#one of the worst parts is I had excellent sleep for a week and now it’s gone

[theresistanceneverquits]

So I have chronic insomnia, and I have nightmares practically every night.

My best friend comes to stay with me for a weeklong sleepover and I had the best sleep of my life and only 2 mild nightmares total.

She left and now I’m back to horrid sleep.

HOW IS THIS FAIR

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with preggo wife #7. 5 Special where Joel DOES get you the dog

Decided Olive from the Esquire shoot will be Spoon because LOOK AT THAT PRECIOUS BABY

Notes: Joel's wifu is never not gonna be pregnant but hypothetically this is a snippet if Joel does decide to follow through after his promise in part 7. Again, not part of main timeline or series but would take place in future after the baby is born:

- - - -

Flash forward after your pregnancy, when your healthy little girl is already over one-year-old and Joel can just now barely trust Tommy to babysit her without assistance …

True to his word, Joel brings you to the local pound. You bounce giddily in the passenger seat of the truck with more energy than you’ve had in the last 18 months.

"Ya know, you're almost more excited to get a dog than when we brought our own baby home."

"Gee I wonder if it had anything to do with a 9 hour labor and then splitting my vagina apart, not sleeping for 3 days and then having to wear a pad the size of Africa as she cried the entire ride home?"

He shivers at the thought, remembering how your temper due to sleep deprivation was at its worst yet. "Yeah. Yeah good point."

 You both peruse through the sad, shaking little animals behind the serilized gates, and you almost want to burst into tears and leave. But he takes your hand and you both listen closely as the handler explains each story. How they were rescued, their recovery stories, certain needs and comforts, whether they’d be comfortable with children.

You find one who’s chipper to have an audience today, eagerly sniffing you through the gate and wagging his tail.

“Oh, Joel!”

Joel glances at the clipboard on his cage, noting the name: Tommy. 

“Hell no.”

“Oh come on, he’s perfect! Already part of the family!”

“Aint letting a dog named after my brother lick your face, hump your leg, and steal you away from me every night. No way.”

The handler comes over and apologies: “Tommy actually already has a family coming to pick him up tomorrow, so he’s not available.”

“Ha!” Joel puts his hands on his hips with a sassy head tilt. “Good—for the dog of course,” he adds to the annoyed handler.

 Then Joel finds an anxious little dog whos previous owner had died with no one to look after her. You two sit in the room for a while, quiet and calm and patient until the mut finds the courage, tail tucked between her legs, to rest her chin on your knee. You come in and visit Spoon, as she's appropriately named given how much she likes to conform to your leg and rest, every day for the week before you're absolutely sure she's coming home. And just like that, you two adopt her into the Miller house.

At first Spoon isn't sure of the new home, and especially unsure of the interesting smells coming from the small human in the crib but eventually she quietly relaxes.

Joel was pretty quick to establish rules that would be absolute BS.

"No dog on the couch" well that went out the window week 1. "No dog on the bed" yeah fuck that by week 3. "No food of the plate" bitch you JUST saw him give her the rest of his lasagna.

You had to scold him about giving her too much shit food for her health.

By week four, you started to notice that Spoon is taking a real liking to Joel.

More than she likes you. And Joel is eating it up. Belly rubs, cuddles, even training responses are better suited with Joel than with you. Spoon pretty much only comes to you when she feels like it, never when called. Never sits for you. She's sweet, but pretty much ignores you. And it's kinda fucking--upsetting that your dog is stealing your mans.

Until you find out the dog speaks Spanish.

"That's not fair!" You shout to Joel as Spoon excellently heeds and sits to Joel's every command, tail whipping excitedly with each praise--all in Spanish.

"Its not my fault, honey."

"You KNEW"

"How would I have known?"

Ok, fair point.

And you're kinda pissed but it's so adorable watching Joel really love and train this dog--basically everything he said he wouldn't do cuz it was supposed to be "your" dog.

And while you were scared to introduce her to the baby, Spoon acted like a pro--extremely gentle, happy tamed wags as her big head and wide eyes perched on her petite feet and watched with curious quiet eyes for hours as she slept soundly. She adapted to true guard duty better than even Joel, especially when you would breastfeed, or burp her, or just sway her in your arms. Spoon watched and kept a tight perimeter that not even Joel could intercept when it was Baby duty.

Then one day on her own, while you're reading a book on the couch, Spoon drags her body over and rests on your lap. Always looks at you, presses her snout into your stomach and lies there for hours. And it's so cute, until she's preventing Joel from coming close to you, growling protectively, and keeps being a guard dog for you whether the baby was there or not.

"The hell is wrong with her?" Joel asks, being shoved off to the less-than-deseriable side of the couch.

You shrug and stroke Spoon's ears.

It's not until you go to the doctor with woozy symptoms and an upset stomach that you figure out why Spoon's behavior towards you changed:

You're pregnant again.

--

Series Masterlist

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[redux-iterum]

Salute to a Brief, Precious Companion

I just came home from the vet. If you missed the notice on Friday, Rocky has been euthanized due to failing health. I'm a little bit of a mess right now, so apologies if this post isn't coherent or it's overly-emotional. I just feel I should pay my respects and tell you all Rocky's story. Be prepared. This is a long one.

This was Rocky. Nicknames included Wocky, Rocky-Pocky, Rockadocious, and Little Man. He was an incredibly sweet and incredibly skinny critter who somehow even Jupiter outsized. I only had him for 7 or 8 months, but what lovely months they were.

Rocky came to me from a horrible situation - someone who is technically part of the family (and do I dearly wish they weren't) is one of the worst pet owners I've ever seen in my life, and he regrettably had Rocky for over 10 years. That is, 10 years trapped in a single room with a connected bathroom where his rarely-cleaned litterbox (singular, shared with multiple cats) was located. He didn't have anything: no comfort, no entertainment, pellets that could barely pass for cat food, and no attention. This was supposedly to save him from a dog that had a habit of killing every small animal it came across, but once that dog died, as did Rocky's companions, he still wasn't allowed out of that room because the idiot didn't want cat fur all over his furniture. Mind you, his dishes in the pantries had dust all over them, if that tells you how he lives his life.

Anyway, a relative of his called me and begged me to take Rocky, being unable to stand his solitude and wails for affection any time she went to that house. I wasn't looking for another cat at the time, but I agreed, on the condition that the former owner pay for the initial vet visits and whatever treatments were needed. Rocky was very visibly unwell when I saw him - underweight, crooked-backed and smelling of sickness. I never had a high opinion of his owner in the first place, but as time went on and I saw the effects of Rocky's ailments and the consequences of him never seeing a vet in those 10 years... well. If murder was legal.

Rocky's first 2 weeks in my house were disastrous. He attacked Moses, Jupiter and Moonshine any time he saw them, had no idea that he wasn't allowed to just pee wherever he wanted, and was frightened and confused by toys. It took several months for him to understand the concept of batting a ball around for fun, and he never did fully get that sleeping on a soft pile of blankets is much nicer than a hard table. I was extremely close to seeking out another home for him, certain that this wasn't going to work and I had just ruined the energy of the house for my other poor cats.

But somehow, Rocky turned around! He realized the other cats weren't a threat to him (all three of them are excellent at handling tense situations with fellow felines, and they never struck back or hissed at him during his rampage), and started seeking them out for companionship. Of course, it had been a few years since he'd seen another living cat, and he'd kind of ruined his initial impression on them with his poor behavior, so it took a while for them to fully relax around him. He and Jupiter very quickly were forced to become friends as both of them wanted on my lap at all times and weren't willing to give up their seat to each other. They eventually sought each other out and would sleep together even without me being there.

Rocky practiced being friendly on Jupiter, including grooming him. Amusingly, Rocky didn't quite remember how to groom another cat, so he ended up licking the fur the wrong way and getting Jupiter all slobbery, like a dog had licked his head. Jupiter never minded, purring along and letting Rocky do his thing.

Moonshine was more hesitant to let Rocky sit on her or curl up by her, but Moonshine's never held a grudge in her life and conceded towards the latter third of our time with him.

Moses...

Well, y'all know Moses. He was just as grumpy with this other old man as he is with everyone else. Though interestingly, over this weekend, he was unusually kind to Rocky, and actively laid down next to him and let Rocky touch him.

In fact, everyone was extra nice this weekend. I suspect they knew something was up from my energy and mood. They were sticking close to me as well.

As Rocky got more comfortable in the house, he really showed his personality. He followed me around everywhere, couldn't force out a loud meow if his life depended on it, wanted on my lap at all times (making up for a decade of loneliness, I guess), and demonstrated a sweetness and cheerfulness that couldn't be beat. He was, by far, the best at taking medicine that I have ever experienced with a pet. He would swallow his pills with no struggle and allowed me to give him shots of vitamins without so much as a twitch. It's extra-impressive for how long he went without those things. Really, his only fault was that he would have accidents around the house - everything else about him was wonderful.

I knew he was a hospice case when I took him in. He was sick and old; he wasn't long for this world, whatever I did. I still feel like I failed him for only giving him half a year of a comfortable, happy life compared to the decade of misery he experienced. Everyone tells me that it's quality over quantity, and that he got to live a wonderful last bit, and I should be proud of that. I hear them. But my friends can attest that I've spent the last two weeks kicking a tantrum about how unfair it is that he didn't get more time with me. I won't pretend I'm the very best pet owner in the whole wide world, but god knows I'm at least better than his previous owner, and I provided everything I had, whatever it costed. I felt like I owed Rocky at least a year of joy and love, and he didn't even get that. It's not fair. It's just not fair.

It's amazing how attached you can get to an animal you know will die soon.

Rocky's ashes will be coming to me in a couple weeks. He'll join the rest of my pets on my desk, and that way he'll stay with me. I'm grateful that he got to fall asleep in my arms and that his pain and weakness is over. Wherever he is, he's comfortable.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you, Rocky. You deserved the world.

[ladytesla]

The Great Faerun Baking Show (Part one of possibly more)

Intelligence is knowing a tomato is a fruit.  Wisdom is knowing not to put ketchup in a profiterole.  Dexterity is crafting a croquembouche out of red craquelin-encrusted ketchup-filled profiteroles.  Strength is carrying that croquembouche from your bench to the judge’s table.  Constitution is being able to withstand the pressure of having your tomato croquembouche being judged by Prue Leith.  Charisma is trying to convince Paul Hollywood that your tomato croquembouche was a completely logical idea.

Twelve new bakers have been chosen to enter the tent.  Over the next ten weeks, they will face 30 brand new challenges.  Every aspect of their baking will be scrutinized and put up to the scrutiny of Prue and Paul.  Each week one will rise to become Star Baker, and whoever crumbles to the pressure will be sent home.  But who will go on to win the Great Faerun Baking Show?

I came up with this horrible idea so now I’m inflicting it on all of you.  May the gods have mercy on your souls.  So here’s how this odd little imagine is going to work.  I have no idea what’s going to happen.  I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone, and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win.  The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home. I’m going to write this in short form, but if this gets a lot of traction I might make this a full-scale fanfiction with shenanigans on like AO3 or something.

Our bakers are 6 men and 6 women.  I put all romanceable companions, Jaheira and Minsc, Dammon because he’s wonderful, and because I’m making the rules here, my tav Medora. If you’d rather not deal with someone else’s tav, just pretend it’s Alfira since they’re both female bards. If you're interested in seeing what my sleep-deprived mind came up with one night, read on!

Week One: Cake Week, or "why did you think putting literal blood in a cake was a good idea"

Signature Challenge: Swiss Roll Cake

Astarion: Dark chocolate and blood orange.  It cracked a little on the top, but it tasted quite nice.

Dammon: Apple pie.  Surprisingly for a blacksmith who works with heavy-duty equipment he’s really good at making small, delicate things.  It had a tiny lattice top in royal icing like a real apple pie would.  It tasted excellent. 

Gale: He wanted something unusual and colorful, so he went with ube.  He wanted to use magic to make it float or change color, but was told that was against the rules.  It’s okay though, It was still really nice, and beautifully presented.

Halsin: Wild blueberry and honey.  He harvested the honey himself, and was proud to say so.  Unfortunately he used sugar instead of salt because he got distracted by some ducks walking by outside the tent, and it tasted awful.

Jaheira: Chocolate and peanut butter.  It’s flavors her kids like.  Unfortunately Paul seems to always have issues with peanut butter and how it glues his mouth shut.  He wasn’t as big a fan of the cake as Prue was.

Karlach: S’mores swiss roll with toasted marshmallows on top.  She toasted the marshmallows a bit too much, but that’s part of the charm of s’mores.  She’s not sorry.

Lae’zel: Matcha and black sesame.  Interesting flavor choices, but not as well-executed as the judges would have liked.

Medora: Lemon meringue.  The meringue was very poorly executed, the lemon curd squished out of the sides of the cake, and the cake itself cracked horribly.

Minsc: Chai swiss roll.  The swiss roll wasn’t as tight as it should have been, but the flavors were lovely.

Minthara: Chocolate and whiskey swiss roll.  Accompanied by shots of whiskey, in an attempt to bribe the judges.

Shadowheart: Cookies and cream swiss roll, with a neat half and half black and white design.  It wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but she managed to cover up some of the worst sins with strategically-placed oreos.

Wyll: Red velvet. A classic flavor for a classic guy, and executed almost perfectly.

Technical Challenge: Cherry Cake

Bakers will be listed in descending order of success.

Karlach

Lae’zel

Minsc

Jaheira and Shadowheart tied, actually.  You decide who gets fourth.

Either Shadowheart or Jaheira, depending on who’s your least favorite lol

Medora

Halsin

Wyll and Gale also tied.  Pick your favorite.

Gale or Wyll

Astarion

Dammon

Minthara

Showstopper Challenge: Chocolate Celebration Cake

Astarion: Tiers are lopsided and the texture is claggy, but he did his best to charm the judges and distract them.

Dammon: Not as successful as his signature round, but his piping work was surprisingly delicate.

Gale: Attempted to make a chocolate tribute to Mystra.  The sculptural aspect was lacking, but he was one of the few contestants to use ruby chocolate, which was unique.

Halsin: Used even more foraged berries on a white chocolate cake.  Very successful.

Jaheira: Dropped her cake before she could finish decorating it.  Could not be judged.

Karlach: Put in some cinnamon and chili to make a Mexican hot chocolate cake.  Very nice.

Lae’zel: No one knows what dimension that chocolate came from, only that it was amazing.  She got a Hollywood Handshake.

Medora: Finally seemed to get with the program and baked a lovely triple-chocolate cake.

Minsc: Despite him not having hair, Boo drove him like it was a scene from Ratatouille and created chocolate perfection.  Hollywood Handshakes for both of them.

Minthara: Her cake was very dry and didn’t have enough frosting.

Shadowheart: Insisted her cake be colored black with activated charcoal and got it everywhere.

Wyll: Tried to go for a classic again, and did well, but the judges wondered if he played it too safe.

The Results

Our star baker this week with a total score of 49/60 is: Karlach!

And unfortunately due to her total score of 18/60, Minthara is the first to leave the tent.

And that concludes Cake Week!

Biscuit Week

Bread Week

Pies and Tarts Week

Underdark Week

[wishingicouldfly]

Favorite Fics 2023

Happy 2024! I always have a hard time narrowing down my favorites. A few stats this year, I read 155 fics (according to my admittedly not 100% correct database), and it's low because I've been watching LGBTQ+ media and reading less. I had 50+ fics that I rated 5/5, so narrowing down to 14 was me cutting out shorts, holiday fics, and rereads. These are in no particular order.

All is now Harmed by Fondleeds

It's still that dreamy kind of dark, nothing seeming real, but he knows that it's time to go, to whistle for Pippa and eat whatever he's got left in the fridge and start the drive down to Molly's. He can't seem to open the door. Maybe he doesn't want to face it, this new thing. Having Louis here feels like a betrayal. Harry tries not to think about what his Dad would have to say if he saw the journo sleeping on their pull-out, here to shake a settled sheet and watch the dust fly again. - AU. Harry's a farmer, Louis writes for The Age, and it hasn't rained in the Bourke Shire for six years.

Why I Like It: This is Excellent, but after 123K words, it's a WIP. Unfinished since May 2022, but that said, the writing is gorgeous, and I think that alone makes it worth the read.

