#please just stop tagging the other ships especially when it has NOTHING to do w them

[sinnbaddie]

I’m starting to hate STSG so much solely for the fact that I cannot consume any content of my faves without them always being brought up or inserted into the conversation in some type of way

I just wanna hyperfixate on Hikara and Itafushi yet the most toxic and unhealthy ship is brought up more in their tags than them themselves

[thelibraryoferebor]

Five Tolkien Fics To Start You On Your Queer Journey Through Middle Earth

When it comes down to it, the world of ao3 and its other fan fiction counterparts can be a confusing place to navigate, especially for us Tolkien fans, so I have taken it upon myself to create this one stop destination for a starter pack of fan fiction (specifically queer) for the beginners in this world to enjoy! You'll get the hang of it eventually, but for now here are five fics, in no particular order, that you absolutely must read.

1. Sansûkh by determamfidd

|| teen - 578k - completed ||

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

Notes: Let’s be real, if you’ve been in this particular circle of hell you’ve most definitely read this fic, but don't hate me for recing it first. It’s a lovely thilbo and gigolas combo that just has all the feels. Ofc there are other ships, but they’re all written beautifully. If you’re new to gigolas or thilbo you *must* read this fic. It’s practically mandatory, and if you don’t read it now you’ll read it later and regret not reading it sooner. I swear to Yavanna, just read it!

2. Love Always, Yours Forever by butterflyslinky

|| teen - 7k - completed ||

Tauriel, Fili and Kili pull a prank on Gimli and Legolas, who respond in kind. Things go a little too far.

Notes: This fic is a personal favorite of mine. You might even call it a guilty pleasure of sorts. While it does feel kinda cracky at the beginning (not that I mind), it'll have you sobbing by the end. I revisit this fic almost every other week. BTW it's gigolas and kiliel, and there might be a smudge of bagginsheild, but not enough for it to be mentioned in the tags.

3. I Can See You Through the Flames by LittleLynn

|| explicit - 62.4k - completed ||

When Bard Bowman manages to get a job tutoring a young boy at Mirkwood Hall, he and his children move to the strange and dark estate. It does not take long for him to realise that there is something hiding amidst its walls and behind the blank mask of its mysterious lord. Despite his gut warnings that something is not as it seems, he still cannot help the foolish way that he falls for his lord and employer.

Notes: I adore this fic and I'll gush about it in just a sec, but first things first. This fic is barduil centric (bard/thranduil) and I know that that (that being Thranduil) isn't everybody's cup of tea, but I promise that if this fic doesn't make you adore him, nothing will. I personally consider barduil to be one of my Tolkien otps (up there w/thilbo and gigolas), so please, if you don't like it just move on. But.... if you're open to the idea I highly recommend this fic as an amazing starting point. Features Frerin, Thorin, Dis and them a little bit, and tiny Legolas is magnificent. It's written based upon some book, but it's totally readable without having read it. Jane Eyre, I think.

4. Smell the Sea and Feel the Sky by Thorinsmut

|| explicit - 65.7k - completed ||

Captain Dwalin - a privateer for the Crown - is in love with beautiful, sweet, innocent Lady Norine.

His main rival (whom he is most definitely not in lust with) is the cockiest little man he ever met - Captain Vulpes, a pirate with a fast mongrel of a ship and a bad habit of stealing his targets out from under his nose.

...it's going to take him a while to realize they're the same genderfluid person.

Notes: Bear with me on this one, but it's a deep au (if you haven't caught on yet, I'm fond of AU's). This one has Nori/Dwailin and is a Pirate!Au with genderfluid!Nori which, especially since I'm genderfluid, I adore. Tbh this is one of my favorite fics, especially for a ship I usually only do as a side pairing. It's written beautifully, although it's a little bit more on the mature side so if heavy themes revolving sexual content aren't you're thing, I might advise you to go for one of the other fics on this list first. But seriously, this is amazing in all of the ways.

5. An Unexpected Addition by karategal

|| teen - 88.9k - completed ||

All of the dwarves survive the Battle of the Five Armies, but Bilbo must return to the Shire to sort out his old life and make way for a new one in Erebor. Over one year later, Bilbo comes back to the Lonely Mountain with a recently orphaned Frodo. King Thorin isn't quite sure what to make of this new, tiny addition to his Company.

Notes: This one has to be my absolute favorite "Frodo comes to Erebor fic", and let me tell you that there are a shitload of them (not that I'm really complaining). It's just perfectly written and characterized and the thilbo is magnificent. And just asifehihifhgh I can'tttt. It's so good. At this point I don't think I need to say much, but this is the perfect start for reading thilbo and no one can convince me otherwise.

A couple more things as this rec list comes to a close. I hope these five fits do well to start you on your gay Tolkien journey, but be forewarned, Tolkien fanfics are almost always novels. Right now that might now be your thing, if you've read fics before and are coming from another fandom, but I promise you if you give the long ones a chance they'll sway you. I used to only go for one shots but now I read these novel length stories like they're nothing. When it's written well long stories are the best. That's all for now ig, see ya tomorrow!

~H

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

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

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

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

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

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

Dameron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You're finally alone.

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

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

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

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

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

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

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

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

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

There.  There’s the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You lose count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you just start giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… to pull a bag of chips out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a nice voice, you think.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Can I Offer A Little Help?

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Bestie is a little long btw. Just be prepared to be here for a while lol.

It’s 2.4k words btw

Ships: None

Warnings: Panic Attack, Angst, Soft Tickles

The Breakdown: Lee Izuku, Ler Mirio. Based off of the following prompt, “Y’know. You can stay a little longer if you need a little more time.”

Prompt: Izuku Midoriya has a life that’s packed full. One day in class, he breaks down. He runs as far as he can, hoping to find somewhere or someone that can help him. All hope is lost until he almost runs into Togata.

Tags: @cupcake-spice13

To say pounding would be an understatement. Izuku Midoriya’s heart was ripping itself from its cozy home in his chest. The boy tried to keep his breathing steady, tried.

But what had caused this? The 36 on his test? His neglect of himself? His own deprecation? Regardless of the reason, the boy sat antsy in his desk in Aizawa’s classroom.

His fuzzy vision didn’t help him pay attention much, neither did the static in his brain, or the ringing in his ears.

‘You need to calm down Izuku. You deserve no panic. When you succeed you can panic.’

Gee you’re quite nice, Izuku’s brain.

On top of the ringing, a multitude of voices just filled his head.

‘You’ll never account for anything. Maybe you’ll manifest a quirk in your next life’ Kacchan.

‘I’ll have to keep an eye on you, problem child. I can’t trust you yet.’ Aizawa.

‘Enough with the waterworks, you can’t be a hero if you’re crying all the time’ All Might.

They all were right, especially Kacchan. He couldn’t hear anything except those voices, and the ringing... Not even Aizawa hovering over him.

A hand gently grazes his shoulder, causing the boy to leap out of his seat and put his hands up in defense.

It was at that moment that almost everything stopped. The world moved slowly as his vision unblurred. His vision refocuses... why is everyone staring at him? Why do they all look so worried? Even... even Kacchan? Wh- oh. He was crying...

“Midoriya...?” Aizawa reached out a gentle hand, “Can we talk please?”

“N-n-no I c-can’t. D-don’ have t’ b-babysit me.” Izuku whispered, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

“Midoriya? What’s going on?” Aizawa’s soft voice was a shock to every other student in the room.

“N-No! B-back up! G-get away from me!” Izuku threw his arms up in defensive position as tears leaked down his face.

“Midoriya please come w-“

“NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TOUCH ME! YOU DON’T HAVE TO BABYSIT YOUR PROBLEM CHILD ANYMORE!” Izuku cowered away from everyone.

