing you know, you were being dragged into the alleyway

“1!!!!1111! I- get off of me,” you say thrashing and kicking, trying to get away

‘oh god, im gonna die tonight,’

‘if there is a god out there,, pls,,, not tonight’

‘i haven't finished my netflix series yet,, plssss’

however your thoughts were cut short when your captor whispered, “shhh, its changbin”

changbin??

chaNgbIN???

chANGBIN???

he finally turns you around, making you face him

“play along if you don't want to get hurt,”

and in one quick motion, his lips were on yours,,,

seo changbin was kissing you

your eyes open, stunned at what was happening

and then you noticed it...5 men walking around the area

and hoping that you've watched the right dramas, you pieced together what you think is happening

leading you to closing your eyes and kissing him back

which honestly caught changbin off guard, “good girls” dont react this way???

but he’d never let you know that, as he pulled you closer to him,

his arms snaking around your waist

your hands going around his neck, the grocery bag being forgotten

yall were full on making out now

too caught up with each other’s taste to even notice the 5 guys leaving

(((im really bad at writing these kinds of scenes jfc, this sounds awkward as hell pls just picture it)))

until finally after like 23823 years, you pulled away, trying to catch your breath

damn, that kiss was good

probably the best one you’ve ever had

what????

just cause you're a goody-two-shoes doesn't mean you haven't been kissed before okay,,, were not going THAT cliche

he slowly lets go of you, his eyes darting to the grocery bag on the ground

“your eggs are broken,” he says

“m-my eggs?”, you reply, still on cloud nine,

following his gaze, you snapped out of your daze

“oh, r-right, my eggs,” you say softly, a frown making its way upon your face

changbin grabs your hand, pulling you towards the grocery store

“what are you doing?”

as usual, he doesn’t reply

honestly, you should be used to this by now

he dashes around the supermarket

you were right behind him, trying to keep up with his fast paced speed

finally, he gets to his location, the egg aisle

“which one do you want?”

“what?”

“eggs, which one?” he replies

“uhm, you don't have to, i can ju-”

“i'm not doing this for you,” he replies, cutting you off

you looked at him , not knowing what he meant

‘if he wasn't doing it for me then who the fuck is he buying these eggs for, i don't see anyone else here’

sensing your dumbness he grabbed a carton of the most expensive eggs and made his way to the cashier, pulling you along

and you don't know why, or what has gotten into you, but all you could do was watch and follow

“here. were even now.” he says, before walking away, leaving you in front of the grocery store, holding a carton of eggs

monday

and now we’re back to the start of the week

which means another week of tutoring

as you waited for changbin to show up at the usual spot, you can’t help but think back to two nights ago

the feeling of his lips against yours all a distant memory yet at the same time, one that you could still remember clearly

“hey,” changbin says, breaking you out of your thoughts

“hi?” you reply, confused as to why he even greeted you in the first place

you guys do the usual, read a couple of flash cards, learn new words blah blah blah and all that boring crap that you learn in a high school English class

at one point you guys find yourself just sat in silence, and you can’t help but ask the question that’s been on your mind since Saturday night

“so who were those guys?”

“doesn’t concern you”

“uhm, the fact that you had your tongue down my mouth says otherwise,”

changbin was shocked, he wasn’t used to people responding to him the way you just did

don’t you know who he is???

he gives you one of his signature smirks, regaining his composure

“you liked my tongue being down your throat,” he says teasingly

o_O

＜(。_。)＞

excuse me what

is he flirting with you ??

what’s happening ??

“who said I did?” you say mimicking his tone, not allowing yourself to back down of this conversation

after Saturday night you told yourself that you were never going to just watch and follow

if you didn’t want the damn egg, you should’ve said something, you were so disappointed in yourself

you had your own brain, you can make your own decisions

besides you were here to be in control over him, not the other way around

“oh cmon, you’re really gonna try to refute it??” he says, the stupid smirk still evident on his stupid face

god, how you wish you could just smack it off

with your mouth

wait, who said that???

“you enjoyed it just as much as I did,” you say, knowing that if you answer then he would stop

and you were right, he completely shut his mouth and let the silence envelop you once again

“they were kids from another school,”

you look up at him, shocked that he actually answered

“why were they looking for you?”