2. Angels Fly by LilyBlue28

Harry is a lonely omega in the North Western White River Pack who is uncharacteristically drawn to nature and his now outdated primal instincts. He fills his days with going through the motions and clinging to the one actual friendship he has in the omega Zayn, and when he gets a chance he sneaks away to the edge of their territory to sit with the trees and the wildlife and sketch his favorite part of the river. But what happens when one day he spots the pack alpha, Louis, having an intimate moment with something, or someone, unexpected? Suddenly his quiet, nearly invisible existence gets upended, and secrets he never wanted to know quite literally won't leave him alone, and even when he tries to stay away, he keeps being pulled back into Louis' turbulent orbit. A magical love story featuring a generations long grudge, a menacing curse, and secrets that keep pulling them apart. Will they be able to find a way back to one another through the dark?

Why I Like It: Really integrated plot, soul mates/wolf story. ABO, but more wolf than human. Very involved plot. Well done.

3. Be There by mission2feelike

Niall sits down dramatically, arms flopping to his side before he leans forward and looks right into Harry's eyes. "So, your ex-boyfriend, who broke your heart four years ago, is coming to stay at your house for six weeks? And his daughter, your daughter, is coming to stay tonight?"

Harry nods, worried if he speaks, he'll be yelled at again, but then Niall's face softens, his ever-present smile is back and Harry hears him breathe out a small chuckle. "Okay, for the record, I think this is the worst idea you've ever had, but how can we help?" or The one where their family has been torn apart and their hearts broken, but an accident, a snowstorm, cinnamon rolls, and the adorable Josie force Louis and Harry to finally face the truth, and each other.

Why I Like It: Harry and Louis take custody of Lottie's baby, but Louis breaks H's heart by sending him away. pining. kid fic. Harry is famous. Had some very lovely domestic moments, and some tear jerkers. Louis was a bit of a jerk at the beginning. Side of Ziam.

4. Butterfly Gun by Eravain - no link, this is off AO3, but DM me if you want me to share it with you, as I have a PDF.

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true. 1940's AU. Even after six years apart, they can't forget their shared wartime childhood.

Why I Like It: I loved this gem--childhood friends to lovers. Historical Fiction. Really well written.

5. Counterbalance by YesIsAWord

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis "Tommo" Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry's class.

Why I Like It: Pretty short but very effectively written story. Pacing was good. Loved the dichotomy of Harry as a ballerina and as a motorcycle driver. 

6. Danger I Can't Hide by CelticSky

"Don't," Tomlinson's voice was low, gravelled, hiding out in the night where only Styles could hear it. "Stop it. Calm down. You can't do anything." Styles' chest heaved. Tomlinson had him pinned against the wall, his forearm strong against his ribs. The night air crackled around them and all he could hear was the overlap of their breath, desperation, exquisite need and pain and desire and longing and lingering resistance. He couldn't take his eyes from Tomlinson's lips. The way they fell open to expel air against Harry's jaw. His tongue darting out to wet them between desperate words, making them glisten in what little light there was. His eyes were lidded and unseeing as he himself looked down to stare at Styles' mouth. ~~~ Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their ordinary lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. All too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their very freedom a certainty anymore. Until they found each other. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Why I Like It: Amazing. Research into WW2 and what it was like to be queer and hiding a relationship. loved the love story, but also the human side of the war. Very well told.

7. Have Love, Will Travel by Kingsofeverything

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there's something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

Why I Like It: super cute. Road Trip Larry. Lots of state parks, travel. Louis has a crush and of course they end up together.

8. Heading for Limbo by KingsofEverything

Childhood best friends who've fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis' family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it's been, it's as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more. When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it's all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn't the only thing between them. The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Why I Like It: I really liked this one. Slow burn, friends to not-friends, to lovers, to exes, to lovers. Word of caution, H has a gf for part of it, but it's a really nice slow awakening of his sexuality. TW for some angst/pining.

9. Glass Closets and Greenhouses by TiredTiredTz

Charlton Athletic defender Louis Tomlinson and worldwide sex symbol Harry Styles are rumoured to be hooking up after a viral video filmed at Harry’s Wembley show was posted online by Tommo’s twin sisters. Sources close to the pair tell us the couple have been dating for a while, with rumours of house hunting, marriage and even kids on the cards! Styles, 29, is as well known for his whirlwind love life as his chart-topping music. Most recently linked to British fashion designer Alex Millet-Sloan, Harry has stayed tight-lipped on rumours of any romantic rendezvous between himself and footballer Tomlinson, 31, yet fans online are convinced that all evidence points to #Tomlinstyles being the real deal.

Why I Like It: Could have been longer. A bit over the top meet cute w/ the twins setting them up, but over all well done. 

10. It's Fine to Fake it 'Til You Make ('Til It's True) by Sunflouwerhabit

Harry dreads an impending visit to his hometown, where he’ll be forced to reunite with a newly engaged ex-boyfriend, a childhood best friend turned near stranger, and a family who never understood just how desperately he needed to leave. In the midst of it all, a ludicrous Twitter proposition brings him to Louis.

Why I Like It: I loved this one. Super cute characters, a little bit of miscommunication, lovely, lovely boys. 

11. Like an Endless Summer by objectlesson - no link, I have this as an epub

Louis is an riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor wh he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two years. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’ formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Why I Like It: absolutely lovely. GREAT depiction of the uncertainty of a crush liking you. slow burn, but you see it coming the whole way. 

12. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by KingsofEverything

Louis' life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it'll never be the same.

Why I Like It: really liked this one. TW for cheating. Middle aged man in a loveless marriage realizes he's gay and falls in love with a co-worker. Could totally be a Hallmark movie.

13. Until the Pearls get Lost by LadyLondonderry

London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help. Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again. With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

Why I Like It: This felt like a fairy tale. Great writing. A bit left to the imagination. Almost werewolf-y. 

14. Write This Down by Sunflouwerhabit

"And Louis responds by kissing him. He closes his eyes and presses their lips together and hopes it’s enough to distract from how those words cut and extracted critical pieces of his heart, his soul. Louis kisses Harry to avoid sobbing, yelling, pleading, begging him to never, ever use words like always or never or I promise, because they can’t. They don’t have an always. Nevers will forever remain a mere dream. Time has run out for commitments or oaths or pledges and if Louis is going to be okay- if he’s going to enjoy this time with Harry and then let him go and still feel whole- he can’t let himself start thinking long term. He can’t let this become emotional; something more than silliness and fun and sex. He can’t hear Harry say he’s proud of him when he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see him again after this week. 'I miss you,' Harry murmurs, his breaths warm and equally shaky. 'All the time.' Louis kisses him harder."

Why I Like It: I really loved this contemporary romance. Lots of angst, boys being stupid thinking they are protecting each other by not communicating. But ultimately a lovely story. New favorite.

[lazywriter7]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week - Wonderous Wednesday

Strap in for some AU’s everybody! My favourite part of this theme might be that every fanfic is technically someone’s alternate universe, and boy does this ship have some absolute knockouts. one foot in (and one foot back) by kehinki

This isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to Tony, but it's in the top five.

Notes: This feels like one of the first soulmate AU’s I ever read for this ship, and a really formative one. Love the world building, the character progression, and there are a couple scenes that have stayed incredibly clear in my memory over the years of going back to it over and over again. Bulletproof by foxxcub At age fifteen, Steve Rogers had been in love with Tony Stark. By age twenty, he’d (mostly) gotten over it. And then he promptly became Tony Stark's fuck buddy. Notes: It takes real talent to keep the characterisation on-point and the magic alive in a no superpowers AU, but the world and its people is so richly depicted in this fic that it just feels true to Steve and Tony. An old favourite, and one I have much joy revisiting. 

Genesis by teaberryblue

Reluctant to make the truth about their secret weapon known, the American Government tells the world that Captain America is a man named Steve Rogers. According to public record, he died, tragically, in 1945, and he became legend.

In 1998, the Avengers find a body trapped in ice.

She's alive.

Her name is Eve.

She has Captain America's shield. Notes: Like the best kinds of AUs, Eve in this story is so beautifully and identifiably Steve but also different, in such a compelling way. Her journey into the modern world is itself worth the ‘price’ of entry, but then Tony enters the picture! Just love, love, love. The Ghosts of War by scifigrl47 Steven Rogers never wanted to be king, but he knows his duty, and he does it well. Lord Tony Stark, the king's appointed consort, does his duty as well, even though he'd enjoy his duty more if it actually involved sleeping with the king. As it doesn't, he's just resigned. The war that made Steve king and cost him nearly everything may be over, but a meeting of old enemies might stir up some ghosts none of them are prepared for. Notes: Ooh, kings and sorcerers, what’s not to love? I love how well each character here ‘slots’ into their designated role, and how we get some lovely superhero style identity porn but set in this world instead. And of course, both Steve and Tony are note-perfect. Big recommend! Counterpart by sara_holmes coun•ter•part [koun-ter-pahrt] [noun] 1. a person or thing closely resembling another, especially in function. 2. a copy; duplicate. 3. one of two parts that fit, complete, or complement one another.Just because Hydra used the DNA of a Captain America from another dimension to create a lab-grown, six-year-old super-soldier, it doesn't mean that said six-year old super-soldier is biologically Steve's, right?(Where Steve wants to ban Clint from bringing things home from alternative dimensions, until he doesn't.) Note: I love this fic’s take on accidental kid acquisition - Steve goes through so many understandably mixed feelings here. Steve and Tony are an established pair who navigate the trials as well as the rewards of parenthood, featuring an excellent supporting cast, and it’s just a lovely read overall. Slipping Off The Page Into Your Hands by Sineala Soulmates have their first words to each other written on their wrists. This should make it easy. For Steve and Tony, it is anything but. Steve's problem is that the future he has awoken into is nothing he was ever expecting: he has a soulmate now. Who might be a robot. And if his soulmate is Iron Man, how can he be so attracted to Tony Stark? It should be impossible. Tony's problem is that he is Iron Man, his soulmate is a man whom he in no way deserves, and he is going to fight everything in his heart and do his best to make sure Steve never, ever finds out the whole truth. Notes: Soulmate AU plus identity porn, oh my oh my :D This is just a rollicking ride with all the feels, pining, dumb decisions and sweet catharsis you could ever hope for. Man I love AUs so much. This Is My Least Favourite You by Kiyaar In Steve's fantasies, he never travels to the future because Tony never violates him. Tony never violates him because there are no incursions. There are no incursions because there are no Avengers. There are no Avengers and so there can be no love and no pain and no heartbreak. You can’t miss what you’ve never had. Notes: Look, I love canon divergence fix-its. Thrive on them. This is not that - this is when the only thing you can do with the twisted corpse of canon is make it much, much worse and then revel in the pain. Great writing, A+ pain, no regrets. Issues by  so_shhy In which Steve has a crippling crush on Tony Stark, Tony is oblivious and obnoxious, and Bucky expresses his disapproval via passive-aggressive comics. Notes: An absolutely delightful modern/no abilities AU in which Steve and Bucky write some comics featuring a superhero team called the Avengers, and Steve can’t help himself from... ahem, being a little too loving in his artistic depictions of Iron Man. So entertaining, I cackled multiple times, and Bucky’s outsider POV is particularly great. Looking for Heaven by  foxxcub

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done. Notes: This one’s another wonderful trip down nostalgia lane. Regency meets marriage of convenience, with all the trappings that premise would entail and a delight from start to finish. Not Such a Compromise by  Pookaseraph The death of her brother, Lt. James Barnes, has placed Miss Stephanie Rogers in the difficult position of needing to find a husband to see to it that her and her mother are taken care of. Miss Roger was not built for such a compromise, but perhaps Mr. Anthony Stark will not be such a compromise after all. Notes: Yes, it’s another Regency AU, what about it? :D Despite the trappings of gender and class, Stephanie remains so very Steve in how she moves through the world, and the premise enhances the miscommunication between the two, but in a way that is a joy to see resolved. Just a thoroughly enjoyable read. 99 problems (and the dice ain't one) by  kellifer_fic Tony's life is almost perfect. He lives in a converted warehouse full of friends (and one frenemy), has a job that leaves him plenty of time to think about other things and a regular Friday night campaign. If his best friend, Steve Rogers, hadn't moved away to New York and left him behind, then perfection would've been achieved. Tony can roll with the punches though and he's almost all the way over that little bump in the road (shut up Bruce, he totally is) when Steve moves back, looking taller and broader and more confident than ever and Tony's left with a converted warehouse full of friends (and one frenemy), a job that leaves him plenty of time to think about other things, a regular Friday night campaign and the uncomfortable realization that maybe he's in love with his best friend and has been since he was sixteen. Notes: I call this the sitcom AU if only because of the setup, but the general themes of Tony trying to cope with changes in his life and status quo are funny as well as really resonant to all those (us) who aren’t superheroes. And a fantastic ensemble to fill the world out <3 And that’s that. Shower all the authors with some love and well-deserved compliments!  

[zarvasace]

Oh yeah, I also wanted to know how/if Shadow has a place in the disability au. I think you mentioned him once and my brain has latched onto that fact

I did mention him, a couple times now, I think! (I'm Four Swords and Vidow trash, what can I say.)

Short answer: I haven't decided if or how he's around, though when he was back in manga-land, he did inherit some of Four's paraparesis, but Shadow literally levitates, so like... it didn't matter so much, to him.

Long answer: 617 words, gen, AO3 link here, less fluffy than usual (light angst), sign language indicated with single quotes and italics 'like this,' you know the drill

In Shadows

It isn't Warriors's turn for watch tonight, but Four notices him stay awake, even once Hyrule gets to sleep—the worst at bedtimes of them all. Once the fire burns down to embers, and everyone but Four is dreaming, Warriors stands up and picks his way over to where Four sits on the edge of camp. He takes a spot on the log next to Four, and the disparate heights of their seats mean that their heads are level with each other. 

Four waits a moment for Warriors to collect his thoughts. He obviously wants to say something private, but he doesn't seem to know how to start. One benefit of most everyone knowing sign language is the ability to have near-silent conversations. Four is the worst at signing, out of all of them except Hyrule, but he's an excellent speller, so they get by. 

"Is everything all right?" Four prompts. 

Warriors nods and raises his hands. 'I hope so.' He pauses, and Four waits. 'Earlier this week, you mentioned tragedy.' He fingerspells that word out. 'I know you're fine, I just want to make sure.' 

Ah, so that's what this is about. Four had wondered if anyone would bring this up again, he'd been holding bets inside his head about who'd be the first to do it and how. Currently, one red train of thought was very smug. 

All of Four knew what he wanted his reaction to this to be. 

"You sure you want to know? I'll be fine telling you, just you, but there's a lot of things I don't want everyone to know yet."

'I'm fine keeping secrets if you're fine telling them, it can help to have someone else who knows.' Warriors has nothing but sympathy on his face, and Four nods at him. He glances backwards, but doesn't notice anyone awake. The nighttime breeze carries along the sounds of leaves and insects. Stars burn brightly through the frame around the clearing. 

"Then listen closely, because this is only for you." Four leans in a little and does his best to use signs instead of spoken words where he can. 

He tells Warriors the whole story… almost. He doesn't go into detail about everything about the Four Sword, or say everything that Shadow did, good or bad. He does mention that the Four Sword divided him, and that one part loved Shadow, but didn't know it until the end. He tells the story factually and simply, not trying for sympathy or pity. Everyone has tragedies in their stories, and Four is no different. 

When Four deems the story finished for now, he and Warriors sit in silence for a few minutes, working through the feelings that the retelling brought up in them. 

Eventually, Warriors does raise his hands again. 'That is sad. I'm sorry.'

"Don't be. I've… okay, not all of me has gotten over it, but that doesn't mean it haunts my every waking moment. We all struggle with adventure things. I'm okay."

'I hope telling me helped a little, at least.'

Four considers, looking out at the dark forest around them. "Yeah, I think it did. Thanks for listening. And thanks in advance for keeping it quiet."

Warriors lets out a quiet snort at that. 'I'm here if you ever need to talk about it. With someone other than yourself.'

"I'll keep that in mind," Four laughs. "And same to you, you know."

'I know.'

After another calm minute, in which Warriors does not volunteer any tragic backstories of his own, Four reaches over to poke Warriors. "Now go to bed, Captain, before you get cranky."

'I'm never cranky,' Warriors protests, but stands up as ordered. 

"Sleep well."

'You, too, Four.'