Just as numerous times in the past, his body moved on his own as he sprinted out the open door.

“Midoriya!” Aizawa’s voice rose in volume as he jogged to the doorway, “come back here and let me help you!”

All in vain. Izuku was already long gone. He didn’t know where he was going, he just ran. He ran past 1-B, he ran past 1-C, finally reaching the support hallway.

An all familiar flash of yellow and a red cape filled his vision, but he ran into nothing.

Suddenly, an arm caught around the front of his waist, stopping him abruptly.

“Woa-careful there Midoriya! You’re in a bit of a rush! Where ya headed my frien-“

Izuku paced around the support hall, hands tangled into his green hair, tears trickling down his pink face, muttering deprecations to himself.

“Midoriya?”

The boy snapped out of his trance again, “o-oh. H-hi Mirio. Nice t-to see you.”

“Are you alright buddy? You seem a little tense...” Mirio reached a hand out to comfort his friend.

“NGH- doNT TOuch me.” He threw his hands up and staggered backwards.

“Midoriya you really don’t seem oka-“

“Leave me alone Mirio! Since when are we friends?” Izuku spat, unawares.

Mirio’s heart squeezed. Ouch. But, he had a hunch that the boy didn’t mean it.

“I’m going to ignore that. Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Mirio pressed again.

Izuku was staring directly at the wall, muttering to himself.

“Midoriya?” Mirio waved his hand in front of the boy’s face.

“Gah! Oh-Hi Mirio! How are you doing my friend? Nothing to see here! I can see you’re busy with support! Okay bye! ” Izuku said quickly, turning on his heel to leave.

“Izuku please talk to me. Something is up.” Mirio finally rushed to stand in front of the boy, “you’re being inconsistent with your feelings and your brain is fogging up.”

Izuku sniffled as his fluttering heart slowly stopped trying to pry from his chest.

“These are all coping responses. So please...” Mirio stepped toward his friend, wrapping him protectively in his arms, “tell me what’s going on.”

The greenette kicked up a fuss, but eventually melted into the touch. When his knees gave out, Mirio followed him to the ground, keeping him secure in his arms. Izuku was suddenly hysterically crying in the hallway.

“It’s alright. Let it out, you’re safe here.” Mirio whispered. He rubbed his friend’s back, and rested his chin on top of the boy’s head.

“J-jus’ s-school an-and-“

“Shh shh shh, no no. Don’t talk. Just relax.” Mirio hushed his broken friend.

“C-can we please g-go somewhere p-pr-private?” Izuku muttered.

Mirio let out a relaxed sigh, “of course. I have to make a quick pit stop but we can head to my dorm. Tamaki should still be in class.”

The blonde gently scooped up the weakened boy and put him on his back. Without putting up a fight, Izuku buried his head into Mirio’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

He was a little better. Still crying and still a little staggered breathing wise. But his heart wasn’t trying to leave his chest anymore.

The duo walked back towards the front. Past 1-C, past 1-B, finally to 1-A. Mirio reached his hand out to knock on the open door.

Aizawa stopped his lecture upon seeing the duo, he went to the door with calm urgency. He stepped into the hallway to give them all privacy.

“Mirio thank goodness. I’m glad someone he can trust found him, I don’t know what happened but-“

“He’s alright. I didn’t want to press, so I’m going to take him back to my dorm. I might bring him back to class, I’m not sure yet.” Mirio responded in a hushed voice. His “backpack” sniffled and opened his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry sensei...” he could only usher a whisper as he hid his head in shame

“You’re alright, Midoriya. You don’t control what happens as an effect of your emotions.” Aizawa brushed his hand on the boy’s head, “don’t run off and scare me like that anymore though, we can work through it together. You got me, Problem Child?”

All three of the males chuckled softly. Izuku nodded slowly. Mirio muttered something to Aizawa that Izuku was too burnt out to care what was said. Soon his chariot was moving back toward the front door.

The golden sunlight shone softly on Izuku’s tear-stained face. The boy let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh gee, are you okay Midoriya? I can move you so the sun isn’t in your eyes.” Mirio’s gentle voice echoed through Izuku’s head.

“M’fine...feels...feels nice.” Izuku whispered, nuzzling deeper into Mirio’s neck.”

Mirio wore a very pleased grin as he sauntered toward the dorms. He was careful as to not upset the boy on his back, so he took his time with his walking.

When they arrived at Mirio’s dorm, the blonde gently removed Izuku’s shoes and placed the tired boy on his bed. He then turned to unpack Izuku’s schoolbag, hoping to fill him in on some missing notes.

“I’m going to help you finish up your lesson. I recognized it and have the notes somewhere. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen. No rush. We have all the time in the world.”

“Mirio...” Izuku’s soft voice broke the deafening silence, “What if... What if I can’t do this...? What if I’m not cut out for the hero program? I’m not great at it academically, and it drives my mom crazy.”

The blonde turned around with a concerned look. He was met with the greenette gripping the bed sheets, breathing weakly and gritting his teeth as tears once again dripped down his face.

“I don’t deserve to be here... should’a picked someone else.” Izuku whispered.

“You....” Mirio put down the boy’s school work and slowly crept toward him, “astonish me.”

Izuku looked up to see Mirio’s, normally twinkling, but now cloudy, blue eyes kneeling In front of him.

“I understand horrible grades, trust me. But you...” he smiled widely, attempting to hide the threatening tears in his eyes, he couldn’t believe Midoriya of all people was worried about succeeding.

“you astonish me, Midoriya. I mean... your quirk absolutely destroyed you at first. You broke numerous bones, came close to never using them again... but you continue to fight. You continue to disregard your own safety for others’. You have the qualities of a true hero, the abilities of a true hero, and enough experience that one student needs in a lifetime. You improve every day, that’s... that’s what sir would’ve wanted. That’s what I want for you.”

Izuku sniffled and latched onto Mirio’s neck. “T-thank you.” The smaller boy whispered. The blonde happily engulfed the boy in return.

“How’ya feeling, Midoriya?”

“A little better...”

“Y’know, you can stay a little longer.” Mirio brushes a stray hair stuck to the tears lingering on Izuku’s cheek, “If you need a little more time.”

“Yes please.” He whispered with his first grin of the day.

“Ah finally.” Mirio spoke from his position in the embrace, “you finally smiled.”

“Hey...” Izuku whined, the smile growing.

“Y’know, Sir always had the best way for us to relax. Would you like to try?” Mirio asked, releasing from the hug and staring down at Izuku.

“Mmm... suuurrreee...” He hesitated. He was pretty sure he knew what was going to happen, Mirio would tell him a god-awful joke to get him to laugh.

“Okay I’m going to lay you down.” Mirio said gently as he did just that.

“Okay... I’m-I’m ready.”

Mirio smiled as he slowly and gently brought a hand to the younger boy’s side. He gave it a light squeeze causing the latter to squeak and jolt upward.

“Oh gee! I’m sorry! I should’ve asked you first!” Mirio instantly removed his hand and placed it on the bed next to him.

“It’s okay! Jus’ surprised me is all.” Izuku said bashfully as he laid back down.

“Okay I’m going to go in again.” Mirio placed his hand in the same spot, “Is this alright?”

Izuku bit his lip and nodded. The slightest contact was already making him smile. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t ready to feel happy again.

Mirio started to slowly squeeze the boy’s right side. Izuku lightly giggled, pushing his hands into Mirio’s face. He was embarrassed, but he knew this would be good for him.

“There you go! Just be happy! Be free!” Mirio cooed as he added a mirrored hand to the greenette’s left side.

“Mihihihihihrihohohoho.” Izuku hid his face in his hands.

“Yes?”