“I may have keyed their car,” he says chuckling

“Because?”

“Isn’t that enough questions y/n?”

y/n

that was the first time he’s ever said your name

and you weren’t gonna lie, you liked how it sounded

“sorry”

“it’s fine”

“i don’t want to question it but why are you being so nice?”

“you helped me out without questioning me which means you trust me. im just returning the favor.”

“so, what im hearing is , you trust me?”

<(￣︶￣)>

“don’t make me have to say it out loud”

trust

you don’t know how you did it so quickly,

maybe the gods are at your side, but you finally got thE seo changbin to trust you

2 weeks later

you’ve been tutoring changbin just the same

same time

same table

same library

however, so much has changed

mostly the dynamic of your guys’ relationship

it was like he was a totally different person

like I said before, changbin was smart

but in these last couple of days, you realized just how smart he actually was,

he can honestly probably give you a run for your money

and because of this, your past tutoring sessions have ended up with you guys just laughing and joking around

weird, right ?

changbin and laughing ?

who would’ve thought ??

even onlookers were surprised

and everytime changbin laughed at one of your guys’ silly antics, you swear you can hear a pin drop

the whole room just becomes silent

at first, it bothered you how people were just listening in to your conversation, obviously judging the scene

but as the days went by and it seemed that changbin could care less, you started not caring either

and if you were being completely honest, you looked forward to spending time with him

when changbin was with you, it was just you and changbin, nothing else

he somehow manages to make you forget about reality

“lets ditch tutoring sessions today,” he says as soon as he took the seat next to you

“changbin, no”

“c’mon y/n, live a little”

“excuse you! I do have a life!”

“making out with your homework and watching Netflix shows 24/7 is not a life”

“okAy, now you’re just being mean,” you say, pouting at him

“im not being mean, I’m being honest,”

“yeAH and?? no one asked for your honesty,”

changbin laughs at this

lately he found himself laughing more

and for once, he didn’t mind it

you were doing something to him

and he liked it

“cmon, I’m not taking no for an answer,” he says, packing up your things

you sigh in defeat

you know that once changbin sets his mind to something, there's no changing it

so here you are, standing in front of an abandoned music building

“uhhhh, what are we doing here?”

“have you ever trespassed before?” he replies, a smug smile on his face

“nu-uh nope, no way in hell changbin!” you say, your attempt to stop this from happening

however, changbin was already making his way towards the door, completely breaking the lock

aannnndd

he was inside

“c’mon y/n,” he says reaching out his hand to yours

even though all you need to do is take two steps forward and you're officially a criminal

you were scared shitless

what happens if you get caught omg

almost like he was reading your mind, he quickly says, “y/n, ive been here over a million times and ive never gotten caught,”

“i dont know changbin”

“hm, thats too bad, i wanted to share a secret with you,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice before he stepped out of the building and made his way towards his motorcycle

but of course,,,

you being a nosy bitch

“wait,”

“yes?”

“lets go inside”

you guys enter the building, the rooms getting darker and darker the deeper you go (this building is huge okAY)

if you weren't shitting your pants before, you definitely are now

an abandoned building???

and its dark???

youve seen this in every scary movie out there

it never goes well

“uhm changbin,” you whisper, as you guys continue to walk

“hm”

“i-um can i hold your hand? im scared and - actually you know what its fine its dumb you dont hav-”

but before you can even finish your sentence, his hand were already laced around yours, providing you the comfort and security that you were looking for

you shut your mouth after that, just letting changbin lead the way

passing by so many rooms, each one looking the same as the other, it was starting to feel like a maze

however , changbin seemed to know exactly where to go

‘I guess he has been here over a million times’ you thought to yourself

“were here,” he says, opening the door and letting go of your hands as he reached out for the lights

not gonna lie, you were missing the way his hand felt around yours but thats not the time to think about that

“a music room?” you asked, clearly puzzled

“yeah, you might not know this about me but i can spit barsss,” he says, letting out chuckle

“eyE”

“you dont believe me huh”

“absolutely not”