[l4ndojpg]

Whumptober 2023, Day 25: Storm/Buried alive

fandom: succession | characters: roman roy, logan roy | ship: none | trigger warnings: detailed discussion of unspecified eating disorder | content: roman struggles with an eating disorder, logan is a terrible parent | word count: 824.

The worst part is, he’d been doing really well. 

Something about being the golden child for the first time in his life was making the world seem a whole lot more excellent than it used to. Kendall’s gone off the rails, Shiv keeps making terrible decisions, Connor thinks he’s gonna be the next president, and for once, Roman is the one their Dad is turning to with proud eyes for opinions on important matters. And this, for some reason, makes him want to live a little more. 

He’d been doing really fucking well. And then, as usual, he’d gone and fucked it all up. He shouldn’t be so surprised; it was always only going to be a matter of time. But he’d been living in a pleasant haze of success and pride, clouding his vision and making him feel like nothing could get to him. He had no idea just how good the taste of success in the eyes of his father could feel. But now that he knows, falling to rock bottom feels ten times worse than it ever did before. 

Dimly, as he lies on his living room couch while the hunger pains start to kick in, he wonders if this is how his siblings - mostly Ken, if he’s honest - feel all the time. Not exactly like this of course; they’re not, as far as he knows, food-phobic freaks that can’t eat their meals like normos - but there’s something about his dad being embarrassed by him again after the last few weeks of feeling like he could do no wrong that is like coming down from ecstasy. When Logan Roy turns to you with pride in his eyes, you are a king on top of the fucking world, but it doesn’t take long for reality to kick in, your crown to be yanked off of your head, and you to be right back where you started: the bottom. The storm you’ve been putting off begins to brew inside of you once more. 

__

They’d been out for dinner last night trying to woo a shareholder. No one major, but some bitch who counted for something; Logan had stressed the importance of it on the car ride over, but Roman hadn’t been paying too much attention. He’d been having one of those days where he felt uncomfortable in his skin for no good reason. Everything was buzzing and all he really wanted was a hot shower and some sleep. But he’d gotten busy, hadn’t eaten lunch, and was fucking hungry (oh, the irony). More importantly, his dad wanted him there. Roman still wasn’t used to this feeling of being wanted by Logan. He fucking relished in it, and he wasn’t about to let it go over some stupid anxiety he couldn’t pinpoint. 

So he’d gone, and it had all been fine. They got into the details with the shareholder reasonably quickly, and it was relatively smooth sailing after they’d done the whole “Kendall’s a mentally ill headcase who needs to prove he’s a very special boy,” song and dance. She got up at some point to use the bathroom, and whilst she was gone, the food arrived. Roman had ordered more than he usually would - he needed to balance out the fact that he’d gotten busy and hadn’t eaten lunch - and Logan had stared as the plates were put down on the table. There was a pause, and they made uncomfortable eye contact, Logan’s eyes boring into Roman’s. 

“I told you how important our image is here,” Logan says in a low, dangerous voice. “Send some of that back. Make up some bullshit reason, I don’t care. I won’t have you looking like a pig in front of her.” 

Roman feels like he’s swallowed shards of glass. His throat gets hot and tight and painful, and he exhales shakily and nods. Doesn’t argue. Why bother? His dad is right. Roman knows this much food isn’t necessary, he’s survived on far less. And if there’s one thing he cares about more than anything, it’s his image. He waves over a waiter and sends the food back. When the shareholder comes back to the table, he plasters on his most charming facade, and between them, they impress her. They get in separate cars home, and Logan gives him a vague goodbye - no thank you, no goodnight, but Roman’s not sure what he expected. 

In a fit of humiliation and rage, as soon as he’d gotten home last night he’d thrown out all of the food in his apartment. He’s been distracting himself in the twenty four hours since, but since his legs started to get wobbly he’s resorted to lying on his couch miserably. He feels heavy, like he’s sinking, being buried alive by all of the feelings he’s been pushing away and avoiding for the last few weeks. 

He’d been doing so well. He shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t last. It never does.

[guccibootyellow]

Chapter 103 Preview

(Hey guys, I’m making headway with Vol.6 and I’m not far off now, so here’s a preview as it’s been so long, much longer than I anticipated)

Bonnie continued to suffer with a headache, a stomach ache, and the general notion that she was exhausted, preferring that she remain still or in bed for the remainder of the day. Having never been intoxicated before, Bonnie had not experienced the results of such a decision and she was starting to regret her impulse to drink copious glasses of wine. Hurrying to the door, she whined, her hand pressing against her stomach, anticipative that this would somehow ease the dull ache within. She opened the door with an apology, the words dying on her lips when she perceived who it was.

Her suspicion had been correct, for, towering above her, was Florence. The older woman realised that they were now standing before one another, a smile appearing on her lips. She appeared to believe the motion was agreeable, not wishing to unsettle her guest.

“May I come in? I feel we have much to discuss.”

Bonnie could not comprehend that there should be any need for a discussion, except for one reason, though she did not wish for that conversation to be had.

In her hesitation, she uttered: “Erm...”

“Excellent!”

Florence brushed past her, her broad sleeves sweeping past Bonnie’s. The sight of the room fascinated her, though it was her own. It was the concept that it was the room that Bonnie herself occupied that was riveting to her. The air was fragrant with her perfume, and the nightgown that was flung upon the chair, her books on the table, were all studied with interest. Thereafter, she peered over her shoulder, her smile one of amusement. Her brow raised, though she endeavoured to repress the motion, the equal delight and inquiry in her expression visible, despite her best efforts.

In her wait, her gaze turned to expectancy and Bonnie turned to close the door. It was indisputable that they were to talk, regardless of Bonnie’s apprehension, this suggestion torturous to her. She gazed forlornly at the oak, her lips parting in her nervousness. It was fortunate that her hostess could not view her, for the door received the full effect of the woman’s dismay, she wishing she could rest her forehead against the wood for some semblance of moral support.

Upon turning around, she observed that Florence had seated herself on the sofa, one leg dangling over the other. Her arm had settled along the backrest, arced at the elbow, so that her head could lean idly against her curled hand. The two women stared at one another, Bonnie uncertain; Florence, unperturbed. There was an aspect to her countenance, as there had been since their first meeting, that Florence was knowledgeable of an event that Bonnie could not entirely fathom. Her worst fear was that Florence knew of all that had transpired between her and Yvonne, that she was a lover of some kind or had been, this circumstance causing her to be derisive in her presence as a result. Accordingly, Bonnie could not discern any positive outcome to Florence’s connection with her neighbour nor the feelings she may harbour towards her guest.

With this thought in mind, Bonnie glowered down at her. It was an accidental occurrence; she was not entirely conscious of enacting it, for she would have thought it impolite, yet her tone further indicated her irritation as she spoke.  

“What may I do you for, Mrs Alston?” Bonnie had not used Florence’s married name, aside from among company, during the three weeks that they had spent together, trusting that this abrupt use of decorum would remind the woman of formality. She hoped that no etiquette would be lost between them, simply due to Bonnie’s leaving in two days. “If we are not to travel into town today, I was thinking of sleeping soon. I did not sleep well last night...”

She stumbled to an end, for Florence merely continued to stare up at her, her foot flicking backward and forward in the air, indifferently.

“I know what you are thinking,” she said, hereafter.

Bonnie could not prevent herself from laughing in astonishment. “Do you now?”

“You want to ask about the nature of my relationship with Yvonne.” When there was a momentary silence, she continued. “I knew it from the moment you stepped from that carriage; you have been wary of me these past few weeks. Last night, I could see it in your eyes. You do not like me, do you?” This question caused her to laugh; she appeared to find the matter entertaining. “It is not personal, I know. Jealously makes a fool of us all, at some time or another.” She viewed the way Bonnie’s lips parted in her willingness to defend herself, which merely caused Florence to speak faster, desirous to finish her speech before she could interject. “I am sure Penny has told you that we have been close for a number of years, and she did admit to me that you were told of Augusta.”

Bonnie stared down at her hands, her fingers that twisted together. She inhaled deeply, her attention returning to Florence, moments later. She hoped to compose herself as much as she could, though she perceived the quickening beat of her heart against her chest.

“Why would I be bothered by your friendship with Yvonne? Surely, two consenting adults may form any friendship they wish to.”

Florence raised a brow, her amusement still visible in her countenance. “I am not under the allusion that you have some aversion to me.” She paused to chuckle. “Dear Bonnie, you are not a good liar. It has been written all over your face! I know the nature of your feelings towards Yvonne, as much as I know the nature of hers.”

[appentice-ebony]

I fell waaay behind on @ghoulfriendfangs​‘ apprenticember, but I’m giving it another go!

6. Now, do they have any rivals? Maybe even a WORST ENEMY!? Spill the deets now!

Ebony absolutely loathes Lucio with their whole being, but the sentiment isn’t returned until later in their story because Lucio doesn’t really notice them. So it’s a fairly one-sided worst enemy. They don’t have time for or interest in rivals though.

7. Second week! Let’s go back to their physical description, but go even deeper! Do they have tattoos, piercings, scars, etc? What sort of clothes do they like?

They have fairly simple ear-piercings, but honestly for the most part they’re physically very basic. They definitely prefer to accessorise with clothes, hair, and accessories rather than alter their body. They’re also a very careful person and have only had their body for three years, so any wounds were minor and healed quick.

8. Now let’s give their familiar the spotlight! Tell us all about them!

I actually have a post about that here!

9. Do they have a patron arcana? Who is it? What’s their relationship like?

10. What is their relationship to the other arcana like?

Unfortunantly I cannot answer these 2 cause idk enough about arcana stuff

11. Do they have a gateway? What does it look like? If they don’t have one, describe their ideal spot instead.

Currently Ebony doesn’t visit their gateway often so it’s very underdeveloped, but I would definitely like to expand that more in future. For now, it’s just a vague foresty area with glowy lights and a nearby ocean.

12. What does their home look like? Their room?

In-game they live at the shop, then at Muriel’s house with brief stays at the palace. In any situation, they keep their own room very neat and tidy, with big windows and flowy curtains. Also, lots of shelves for trinkets. Kinda bare-bones otherwise, but generally very comfortable.

The only thing I’ve drawn so far is that sometimes they sleep in a hammock.

13. Can they cook? What’s their favorite meal?

Ebony absolutely cannot cook to save their life! They are absolutely excellent at prepping ingredients though, so they’re a good cooking partner. It’s just that once any form of heat comes in to play they’re completely lost, and if it’s more than 2 ingredients they’re sure to put in the wrong amounts.

For a meal their favorite is any kind of spiced soup with freshly made bread, but their absolute favorite Food is pumpkin bread. They don’t remember it, but Selasi the baker is their father; the pumpkin bread is kind of the only thing that survived the amnesia.

14. What does their magic look/feel like?

Ebony’s magic tends to manifest in mostly blue, green, and yellow colors. There’s guaranteed to be a glowy glittery effect to it no matter what magic it is. Their magic always gives off a very calm feeling, even in battle. I like to make it as visible as possible in the artwork I do of them.

15. What are they proudest of?

Ooooo interesting question! Honestly, they’re probably proudest of being such a good friend and ally to the LIs. Just being kind and empathetic helped change the course of Vesuvian history!

But secretly they’re most proud of the one time they made pumpkin bread successfully XD

[aweecrush]

FOUR MONTHS, or what happens between President Clinton's visit to Derry on November 30th, 1995 and Erin and Orla's isolation tape recorded on March 30th, 1996.

Part 1 here

January 8th, 1996

Of course she’d get sick the very first school day of the year. Of course.

Not that she would have particularly minded in other circumstances: she’s not an eejit, she won't turn away a couple of days of doing nothing and everyone fussing over her when it comes her way. Plus, Granda always makes his special hot chocolate when one of them is sick, and Christ if that isn’t the best thing she ever tasted.

But the thing is, she’s been sick sick, headaches and nausea and sore throat and all, and it’s been days, and she’s - well, sick of it. It doesn’t help that Anna’s been sick as well, which means that not only is no one available to bring special attention to her through the whole ordeal, but Mammy’s unhinged like - for real. So far, her shouts have done nothing to improve Erin’s state.

The worst of it has passed now, but she still feels kind of hazy and needs to sleep every two hours, so she’s not allowed to go back to school just yet. Again, that wouldn’t have particularly broken her heart, but teachers are always out of their minds at the beginning of the new year, full of motivation and good resolutions, and this time around, with the mock exams in addition to that? Clare must be rubbing out on her, because the thought of this, and the idea of having so much to catch up on when she gets back stresses her out.

Plus, she misses the girls. At the exception of Orla, nobody’s been allowed past the door yet.

1996 is off to such a good start.

The day has been mostly quiet: Granda spent an hour criticizing Da’s drive skills, but Anna’s been crying a little less, and Erin has managed a good three hours downstairs with everyone before the headache starts. She’s been alternating between reading her Christmas gift and nodding off ever since.

It’s well into the afternoon when someone knocks at her bedroom door.

“What are you doing here?” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth as James pops his head in, all smiles and wild curls.

She’s so surprised, her stomach does a somersault inside.

“Well, hello to you too, Erin - I see bedrest has done wonders for your manners,” and she chuckles with him as he easily catches the pillow she throws at him.

“How did you get in here? I thought Mammy was watching the door like a prison warden.”

“She did kick us out in less than five words and five seconds both times we tried last week,” he confesses, his face a mix of amusement and sorry about that. “So, I tried a different approach today.”

She raises a curious eyebrow.

“James Maguire, did ye finally find a way to bribe my Ma? Because a lot of people would pay for this secret - the inhabitants of this house very much included.” He laughs, and Erin realizes that she’s missed that sound.

“Not yet, no. But I did mention that you needed your homework if you didn’t want to get behind.”

“But Orla’s been bringing it to me.”

His face twists a little in embarrassment. “Yes, that’s what your mum said.” Then, something like pride twinkles in his eyes. ”So, I told her we really needed to start our homework sessions, because the teachers already gave us so much to do, and you know, exams are coming - real soon, too.”

“Our - what?”

He smirks. “Come on Erin, you remember: the sessions you and I said we’d start this year - you helping me with my English, me with your math?”

Shaking her head at the cheeky attitude that’s starting to radiate through his every pore, Erin tries and fails to contain her smile.“I can’t believe Mammy bought that.”

“Of course she did - I’m an excellent liar.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, well, a good enough one. Although I did tell her that you weren’t contagious anymore at this point - which is true, I looked it up - so I think that helped, too. Also I think her show had started, so I’m pretty sure she would have agreed to anything to stop me from talking and go back to the TV.”

Dopey grin very much still on, James takes off his jacket, and throws himself next to her on the bed. “Alright - you’ll never guess what Jenny did this morning.”

January 14th, 1996

To her right, Clare’s great uncle’s loud snores rise again, each one even more impressive than the other. Not that she can blame him, really: Christ but that movie is bad. She’s not even sure she gets it. Well, at least she hopes she doesn’t, because otherwise, that means that this man just married his own sister, which really -

“Damn, that movie really is shit, isn’t it?”

She rolls her head to see James’ standing in the doorway, eyes focused on the TV and corridor’s lights shedding pretty shadows on his face. When his eyes meet hers, he chuckles, then gestures towards her TV partner.

“Your new friend seems to be enjoying it, though.” She snorts.

“He was way smarter than me on that one - there’s things I won’t be able to unsee. Ever,” and that earns her another chuckle.

He keeps his eyes on hers a little after, and Erin just looks back at the screen, trying her best to swallow the lump coming back in her throat, and focus on the God awful story instead.

It’s not that easy, but she keeps trying anyway.

After a moment, she feels more than sees him close the distance and sit down next to her on the floor, back against the sofa. He copies her and lets his head fall back on the cushion, and she can feel his thigh pressed up against hers.

It feels better, then. A little less…

Just less.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a long while. It’s only after they watch the fire destroy the whole family mansion in an unexpected and excruciating twist that she eventually speaks.

“It’s okay James - you can go back to the party, you don’t have to sit with me.” She wants him to, though. He’s warm - he’s always so warm. “I’m fine.”

Again, Erin feels more than sees him shrug. “I want to. I mean, for one, I can’t possibly miss the end of this masterpiece,” he points at the TV, and she smiles. There’s a little pause before he finishes, his tone a little different. “Plus, she was really pissing me off too, actually, so please don’t make me go back there.” She chuckles a little, even though it hurts again.