“Tihihihicklehehehehes.”

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried I wasn’t doing good and you were laughing at my pathetic attempt.” Mirio stated as he quickened his pace.

“nohoHOHOHO.” Izuku threw his head back into the pillow, “Ihihihihits sohohoho bahahahahad!”

Mirio’s tickly hands ceased for a second so their owner could clutch his heart in a dramatic fashion, “so bad? Oh gee. I guess I’m just going to have to do better.”

“Wait wait wait- Mirio I didn’t mehehEHEHEHEAN-“

Izuku broke out into gentle laughter as Mirio squeezed his stomach.

“How’s this?”

“Mihihihihirihihihohohoho! Nohohohoho!” To say the boy was embarrassed was an understatement.

“No? Oh dear. I guess it’s time for more drastic measures.”

Izuku shuttered as cold air hit his torso, the chilly feeling disappeared, feeling only as a torturous finger was dipped into his belly button.

“MIHIHIHRIHIHIHOHOHOHO! WAIHIHIHIHIT!”

The blonde did just that. He removed his hand right away and sat next to the giggling boy. “You okay? Did I go too far?”

Izuku refocused to see his “evil” attacker. Sitting by his feet with a very concerned look.

“Oh. I’m okay... heh. Sorry, force of habit.” Izuku muttered as he turned his blushing face away from Mirio.

“As long as you’re feeling alright. Should I keep going?” Mirio replied with a beaming grin.

“uhm...”

“Midoriya?”

“Y-Yes p-please.” Izuku hid his head under one of Mirio’s pillows.

Mirio grinned wickedly. “Don’t hide from me!”

He had a grand idea. Time for the ol’ switcheroo. He brought a hand up to Izuku’s stomach and squeezed around the boy’s bellybutton.

“Mihihihirihihihohohoho!” Izuku squealed from under the pillow, “stahahahappihihihit.”

He did just that again, but... when Izuku inched toward him for more contact, he squeezed the boy’s sides rapidly, causing him to jump.

“Pick a spot already! No teheheheasihihihihing!” Izuku squeaked from his abode under Mirio’s pillow.

Mirio lifted his hands. “I am! I picked your sides! And then your tummy, and your sides again, and then your belly button and then-“

“Okay okay I get it I get it! So embarassiiiiiing.”

The blonde grinned. It’s time for the plan. When Mirio started squeezing Izuku’s sides, he lightning quick moved to the boy’s foot. While gripping the ankle with one, Mirio spidered the fingers of his other hand over the boy’s socked foot.

“PFFFH- MIHIHIHIRIHIHIOHOHOHO!” Izuku squealed, throwing the pillow off his face, “NOHOHOHO FAIHIHIHIHIHIR!”

“Hey you asked me to pick a spot!” Mirio replied nonchalantly, “I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“NOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHO FEEHEHEHEHEET!”

Mirio abruptly stopped and released the boy’s foot. “Sorry. Too far?”

“N-no...don’t m-mind it, just too t-t-ti-gah...” the greenette’s face flushed red as a blush crept up from his neck to his ears.

“What’s wrong Midoriya? Your feet too ticklish?” The blonde inquired, sneaking in a few scribbles every now and then.

“Mihihihirihihiohohoh dohohohohont sahahahahay thahahahahahat.”

“Say what? That your poor feet are too ticklish. Aww poor Midoriya! Can’t say the word tickle. Don’t worry, I can for you! Tickle tickle tickle ti-“

“MIRIO OH MY G-“ Izuku yelped in embarrassment, pulling his feet out of his attacker’s clutches.

“Alright alright.” Mirio threw his hands up in defense, “are you all done?”

“Yeah... thanks Mirio.” Izuku said with a pleased sigh, “I definitely needed to laugh.”

“Not a problem! I’ll be here to ‘help’ you anytime.” The blonde replied with wiggling fingers.

“A-Ah alright! U-um- heh...Thanks Mirio. Really, it means a lot to know I have you in my corner.”

Mirio beamed as he went to repack Izuku’s backpack. “Come on you, let’s get you back to Mr. Aizawa’s class.”

“Can we stay a little longer? I’m not ready to face Kacchan and Iida. They’re going to pester me.”

“Of course we can stay! I told you, as long as you needed.”

Izuku and Mirio sat side by side on the bed, shooting the breeze before they returned to U.A.

“So... what’s this about you not minding me tickling you...?” The blonde teased, reaching up wiggling fingers.

Izuku gripped both wrists. “If you value your life, you won’t continue to ask me questions like that...” the boy replied, lacing his tongue with the most venom he could fester.

“Oh really? Gee I guess I should just ask All-Might sensei because I’m sure he could tell me if his protegé is just sooo ticklish and looooves every second that he-“

“MIRIO I SWEAR-“

Before they knew it, the two boys were wrestling. Mirio eventually won, continuing his assault from earlier. When he drilled a thumb into the hollows of the latter’s hips, the blonde discovered his favorite sound in the world.

Boy was he glad that Izuku confided in him of all people.

[midoriyashotos]

Anguish of the Quirkless

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shoto (could be platonic... though I ship them a lot lmao)

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto; MENTIONED - Bakugo Katsuki

Summary: Izuku doesn’t explode.

But burn after burn, he can’t take it anymore.

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: I had no reason to write this other than the fact I’ve been really angry and I needed to write something down.

I guess this is technically my first Tododeku fic? But like, it isn’t the focus here, so interpret it the way you want (if you can). I hope this didn’t turn out to be too OOC, though.

Please be aware of the tags and disclaimers below. Be safe. <3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - childhood trauma, past bullying/abuse and injury

*NOT BAKUGO/BAKUDEKU FRIENDLY!

--

Izuku doesn’t explode.

If anything, he’s more than scared of explosions. The explosions that silence him, that burn his tongue and his arms and legs, and the notebook of his fanboyish train of thought. The blasts that keep happening no matter how far away he is.

So no, he doesn’t explode. He probably can’t.

--

Though every time he stares at the blond spikes of his classmate, Izuku is sickened by a cocktail of years of combustions.

Maybe he does admire the beauty of the explosions when far away. Depending on them, they can actually be quite beautiful when done for the greater good. But when he’s so near, to try to reach them, Izuku gets injured. It’s probably his fault to begin with.

But even with patience and care, Izuku is always exploded back to where he’s been stuck in since he was four.

Izuku is always behind Katsuki. He can’t go around him and walk away. He can’t push him aside, he can’t as much as talk to him. Katsuki will forever be a wall, a minefield that will remain activated until the end of time.

And most importantly, Izuku can never explode back.

He hates explosions, after all.

--

The flaming blend of feelings, however, reach his mind at times he should be feeling okay.

The image of himself exploding Katsuki, of yelling at him, beating the crap out of him sickens the young hero to no end.

But it replays in his head still, even when they’re not fighting and instead having fun with their other classmates. Izuku stares at Katsuki for mere seconds and the thoughts come to him. The freckled boy swallows it all back, until it comes to haunt him at night. Until the burns sting his arms and his heart.

Izuku has tense nights, yet he never explodes. Ever.

--

You’d think Izuku would be happy here. He is happy, though, to be where he’s dreamed of for so long.

But each day that passes, he seems to get worse, he’s sick and tired and angry, and the combustions are closer to his heart. The fantasies become more violent, they’re disturbing. Izuku stains his hands, massacring the remaining of blond hair and hateful red eyes.

Izuku could never take blood from someone. It’s awful – he’s being awful. What would others think? What would everyone else think? All Might, his mother, his friends?

Izuku knows he can cry, but what about the rage? What about the ticking bomb inside him? The bomb that might be close to destroying all around him?

He can’t let anyone see.