“ok, watch this”

and with that he entered the recording booth, of course not after he pressed a bunch of buttons

honestly , you have no idea what he’s doing

but as soon as he put the headphones on

*cue any 3racha song because im too indecisive to choose one*

he was,,

indeed,,,

spitting bars

you could not believe your ears

who the fuck is this

you stood there, stunned at the fact the he was rapping about real shit and not something stupid and meaningless (rip wow, she is meaNinGFUL to me okAY)

after he finished rapping, the room was absolute silent

changbin felt dumb, he thought you were gonna praise him but there you were not uttering a single word,

he need you to say something ,anything,, hell, you can even laugh

he’d prefer anything over the silence

he’s literally the ‘i just showed u my dick pls respond’ meme but its like ‘i showed u my talent pls validate me’

avoiding to make eye contact with you, he walks out of the recording booth

sitting on the couch against the wall, he finally breaks the silence

“so yeah, thats a song my friends and i wrote, its stupid-”

“its not stupid.” you say quickly

“oh?”

“since when where you into this?” you ask, curiosity filling your eyes, taking the seat right next to him

“what do you mean? music?? everyone’s into music y/n” changbin retorts, not wanting to go into detail

“hhhh, you know what i mean changbin,”

changbin doesnt know why

but he wanted to share this side of him with you

maybe because you were the first person that he has ever allowed himself to be close with

or maybe it was because you stuck around him for this long, no one, besides chan and jisung were able to do that

whatever it was, he wants to keep you by his side

he figured that showing you his true self would do just that

so after having a battle with his inner thoughts, he finally says

“my dad was really into this stuff, he taught me everything i know,” changbin beamed

“oh! thats really cool, do you still make music with him?” you say, genuinely interested, youve never really heard about his dad before

“uhmm, hes not really around for me to do that,”

aaaannd,,, thats why,, god reader smh

“oh, im sorry,” you say softly, mentally slapping yourself

“no its okay, you didnt know….he passed away when i was 11”

“what happened?,,,, y-you dont have to tell me if you dont want to,” you quickly added

“I want to,” changbin says, reassuring you

“he just,,, he just died in his sleep, apparently it was a stroke,” sighing, he looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back his tears

“you must miss him,” you say, your voice still soft

for the first time since youve met changbin, he resembled a piece of glass

so fragile

he was giving you a piece of him, letting you see clearly a part of who he was

and all you wanna do is make sure that you won’t break that piece

“he built this studio...wanted to start his own music company,” he continued as you sat there just listening to him

“my mom hates it though, she stopped funding this place as soon as she can,”

the mention of his mom suddenly brought you back to the deal that you have made 2 weeks ago

and god, you felt guilty

you were here, trying to change him, when nothing should be changed

sure seo changbin had a bad reputation but he is not bad

he’s just protective is all

to be honest, he was one of the kindest, gentlest soul you have met

“i promised myself that i would continue our dream, for him and me, but mostly for him,”

“i-is that why youre failing your classes?” you ask, everything finally piecing together

“huh?”

“you dont care about school because you already know what you want to do...where you want to be”

“hm, you truly are a smart girl y/n,” he says before nodding and flashing you a smile

those words

so similar to the ones his mom has given you

but this time you weren't in the mood to pat yourself in the back

because shit, this is thE dumbest thing you've ever done in your life

after hearing this, you made up your mind, you werent gonna partake in this deal anymore

if you were really as smart as everyone says, you can get into the school you want without any problem

sure it won't be free, but your mom aint working her ass off during her nightly shifts for nothing

and so, right when you go to school tomorrow, you were determined to end it

you’d still tutor changbin, you just won't accept any of the perks that came along with it

“thank you for sharing this with me,” you say genuinely, a smile creeping unto your face

“thank you for caring enough to listen,” changbin replies, his smile getting wider

and then it hits you,

“wait, so you mean to tell me that this is YOUR studio all along??”

and at this changbin lets out the loudest laugh

and you can't help but mirror his actions

1 week later

oof, that time jump, i thought you were gonna end it the next day reader

welp,,

you work hard, but somehow satan, aka the author, works harder

Mrs. Seo had to leave for two weeks, attending board meetings around the country, and whatever principals do,,, i'm too lazy to research what they actually do