A couple of minutes pass, and Erin tries her best to focus on the images in front of her. This time, he’s the one who breaks the silence. “She was really out of line, you know - Clare’s still telling her off, actually.”

She knows he’s being nice, but she really wishes he’d stop. She can feel her bottom lip shaking again, and she just - she just wants to watch this stupid movie, and forget the whole thing. Forget everything, really - she just wants some quiet.

When she feels the slightest brush of his hand against hers, she doesn’t know if she’s more mad at him for staying and seeing her like that, or relieved that he won’t leave her alone. Not for the first time that night, tears start rolling down her cheeks.

Feck.

“She was wrong, Erin - don’t listen to her.” She snorts, drying her face with the arm that’s not touching his. “She was.” He sounds really mad now. James’ doesn’t get mad, not like this.

Finally turning her head to look back at him, she finds his green, dark eyes already looking at her.

He was the one that first told Michelle to shut it. She’d told him off, of course, but he’d insisted, and Clare had backed him up. It had started calmly enough, though.

Nothing had even started, in fact - not really. It was just another night of studying at her house during which Michelle, inevitably bored, inevitably started telling them about that new fella she was seeing. Of course, it had gotten really graphic, really fast, Orla’s eyebrows furrowing even further with each word as Clare started to look green. At one point, Erin eventually told her to cut it out.

The shift of Michelle’s attention from her story to her personal case hadn’t been a welcomed one.

“I’m serious, Erin - you’ve got to get on with it,” she’d said. “It’s the new year: make that your number one resolution or something, because we’re dangerously approaching tragedy at this point.”

She didn’t know why it didn’t end there like it usually did, but it didn’t: she’d kept going on and all night long, and then again on the bus Friday morning, relentless about the fact that it was damn time Erin got herself a lad, or even a random fella to at least snog, because it was just inacceptable that at her age, she still didn’t have any move - or the slightest experience whatsoever, as she so gently put it.

(Ach, as if she didn’t already know that. As if she wasn’t aware of how pathetic she looked, most likely to all of Derry - as if that wasn’t exactly what had relentlessly run through her mind as she waited for John Paul to show up, all dolled up in that stupid dress.

No boy had even looked at her.)

“For the love of Christ, leave her alone, Michelle!,” James had all but growled this morning as his cousin kept going.

“Yes - and Erin, don’t listen to her. Why are you even teasing her and not us, anyway? I’ve never had a kiss or a date - neither did Orla.”

“Yes, but Orla’s Orla - ”

“Do ye think birds sleep?”

“- and you’re a lesbian, Clare: much more complicated for you. She, however, has no excuse.”

Erin had left the room and headed to the bathroom then, trying to convince herself that Michelle’s words didn’t bug her this much. That they didn’t hit right where it hurt, and that she didn’t feel like shite.

She does.

And now here she is, watching TV with a sleeping seventy year-old man on a Saturday instead of knacking some drinks and enjoying Clare’s family party as they’d planned, feeling like her tears might fall at any moment, the last of Michelle’s jabs delivered an hour ago a little too hurtful to pretend like everything’s okay.

“Hey.”

His voice brings her back to reality, and she looks back at him and the small, gentle smile he has on his face. “Forget it, okay? You’re great, Erin. Any boy would be lucky to have you.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, as Michelle so pertinently pointed out, they’re not exactly lining up, are they.”

“You mean in our all girl Catholic school?”

She gives him what’s meant to be a half amused, half reprimanding look at that, but he’s not laughing. Quite the contrary, actually.

“I mean it, Erin. I don’t know when it will happen, if it’ll be here, or in college, but - I do know that you’ll find someone that you actually like soon, someone who actually realizes what he has instead of pricks like David Donnelly and John Paul.”

It’s so strange, seeing him this worked up. But his face softens then, and somehow, it helps the knots in her stomach unfold a little.

He bumps her shoulder a little, and she answers his smile. “And until then, you shouldn’t rush into kissing or dating the first fella who comes around just because my brainless cousin has decided there’s a deadline for stuff like that - believe me.”

“Regretting Katya then?”

As predicted, he groans with a roll of his eyes dramatic enough to put her to shame, and despite the tears still in her eyes, Erin laughs.

“Every chance you get, huh? Well, believe it or not, Katya was actually not my first kiss.” She - Oh.

He grins. “Yeah.” Then, his wee face is back to soft again, and he hesitates a little before meeting her eyes again. When he does, his are laughing, and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. “I’m glad you stopped me that night though. You were right.”

“About the fact that she was mental?”

He shakes his head, amused, and his curls go all bouncy. “No, about the fact that it’s better to wait - do it with someone you care about. I’m glad I did.”

Aye. Well, she’s glad to - Katya really was mental.

Her tummy feels a bit weird, but then James’ getting up and extending his hand to help her do the same.

“Come on: my aunt and uncle aren’t home tonight, let’s go watch a real movie.”

“What about the girls?”

“Well, Orla’s very busy enjoying the chocolate fountain yet again, Michelle is getting drunk and flirting with Clare’s second cousin, and Clare herself is actually talking to her very interested looking neighbor.”

Erin grins. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry, they won’t miss us.”

And so she wraps her fingers around his, and, grabbing their jackets on their way, Erin follows him out.

They’re barely out the door and still laughing at the way a very inebriated Mrs Devlin nearly fell on them when a voice raises behind them on the street.

“James, is that you?”

They both turn to see a girl about their age walk towards them, a box in her hand and her grinning face illuminated by the outside lights of the houses.

She’s pretty - really pretty.

“Oh my God, it is you!”

Erin turns to him just in time to see recognition materialize on his face. “Emily! Right, of course - what the hell are you doing here?”

They talk for a couple of minutes, both surprised at what Erin admits to be a pretty crazy coincidence. When they part, Emily’s nice smile still glowing, James quickly explains a bit more when he knows her from (school, kind of) - and then, inevitably and passionately starts listing their film options for the night.

Aye, but that boy loves his movies.

January 18th, 1996

They get detention again.

Of course, her Ma blows it all out of proportion and makes it into a big thing, when really, it isn’t their fault. Well, not completely, anyway. As a consequence, her and Orla see their chores multiply by two for a month, but at least they don’t get their TV privileges revoked like Michelle and James. Clare’s banned from hanging out with them for two weeks all together.

Other than that, though, things are good. Jenny has a new fringe and it looks awful, which doesn’t waste anything. Even her grades are going up, which she doesn’t see coming - not that fast, anyway. James’ a great teacher though - much, much better than Sister Philips (when he explains it, math actually makes sense, which is really new to her). He’s been helping her with physics, too, and if he wasn’t Ma’s favorite before (he definitely was), that would have done the trick.

“Is the wee English fella not having tea with us tonight?” Granda asks as Erin pulls up her chair and sits.

“He couldn’t make it for tutoring tonight Granda. He’ll be coming tomorrow instead - he asked if that was okay.”

“Of course it is: you know he’s welcome any day, love.”

“Aye, he’s a good kid so he is.” Erin smiles. She likes that they all like him so much.

As she takes the potatoes from Orla, she feels a bit weird about him not being here, too. It really is nice, having him over.

Before she can linger on that thought though, her Da asks about that new song she likes, and Erin starts rambling about it with an excited smile despite the roll of her Ma’s eyes at the other side of the table.

January 24th, 1996

“Is that girl trying to ride James?”

They all turn around in one perfect, swift motion that could not have been more coordinated if they’d tried.

The pub is packed, and they have to kind of twist and raise up on their chairs and bench to see where Michelle just pointed with her beer, but sure enough, leaning against the bar, James’ laughing at something a very close, very pretty girl has apparently just said to him.

Next to Michelle, Orla tilts her head to the side. “Does James have a new friend now?”, and his cousin snickers.

“Given the way she’s pointing her tits at him Orla, I don’t think it’s her friend she wants to be.”

Erin feels like a stone drops in her stomach.

“Who is that?” Clare frowns as they all sit back. “She looks familiar.”

“Isn’t it Cilian’s sister?”

“Do ye think so?"

“Aye, I’m fairly certain it’s her, yeah. Feck it but dicko’s really on a strike these days, isn’t he,” she chuckles, downing another gulp of her beer.

“What do you mean?” The alcohol and heat make Erin’s voice a little shakier than she would have liked, but nobody seems to notice.

“Didn’t I tell you yet? Little Jamesie’s all grown up now: he got a dirty call a couple of days ago.”

He -

“What?”

It’s a good thing the pub’s so loud, or Clare’s high pitched voice would certainly have turned all heads to their tables. Not that it’s unjustified, really.

“Well, it wasn’t actually a call, since we don’t have a phone anymore and all that. And it wasn’t dirty either I suppose - but that girl definitely wants to ride him as well.”

“What happened?”

As soon as she asks the question though, Erin’s not so sure she wants the answer anymore. Michelle’s enthusiasm doesn’t leave her any time to dwell on it though - not on that, or on the way her tummy’s twisting in a sort of a painful way.

God but she had too much to drink.

Much more resistant than her, Michelle takes another sip of her beer, and smirks. “Apparently, it was a girl he knows from England that’s going to live here now I suppose - he bumped into her at your Granny’s party Clare actually. Aye Erin, you left with him that night - you saw her, right?”

Of course. The pretty girl with a nice smile.

“Um - yeah.”

“Well, as you’ve seen, and I���m shocked to even say it really, but - massive, massive ride. Anyway, that girl comes knocking at the door, and she asks for James and starts about how she asked around for his address because how crazy is it that they’re both here now, and she doesn’t have many friends yet, and she’d love to hang out with him.”

“Well, that’s charming: knocking at his door to tell him she doesn’t have anyone else to hang out with so she might as well hang out with him.” Her cheeks feel a little hot now. She’s - mad, she realizes.

But really, is that any way to talk to a fella, let alone a sweet one like him?

Michelle just waves her off, apparently not offended at all on her cousin’s behalf. “Don’t you worry about that Erin, she wants to see him alright. I’m telling you, I watched the whole thing from the kitchen, and all the signs were there: the hair flips, the eyes, the laughing - oh, and yeah, the grabbing of the arm too.”

As she says that, her eyes stare past their heads and behind them and indeed, they turn to see Cilian’s sister's hand on his forearm - and then, running up his shoulder.

“Well, I hope it works out,” Clare pipes up enthusiastically, cheeks bright pink from the alcohol and heat. “James deserves to have someone.”

“He has us.”

“You know what I mean, Erin - a girlfriend. Plus, I think it’s all quite romantic actually - the kind of meetings that make for a really nice story.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “We’re in a sweaty pub, Clare - it’s hardly romantic.”

“No, I meant the other girl - the one from England? I just think it’s lovely, finding each other again like that against all odds, far from home - kind of like destiny.”

Her burp kind of takes all the wonderful out of the picture she’s trying to paint, but it doesn't seem to bother her. “That’s definitely a meet cute. You know, the cute way the boy meets the girl in the movies?”

“Aye but it is yeah. I vote for that girl too then,” Orla chimes in.

“Well, her or that one, in either case, it’s impressive. I’m actually proud of the wee fecker - good for him. Although I am still struggling to understand it, if I’m honest. I mean, has the prick turned into a ride or something? What’s with all the attention all of the sudden?”

Again, they all turn towards the bar, Clare spilling her beer all over Erin’s lap as she tries to sip and analyze their friend from afar, head tilted to the side. “I don’t know…”

In fairness, he has.

He’d always had pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile, and then he got that haircut that made his curls even more enticing. He'd grown into his body, too, his shoulders broader, his frame just a little bit taller. The roundness of the boy has all but completely disappeared from his face now, leaving his jaw sharper, turning him into…well, into a proper lad, really.

He is a ride.

Do they really not see that?

Before any of them can argue one way or the other though, the object of their conversation spots them, eyes confused then dangerous, and they all swing back on their chairs, pretending and falling that they’d not been full-on stalking him.

Well. Most of them.

“Way to go, dicko,” Michelle all but yells, one thumb and one beer up.”Didn’t think you had it in ye!”

January 30th, 1996

It hits her on Orla's birthday.

Well, at the end of Orla’s birthday sleepover, to be precise. She doesn't know how she doesn't see it coming, but - she really doesn't.

It’s a school day, so to celebrate, their Mas at least authorize all of them to stay over at Erin’s with no bedtime (“If I hear anything about one of yous dozing off in school tomorrow, help me Jesus wains, there’ll be tears.”). It's a nice day, really: Orla has the time of her life, running all over school with her birthday girl crown on her head, and when they get home, she zooms in the small fountain of chocolate that Mammy has prepared for the occasion. Dinner is nice as well, all of them squeezed at their small table that Erin realizes is currently hosting all the people that she loves most in this world. Of course, when Michelle asks her why she’s smiling like an idiot, she can’t say - but it’s nice.

There’s the cake, the opening (ripping, really) of the gifts and then, true to their words, all the adults leave them be. In terms of taking full advantage of that special “all on their own, all night” treat though? They could have probably done better.

Much, much better.

When she wakes up, it takes Erin a minute to understand where she is. The TV is still on, the only other light coming from the hall, making it a little difficult to see at first.

It’s barely an embarrassing twelve thirty, and if the long ended credits on the screen are any indication, they’ve been snoring for at least one hour, exhausted by their day of school, the one hour long, surprisingly intense aerobics session the birthday girl insisted they do, and the tons of delicious food that had probably been the final nail in their coffins.

Sometimes, she thinks that maybe those mouths at school aren’t that wrong, when they say their band is far from being the coolest.

It was a fun night, though, and Orla was happy. That’s what matters.

Michelle’s still on Granda’s chair, legs on one side and open mouth on the other in a position that her back will surely regret in the morning. Orla’s spread like a starfish on the carpet, wrapping paper still in one hand. Clare’s on a ball at the other end of the couch, legs folded into herself. Erin’s at the other end, and, initially seated between both of them, James is now completely leaning against her, one arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder.

He looks so peaceful, when he sleeps, that slight concern mixed with doubt he always wears on his face completely gone. Beautiful, really. His lips are slightly parted, and a couple of curls fall on his forehead. Erin feels the sudden urge to brush them away, so she does.

Slowly lifting the hand that’s been resting on his arm not to wake him, she tries to move one with her finger. Smiles sleepily when it immediately drops back where it was. She remembers being so pissed at the restaurant that day, when Katya kept threading her fingers in his curls, her whole body turned towards him. She can’t really blame the girl though: they’re really, really soft.

There’s warmth in her chest, so much so that she feels like her heart is melting a little, and in her stomach, it feels like the thing that’s been twisting more and more lately wakes again. In a nice way, through. A real nice way.

Clare suddenly moves in her sleep, grumbling something she can’t quite make out, effectively sending her foot in James’ back. An annoyed frown creases his features for a second, and then he’s moving even closer to her, his face all but buried in her neck at that point.

He smells good. Comforting, safe, and just - really, really good. Her heart flutters.

And that's when it dawns on her.

Vaguely aware that she’s stopped breathing, Erin looks back at his arm around her. At him. She can feel his breath on her skin now, and it’s just -

James. Seated in the couch that has seen her grow up, the slight snore of her cousin coming from the floor, Erin realizes that she’s...falling for James.

Not falling, really. If the treacherous thing in her chest and her barely functioning mind are any indication, she’s already fallen pretty hard, pretty deep, now on the bottom of the pit looking up.

Oh. Oh.

Well.

Shite.

[ladyaj-13]

Welcome to my July 2022 fic rec list!

This month featuring Lilo, Zouiam, OT5, Tomlinshaw and Larry.

Hands up, I’ve had a bit of a nightmare this month. Two trips away and then a full week where it was too hot to boot up my laptop, which means snatched minutes on my phone, which makes it harder to keep a log. And on top of that, my computer crashed so hard - twice - it deleted every version of this list I did manage to put together. So this is definitely not an exhaustive list of the fics I enjoyed this month, and if I read your fic and lost my note of it, I’m very sorry.

Lilo

Dust Off Your Highest Hopes - pukeandcry - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - T, 13k - American high school AU, drama geek Louis and jock Liam. There’s a reason it’s one of the top kudosed Lilo fics. High school AUs aren't really my thing, so it took me a while to get around to this but it was worth it - I loved the Louis POV and internal monologue.