Least of all Katsuki.

--

Thankfully, U.A. owns several gymnasiums for the students to train. Few, though, are somewhat left aside due to the new ones, but they don’t really close them. His classmates don’t seem to use them either, as far as he’s concerned.

Izuku finds the classic training tools, including several, big punching bags – different from those you see in common gyms, obviously. They’re able to take up a lot more damage, useful for physical-focused quirks.

He prepares and attacks. Holding it back, Izuku knows to be careful, to protect others. He hates explosions. He hates hurting others.

(All everyone has ever done was hurt him. Why? He was powerless. Quirkless. Deku.)

(That’s why he reclaimed the name, to transform it into someone who could be trusted, someone who could never hurt.)

Izuku kicks, dodges, as if in a real fight. He gives the bag mercy. Probably unnecessary.

(No one gave him mercy.)

(Midoriya Izuku, a boy who could never do wrong, who did nothing but exist.)

(He was exploded like no one ever was.)

The boy’s hands shine red with One for All, as do his eyes. The punching bag absorbs the power, becoming harder to punch and overcome. Izuku continues to spare it, to no avail.

(No matter what he does, he’ll continue to be blasted on the face.)

(Whether he’s powerless or not. The explosions will punish him until he’s gone.)

It’s then that the bag’s energy turns against him and blows him away, Izuku falling back and failing, once again.

It’s all too familiar.

Izuku roars.

He advances with his all, at the same speed as Gran Torino’s, but with a rage unknown to others. A rage from no hero. Heroes don’t feel hate, only towards evil – yet never, never to this extent. With revenge comes nothing. No hero should be selfish.

(This doesn’t come from a hero. It comes from… a boy? A monster?)

And Izuku is attacking the bag with no barriers holding him back. The second time it attacks, Izuku doesn’t let himself fall again. He returns at full speed and destroys the bag. He’s yelling this entire time, his throat hurting yet he’s far from quitting.

“WHY?!” Izuku demands from the bag. “WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

As always, he gets no answer, only blows and ignorance. And he’s punching it again.

The red of the bag infuriates him, it’s all he sees, and he wants to eradicate.

All those years, all that time never fighting back, never looking for solutions after years of rejections; they all come back to stab him again.

You’re useless.

Pathetic.

You need to deal with it.

“You RUINED MY LIFE!” Izuku screams, eyes shut but red, dams overflowing. “AND YOU DON’T EVEN CARE!”

Despite his cries and punches, they’re not moving, they’re not listening. When have they ever? When?

“I HATE YOU!” Izuku yells, his most disliked words. He’d never say to anyone.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

“I

HATE

YOU!!! ”

 CRASH!

He yelps at the force thrown back at him. Smoke enters his nose, painful coughs echoing.

When Izuku looks back, he gasps without making a sound.

He didn’t destroy just one bag – it fired back and damaged the other ones, now abandoned on the floor.

And even then—

Izuku growls and punches the floor, this time without any power left.

He’s still burning.

It doesn’t matter. It never matters.

Now everything smokes and suffocates him, and he’s crying the most he’s ever did.

That’s why he hates explosions.

--

Izuku doesn’t go to Recovery Girl, nor does he tell anyone. He hopes Aizawa-sensei never finds out what he’d done. He looked for cameras and, thankfully, found none.

He lies to his friends he trained in the woods and got a little ahead of himself. As a response, Uraraka tells him to be careful and Iida insists Quirk training should be balanced for him, as a hero in training. Two important statements, of course.

Todoroki, however, observes.

It’s the most he does. Todoroki watches and sees all, barely saying much. He reads people like no one else does. He was the first to realize something would go wrong with Iida, when the latter had wanted to seek his brother’s almost assassin.

This is different, though. So much different.

Izuku ignores it the best he can.

--

Late at night, he can’t sleep. The green-eyed boy sneaks in the kitchen, to grab some tea to make. His classmates seem to have healthy sleep schedules, especially when exams are out of the scene.

So slow steps take him off guard, and Izuku hides his arms under his sleeves.

“Midoriya.”

He sighs deeply. “Oh, Todoroki-kun… it’s just you. What’s up?”

Todoroki shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh. Me neither.”

“Hm.”

Todoroki is doing it again, he can tell. Watching him. (Judging.)

Izuku hates being watched – he’s watched the entire time.

The tea doesn’t take much longer to be ready, so Izuku barely bats an eye to Todoroki and makes his way to the stairs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbles.

“Wait, Midoriya—”

“What ?”

Izuku regrets the moment he hisses, but he’s so tired.

“Just…” his classmate hesitates. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Todoroki’s tone has… softened.

Izuku doesn’t turn around.

“… Good night, Todoroki-kun.”

--

The days go by like usual. It’s like nothing happened. No one has found out, or so he hopes.

Todoroki hasn’t talked to him since that night. Or well, Izuku tries to avoid looking at him for too long in the first place. They have lunch together with the rest, but there’s no direct contact at all.

Todoroki isn’t the kind of person you can make excuses. He reads into your tone, he knows something is wrong. While Izuku’s relationship with him has definitely improved since the Sports Festival and Stain, he still finds that aspect of him a little intimidating. Because Todoroki, in contrast, is hard to read most of the time.

Izuku might as well be avoiding him. Of course, he’s polite when Todoroki has a question or when he asks for a favor. Though he rejects the suggestion they train together in the next day. Mostly, because Izuku’s wounds still sting, and he refuses to go to the infirmary.

At last, Izuku finds himself going to the old gymnasium, with no intention to seethe like before, even if the urge screams in his brain. It looks… the same, on the outside. As for the inside…

Instead of the gray smoke and destroyed reds, Izuku stops as soon as he catches white strands connected to wine, fire red. A fire that doesn’t explode, but fire, nonetheless.

Izuku’s veins fill with One for All, and before he goes Full Cowling to get as far away as possible, he’s less than lucky to expose himself.

“Midoriya?”

Nononononono—

Even though Todoroki isn’t using his Quirk, Izuku feels like he’s frozen by his giant ice spikes, caught to explain himself.

Why on earth is Todoroki here? Does he also know this spot? Oh, of course. Todoroki often trains alone but Izuku never knew where. Oh my god.

There are no words shared or spoken, least of all whispered. Izuku can’t bring himself to look up. There’s only shame to be shared. No one was supposed to find out and yet he just revealed himself. Stupid. Idiot!

A step.

“Midoriya…”

Izuku shakes his head.

“I know what you’re going to say.”

Todoroki stops. “What?”

“… that I’m supposed to be a hero, right? That I shouldn’t have done this? I- I know I shouldn’t have.” Izuku clenches his jaw and his fists, to contain the trembling rage. “I shouldn’t be angry.”

The fallen punching bags stare.

“But I didn’t know what to do with this anger. It only kept growing and- and it keeps growing inside of me, these thoughts, this scream in my throat,” Izuku spits out without much thought. “I’ve been hurt my entire life and I hate- I hate hurting people back, I hate wanting to hurt them, but I hate them, too, I hate-!” For a moment, he bites back the poisonous name, yet he can’t take it anymore, he’s tired of being silenced by the explosions.

“… I hate Kacchan. I hate that he always explodes me in the face, I hate that he used to go after other kids, too. He always explodes and hurts people, and he doesn’t give a shit.” Izuku’s tone is wet, soaked with weight. “He doesn’t give a shit about me, he still hurts me no matter what I do, and I’m sick of it. And god, all I want is to punch his fucking face and scream, because he never cared about making me cry or burning me at all, he- he doesn’t care! And I don’t know why I still do, why I even try to communicate with him! Nothing I do is enough for him!”

Izuku observes the multiple layers of old wood under his feet, each second finding new details, new splinters.