╥﹏╥

and so you spent another week, with seo changbin by your side

one week down, another to go

and when that day comes, you can finally freely hang out with him without all the guilt eating you up

this week you guys even hung out outside of the library

you’ve been with him so much, even your friends have started to notice it

“y/n, are you coming with us to the movies,” felix asks

“oh,, umm sorry guys, i cant,”

“who else are you gonna be with? i thought we were your only friends,” minho pointed out, a pout on his face

“with changbin of course,” hyunjin hissed, obviously upset that you have been pushing them to the side

“ i can hang out with anyone that i want,” you argued, really not having any of his attitude

“ you shouldnt hang out with people like him,” hyunjin retorted

you scoffed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean blink once if youre being held captive” hyunjin joked, as the rest of the table snickered

however, you didn't find it funny,

who were they to talk about changbin like that??

they didnt even know him

and so you stood up, leaving all your friends calling out for you

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

walking to the table, you flopped down on your chair, slamming your backpack on the floor

“what's got you in such a bad mood?” changbin asks

“nothing,” you huffed, getting your materials out of your backpack

you didn't want to tell changbin that your best friends think hes the devil himself and didn't want you around him

meanwhile , changbin was annoyed

it seems like he's shared so much with you since the music room yet he still barely knows anything about you

he wondered that maybe you didn't want to be in his life the way he wanted to be in yours

but fuck it, he’s just gonna spend the time he has with you enjoying it rather than filling his mind with negative thoughts

but damn, you're frown was really bothering him

“y/n,” he says, calling out to you

no response

“y/n,” he continues, poking you on the elbow

still no response

“y/n”

You sigh, looking up at him, an emotionless expression on your face, you responded with a strong, “what.”

*insert changbin doing aegyo*

and with that , you lost it

you were an absolute madman

you never expected that the one and only seo changbin

notorious badboy

would ever do aegyo

all because you had a stupid frown on yourself

you laughed so loud

changbin doing the same as soon as your melodic laugh hit his ears

which resulted to you guys being kicked out of the library

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

“ i cant believe you got me kicked out of my favorite place,” you say, seated in a booth inside the ice cream parlor near your guys’ school

another one of changbins ideas

“ hey its not my fault you laugh like a hyena!” he says smiling before you threw a curled up paper tissue at his face

a couple of seconds later, after your laughter has died down

“ so, you want to tell me now why you were in such a sour mood?”

you knew that if you werent gonna tell him now that would still end up finding out about it from someone else

and so you came clean

“ its just my friends,,,, they dont think youre a good influence, wants me to stop hanging out with you” you say

“ oh,”

“ but dont worry!, i didnt listen to them, i actually told them off,” you confessed

“ why didnt you listen to them? theyve been your friends longer than youve known me?” he asks

“ because they dont know you” you reply, “and im sure if they did, they would also be friends with you”

as much as he appreciated the way you stood up for him, he didnt want you going through all that trouble

‘god, what did he even do to deserve an angel like you,’ changbin thinks to himself

“ don't tell them off next time,” he grunted

“ wh-what?”

“ everything they say about me is true”

“ changbin, no its not”

“ honestly y/n it doesnt bother me so dont let it bother you”

“ why doesnt it bother you?” you ask, wanting to know the reason

“ because its high school. after this, literally no one would care anymore. and then real life starts, people move on and worry about bigger things, things that actually matter more than the status quo. let them say what they say.”

and just like every other time, changbin has left you stunned

the arrival of Ms. Seo - tuesday

a week has passed since the ice cream parlor

and Ms. Seo was back in town

this was it

the day you finally put a halt to it

and you were beyond ready

you haven't seen changbin all day

you figured that since his mom was back then he was also back to avoiding the school like it was a plague

you entered Ms. Seos room, determined

“Ms. Seo -”

She puts a hand up to her lips, signaling you to be quiet

‘bitch omygod i literally cant keep doing this any longer,’

‘its already been over a month’

so you ignored her warning

“im not doing this deal anymore. I’ll still tutor changbin but I won’t change him,,,, and you can keep your stupid money,” you let out, releasing all the bottled up emotions