Stories Stacked Up So Tall - vixalicious - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - T, 23k - movie AU (While You Were Sleeping), ‘sad orphan Liam’ as the tags put it, which weirdly enough is one of my favourite things. I love (fictional!) Liam being down and lonely and then rescued by impish whirlwind Louis. And this version of it, with one-sided/fake Lirry and misunderstandings (lies, if we’re being uncharitable) making everything more complicated? Yes Please.

Zouiam

Laid Bare - biggrstaffbunch - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - M, 4k - canon, Zouis circling Liam like hunting cats. Beautifully written. Really inventive, I stopped multiple times just to think ‘that was so well put’. I can’t get the image of Zouis circling like that out of my head now. 

(We're In) Different Places - MissLii - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @pandadepanda - M, 11k - AU, age difference, friends to lovers. Another one with the instigating Zouis and pursued Liam :D I really enjoyed it.

OT5

tales of a love in parts of a whole - words_unravel - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - E, 26k - coffee shop polyamory AU and I think that says all you need to know to click read, but also girl!Harry, Louis and Niall. I… LOVED this. Like, LOVED it. The Liam POV is excellent (so confused, and understandably so, love), the developing relationships which are all so different from each other, and it ends up poly which is just perfect.

a sunflower soul with rock n’ roll eyes - sideofzemblanity - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - E, 57k - canon pack fic, not really a beta!Louis, angst, abuse (check the tags!). I can read 101 of these types of fics; if you can too and somehow missed this one, definitely check it out, you won’t regret it.

Tomlinshaw

I'll Be Your Pride - YesIsAWorld - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @louandhazaf - G, 4k - AU, theme parks, fear of heights. SUCH a cute fic, honestly. Bonding over terrifying things! That wonderful snippy Tomlinshaw dynamic! Side Lirry! Loved it.

Larry

Crowd Work - littleroverlouis - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @littleroverlouis - T, 2k - AU, comedian Harry/audience member Louis. Getting picked on at a comedy gig is my worst nightmare but Louis killed his response in this fic and it was wonderful. And the Narry interactions were top notch too.

Can We Start Believing - xogucciblue - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @fearlesslysweetcreature - E, 8k - omega Harry, alpha Louis, nesting, mutual pining. Cute! I loved the premise and it was so well done. The mental picture of Louis pawing through empty drawers as everything he owns ‘mysteriously’ disappears… :D

I know I've got this (because I've had it all along) - we_are_the_same - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed - T, 16k - girl!Direction, boudoir photography, body image/self esteem issues. I don’t often read girl!Direction but this author is always a safe bet and the fic was so sweet. Louis’ vulnerability is so well done, as is the Lilo friendship support.

For Better, Worse And Mischief (I'm All Yours) - RedOrchid - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @actuallyredorchid - E, 37k - canon, fake marriage, very platonic sex (as the tags say). I know I’ve read this before, I may even have recced it before, but it is worth all the re-reads. Wonderful.

kiss me on the mouth (and set me free) - tempolarriefics - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @tempolarriefix - M, 47k - friends to lovers, fake marriage (yes, another one), university AU. GUYS. Fake relationship is basically one of my fave tropes and this one was sooo good! The mutual pining. The fluff. The obliviousness. And Niall was wonderful :)

For the Right Reasons - juliusschmidt - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @juliusschmidt - E, 106k - The Bachelor AU, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst. Well. I was just blown away by this fic. It’s a must read.

The Greatest Thing - infinitelymint - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @infinitelymint - E, 164k - canon, fake relationship (oh look, a third!), married in Vegas. Instant classic? Yep. Quite possibly all my favourite things thrown into one wonderful melting pot.

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

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

***

This.

This shit, right here.

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

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

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

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

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

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You… aren’t expecting that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A false sense of…

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

… What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[helenazbmrskai]

This Summer

Guess who’s back with another yoongi fic featuring my favourite trope so here’s another brother’s best friend au, I wanted to try a different setting for this one since I like summer camp aus a lot (and there’s not enough of it on this site I tell you) and I never did something similar to this also I’m sorry that there will be mistakes in here because I wrote this in three days but I’ll proofread it once I have the energy.

🏕️Title: ‹This Summer›

🏕️Pairing: ‹brother’s best friend and camp counsellor! yoongi x new camp counsellor! reader ft. brother and camp counsellor! hoseok›

🏕️Genre: ‹brother’s best friend, summer camp, camp counsellor, romance, fluff, angst, smut, idiots to lovers›

🏕️Summary: ‹This summer you’re going to stop liking min yoongi for good. The plan is flawless until it’s not (but you’re not the only one with plans.)›

🏕️Warnings: ‹smut, making out, oral (both parties) receiving, penetrative sex, condom sex, dirty talk, yoongi is jealous of jungkook having your boobs against his chest, y/n avoids yoongi like it’s her life mission for like 5k straight, a lot of angst but there will be fluff too so don’t worry, awkward tension, sexual tension, clueless hobi, everyone is stupid in this, jungkook likes meddling with y/n’s life a little bit too much, poor tae facing yoongi’s wrath without any reason lol›

🏕️Word count: ‹12.3k›

🏕️Masterlist l read radio sweethearts if you want another brother's best friend yoongi l enjoy!

Your brother is a ticking time bomb, no one knows when he’s going to take something into his head, he’s that annoying sibling that’s always full of energy and twists everyone around his pinky finger on family dinners. You love him with your whole heart, considering you ripped that mean girl’s hair out in elementary school when she called your baby brother (who is older than you but shh) ugly and made him cry.

Hoseok and you are polar opposites he’s cheery and positive always have a big smile on his face, ready to help all the old ladies with heavy shopping bags cross the street while you’re on the quiet side and often misunderstood.

It’s easy to see on holiday dinners and get-togethers that your relatives favour him over you because you’re less talkative and friendly, he has better achievements in life whilst you struggle with school but those you’re close with know the real you and awkward conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend because you’re so deeply in love with your brother’s best friend is not the best ice breaker your distant grandmas try to pull on you. Even so, when Yoongi decides to tag along to those said dinners accompanied by his parents and little sister, might just hell break loose.

The second man who basically acts like he lives in your house is your best friend slash knight in shining armour and partner in crime; simply named Jeon Jungkook for good measure who is your next-door neighbour. You have tons of unforgettable memories with him as he was the one you went to prom with, annoyed all the teachers on field trips with your loud rap battles and cried on each other's shoulders as you graduated high school together.

Your friendship with him came as a surprise to all your family members as they originally thought your brother and him will become close but instead, he spent most of his time with you while yoongi and hoseok with their other friends hang out separately. On rare occasions, your group would mix and go to see a popular movie or play games at the arcade on someone’s birthday.

Summer usually is the time when things are a little slow. No assignments to do or classes to attend, your brother leaves in early July for this summer camp that’s half a day far away from your home with his friends and the last two summers even Jungkook applied to be a camp counsellor as he likes to be surrounded by kids and nature just like your brother does so literally, everyone left for some time leaving you alone in your hometown with nothing to do but it was better this way because away from Hoseok meant that Yoongi will be far away too.

Your brother tries to persuade you every year to go with them but you always have to decline, sometimes your no is firmer than other times because Hoseok is excellent at using his puppy eyes on you.

However, this summer you had other plans. There’s no bell to ring once the last class is dismissed for the semester, tired from your finals you’re going to dedicate at least a week to catch up on your sleep and fix your eating habits but you have a big smile on your face as you climb into Jungkook’s run-down Ford slamming the car door behind your body since they don’t function properly sometimes. This car is his prized possession, got it for his 18th birthday after he successfully passed his test (at the forth try) and bragged about his driving license to you for over two weeks although you only dared to sit next to him after two months. Jungkook named his car Adonis and forbid you of disrespecting his little baby if you want to ever get a lift so you let him be.

Back to your important inner turmoil, you decided you will no longer simp over Min Yoongi your brother’s best friend and this summer you’ll get over him as a grown-up woman. Being in your second year at the local University that all the boys attend it’s surprisingly easy to avoid your brother and his friends and how everyone’s schedule seems to be so packed all the time during the semester, you don’t see them as much as you used to in high school.

”This was your last final, right?” Jungkook turns the ignition key ready to leave this hellhole of a place, holding your headrest with one hand as he turns to see the back of the car so he can back out of the parking lot without any accidents. You grab the smoothie from the cup holder before humming in agreement and take a sip whilst taking in your best friend’s features you haven’t seen for the past week.

”As soon as I get home I’m going to sleep till the next century.” Your dramatic response earns a chuckle and a jab to your left boob as he didn’t take his eyes off the road while delivering his hit. Jungkook wears his signature white tee with a pair of dark blue jeans no traces are left of the stress both of you went under, he was luckier than you as his finals ended a week ago.

”School sucks, we couldn’t even have fun together and I’m leaving next week. I’m going to miss you, you know. You really won’t come with us?” He tried to make you rethink your decision just like your brother but not even his bambi eyes can waver your summer plans, this time you fully intend to have one more Min Yoongiless summer, this silly crush you have on your brother’s best friend can’t continue.

”There’s always one place left for you at the camp Y/N. Hoseok would love to see you there too and we could spend so much time together.” The idea of spending a few weeks with Jungkook sounds nice but a voice in your head reminds you that Yoongi will be there too. He could be yelling at children and wear his trademark grumpy expression but you would still find something attractive about him. The worst part is that he’s never like that with you.

Yoongi is not as talkative as Jungkook or Hoseok, making him be more like you, at first you thought that your crush developed because he seemed to understand you in a different way your brother couldn’t. He cares for his friends, always making sure to show them by doing thoughtful gestures.

Hoseok tells his friends all the time that you and him are a package deal it’s either both of you or none of you, sometimes people have a problem with that but these five boys he hangs out with for years now are the good exception. You like them even though you don’t like all of Hoseok’s friends.

”I’m sorry Koo but I can’t, we talked about this before.” It’s not like you hate children because you don’t you’re not the best with them but they are ok, the heatwave is what you despise in summer camps. You love being in an air-conditioned place without bug bites all-around your ankles and not even the campfire with yummy marshmallows could persuade you to like outdoor activities.

Summer camps are just not your thing.

”What do you mean you signed me up?” The black t-shirt slips through your fingertips, it has a band logo at the front you remember Hoseok liked back in high school, his suitcase is halfway filled with clothes when he decided to tell you he faked your signature to sign you up as the new summer camp counsellor.

You admit that you have a weird talent for making nice origamis that kids would probably love to learn and a good addition to the routine activities, he would have swayed you with compliments if it weren’t for the fact that he faked your signature and signed you up for something you definitely said no to but still decided to do it without your permission. You heard nice things about the camp itself since it got renovated two years ago and Hoseok’s friends are nice people, he said their co-workers are nice people and your best friend would be there too, don’t get the wrong impression there, you even heard that the camp leader Seokjin is nice and a fun person not strict at all unless it concerns the kid's safety because he will not allow that.

”Don’t be mad, please. Jungkook and I just thought that this could be a fun experience for you, things will get busy next year so it’s going to be the last summer together like this. Pretty please?”

You sighed defeatedly as you can’t possibly say no to that when he phrases it like that. Hoseok looks at you with his round big eyes full of hope. Your summer plan was flawless until…it’s not.

Jungkook came almost knocking down your front door when you called him to come over after you were finally done helping Hoseok finish packing for the trip, you scolded your best friend for not stopping your brother as soon as he learned his scheme about ruining your summer plans you felt furious but he picked up on his way over to your house your favourite coffee flavoured candies and it made you forgive him too easily as you were soon munching on the treat.

It’s a huge disadvantage on your part that he knows your preferences so well. Now you can understand why he always seems so frustrated with you when you make him his favourite dish to get him to forgive you, this is just too much power to have over someone and when he crushes you with his tight hug listing out the things the two of you can do at the camp all of your remaining anger vanishes.

You will think about Min Yoongi later.

That later, however, comes sooner than you anticipated. Sitting on the kitchen stool drinking your coffee while all Hoseok’s noisy friends get a fill of breakfast and a cup of coffee, you have the unfortunate fate of housing all the boys to dine before getting on the road and after a lost rock, paper, scissors thanks to your brother’s ridiculous bad luck you become the host.

The kitchen got filled with animated chit-chats as they place a toast or two on their plates over the noises you almost don’t hear Jungkook next to you asking for the jam but you pass him the jar silently. Yoongi and Jimin are the only ones missing from the group because Yoongi has to drive Jimin to his parent’s place to pick up his car that he got repaired recently so they were running a bit late.

Namjoon is a new addition to the group after Hoseok met him in Uni so you don’t know him that well but he’s nice as far as you’re concerned, you talked to him a few times and his interesting topics never fail to entertain you. Jin steals a toast from Namjoon’s plate so he doesn’t need to get up and fetch one for himself but Namjoon looks too tired to care as he munches on his remaining one toast that his friend can’t steal because it’s halfway in his mouth.

Seokjin’s parents run the bakery on the main road so everyone knows him, he got introduced to the friend group when you were still in high school and you and Jungkook were regulars at the shop. Jin always sneaked a pair of baguettes for the two of you exclusively after you were finished with school.

It’s nice to see all these familiar faces after the stressful semester you had, momentarily forgetting about your problems you feel thankful that Hoseok went out of his way to ruin your plans and sign you up for this train wreck of an adventure, it’s been a while since everyone was together like this.

The doorbell rang interrupting Jungkook and Seokjin’s argument about who’s going to get the last toast piece but Hoseok perked up at the sound yelling excitedly that Yoongi and Jimin are here. Your brother quickens his pace after rising from his seat to open the door for them and grins when they step through the threshold.

Greetings are exchanged between friends and the place becomes livelier as the last pieces decide to join the puzzle, Jimin sees you first and knocks into Jungkook’s shoulder while he tries to get to you to give you a warm hug.

It’s been a while since you last saw Yoongi face to face, you’re added to the boy's group chat so in some depth you knew how he’s doing. He has been over at your house a few times hanging out with Hoseok but you always stayed late inside the library on the days he visited using the weak excuse that you need to catch up on school work so you had no chance of crossing paths with him coincidently while you were searching for a glass of water in the kitchen it’s humiliating enough that he saw you exit your bathroom wearing only a towel when you were a teenager.

Your curves became more defined and your body matured a lot over the years and knowing that he saw you like that when you had no ass or boobs. It’s embarrassing. Hoseok liked you that way because it meant no man would thirst over you as he liked to call it. The memory of him telling the boys that you’re off-limits and made them swear at the ’bro code’ to stay away from you is crystal clear in your mind even if now you are in your twenties.

The memory only makes your situation difficult as Yoongi probably doesn’t feel the same way.

As soon as Jimin steps back and releases you from the hug he has Jungkook in a headlock the next second, wrestling with the younger playfully, Jungkook is probably the closest to Jimin after you.

”Hey, it’s nice to see you.”

Yoongi has a half-smile on his face as he approaches you hesitantly pulling you into a hug like Jimin did but his approach is more gentle and careful as he pats your back with featherlight touches. His scent envelops your senses tuning out everything else that’s not him, it feels like forever that you hugged him, normally the two of you greet each other but rarely hug like this.

”Yeah, you too.” You murmur the words into his shoulder but he must have heard you because the side of his lips turned slightly upwards after you separate.

There are two cars available for the eight of you and Seokjin yells that it’s a matter of a game of rock, paper, scissors and everyone agrees as this is the common way your group chose who is riding with who.

”Easy, the losers ride with Jimin and the winners with Yoongs.” Jungkook is the first one to initiate the rules and everyone agrees except Jimin who whines about why he takes the losers but no one pays attention as the bloody battle starts. The first contestants are Namjoon and Hoseok and your brother ends up loosing while yelling like a banshee and making up excuses that he wanted to show rock and not paper as Namjoon choose scissors as his weapon.

You come up next with Jungkook as your opponent and you let a wicked smile appear on your face because no one knows him better than you, you know his move before he even thinks it through and you show paper getting your well-deserved victory.

Just later you realise that winners ride with Yoongi that you reconsider your decision, you were so caught up in your rivalry that’s your friendship’s base foundation with Jungkook at this point that it slipped your mind entirely.

Taehyung and Jin are the last ones to compete and the battle ends with Taehyung winning the last space in Yoongi’s car leaving Seokjin to dramatically kneel like a wounded soldier making fake sobbing noises. Taehyung ends up changing seats with Jungkook last moment and finally, everything is set to get going.

Jungkook and Namjoon take over the backseat as they loaded their luggage at lightning speed so they can claim their spot first leaving you with the only option to have the passenger seat at the front.