“This is why I don’t explode. Why I never burst out. I-I don’t want to hurt anyone… but I’m still so angry, Todoroki-kun. I’m only feeling worse than before.” The freckled teen pathetically dries his drowned face. “It’s like nothing is ever going to get better.”

The temperature is a bitter cold, despite the sun outside.

Izuku cries like that boy he’d known in Middle School, the one that would weep to himself in the shadows after getting burned on the face.

“W-What should I do?” He asks to no one.

It’s, again, a question without an answer.

Except…

His arms are taken by two hands that slowly pull up his sleeves, revealing the wounds from the hazard. The hands brush against his blistered skin as gently as possible. One hot, the other cold, but equally mindful.

“I think…” Todoroki whispers, “you need someone.”

Izuku’s face is close to the piercing gray and blue eyes, the ones who always read him… but not in judgment, he realizes. They read each sentence, each word of himself and take it to their heart, hopefully to come up with a meaningful response.

“Because then… who will protect you from the explosion?” Todoroki questions, his right hand reaching Izuku’s left.

The question is one he’s never considered. Izuku makes sure no one gets hurt, and maybe he’s successful at that, yet…

Todoroki’s face is close enough for their heads to touch, some of his red and white bangs touching Izuku’s forehead.

“It’s okay to be angry, Midoriya.”

“You’re… not mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku gulps, “I feel… disgusting.”

“I understand. But you’re not disgusting. You were hurt.”

Izuku’s mouth quivers. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Todoroki’s hands move from his arms to his shoulders, pulling him forward. Izuku shivers.

He’s…

Todoroki has never hugged him before.

Sure, they’ve gotten so far as friends. But after all this time, they’ve never touched each other; least of all Todoroki, who is, reasonably, a more reserved person.

The hug is far from awkward, nonetheless. It’s… good. Izuku has never been hugged like this. Even with the crime scene of his anger right there for Todoroki and everyone else to see… the red-and-white-haired boy chooses to hold him.

(After all, he’s also a boy. A boy afraid of his thoughts. Afraid while no one knows.)

Izuku returns the contact, his face somewhat under Todoroki’s chin.

“I’m sorry Bakugo is a piece of shit.” He adds quietly, “Well, more than he already is.”

That manages to attract a miserable laugh.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

Izuku hums, not up to protest as he melts in his touch. He could never have imagined Todoroki to be this… comfortable.

The permanent smell of smoke and dust does eventually bother him, so Izuku suggests, “Want to get out of here?”

“Sure.”

And they leave the gymnasium behind, hopefully their secret will be left alone.

Todoroki takes Izuku to a tree, the leaves green like the latter’s hair. There’s enough of a shadow to cover them from the sun, from the burning flames far away. Todoroki helps a little with the burns, his ice the most soothing Izuku has felt.

Until the sun sets, their hands are intertwined, scars only they know.

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 7 』

· Oct. 1st → Fly! ·

Characters: (teams) Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa, (indiv.) Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Aone Takanobu

Prompts: A. free choice!

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), Among Us (video game), PG, fluff, crack, video games, video game violence/death, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: Among Us is a bit of a hot meme at the moment (great game. Go and play it/watch other people play it if you can. Get a feel for the game if you somehow haven't already.) So I thought, 'Hey, why not?' I mean, I do need to heal my heart after my Day 6 post, so...

What an amazing week it's been! Well done, everyone! All of my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts are SFW, but there's a little treasure trove of NSFW on my blog, too. Please peruse to your heart's content. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy! ♡

Haikyuu boys / playing Among Us

☆ Karasuno ☆

Literally the loudest games you'll ever witness

You know that grainy, electronic crackle that happens when everybody yells on Discord at the same time? Yeah. That

Kageyama can't lie for shit. It's so obvious when he's lying that it's a genuine miracle if he doesn't immediately get ejected

And he stands in all the wrong places when he's faking doing his tasks 😭😭

But he sounds super suspicious when he's telling the truth, too 😅

Noya and Tanaka buddy up no matter what, and go around trying to clear or murder people together

They also end up fuelling each other's incorrect assumptions

Asahi is way too timid to murder anyone right away, so if nobody dies in the first two rounds, you know it's him or someone trying to frame him...

Daichi is the host and tries to keep order in the lobby...tries someone help him

Hinata: Guys, please stop swearing! Natsu is watching me play!! waahhh 🙈 so cute 😇

Hinata always has to be orange. Don't touch his orange

Ennoshita is the king of self-reporting and getting away with it it just be like that

Kageyama goes around called 'Milk' 🥛

Tsukki tries to big-brain the shit out of it 🤣

He's also hella manipulative as an imposter and refuses to kill Yamaguchi 😭

Suga likes to take out the oxygen/recator and lie in wait for the people who come to fix it he will giggle adorably when it ends up working, which sounds kinda pshyco, ngl 😂

But totally screams at his screen when someone he suspected sneaks up on him and kills him

Yamaguchi low-key prefers the mini games to the actual game 😭😭

And Yachi loves being pink and wearing the little flower in her hair ngl, she nearly fainted the first time she got killed

She doesn't play with them often because it's so loud 😬

☆ Nekoma ☆

Kenma streams the gaming sessions on Twitch, and now they kind of have a cult following 🤷‍♀️

These fans be thirsting hard, too like us

Check out my smut headcanons, y'all 🙌

Kuroo is the closest to a genius player you're ever going to see

He does his tasks fairly efficiently, he's good at remembering layouts and people's movements, he calculates the timings of his kills with terrifying accuracy, defends himself pretty well, whether he's lying or not, can gaslight the entire lobby into sussing an innocent person, and pieces together other people's lies with surprising ease

Do not cross Kuroo. He's scary at this game. He's not the Scheming Captain for nothing, y'all

Lev is the kind of person to vent right in front of someone by accident, which is so awkward, but so funny 😂

The entire team must wear the bear ears hat. Yes, that is a rule

It's the closest to cat ears they have right now....

Kenma is pretty quiet when he's playing. He doesn't normally play online games, but his streams took off on Twitch, sooo~

Kenma also has radar ears and can somehow detect when people are lying, but waits until he has proof to accuse them he smart 🤓

☆ Fukurodani ☆

'Whoever Talks the Loudest is Right' mentality 😂

And Bokuto will defend himself at the volume of an air raid siren

Akaashi stays as quiet as possible so he doesn't give anything away

When Bokuto starts sussing people, it turns into something out of Ace Attorney like, chill tf out, man 😂

But his guesses are normally completely wrong

Akaashi sets good parameters for the games, because he's sensible

If Bokuto is given the chance to host the lobby....he will set one task each, put everyone at 4x speed, give the imposter zero cooldown time, and sit back and watch the chaos

Whenever somebody doesn't have an absolutely airtight alibi–

Bokuto: That's hella sus, bro

Lots of childish nicknames, because...well, they're all mentally six years old

Except Akaashi, who has a higher mental age than all of them combined

Let me just say that when Bokuto and Kuroo play together, shit gets so funny

When one of them is an imposter, they will literally vent in front of the other one and trust them not to out them 😂😂

☆ Aoba Johsai ☆

Iwa-chan can always tell when Oikawa is lying, and constantly calls him out on it

Iwa: That's his lying voice. Shitty-kawa is lying. He's the imposter. Vote him off

Oikawa: IWAAA-CHAAAN D:<

Because Iwa's right about Oikawa when he is the imposter, it makes it easy to frame him when it's actually Iwa who's the imposter

And no-one believes Tooru 😭😭

Kyoutani has no chill as an imposter

He just murders everyone on sight, right in front of people, too

Kindaichi tends to accuse people with very little evidence, but his instincts are weirdly accurate

Oikawa gets killed almost immediately every game, so if he isn't dead two emergency meetings in, he's 100% an imposter 😭😭

He then goes around as a salty ghost when he's killed off, mumbling to himself about injustice as he refuses to do his tasks and watches the people who voted him off get murdered one by one

Not that anyone's holding a grudge 🙄😂

Oikawa refuses to be purple and always kills whoever is purple first because it reminds him of Ushijima 😭😭

☆ Shiratorizawa ☆

Ushijima refuses to play if he can't be purple give it back. N O W

And it takes him a long time to get used to the game and the rules

'Why are the lights off? What are these tasks? Why is that one flashing at me? Where is med bay? Why can I use this vent? What's this big, red button for?' etc.