“is that all,”she replies

“yes”

“then you may leave”

what???

it was that easy????

you thought she was gonna stop you, force you to hold your end of the bargain

if you knew it would’ve been this easy then you wouldn’t have worried over it so much

but you don’t know a lot of things

and you certainly didnt know that changbin was on the other line

later that day

you’re seated in the library

usual place, usual time, waiting for the one and only seo changbin, yet he never showed

you didn’t think much of it

‘maybe he just forgot’ you tell yourself

the next day - wednesday

here you were again, waiting for him

still nothing

you try and think of reasons why he wouldn’t show up two days in a row and can really only think of one - maybe his mom told him that he didn’t need tutoring anymore?

but surely, he would tell you

right ???

sure you guys started off on the wrong foot but you were friends now

at least you thought so

you decided to just give him the benefit of the doubt

‘maybe he’s just busy’

2 days later - friday

you’ve tried everything you can do to get a hold of changbin

all your calls went straight to voicemail

texts were left on delivered

you didn’t even see him around school anymore

it was like your worlds never collided and he was never a part of yours

you were starting to get worried, what if he got himself into trouble

“look who decided to show her face,” hyunjin comments as you took the seat next to him

ever since the day you guys had your argument, you have never been able to talk to him about it

“im not in the mood,” you reply,

hyunjin sensing that you were exhausted,

“hey,” he says softly, “what’s wrong?”

“nothing”

“y/n please, we’ve been friends for over 3 years, you don’t need to lie to me”

“aren’t you mad at me?”

“no. im upset that you’ve been pushing us to the side for your little boy toy but im not mad,” he says giving you a soft smile

hhhhh, it was times like these you remember why he was your best friend

hyunjin was just so thoughtful, so caring

you return the smile he gave you as you pulled him in for a tight hug

“I’m sorry hyunjin”

“it’s okay, im sorry too, now tell me what’s wrong?”

“it’s just changbin-“

“I swear to god, if he even laid a finger on you he’s a dead man”

“no!” you say quickly putting an end to his assumption

“so what happened?” he asks, eyebrows going up in sheer curiosity

and then you told him

you told him about the deal with Ms. seo

about how your relationship with changbin changed along the way

how you ended the deal

and now we’re back to changbin and ignoring you

“damn, well have you tried actually going to him?”

“i wouldnt even know where -”

and then it hits you

the abandoned music building

“hyunjin, youre a genius!!!,” you say excitedly

“thanks, we been knew”

“ i have to go ill explain later, bye!!” you say, dashing out of there as fast as you could and made your way to the abandoned building

taking the bus there gave you time to reflect on everything that has happened this past couple month

how much your life has changed since changbin entered it

he pushed you to take risks, to live out of your comfort zone, to not care about other people’s opinions

he made you feel free

and most importantly, he made you happy

the good girl has fallen for the bad boy, i told yall this was gonna be cliche right?

continuing on

just as you expected, the door was open

the dark didnt even bother you anymore, the only thing in your mind was changbin

oh,, where could he be??

could you ever find your way into this maze of a building and retrace the steps that he took when he was by your side?

as you got deeper and deeper into the building, you feel yourself start to get lost

‘fuck i already saw this door’

‘omg y/n did you really just walk in a circle’

and then you hear it

music, singing

your nightingale

you walk faster, desperate to get to the voice

and here you are now, face to face with the one and only, seo changbin

he stops singing as soon as he saw you walk in

“hey,” you whisper out yet he continued to just stand there, not uttering a single word

“your voice is really pretty, i didnt know you could sing!-”

“what do you want?” his voice, dark and firm just like the day you first met him

This caught you off guard

Did you do something wrong?

“Did i do something wrong?” you say, not aware that you have said your thoughts out loud

changbin chuckles but it was so uninviting, like he was taunting you

“ please, drop the act”

?????

“what?” you reply, completely confused

“ you dont like me ”

“ changbin, what?”

“ you're just like everyone else”

“ changbin i really dont understand pl-”

“ i shouldn't have trusted you.”