Yoongi obviously got behind the steering wheel entrusted with the task of operating the car throughout this long drive to the summer camp sight. Taehyung, Jin and Hoseok got into Jimin’s car like it was decided by the game.

The camp is bigger than you expected and the renovations got the place a little modern touch to it while still maintaining a close feel to nature with all the wooden houses and trees around but your favourite part is the lake at the far end of the campsite.

You share a room with a girl counsellor that spends her second year here, still, relatively new like yourself so it’s easy to befriend her. The campers will arrive the next day early in the morning Areum informs you as you two walk to the dining area to have the first meeting before everything starts.

By the end of the day, everyone knows you’re Hoseok’s little sister and new people approach you every now and then to confirm the facts and know a little bit more about you since everyone seems to like your noisy brother here (not that it surprises you), it looks like the counsellors are excited to start a new summer here and the atmosphere easily pulls you in, you watch Jimin and Jungkook have a water fight just to catch in the corner of your eye the figure of your brother pushing an unsuspecting Seokjin into the lake when he stands too close to the edge.

The day goes by like a flash as you hang out with Areum, she shows you her favourite places that consists of the greenhouse and the other side of the lake where there are built benches and tables for outdoor picnics.

Jungkook pouts during dinner fake crying that you replaced him and you have to forcefully spoon feed him to stop him from embarrassing you in front of all these unfamiliar people that gathered to have some quiet dinner. So everything goes smoothly, you have such a great time that it scares you.

It’s getting pretty late when all counsellors gather around the campfire to roast marshmallows and catch up with each other’s lives, you’re still new so you use this time to get to know Areum a little bit more since you and her are going to be responsible for entertaining the kids inside the art room alongside with Taehyung who teaches the kids how to paint.

You tell her about your silly hobby that landed you this job and she gets really excited to see your origami creations, you show the same enthusiasm when she reveals her major is classical statuary.

Even though Yoongi was always nearby it got easy to ignore his existence when so many new things surrounded you. It didn’t mean he fully left your thoughts throughout the day but made you feel that sense of false security that you could get over him. That all those years of pinning for your brother’s best friend could just vanish if you told your heart to stop skipping beats when he calls your name. Boose soon gets introduced to the mix and by the time midnight rolls around everyone is pleasantly buzzed and when Jungkook enters the state that he hangs off of you like a koala nuzzling his cheek into the crook of your neck you decided to call it a night.

You wake up with your head thumping inside your skull slightly feeling hangover; your roommate is in a similar state as you two approach the dining room getting small slices of bread to make a light sandwich.

You’re mid-bite into your food when you see Yoongi enter, walking alongside with your brother he catches your gaze sooner than you were able to look away and after they get their fills on their trays your loud brother flops down next to you with the loudest greeting that he could possibly muster up alerting everyone in the ten-metre radius.

Yoongi and you groan at the same time telling him to shut up like it’s a scripted response and your eyes meet for the barest of seconds before you focus on your half-eaten sandwich.

It’s hard not to look at him. Despite his gruff exterior, he’s very good at dealing with children, your activity where kids can learn how to fold origami is always after his cookie baking lesson and he smells like rough cookie dough and chocolate ship when he leads the kids into the art room where you would have all the coloured papers ready at each desk and folded a sample beforehand so they can use it as a reference if the instructions don’t look clear enough in the printed page.

The idea for this lesson formed last night, you were up all night as you researched on the internet how to fold hearts. It kept you up till the sun rose as you were trying out every folding technique that would look pretty but easier to do for the kids, you even accidentally cut your finger with the scissor while you were working using only the faint light from the lamp on the bedside table.

Yoongi greets you like he usually would wearing a little smile at the corners as he lets the kids inside first holding the door open for them, he always leaves silently after he delivered the campers to the art room but this time the door slides closed behind his form as he got dragged into the room by a kid named Minsung holding onto Yoongi’s hand he stood awkwardly while everyone else had a decided seat to take.

”Can Yoongi join us today Y/N?” Minsung asks holding Yoongi’s hand as he leads him further into the art room and every kid looks expectantly at you waiting for you to agree and seeing their faces you nod with a smile pulling out the chair next to you beckoning the embarrassed man to sit beside you.

He didn’t think you would say yes if he’s being honest. After you finished high school and he and Hoseok went to University and got busy with life he started to see you less and less, at first he didn’t think much of it but after some time it looked like that you’re actively avoiding him.

He has no idea why (that’s what eats him from the inside out on sleepless nights) he doesn’t remember saying or doing something that would make you upset and even now when you keep bumping into each other you seem skittish around him and he doesn’t like that, hence he even talked to Hoseok about this and your own brother couldn’t give him an answer why you started avoiding him.

”Do you know how to fold origami?” You ask him slipping papers in front of him as soon as he seats himself beside you, your heart beats inside your chest violently when you get enveloped in his scent yet again reminding you of the hug you shared that you’re afraid he’s going to hear it.

”I barely know how to fold my clothes.” The nervous joke lightens the mood as the kids laugh loudly the poor attempt at making you be more comfortable with him earns a little snort that makes a blush creep up your face rapidly in embarrassment but Yoongi thinks you sound adorable. You think you sounded like a troll.

”It’s fine I’ll help you.” Your little smile is still there even though your eyes are no longer on Yoongi as you focus on the kids, you tell them first what they will make and then go into detail how they can fold it while using the instructions and clearing some of the confusing images for them to understand it better. Lastly, you encourage them to not be afraid to ask if they have questions and you’ll gladly help them. It falls silent after as everyone gets absorbed in their work and you start making extra origamis for the children as usual until someone needs help.

Yoongi looks intent on finding out using the illustrations how to proceed and even though your instructions were pretty clear and well detailed he couldn’t figure out how to do it, he wastes two papers before he even got to the third step.

You see him struggling and he clearly gets worked up over it considering the number of creases appearing on his forehead once you get back to your desk after helping a kid figure out the instructions you move your chair closer getting his attention with the movement, your knees touch in the process but neither of you makes any moves to instal more distance between your bodies.

”Can I show you?” You reach for the scrambled paper but stop midway to look up and ask for permission.

Yoongi nods his head sliding the mess closer to you, observing as you unfold the paper and restart making more accurate lines and you immediately see what’s wrong with his shape. His measurements are off, even when he folded the paper in half that seemed uneven because he tried to fold it in one go and the paper sometimes moves around if you’re not careful enough.

After you fixed it and slid the paper to be in front of him you tell him your advice in a soft-spoken way. Heart still hammering inside your chest due to the closeness you share. ”Don’t rush through the steps, take your time while you fold it.” Your fingers touch briefly when you pass him the paper and you resume your working so it would take away from the embarrassment of how loud your heart beats because of him.

He looks so good today wearing a black oversized t-shirt with small prints in the front and even when his hair is damp with sweat his smile is able to melt your resolves any time you gaze up at those dark eyes.

Kids can be very attentive and they easily see how Y/N looks so smitten with Yoongi if those stolen sideway glances are anything to go by, every time he shows up you became a nervous ball of a mess it’s not rocket science to know you have a huge crush on the boy, the only mystery that campers can’t figure out is why you tiptoe around each other when Yoongi doesn’t seem indifferent either.

They often catch him looking at you as they run around the campsite during leisure activities led by Hoseok.

Minsung and Soohyung share a knowing smile as they watch them fold origami and it’s not overlooked by either of them when you focus back to do your work and Yoongi takes glances in your direction mesmerized by you, the task seems easy when he watches you do it.

A knock is followed by the appearance of your camp leader Seokjin leaning onto the doorframe interrupting your little bubble, looking at the kids with a fond expression before he addresses Yoongi and they leave together to discuss something, the activity is almost over as you learn glancing at the clock and Jungkook soon appears where Jin was a little while ago to get the kids.

Jungkook and your brother are the ones responsible for the outdoor activities and at the end of the day not only the kids are tired but their counsellors too by constantly running around to ensure everyone's safety.

Yoongi wanted to talk to you and help you clean up, have a real conversation in private, but things never turn out as he wants them to there seems to be always an obstacle standing between you two so he follows Jin to discuss a camp-related issue while he wishes he could spend a little more time with you.

If only you would tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it, this awkward state you two got stuck in makes him sad for some reason.

There was a time when you were greeting him with a big smile on your face and ask him about his day, he vividly remembers your chubbier cheeks and crooked teeth when you were younger but he doesn’t mind your feminine growth over the years, Yoongi always thought you will grow up to be a beautiful woman.

He remembers your prom dress, it was in a navy blue colour that complimented your fuller curves he only started to notice in your last year in high school, Jungkook posed beside you like you were Mr and Mrs Smith as your parents took pictures of you two and he found himself smiling fondly at you.

It was Hoseok’s birthday when the air shifted from platonic to something else in the short span of ten seconds, both of you were a little tipsy and you were sitting at a corner table together because neither of you wanted to hit the dance floor, the bar was packed and guys tried to hit on you numerous times just to be chased away by your brother’s antics.

You didn’t seem to mind that he prevented every guy from making a move on you and as you were all alone in a small booth chest to chest to hear each other over the loud music while you tried to tell him a story about Jungkook choking on fries at Mcdonalds when the waitress suddenly slipped her number scribbled onto a napkin trying not to ugly laugh yourself. His nose accidentally bumped into yours as he suppressed a laugh and if the others didn’t choose that exact moment to take a breather and have more drinks he thinks he would have probably kissed you right then and there.

The other time he felt something different while he was around you was when you and his friends took a trip to Busan to see the sea and you wore that one piece bikini, the bottom and top half were connected by a line of fabric but let your sides and hips be visible under the little clothing you had on.

Guys turned their heads when you passed them and he couldn’t even blame them like Hoseok because he looked at you a few times as well trying to seem as subtle as he possibly can since Hoseok otherwise would have killed him knowing that his best friend was ogling at his little sister.

”Don’t you dare!” Your yelling draws the attention of the kids and counsellors equally that’s how loud you are as your best friend approaches your form sitting under the umbrella trying to cool yourself down since today’s temperate is insanely (and unreasonably) hot. ”When we get home I’ll draw all your action figures a moustache using permanent markers. I’m not joking stop right there!”

Your horrific expression is validated since Jungkook has this shit-eating grin on his face when he’s about to do something you’ll most definitely not like, knowing him from your early stage of childhood when he was just a lanky anime fanatic and you were flat like a wooden board with huge pimples you’re an expert at distinguishing his different expressions and actions.

”You’re cute to think that will stop me.” Jungkook chuckles grabbing you by the waist as he drapes you over his shoulder effortlessly walking with you to the edge of the lake despite your efforts to break free from his grip, your friend jumps into the water with you still firmly clinging onto his body. The kids around you laugh at your friendly banter as you rise from the water like a lake monster and you duck Jungkook’s head underwater to make him pay for your ruined clothes and makeup.

Coming to help you, Jimin manoeuvres his boat next to you and stretches his hand out followed by a big grin to drag you out of the lake but it appears to be more difficult as you two almost flip over but you manage to unceremonially flop down next to him dragging your fingers through your hair to get the hairs out of your face.

”You really want war, Jeon. Just you wait but don’t blame me if I shave your hair off while you’re sleeping.” Coughing between your threatening words Jimin starts patting your back, rubbing your spine to help you feel better.

Jimin oars closer to the dock and you land your feet on the ground again without any more incidents occurring while Jungkook swims all the way, making comments about your appearance making the campers giggle alongside with him as your face gets warmer, once both of you are secure on land Jungkook hugs you close despite your distaste, your clothes cling to your body uncomfortably and droplets from his hair land on your cheek as he moulds your bodies together.

”Let me go, I’m not talking to you.” You try to push him away but instead of letting you go he scoops you up from the ground and spins you around, begging for your forgiveness but you don’t give in so easily.

Yoongi observes the scenes before him with a sour expression, he doesn’t even realise how he glares at Jungkook holding you that close to him while both of you are dripping of lake water, your boobs are entirely pushed against his chest as your best friend giggles midst of you struggling to break free.

Next to him Hoseok sits relaxed in his chair sipping his cold drink, shaking his head in faux amusement happy to see you have a good time here, your brother is normally very protective of you when it comes to guys but with Jungkook he knows that you guys are just best friends it’s hard to see you two otherwise when he witnessed your first period crying onto Jungkook’s shoulder that you’re going to bleed out and your poor friend almost dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being real but soon learned that you overdramatise things when it’s that time of the month.

He often finds you in a weird position while you watch tv with Jungkook’s head on your tummy because the pressure and warmth of his head make the pain more bearable cuddling under blankets because you get needy when you’re on your period, your brother knows all of this because when your best friend is unavailable he has to fill the space and lay his head on your stomach until the feeling goes away.

He had his doubts in the early stage of your budding friendship when you first started to hang out with each other because things can get weird easily between friends if they are not the same gender but Jungkook proved to Hoseok multiple times that he supports you and would walk through fire for you. Nothing happened between you two in romantic aspects, there was no shift, even though someone who doesn’t see you daily interacting with him would assume something is going on.

”I’m going to change.” You announce to no one in particular, the way your shirt clings to your curves as you’re surrounded by male counsellors you don’t know adds extra pressure and their eyes on you make you uncomfortably fidget in place, your make up is probably smudged on your face giving you a panda effect.

”Wear this your bra is showing.” Jungkook gives you his wet shirt but the black material conceals your body to look decent enough and you thank him he could easily sense your distress and he feels a little bad that he pulled that trick on you. He had to coax you into wearing that bikini at the beach last year buttering you up with compliments so the two of you could finally get going, he knows better than anyone that you’re shy and insecure about your body if someone you don’t know sees you, you don’t hate your body but it makes you feel anxious if some stranger looks at you like you’re his meal for the evening and he totally gets it.

He glares at every single one of them who looks at you inappropriately alongside your brother who shares the same sentiment as him. You deserve to be treated right, that’s why he was super angry once you told him about your first time, that guy just stuck it in without making you cum.

Hoseok doesn’t know, however, you only told Jungkook about your unpleasant experience when you were tipsy, you had to tell him at a house party while playing truth or dare, you had to share something he didn’t know and considering he’s your best friend not much was there to confess. You hoped that he was drunk enough to forget about it the next day but he surprised you with ice cream and you talked it out with him, he can be immature sometimes though when the situation needs him to be serious he’s there for you. He never once made fun of you for something you felt insecure or not confident about.

Areum takes in your dishevelled look as soon as you step through the entrance of your current accommodation, opting for a quick shower to wash the dirty lake water off your skin you tell her what happened vaguely before disappearing behind the bathroom door and she snickers silently seeing your grumpy face.

Jungkook marches to the seat next to Hoseok the playful glint is still there as he rakes his fingers through his hair shaking the droplets out of his locks like a dog and the way female colleagues eye him didn’t go unnoticed by either Yoongi or Hoseok for that matter. Your best friend is not as dense as you think he is because for a while now he connected the dots why you seem to avoid Yoongi at all cost.

It shocked him at first but now observing your interactions closely he calls himself a fool that he didn’t realise it sooner. Your best friend knows about the ’you can’t woo my baby sister’ rule because it’s applied to him as well, Hoseok cornered him one day after you left to bring up snacks for a movie night and told him awfully descriptive outcomes what will happen to him if he tries anything on you all the while he pushed him against your lavender walls, that day he learned that smiley Hoseok can be scary sometimes.

It’s been years and his overprotectiveness lessened because you dated guys here and there and Hoseok was always supportive of you and your soon-to-be boyfriends, but you didn’t go to second dates with any of them.

He found it strange at first but after he found out about your little crush on your brother’s best friend some things clicked and your behaviour wasn’t soo odd anymore, Jungkook didn’t read too much into it at first because he thought it’s going to be a fleeting flame but it’s been years that you harbour feelings for the older man.

Yoongi was a harder nut to crack because he’s better at masking his feelings than you but he can see how his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one’s looking, his slip-ups are subtle ones and it would go over his head if he wouldn’t be so tuned in searching for his reactions.

His gut feeling tells him Yoongi feels the same way you do (his face might not be as expressive but his eyes are sparkling every time he finds you in the crowd) although he can’t be one hundred percent sure, the benefit of the doubt that makes him keep question every move and look he throws your way his confusing actions indicates that even Yoongi doesn’t know how he truly feels about you so Jungkook didn’t bring up the subject because he’s not sure how to approach this without making this more complicated.