You get the idea. Toshi = big noob

He doesn't really understand the concept of lying, either...

He keeps forgetting to mute himself and ends up saying some very incriminating stuff over the mic which has everyone in literal tears from laughter

Tendou is a sneaky S.O.B, using those vents like a pro and gaslighting perfectly innocent people he's a little bloodthirsty, too 🤫

And his initial guesses about who's the imposter are almost always 100% correct Guess Monster, y'all

Goshiki goes around trying to clear people by watching them doing their tasks, especially Ushijima

But then he gets called suspicious for hanging around people too much

The first time an emergency meeting was ever called, Ushijima literally asked "Why is my name in red?" much to everyone's amusement

Everyone's scared of Ushijima when he follows them, but it normally turns out that he just doesn't know where he's going

Shirabu tends to lose his shit when people start accusing him and he's innocent, and will never EVER trust a word that comes out of Goshiki's mouth

Speaking of, Goshiki and Shirabu – boy, do they bicker like eight year-olds, wasting entire voting rounds just arguing with each other 🙄😭

So everyone else decides to vote off one, and then the other at the next meeting 😭😭

Misc.

☆ The Miya twins ☆

Atsumu puts 100% trust in Osamu not to kill him, even if he is the imposter

How could he? He's his brother. His twin. His other half. They share a unique bond–

And then he screams in betrayal when Osamu slaughters him mercilessly 😂😂

Osamu is unaffected by the sudden outburst from his brother's room

Put them together as an imposter duo, though, and you're in for some trouble

They often win by executing a perfect double kill

And they're both pretty good at lying, but Osamu will not hesitate to throw Atsumu under the bus and vote him off if he's being too suspicious or the lobby has turned against him 😂

Ah, the bond of brotherhood 😂

☆ Aone Takanobu ☆

Aone doesn't talk very much

But when he does, his voice is so low and even that nobody ever suspects he's the imposter

I'm thinking like Corpse Husband, if you've seen him playing with Pewds and the gang

It doesn't really occur to people that he could be lying. He seems so trustworthy and honest

Finds it very hard to blame anyone else, though

Is fairly decent as doing his tasks as a crewmate, but it takes him a long time to remember the layouts of the ships

Almost never gets voted off the ship

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[underworldobsessed]

You’re Not in Charge, I’m Free! ll Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day

Title: You’re Not in Charge, I’m Free! Rating: E Ship: Bo-Katan Kryze/Original Female Character Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Original female Character Series: This Life is Mine (Bo-Katan Week 2021), Path From Isolation Summary:  Ever since Delia had joined the Nite Owls, Bo-Katan has found that she has been unable to keep her eyes off her, especially as she gets fitted for Beskar'gam and begins to practice hand to hand combat with the other Nite Owls. Now, Bo is finding more and more excuses to watch the newest recruit as she spars, until she gets the chance to get up close and personal with her. ll Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day! Author’s note: Yeah... this is just self indulgent smut. Two of my friends gave me this idea when we were discussing which Star Wars characters could make a girl come, and then we started discussing how Bo-Katan would make someone beg for it first. And then this idea was born.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Read here or under the cut

Bo knew that she should be focused on the mess of things she had to do as leader of the Nite Owls. Oh, she had rationalized, there is no reason to stay cooped up somewhere to go over mission plans when she could sit out where sparring matches are held to try and keep skills sharp. Of course, this had nothing to do with the former jedi who had joined their ranks and was currently practicing her hand to hand combat in her new Beskar’gam.The same woman who Bo could barely keep her eyes off of when she was training.

Definitely not.

But in truth, there was something so arousing about seeing Delia fighting in Mandalorian armor. It had been a very long time since she had feelings for another woman as strong as these. She knew now wasn’t the time for it, though. Now wasn’t the time for her to allow these feelings to run rampant. They had a mission to complete. Only once Mandalore was in their grasps could she allow herself to think about that.

“Wanna spar?” Bo hadn’t even processed that Delia was standing over her, until she was. Thankfully, she had the ability to hide the flush from her cheeks as she looked up at Delia. “Come on, boss, you’ve been sitting there with your nose buried in that tablet for hours, you look like you could use a fight.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Bo smirked and stood up, picking up her helmet and slipping it on. “Come on, let’s go.” Delia smirked back before her helmet was on too and they were on the floor opposite of one other.

Blow for blow was matched, Bo finding herself surprised by how good Delia had gotten. Then again, the Jedi had fought in the Clone Wars, they were often relying on hand to hand combat if something happened with their lightsabers. Yet, there was little advantage against a Mandalorian with seasoned training and one who ran her own faction of warriors against the Empire. It wasn’t long before Bo had gotten the edge on Delia. Sometime in the middle of it, they had lost their helmets and were just sparring face to face without any care. Bo saw an opening and took it, swinging her leg out and knocking Delia to the ground, pinning her there. Both women were sweaty and panting, but grinning at one another as Bo was on top of her.

“Seems like I mmph-,” Before Bo could finish her statement, she had felt Delia tug her down by her armor and press their lips together in a possessive and passionate kiss. Bo stiffened for a moment before she kissed back, moving to pull her up and run her fingers through Delia’s cropped hair. They separated for a moment before Deilia pulled them both up.

“Come on.” She tugged on her hand and Bo knew exactly where the two of them were going before she could think. She was no longer concerned with any other thoughts, instead her focus was trying to get to the bedroom as quickly as possible.

They had barely gotten the door closed before Bo was all over Delia again, pressing her up against the door with a knee between her legs. There was a muffled groan from the former jedi as she felt Bo pin her hands above her head as her lips made a trail down her neck, her teeth dragging against the soft skin.

Bo could feel just how pliant Delia was getting under her and smirked. “Sensitive right there, are we?” Without a chance for her to answer, Bo started to suck a mark into the skin of Delia’s neck and she felt it vibrate with a moan. “I love it when you make those sounds.”

She pulled back and moved to pull off Delia’s armor, stopping briefly before she did so. “Are you okay with this?” She didn’t want to misinterpret where they were going, but she could feel the way her clit throbbed and she wanted this so bad. She just didn’t… want to worry about forcing this upon her. If Delia didn’t want this… well it would suck but she could deal with it on her own. It wouldn’t be the first time she had gotten all hot and bothered with no reprieve but her own fingers.

She felt Delia’s fingers brush through her hair, briefly noting that her headband had vanished, probably somewhere with her helmet, before she looked up. “Bo-Katan, please, fuck me.”

Not needing to be told twice, she went back to removing the pieces of Delia’s armor, leaving her only in her undergarments. Upon seeing her try to remove those herself, she stopped her hand and scowled at her. “Bad girl.” She felt Delia stiffen before she let out another moan. “You’re being such a bad girl, not letting me undress you.”

“I-I,” Delia couldn’t seem to get a sentence out before Bo pushed her onto the bed so she was laying flat on her back. The older woman’s eyes gleamed at the sight and she removed her armor, being sure to be slow. She wanted to tease and taunt her, and it seemed to be working. Delia’s breathing grew labored as her pupils dilated. Finally Bo had stripped herself down to the same level of undress that Delia was at, as she moved to pin her down to the bed.