“ what?!??, no changbin, you can trust me! just tell me whats wrong!”

all the while, you guys were still talking with a glass between the two of you

ironic, since you felt like a wall has been planted around changbin and you cant reach him

“ you think i should change”

“ no”

“ what do you mean no? I heard you y/n! I heard what you told my mom, i heard about the stupid deal, the stupid money!”

(⊙…⊙,)

“ changbin, let me explain”

“ i know im known as the bad boy y/n, but you… youre even worse than me”

“ changbin.”

“ youre a monster”

and with hearing those words, the tears that you have been so desperately trying to keep just bursted out like a waterfall

changbin too, has let out his tears

and all we got now are two broken people who can clearly see each other yet are still on opposite sides of the glass

“ you're just like everyone out there that you have resented, you judged me by other people’s words, i thought- i thought that i can finally found someone i could open up to but you never even gave me chance from the beginning”

you let him talk without interrupting him

you deserved the ache you were feeling in your heart

everything he said was true

and with that he breaks down, straight to the floor, back against the wall, hugging his knees

and all you could do was watch, until you couldn't take it anymore

you finally entered the recording booth , taking a seat on the floor right next to him, mimicking his broken figure

“im sorry”

silence

you looked up at the ceiling as you sighed

he deserves an explanation

“ yes, i took the deal, but that's because i thought i needed it changbin. I may be smart, but financially my family isn't doing well. my mom already works extra shifts but it still won't be enough. my dad isnt even in the picture, i dont know where the hell he is”

and with this, changbins head slowly perks up, looking at you with his glass-like eyes, as you continued to stare at the ceiling

you were finally opening up to him

just like how he has been doing

“ i took the deal because, you’re right, i judged you, i was stupid and i never expected us to actually be friends, clearly i was wrong. you have taught me so much. you have pushed me into doing things i never thought i could do. you made me see the world in a different way.”

he’s still just listening to you when you finally took your eyes away from the ceiling and faced him

“ i understand if you dont want to see me anymore but i cant leave you knowing that i never got to say this,” you continue, afraid of the results that were about to come

“ what else are you hiding from me?” he says, but this time, he says it softly, the furious changbin that you have encountered just minutes ago was completely gone

“ i think im in love with you,” you say, quickly looking down, embarrassed at your confession

“ y/n look at me,”

“ i dont want to”

“ why?”

“ i know you're gonna break my heart”

“ you broke mine first,” and with that he lifted your chin up, making you look him straight into his eyes before kissing you

this kiss was different from your first one

it was slow but passionate, filled with all of the unsaid words between the two of you

your guys lips both slightly chapped from all the crying

yet his lips still felt like the softest pair against yours

pulling away, changbin leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed

yours were open though, taking the sight all in before you pulled away, wiping away his left over tears

“ god, were a mess,” he finally says out loud, before he pulled you in a tight hug

“ im sorry,” you say again

“ i’ll forgive you if you promise to continue tutoring me?”

“ what ?”

“ continue the deal, get the money”

“ changbin, i really don't want to do that”

“ i know you dont. but we have to finesse my mom somehow,” he says, bursting into a smile, clearly joking

…

“eYE,,, i cannot believe you right now! You can't be serious!”

“ but i am. go back into her office tell her you’ll continue it and get the money for your education.”

“changbin! stop joking! I already feel bad about it!”

“Okay fine i just like it when you tutor me okay, its kinda sexy” he says

playfully slapping him, you guys laugh, the tension in the air finally gone

“ you know if you didnt buy me those eggs, we wouldnt be here by now,” you say, a small smile on your face

“ hmm, and why?”

“ because those eggs were the first time i realized that the most notorious bad boy, the one and only Seo Changbin, can also be soft,”

“ do not use my name and soft in the same sentence ever again,”

“ what are you gonna do about it?” you reply, taunting him

and so

he pulled you into another kiss

and another

until a series of laughter coming from the both of you interrupted it

“im glad i bought you those eggs”

hhhhhhh this ending is so rushed and so bad i just didnt wanna leave it unfinished

ALSO IM SEEING STRAY KIDS BITCHES!!!!!,,,,,, MY SEAT HELLA FAR BUTS ITS OKAY BECAUSE ILL STILL BE THERE ╭(′▽`)╭(′▽`)╯

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