He doesn’t want to give you hope when he can’t guarantee his intuition is right so he choose to silently observe and let things unfold naturally but it gets harder with time to ignore how you two are dancing around each other like idiots. Well, at least before now you straight out refuse to be in the same room as him.

At this point, he’s convinced that neither of you is going to make a move to let the other know about your romantic feelings, he wanted to respect the fact that you didn’t want him to know about your feelings towards your brother’s best friend but enough is enough and he’s tired of seeing you avoid the matter for another year like this.

His plan so far doesn’t seem to work, he convinced Hoseok to sign you up for the camp against your will but things don’t go forward as you keep avoiding the problem so he needs to give both of you a little push from the sidelines to end this.

He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting if he’s being wrong about this but the rejection would be better than living in denial, not knowing if he reciprocates your feelings, he hates seeing you cry but he’ll be there to kick ass and support you. Jungkook makes up his mind and calls Hoseok’s name to grab his attention.

”What do you think about one of your friends dating Y/N?”

Hoseok’s brow raises in question and Yoongi’s body stiffens at the mention trying to seem unaffected but Jungkook detects the slight change in his demeanour. ”Why do you ask? You’re not in love with my sister, are you Jeon?” He can’t stop laughing as he hears Hoseok accusing him immediately, he gets comfortable in his seat before answering. Waiting a little before responding to get a dramatic effect, he spends too much time with you as he realises he picked up some of your theatrical approaches.

”God, no. She’s my best friend I know too much about her to think like that.” His laughing subdues into small chuckles, he saw you at your worst and best moments, seen you naked by accident. You’re beautiful and funny but he doesn’t see you as a woman. Yoongi’s eyebrow twitches at the mention of ’knowing too much’ but Jungkook’s next words are the final blow for him to grip the armrest.

”I heard Taehyung is gonna ask her out and I wanted to know what you think about it.” Hoseok schools his features quickly after that, he didn’t know Taehyung liked you like that but he has no right to control your life or tell you who you can consider as a potential love interest. You can like whoever you want, he tried to show you his support when you introduced some of your dates to him and he’s going to keep his promise even when it comes to his friends.

You were always close but after he began to tell you who you can or can’t see your relationship became distant until he realised his mistakes, you forgave him easily because you love your brother a lot and he loves you just as much so after a heartfelt conversation between the two of you he promised not to do that to you ever again.

You’re aware he did this to protect you because you’re his precious little sister and big brothers could get unreasonably overprotective so after you almost drifted apart and even though you two talked it out. The fact that because of a boy you argued with Hoseok you decided you’ll never act on your feelings for Yoongi for the sake of your relationship. Jungkook doesn’t know that’s the main reason you keep avoiding Yoongi but he couldn’t have known because you two never touched upon the subject.

”It’s her decision.” Hoseok shrugs finally and Jungkook nods with a smile eyeing Yoongi who seem to absorb the answer he didn’t think he would get.

You’re aware of your feelings so it’s time for Yoongi to reflect on his thoughts and figure out what he wants.

Jungkook thinks that his plan might just work if he keeps up the good work. You can thank him later.

Taehyung is an unsuspecting victim caught up in Jungkook’s spider web to get you guys together. He likes every kind of art-related stuff and Jungkook showed him some of the origamis you folded for him as he has a few of the smaller ones stuffed inside his wallet under your graduation photo and of course when Taehyung asked you to teach him you agreed with the biggest smile on your face.

You took it as a great opportunity to get to know him better because you’re the least close to him in the group, not because you don’t think he’s a nice guy but before this there were not many occasions to bond with him.

He has the talent for it you realise this soon and you two spend hours inside the art room together folding new pieces after you’re free, he even suggests as a beginner what’s easier to make so the kids can be encouraged rather than making them do hard ones and be disappointed by the end result.

He visits you often and brings you tea to chat about art at first but gradually you get to know more about each other’s personal lives all the while you make origamis together. You skip lunch sometimes when you get too caught up experimenting with new shapes and Jungkook notices the displeased expression on Yoongi’s face every time someone asks about you and Taehyung’s whereabouts just to hear you two are yet again holed up inside the art room laughing and chatting.

He got even grumpier than normal and lashes out without any reason, the others dismiss his behaviour as he probably had a bad day but his best friend knows something is up with him, it’s not like he lashes out on the children because he smiles at them like he used to but his quick mood changes are getting on everyone’s nerves lately. Hoseok knows that something bothers him but every time he asks about it he says it’s nothing.

Jungkook sits beside Hoseok as he goes on and on about he has no idea what’s gotten into Yoongi lately and he’s close to rolling his eyes at him, no wonder you two are siblings he thinks. Both of you are idiots.

Yoongi didn’t show up for breakfast and you’re nowhere to find as well, he knows you’re not with Taehyung because he sits at the table behind him with Jimin and Seokjin telling each other funny stories about the kids. He shows some of the origami pieces he folded and Jimin compliments him while Seokjin tries to stuck one inside his pocket so a friendly banter breaks out at their table.

”.. and he doesn’t even tell me what’s the problem. Hey, Jungkook are you listening to me at all?” Hoseok waves his hand in front of Jungkook’s face who munches on the garnish almost finished with eating while your brother’s plate is full of food because as soon as Jungkook joined him at the table, since he couldn’t find you in the crowd, started complaining about how difficult Yoongi is being as of late and it’s too early to deal with this bullshit.

”Yoongi is upset because Y/N hangs out with Taehyung too much. If you look at the signs you would have seen that he obviously likes your sister but because of that stupid rule you made neither of them is acting upon their feelings for each other.” The outburst momentarily shuts up Hoseok, his mouth hangs open like a fish out of water blinking rapidly and it’s noticeable how the wheels are turning inside his head as he processes the information.

”Yoongi likes my sister?!” The three surrounding tables turn after hearing Hoseok’s signature banshee yell and Jungkook audibly sighs at the shocked expression he’s sporting like he suddenly grew four heads and three legs. He just might because the food is weird sometimes.

You tell Areum you have to pick something up from the art room and you’ll join her a bit later to eat breakfast hiding your hands in your hoodie’s pocket as mornings tend to be on the colder side, she gives you a thumbs up as she walks towards the dining room and you wait until she gets out of sight to turn on your heel.

You visit the art room first but what you’re searching for is not there and you head back to your cabin to see if you brought it back by accident without you realising it.

You made that origami star Taehyung whined to you about. He wanted to make one but it just can’t seem to look like it should be as he showed you his attempts. It took you a few tries to succeed as well since folding the edges were quite tricky to figure out.

On your way to the dining room, you bump into someone and the star you made end up on the ground slipping out of your grip. Raising your head instantly to apologise to the person, you were not ready to face Min Yoongi out of all people, he picks up the origami and hands it back dusting it off before giving it to you.

”Thanks.”

”Uh, everything’s alright? You seem to be in a bad mood.” You’re hesitant to address the elephant in the room, you didn’t really witness his mood swings as others because you spent most of your time in the art room but seeing him now with dark circles under his eyes a grim expression on his handsome face, it speaks volumes of how true it is, and you would hate to get on his bad side because you ask a question everyone probably asked before you.

”I’m fine.” Yoongi tilts his head towards the sky and sighs, you wait for him to say something else but that’s all he does before he walks past you.

You grimace at the lack of response, sure, things were awkward nowadays but he never straight out ignored you like that, he didn’t even look at you while he answered and left just like that.

When you join Jungkook and your brother for breakfast they have a weird aura around them and you’re itching to interrupt their silent talk as they eye each other like you’re not sitting right next to both of them.

What is wrong with anyone today, huh?

”Okay we need to do something, things can’t continue like this.” Jungkook places his hands on each side of his hips as he captures everyone's attention when he climbs on top of one of the tables like he’s about to give a grand speech about something world-rocking kind of important matters.

”I agree. I can’t even say something to Yoongi that doesn’t end with him taking my head off.” Jimin and Taehyung agree immediately since they had to deal with his temper for the most part.

”And what do you suggest we do?” Hoseok puts his weight onto the broom as he speaks, after Jungkook told him that his best friend is in love with his sister everything made sense in a way.

Why he asked about you a lot like how’s school or how’ life going for you, made sure to get something for your birthday every year, he thought that he’s nice to you because you’re his little sister, after all, he told him to treat you right. He couldn’t be more wrong about it, however. They are supposed to be best friends and Hoseok didn’t even know he liked you like that.

”I think you should talk to her Hobi. She doesn’t act on her feelings because she thinks you wouldn’t like them together, maybe if you tell her it’s ok to date each other they will end our suffering. I don’t think I can manage this moody Yoongi for another day he looked like he’s about to murder me in my sleep.” Because of Jungkook’s scheme, Yoongi went extra hard on Taehyung and the poor soul didn’t have a clue why he’s suddenly replaced as Yoongi’s personal punching bag.

Hoseok makes sure to visit your cabin after they are done cleaning and it would be an understatement to say he feels a little nervous. It’s weird that he’s here to tell you to go after his best friend as it is.  

He already had a talk with Yoong in their cabin before he came here and his friend seemed terrified when Hoseok told him he knows that he’s in love with his sister.

All the colour drained from his face and he actually took pity on him that it feels him with so much dread that his best friend knows he likes a girl, even if it’s his sister he’s happy that he found someone he likes.

Hoseok tells him that nothing is going on between you and Taehyung so he should stop torturing him, Jungkook just tried to make him jealous by saying that, it felt nice for both of them to talk openly about everything.

Yoongi told him about the party when he almost kissed her or when they would stay up all night talking to each other about everything and nothing, he shares his genuine feelings and admits that for a while he didn’t know what he felt for her but he wants to be with her.

You had similar reactions like his friend, at first you tried to deny the fact but later when Hoseok reveals everything and speak about Jungkook’s plan, you gave up to lie and instead tell him you liked him for three years and you tried to move on but you couldn’t that’s why none of your previous relationships seemed to work out.

Your brother feels stupid for not seeing the signs, maybe Jungkook was right and he’s really an idiot.

It’s awkward knowing that he feels the same way about you you’re not gonna lie, it feels like a dream but at the same time, you’re afraid one day you’ll wake up and realise all of this was just a fragment of your imagination.

Hoseok’s support was a pleasant surprise and even though you want to strangle your best friend with your bare hands for meddling with your business and literally shouting out to the world you love Min Yoongi to the moon and back moments ago to have everyone witness your face flame up you decide against all expectations and you give him a bone-crushing hug because without him all of this wouldn’t have happened. All that matters is that he likes you back.

”How did you know?” You curiously ask and Jungkook feigns he’s thinking about the answer whilst pinching your cheek, that smirk he wears when he’s about to say something stupid makes you reconsider. You shouldn’t have asked.

”I mean I discovered it recently so you were quite good at hiding it because normally I always sniff out your secrets right off the bat but as soon as I focused on your reactions it was easy to tell.” He points at Yoongi standing a few feet away next to Hoseok and he suddenly burst out laughing.

”I saw you running into a fucking tree when you saw Yoongi wet because Hoseok threw him into the lake.” You clasp your hand over his runny mouth before he can embarrass you further, you were not ready to see Yoongi blush so cutely at the comment while Hoseok doubled over because he laughed so hard seeing your face after Jungkook said that.

You denied it in a high pitched squeal. ”That fucking tree wasn’t there that’s why!” Everyone seemed to find your excuse hilarious as they laughed continuously at your attempts of saving your last piece of dignity but even Yoongi chuckled couldn’t contain his biggest smile to take over his features as he thinks you look so cute when you’re embarrassed, and you like him back.

”Can we see a kiss at least if we had to put up with grumpy Yoongi for an entire week, I really started to fear for my life, you know?” Jimin chimed in, it was endearing to see Yoongi turn bashful in front of you.

”Now that it was brought up Jeon Jungkook I can’t believe you used me like that! I had no idea why you suggested that I try to learn making origamis from Y/N. Our friendship is over!” Taehyung points at your best friend accusingly and he only scratches the back of his neck.

”I did it for a good cause…wait Tae where are you going? Look I’m sorry…” Jungkook chases after the former boy trying to hug him from behind but Taehyung doesn’t reciprocate it and your friend starts whining at that telling him that he’s so sorry while Jimin and the others unoccupied at the moment resumes their staring at the both of you to move and kiss finally.

Even Namjoon and Seokjin who were silent until now joins in and chants alongside the others to ”kiss kiss kiss kissss”

You let out a shy chuckle taking the first steps in his direction and his eyes go wide in surprise when your shoe touch. Kissing his cheek instead you tiptoe to reach his height so you can easily circle your hands around his neck and pull him down to hug you, it reminds you of the hug you shared with him before the whole trip to the summer camp started but this time it felt different.

His embrace was warm and inviting as he held you by your waist his chest vibrated against you as he laughed when your friends demanded a real kiss.

Yoongi found himself sitting beside you inside the art room as you explained how the kids can make bunny-shaped origami out of the grey coloured papers in front of them and his hand immediately found yours under the table to intertwine your fingers together once you sat down next to him.

You try to suppress a smile as you watch over the kids ensuring that they don’t cut themselves with the scissors but your body betrays you as you subconsciously lean into his frame he smells like vanilla extract and chocolate. He showed the kids how to make muffins in today’s lesson, it turned out good because Yoongi measured the ingredients while the kids only mixed and did simple tasks such as portioning out the dough or decorating the top of the treats.

Someone had two or three muffins left on their table as they worked, focused on their folding technique occasionally they stole bites making you and Yoongi giggling under your noses when you would catch chipmunk cheeks.

Yoongi helped you clean up after the lesson throwing out leftover papers and sweeping the floor before you joined the others for lunch.

Things changed in the group’s dynamics after you started dating Yoongi but overall they were happy to see both of you happy.

Even though Jungkook likes to make jokes about how you two are basically joined at the hip for days and soon after starts to complain about how you spend less time with him now that you have a boyfriend, he’s clearly happy for you. It’s a new situation for everyone and Hoseok has a hard time picturing you with his best friend but seeing you so happy with him he supports your relationship wholeheartedly.

After you’re done with the activities for the day you and Yoongi retreat into his cabin as everyone else stays at the campfire. They see the two of you slip away hand in hand, howbeit no one dares to comment on it but you see Jungkook having an inner battle to stop himself from yelling out ’use protection’ luckily Taehyung stuffs his mouth with a handful of chio chips before that could happen.

Your boyfriend pulls you closer by tugging on your intertwined hands caging you between his arms and the door, kissing the corner of your mouth he moves downwards to kiss over your jawline and neck, smiles into the juncture of your neck when you chase after his lips as he pecks your cupid’s bow next, impatient to feel his lips against yours you pull at a fistful of his hair guiding his mouth to capture his lip between your teeth. Yoongi grunts into the kiss tasting your sweet mouth never cease his hunger for you, only leaves him wanting more and more.

”I can’t believe you’re mine.” He seals his words over your feverish skin with in between kisses, marking up your neck, nibbling and kissing every inch until your breath becomes laboured under his sweet attacks.

You weave your fingers into his hair whilst a soft mewl leaves your parted lips as his knee parts your legs to brush against your centre.

He presses his thighs further into your throbbing pussy swallowing the noises you make getting lost in your body heat. He wants to take his time with you licking every corner and dip until you shake and pant his name.

”Wait. What about my brother?” You jump a little when you feel his hand on your ribs travelling up until he cups your breast over the shirt you’re wearing. Kneading your flesh over the fabric your body relaxes into his touch it’s enough to leave you breathless seeing his expression so earnest to please you, pupils dilated as he looks at you under his hooded lids it’s hard to control his urges when you look good enough to eat.

”He stays over at Namjoon’s don’t worry about him.” Yoongi catches your earlobe with his mouth biting down on your shell playfully, the sensation makes you heave a gasp, the words barely registering in your brain.

”Off. I want this off.” Feeling especially bold today you sneak your hands under his shirt caressing his sides with your fingertips, pecking his collarbone that peaks through the collar of his clothing. A whine resonates within your throat when your boyfriend steps back to pull his shirt over his head revealing his stomach and shoulders for your hungry eyes to feast upon disliking the cold air that fills the space once his body is not there to keep you warm, you pull him close diving in to connect your lips in a heated kiss tongue licking into his mouth.