“If this becomes too much and you need me to stop,” Bo spoke, her tone far more gentle than it had been too much. “Say ‘Mandalore’ and I will stop what I’m doing. I have plans for what I want to do to you.”

Delia nodded, but that wasn’t enough. Bo didn’t move, didn’t continue to do anything or finish undressing her. It took a minute to get it through her aroused brain to realize that she was waiting on Delia to vocalize and verbally agree to it. “Mandalore, and you will stop. I understand. I’m ready.”

That seemed to be the magic word, and Bo’s expression changed. She pinned her hands back so they were above her head. “You are so beautiful underneath me like this.” Bo moved to kiss Delia’s lips gently before she continued their trail back down her neck, making sure to pay special attention to it now that she knew it was a sensitive spot for her. She felt Delia arch up a little bit under the attention, and tilt her head so Bo had better access.

She sucked a hickey into her skin, making sure to mark her so others knew that Delia was hers. From there, she moved to kiss her breasts, being sure to notice what caused her to react in specific ways. She felt her breath hitch as she rolled the nipple in between her teeth, pulling at it gently. Delia cried out at the slight pain as it quickly morphed to pleasure, and Bo used that as a sign to continue to do just what she was doing. She paid equal attention to her other breast, and then continued the trail down her stomach.

There was a scar there that Bo had never seen before, then again, she hadn’t seen Delia naked before. She had no idea how many scars she had, or where they came from. She smiled to herself as she pressed a kiss to the mark on her skin. “You are so beautiful,” Bo hummed “Every scar and every mark on your skin is so beautiful.”

“Ngh, Bo-Katan.” Hearing her full name being moaned out like that caused a shiver run up her spine. She had never heard her name said in that particular way before, and it caused herself to grow even wetter. Stars, she would never be able to hear her name come from Delia’s lips again without imagining her like this, pliant and wanting underneath her. It would definitely make working with her a lot more difficult if she would just see this over and over again in her mind.

“Shh,” She continued her trail down her stomach and in between her legs. She looked up at Delia and smirked, nipping at her thighs to another outcry. “So sensitive… so beautiful.”

She started to suck at Delia’s clit, making sure to listen to the sounds of pleasure coming from the woman she held feelings for. She moved to slip one finger in between her folds. She curled her finger and continued to suck at her clit until she felt Delia’s walls clench her finger and she immediately stopped what she was doing and looked up at Delia expectantly.

“W-What?” Delia was very clearly struggling to form words, struggling to focus her mind on what was going on around her. She didn’t understand why Bo had just stopped. “I don’t want you to come, not yet anyway. I’m not ready for you to. You have to show me that you deserve it.” She watched Delia’s eyes widen at Bo’s words. How could she expect her to do that when she was already so close. So needy for Bo’s mouth on her and her fingers inside her.

“I want to come, please Bo, please allow me to.” Bo moaned softly at the words being spoken towards her. Hearing her beg to her was so pleasurable and she didn’t know what to do, because she wanted her terribly but also she wanted her like this too. She liked seeing her partners so pliant underneath her, begging for her to bring her to an orgasm, only to bring her back to the cusp again and again before she would finally let her reach her climax.

“You know what to say if you want me to stop, if it’s too much, just say the word.”

After a few moments of listening to Delia beg but not give the safe word, she finally went back at it again. Her mouth found her clit, and this time sliding two fingers deep inside her. She grinned at the outcry she heard from Delia, this time her free hand went down to circle her own clit in the way she knew she liked. Bo let out a soft moan, which she could see send chills through Delia. If she had known the effect she had on Delia, perhaps she would have done this sooner. She thought, especially because Delia was a former jedi, she wouldn’t be interested in Bo-Katan.

Yet, the compromising position they found themselves in was proof enough that Bo was just letting her nerves get the best of her.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bo removed her lips, and fingers again as she felt how close Delia got to an orgasm once again. “I like seeing you begging for me to fuck you with my mouth.” Bo was thankful for her position, because with her shoulders where they were, she could prevent Delia’s legs from closing to try and alleviate pressure. She wanted it to build. She wanted to see how long she could draw this out. “You’re so needy, cyar’ika, you need to be fucked, don’t you.”

She honestly didn’t know where this came from. She had never been like this before, but there was just something too tantalizing about Delia and perhaps she had been alone for so long that she couldn’t control herself. This was something that she needed desperately.

And from the noises Delia was making, she could tell she needed it too.

Once again, Bo went in to bring Delia to the brink, but this time, instead of sliding her fingers into her waiting heat, she used her tongue running it up her slit before sliding in. Delia’s heels started to dig into Bo’s back, which only added to the pleasure. The smell of Delia just all around her just overwhelmed her. Sliding her hands underneath Delia’s toned ass, she squeezed and lifted so she was getting a different angle to put her mouth, a different angle for her tongue.

She could feel Delia start to grow close to her orgasm, but she was so lost in eating her out that she didn’t want to wait any longer. “Go ahead, cyar’ika. You’ve been such a good girl, you can go ahead and come. I want to taste you.”

It seemed like that was all Delia needed as Bo felt her come apart around her mouth. She eagerly continued to lick at her, until she felt Delia’s legs go slack from around her and slightly muffled she heard “Mandalore.”

Bo immediately pulled back, licking the last of the wet off her lips. Her eyes were wide, trying to figure out if she went too far. Her clit was pounding, needing release, but if she did, in fact, go too far, she didn’t want Delia to have to worry about it. She would take care of her own needs. She was lost in her thoughts, until she felt a hand comb through her hair and pull her into another kiss.

“That was amazing, Bo-Katan.” Delia mumbled against her lips “But now I believe it’s your turn.”

Bo felt herself fall back onto the mattress and now she was staring up at Delia, pupils wide and unsure what she should be doing. “I can’t do the same thing you just did, I don’t have that much practice, but I do believe I have some experience in bringing a beautiful woman to orgasm.”

Following a similar trail, Delia kissed down Bo’s body like Bo did to her, but she was far rougher than Bo had been, much to Bo’s pleasure. Her back arched off the bed as she felt Delia’s teeth sink into her neck, leaving a bright red mark. She continued that trend, kissing for a bit before biting. Unlike Bo, however, she bypassed Bo’s breasts completely, and just continued down her body.

“Ngh,” Bo wanted her to put some attention to her breasts, knowing just how sensitive they were. However, she thought at the same time that if the right amount of attention was paid to them, there would be little to stop her from coming apart rather quickly. She was already hyper sensitive to Delia’s touch, every kiss feeling like electricity on her skin.

“You smell so good, Bo,” Bo didn’t even realize how low Delia had gotten, lost in the pleasure, until she heard her voice. The next thing Bo knew, she felt Delia’s lips on her pulsing clit and three fingers immediately slipping into her. A strangled cry left Bo’s lips as she bucked her hips up to Delia’s mouth. Fuck, she was so good with her mouth.

The way she sucked and nipped at the bundle of nerves sent pleasure ripping through her. She reached down to tangle her hand in Delia’s hair. She wanted to pull on her hair, but also didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to stop. She didn’t want her to stop.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Bo begged, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest. She was close, feeling herself coming up to her orgasm. Part of her wanted Delia to try and stop, to do the same thing that she had done to her before, but there was a louder part of her that didn’t want her pleasure to be delayed. Her vision went white as she cried out, back arching off the bed as she came, harder than she could recall having ever done before.