His hands wander under your clothes this time mapping out your smooth skin following the lines of your sides to find the opening on your bra, once he gets the clasp open he traces your spine with his index finger grabbing your ass with both hands as his wandering hands reach south. Your moan gets lost inside his busy mouth that explores your hot cavern at the same time his hands cup you over the fabric of your leggings. It doesn’t give your throbbing pussy justice when he decides to rub your clit and drag his fingers over the dampening material.

”Let’s move things to the bedroom shall we?” The innocent peck he places onto your cheek makes your heart flutter, excitement and love mix inside your veins sweetening your blood as your pulse quickens under his adoring gaze. You nod kissing him again before you let him guide you to his door, not separating from your sensually moving lips as he blindly closes it behind your entangled forms.

He removes your pants and shirt in one go, letting the garments form a pile on the floor promising your sweet release with each removed clothing until the only remaining barrier that keeps your naked glory from his piercing gaze is slipped down your shaved legs, he feels how soaked the material of your cotton underwear had become after so little foreplay and he finds himself insanely turned on by the discovery.

Yoongi eagerly encloses his mouth over your erect bud eliciting airy moans when he alternates between sucks and licks on your sensitive mound paying equal attention to both sides as he massages the neglected one with firm hands whilst he blows air to the saliva coated nipples and watch your expression morph into torturous pleasure but he’s not satisfied with your shy suppressed noises.

Your slick oozes out of your empty opening running down your thighs and stain the bedsheet your clit aches to be touched and your hole clenches around nothing as your lover keeps his head between your boobs kissing and licking your skin there until your nipples get too sensitive to his touch, red and swollen when he rolls it between his fingers. His leg parts your thighs keeping them wide open so you can’t get any stimulation until he decides to move lower.

Seeing how you shake under his body parted lips keep asking him to give you more, he doesn’t have the heart to deny you any longer as he starts to rub your thighs keeping your legs open for him to bury his face between your beautiful cunt swollen and needy for his touch he lets his tongue dip between your folds tasting you first before gently sucking on your clit.

He hears you call his name perfectly in tune with his tongue’s strokes as he intends to eat you up. Your essence covers his chin as he licks your hole clean lapping up everything your precious body can produce for him dipping inside the tip of his tongue your muscles tense up ready to get filled with something bigger and Yoongi’s cock twitches inside the confine of his underwear.

He doesn’t need to remove his undergarments to know his tip is red and slick with his precum desperate to fill your empty hole up but before that, he coats two of his fingers in your wetness and pushes them inside parting your walls gently to ease you into the feeling preparing you to take his cock.

Your hips buck into his hand as he curls his long fingers inside your velvety walls feeling your muscles constrict around his digits he moans with his head thrown back as he imagines his dick getting the same treatment later, your musky scent and visual laying beneath him taking what he gives you drives him crazy with need.

Perking up at the sound you open your eyes blinking to get the blurriness fade dreamy half-lidded eyes watch as his fingers fill you up and you almost close them again because of the pure ecstasy his expert hands give to your overwhelmed body.

You see the painful tent that formed inside his briefs before the numbing pleasure could consume you yet again and there’s a wet spot in the middle that lets you know he gets off on seeing you enjoy yourself. His hips unknowingly to him ruts against the sheets to get some kind of friction realising that he focused solely on your pleasure and put it aside to chase his, he’s so different from the partners you previously slept with and the sudden urge to please him overtakes your selfish side to just receive and receive.

You palm him over the wet spot following the outline of his hard dick to give him some well-deserved relief and he immediately grinds into your palm letting out breathy groans and low moans, you don’t mind at all when he gets lost in your touch instead and momentarily forgets about his goal to get you prepped nicely for his cock. The fingers he has inside you stills and your head clear out a little, you’re able to focus on his face learning what he likes as you study his reactions to your movements, you know his moans will probably become your favourite sounds.

You take advantage of his current state to switch positions, letting his fingers slip out of you as you get rid of his underwear grabbing his thighs to lower yourself while he sits down at the edge of the bed.

Taking his tip into your mouth to taste his precum you feel Yoongi’s nails digging into your scalp as you swallow around him trying to get him into your mouth as much as your poor jaw can handle. Holding the base of his cock to guide him back into your wet cavern you set a slow pace, stroking what you can’t fit.

”You look so good sucking my dick baby.” You learned that he tends to be on the quiet side even in the bedroom, his reactions however are good indicators of how you’re able to affect him with every swirl of your tongue. Letting him use the hand tangled in your hair to set the rhythm of your movements your vision blurs as tears swell in your eyes due to the quickened pace and force he starts to fuck your mouth but he pulls out before he could get too close to cumming.

”I need to have you know. Lie down on the bed with your legs spread wide for me.” You follow his instructions showing him your drenched swollen pussy as he climbs on the bed after you, admiring the way he ruined your cunt before he reaches for a condom retrieving the item from inside his drawer.

He touches himself in front of you watching you squirm under his gaze as you wait for him to roll the condom down his length, your body aches to finally be filled with something bigger.

”Yoongi. Fill me up.” You part your pussy lips for him revealing your hole clenching around nothing, beckoning him to fill you up Yoongi looks at the sinful image in front of him saving this memory of you for later when he’s alone with his hands but today he plans to have your cunt wrapped around his cock rather than his fingers.

Your drenched walls suck him in as he enters you, hips lowering in slow motion to bury his entire length inside, nice and steady, gripping his shoulders for support you moan into the sloppy kiss feeling so full.

You hear his guttural moan loud and clear just as his breath hits the shell of your ear and your walls squeeze around him, wet squelching sounds ring beside your mixed love language thriving off the sounds he grunts directly into your ear encouraging you to meet his movements in the middle.

It feels like you stand in front of the gates of heaven when Yoongi increases his pace thrusting in and out, not being able to stop as he feels his balls tighten with the need to cum he parts your legs even more as he watches his dick emerge from the pussy he owns now coated in your juices taking his hard length and moan out every time his tip curves to touch your sweet spot with each delivered stroke.

You cum first around his dick, he helps you ride out your pleasure only pulling out when you whine from oversensitivity and he rolls the condom off to finish as well, watching your spent pussy glistening with your cum he uses the sight in front of him to get off, he collects your slick to lubricate his shaft as he starts to jerk himself off faster.

Once your breathing evens out and you see the concentration on Yoongi’s face while he lucidly moves his hands up and down his throbbing cock with the desperate need to cum you touch his hips drawing soothing circles onto his sweaty skin taking him back into your mouth to help him reach his high.

He comes in your mouth with a soft cry throwing his head back as you keep sucking him licking his sensitive tip until he pulls your head off with a shaky hand stroking your cheeks with his thumb.

”So friends and family, let me introduce you to my boyfriend Yoongi. You might have already met him before.” You joke in front of your relatives of all ages and you see in the corner of your eyes how Hoseok rolls his eyes.

© helenazbmrskai lll Please do not copy, reblog and like instead!

[demigodreading]

Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus​:  Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter.  I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N!  We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved. 

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention. 

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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

Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment. 

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness. 

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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

The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day. 

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her. 

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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

Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time. 

[isthisthingeven0n]

every word : a.h

hotch wakes up with an unexpecting phone call, one he’s longed to hear; you’re awake. (1.9k) 

a/n : holy shit you guys i didn’t expect this response to ‘hear you’ but thank you so much! i promise there’s a happy ending to this, i think we all need it 

hear you / every word 

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Rolling over, you shuffle closer into his embrace, feeling his breath fanning across your shoulder. “Are you awake?” Aaron whispers, brushing his lips across your neck, listening to you giggle.

“Well, I am now,” You joke, lifting your gaze up to your boyfriend, never tiring of his drowsy smile. “I suspect we have approximately two minutes of privacy.” You whisper, and Aaron nods in agreement.

“Let’s make the most of it then,” Aaron mutters as he wraps both arms around you, pulling you on top of him as you try and suppress your squeal. “you gotta be quiet, honey.” He whispers into your lips as he kisses you softly, feeling you moan happily.

“Wait,” You pause, resting your hands on either side of Aaron’s head as you peer your head up toward the door, seeing the knob rattling.

Swiftly, you lie back down beside Aaron as you pretend to sleep and snore loudly like a cartoon character.

Within seconds, the door opens and Jack rushes in. He jumps up onto Aaron’s bed and lands in between you both.

“You’re just like your Dad, Jack,” You chuckle as he dives underneath the sheets, curling up in between you and Aaron. “king of subtlety.”  

Aaron laughs lightly as Jack pops his head back up from under the sheets, messing his hair up as he looks between you and his Dad. “Do you have work today?” Jack asks with a heavy heart.

“Not that we know of,” You happily tell the mini Hotchner who smiles brightly. “so, what do you wanna do today then little man?”

You perch up on your elbow, listening to Jack intently as he rambles on about all the things you could do today, forgetting that there are so many hours in a day. But just watching you with Jack, Aaron feels at peace, that he’s finally allowed himself a chance at happiness with you by his side.

Opening his eyes, Hotch looks around.

It was just another dream. You’re still in the hospital.

Sighing heavily to himself, Hotch wipes his face as faint sunlight tries to filter through his blinds. Ever since you went into the hospital, he hasn’t had a full night sleep. You possess his mind, haunt his dreams of a simple life that he’s unsure he’ll ever have back.

Hotch turns to look at your side of the bed, untouched. Your pillows remain perfectly fluffed up as your perfume coats the cotton, weaved into the fabric that provides some comfort in the dead of night.

“I miss you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters under his breath, returning to lie flat on his back as he stares up at his ceiling, missing those early mornings of bliss with you and Jack, his family.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, Hotch can see his phone lighting up. Without hesitation, he reaches for it and answers it. “Hotchner,” He responds, now sitting upright.

“Hi Mr Hotchner, we have you down as Ms Y/l/n emergency contact?” A woman on the other end of the phone questions and Hotch tears the sheets from his body, now perching on the edge of the bed with his feet hanging just above the floor.

“That’s correct, has something happened?” Hotch asks as the worst possibilities cloud his mind and remains unaware of his bedroom door opening and Jack peering in to see his Dad tensing up with his phone against his ear.

“Ms Y/l/n has woken up,” The woman states, and Hotch has to catch his breath as his heart hammers against his chest.

Barely able to process anything else the woman on the phone says, Hotch just nods to himself. “I’ll be right there, thank you.” He tells her and hangs up, taking a moment as he laughs happily to himself, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes.

“Is Mom awake?” A tired voice inputs and Hotch glances over his shoulder to see Jack stood there in his PJ’s, fidgeting as he leans against the door.

Rising to his feet, Hotch walks over to his son and kneels down. “Yeah, buddy,” Hotch quietly states with a smile crossing his face. “come on, we gotta go.” He tells his son, taking his hand as they both head downstairs for their things before rushing out of the door without a second thought.

*

It felt strange, that much was undeniable. Every time you blinked, you worried your eyes wouldn’t open again, that you’d be forced back into the darkness alone.

You were regaining control of your limbs as your Doctor explained everything to you in detail once you were fully conscious and competent. Part of you wondered if you dreamed everything you heard whilst in a comatose state, but as you listened to your Doctor, he was simply telling you everything you already knew.

Now, it was early- you knew that much as you sat upright enjoying the warmth basking your skin.

“Sir, you have to come back during visiting hours,” Your ears perk up to the sound of voices in the corridors, and suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as his voice stands out.

“I haven’t seen her for weeks, please,” Hotch pleads, his voice cracking as he moves on, heading to your private room. He pauses outside of it, the blinds still closed. “hey Jack?”

Jack looks up at his Dad, clad in his PJ’s and slippers, but covered in his coat for warmth. “Yeah?”

“Mind giving me a minute okay? I just wanna talk to Mom privately.” Hotch asks, and Jack simply nods as sleep still laces his mind.

Standing up tall, Hotch tries his best to compose himself as he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open.

“Hey stranger,” Your voice is raspy but clear as Hotch stands in disbelief. He closes the door behind him quietly as he keeps his focus on you, seeing you awake and looking right back at him.

“Y/n,” He breathes out, forcing his feet forward toward your bed as a sad smile forms your lips whilst they quiver. “oh, Y/n.” He reaches out, unable to stop himself as he hugs you tightly, not wishing to part from you again.

You rub your hand across his back as you feel him sob into you. “Aaron,” You mumble, ignoring the tears falling from your eyes as he pulls away and sits down beside you, his hand never leaving yours. “I’ve missed you so much.” You tell him, sniffing as you remain in disbelief. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hotch chuckles to himself. “I’m so sorry Y/n, for everything that happened that night, I, I should’ve walked with you.” He explains, but you squeeze his hand tightly, cutting him off.

“It wasn’t your fault, Aaron,” You sigh in relief. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to tell you that.” You laugh, and Hotch furrows his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asks, clearly perplexed.

You shuffle in your hospital bed, ignoring the mild throbbing of your forehead as you take a sip of water, even if it still burns your throat.

“It’s going to sound insane,” You preface, but Aaron keeps his eyes on you. “I, well, I heard everything whilst I was in the coma.”

Glancing up, you see Hotch staring back at you with that unreadable expression. “Everything?” He asks quietly, and you nod in response. “That, that’s insane, honey.” He tells you.

“Yeah,” You know it’s crazy, hell, how could you possibly begin to fathom it? “but I heard every conversation, every visit from the team and when you came,” You trail off. “yet, all I could think about was telling you that it isn’t your fault. None of it was or ever will be.” You tell him, not daring to tear your gaze from his. “I love you, Aaron, so please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You heard me?” His voice softens as you nod. “I, I,”

“It’s okay, Aaron, you don’t have to say anything else.” You smile, lifting your hand from his as you place it on his cheek, missing the feeling of his cheeks rising as he smiles into your palm.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Hotch admits, feeling the searing pain cross his heart at the thought.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Hotchner.” You joke, stroking away the stray tears that fall from his eyes.

You glance over his shoulder, noticing the door beginning to open.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” You whisper, and Hotch quickly wipes his eyes as Jack shyly enters.

“Come on over, buddy,” Hotch calls over his son who rushes over.

“Hey, Jack,” You try your best to remain composed as Jack looks up at you with those big eyes, full of love. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.” Your voice cracks and Jack stands in front of his Dad who helps him up onto your bed.

“I’ve missed you, Mom.” Jack remains strong as he hugs you, both arms around your neck as you hold him close.

“I see your Dad wasted no time in getting here, huh?” You joke, seeing him in his PJ’s like Aaron. “I feel a bit left out.” You ease into laughing with Jack, knowing it’s the best medicine for situations like this.

Seeing you with Jack, laughing like old times despite everything is just another reason why Hotch loves you with his whole heart.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Hotch comments as you nod to him before averting your attention back to the mini Hotchner, listening to his stories from school.

He glances through the now opened blinds, seeing you smiling with all your might, despite the evident fear in your eyes.

Hotch takes out his phone and dials Rossi, knowing he’d need to know.

“Rossi.” Dave answers.

“Dave, Y/n’s awake.” Hotch states and Rossi laughs happily through the line and can hear him telling Krystall the good news.

“Oh Aaron, that’s excellent news, is she alright?” Rossi asks, now sitting down as Krystall pats his shoulder before heading into the kitchen.

“She’s doing okay,” Hotch comments, looking over his shoulder at you and Jack. “she’s vulnerable, but I can tell she’s putting on a front for Jack’s sake.” Hotch explains.

“I’m just glad she’s awake,” Rossi sighs. “does she know how long she’s been out?”

Hotch chuckles under his breath. “Y/n erm, she heard everyone the entire time.” Hotch states. “I know it sounds crazy, and trust me, I agree, but she explained how she could hear every conversation someone had with her or others in the room.”

“Damn,” Rossi whistles. “Reid's going to have a field day with this.” Rossi tuts, hearing Hotch laugh lightly. “That’s a lot to have on her mind, though, Aaron.”

“Yeah,” Hotch mutters. “it’s going to be a process for all of us, but we’ll work through it, as a family.”

Rossi smiles to himself, having seen Hotch at his lowest to his highest of highs with you by his side. “Send her our love, okay?”

“I will, thanks Dave.” Hotch hangs up after that and takes a moment to compose himself, knowing it’ll all work out in the end, as you have each other, and that’s all that matters.

okay so thank you for reading! and thank you to these wonderful angels for their amazing and entertaining comments: @spencerreidsoulmate @ellyhotchner @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @ssa-kassidyhughes @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @lumineshawn @oreogutz​ @prentisswrites​ @theinsanespaceship15​