Delia continued to lick and suck, drawing out Bo’s pleasure as much as she could before. Bo’s body went slack, a dazed grin on her face. She had been with many women, but none of them had that level of skill with their mouths. And the few men she’d been with? Forget it. None of them would do that to her. She felt the bed shift as Delia moved to climb out of it and go to her room.

“Where are you going?” Bo could barely recognize the tone in her own voice, but thought nothing of it as she grabbed Delia’s arm and tugged her into bed, letting her head rest on her chest. “Stay… I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” She felt Delia relax on top of her, and Bo’s fingers combed through her hair.

“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t just invite anyone to bed… I want you here, Delia.”

Delia hummed, listening to Bo’s heartbeat now that she had been given permission to stay. She closed her eyes slowly. “Why me?”

“When we first met,” Bo’s voice was soft despite her normal commanding tone. “I was startled by your kindness to a woman you had never met, and then you were willing to join up with my team despite it all… I have to admit, I fell harder than I’d like to admit. And then I saw you in Beskar’gam and I… well… you’re beautiful in armor.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Delia laughed when Bo lightly tugged on her hair “I’m glad… I wasn't just imagining things between us. Being raised in the Order… I didn’t know what to do about feelings like this. But, if you’ll be patient with me, I would like to see where this… where we lead.”

Did Bo want to see where this went? Did she want to potentially start up a relationship in the middle of this conflict? There was no guarantee that either of them would make it, but… could she do it? She… had to admit, she was tired of being alone. She would like to have someone to share her time with when she wasn’t on missions, and she couldn’t deny her feelings for Delia.

In lieu of saying anything, Bo moved to tilt Delia’s face up so she could press a kiss to her lips, putting passion behind it to hopefully show that she was willing to try and be with her. However, when they separated, she saw Delia looking expectantly at her, wanting a verbal confirmation much like Bo had during their sexual encounter.

“I would like to see where this goes as well.” She saw the way Delia’s face brightened and she pulled her into another kiss, trying to ignore the voice in her mind that reminded her of the last time a Kryze fell in love with a Jedi.

It was a concern for another day.

[alphaofdarkness]

not me here for the oc ask ! can't wait to answer the ones you asked me, tomorrow i have my exam and then i shall live again haha ! but now i'll ask you 1, 2, 17, 18, 19, 20 and 31 — i know, it is a lot ( you don't have to do them all 💕) , but i really want to know something more about your wonderful babies and Dany ofc ! I missed her sm during this semi-hiatus 🤧💕💕💕 hope you're doing fine, sending you lots of love 💞💕💘

@carmenio Edgy!! 🥺 so happy to hear from you! ✨ I love these kinds of asks, especially on my many, many OC babies! I hope these answers are good and interesting to thee! I’ll present more info on Dany to some way, some how cause I love her 😭💖

I have gone and included the other questions you asked as well! 🤗 Let’s dive in! 😳

1. Gone and Answered Here ! UwU

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

Personal favorite is often shown in the one I draw the most lol, which for a long time was Danielle LWW, but just because she was also my wolfsona at the time. After I made my own personal one I think I went onto Sam for a good while, also eventually going to Dany from Bsd!

So a tie between two beautiful girls, Sam is definitely my favorite LWW Oc, she is just precious and the one I hold the most and most always feel terrible and bad when I put her through it TM. 

Also Dany is my self insert, U//w//U, she has definitely allowed me to slowly self love and allow me to appreciate myself, especially the parts of me I didn’t think to much about or consider so appealing, I think? She has definitely been changing gradually into more of myself since I first came up with her almost 2 years ago! Watch me slowly knock her down to my height of 4′9″, let her have her 3 inches for another year maybe lol.

My dearest Atsushi agrees lol ✨🐯

17. Any OC OTPs? 

👀 lol yesss~ so many and so many crack ships too, which I'll answer next 😂

I’ll just go on and list them off, plenty more of them but~:

DanyJay

SoraYama

LidiaTom

AlikLucy

IsabelleKayla

AlexanderIsabelle

DarkwolfmonJatomon

JatamonRaiwolfmon

EarthamonHounmon

HumaamonWolverimon

And lastly TakaSam is the one I have definitely drawn and thought of the most! They are the top OTP and just best trope of Childhood Friends to Lovers trope, also filling in that trope of Oblivious to both of them but everyone else 🙄. While SoraYama may have been the OG Couple in my story, my love and warmth for TakaSam is unmatched TwT.

It is wild cause I always draw anguish between them as could-have-been-lovers-had-it-not-been-for-death, but recently been drawing them purely happy and content. Total sweethearts, the love everyone wants, excluding possibility of being old friends or not!

18. Any OC crackships?

L o l, I never seem to focus on the main couples because of this specific thing.

I’ll again just go off in list an maybe add a trope or something to get an idea of them:

DanyYama: Rivals, Constantly arguing, and can be petty as heck, but oh the potential and just possibility of opening up after the traumaTM 👀 also the couple that is always in your face about being in a relationship.

DanySora: Sparing partners, the sass and stubbornness, BiPan solidarity 👀

DanyLidia: Pure, wholesome, best friends and so much hugging and lifting from the tol to smol, the nature love vibes

SamJay: Wholesome, soft, healing together from traumaTM, protectiveness, also their Digimon were lovers and married in their previous life, what does that make us? 😳

SamDany: Mostly sibling-like relationship, but damn they have that Sun and Moon tropes?! How can you not possibly ship them!

SamLula: Shy and Confident, Bisexual/Lesbian solidarity 💕✨

JaySora: Opposite of the DanyYama tropes, why are our partners constantly arguing, can they please stop, pure and soft together.

DanyTaka: Digimon Au specifically, Oh you and I are the voice of the revolution? We are rallying up the troops together? Oh boi my Digimon feels love for yours, am I falling for you or are we falling together? Depression buddies but also each others hope and spirit boost ;;w;;

Any of the Warriors with the Sins: A whole lo t of mess, and just not healthy ... but I can already seen fandom people sayin g otherwise~

LustWrath: Spicy, no strings attached kind of deal.

WrathEnvy: ...Oof um, not healthy, kind of manipulative, we are devils there is nothing but toxic vibes.

PrideWrath: Rulers, King and Queen vibes, Yeah we are toxic for each other, f*** off.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

Definitely Darkwolfmon! I am sure I explained in the first question why, but again I consider her to be that other half of me, the part of me I never discovered or the parts that essentially fill in the gaps within me. She is my precious partner Digimon and has honestly come a long, long way since I first created her. I believe sometime in 2009-2010, so almost 11-12 years since. She was the first ever OC of mine and is one I hold closest too in my heart.

For the longest time, even too now, I have always wanted her to just manifest at my side. Go on this journey of life together. While she might not be physically here like my child-self would want, she is still in my stories, my imagination, my inspirational drive. I think that is definitely more than enough, I don't know where or who I would be without having created her. I probably wouldn’t have a whole tale of OC’s and stories to tell if it wasn't for her. 

I am more than grateful and thankful that I am who I am because of this lovely Oc of mine. I can only hope to have her at my side for the rest of my days!

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

Most, if not all, my OC’s can sing! Their voices and tones vary, to which I cannot give a straight answer on how I headcanon most of their voices right now ^^; I will say that Danielle has a British accent to her voice as well as Spanish speak, and Sora has a Russian accent to her voice, so may be just lightly deep, but not to much.

I will definitely go with my Bsd Oc/Self Insert Danielle Mika Mason, however! Because I have gone and done a thing on how she would speak in her Japanese and English Dub! Other than me also being her voice, her Japanese VA would be Yui Ishikawa, same VA of the queen herself, Mikasa 💕 English VA would be Barrett Wilbert Weed, with an English accent, good Veronica from the Heathers! You can have a listen to her here in this post! 

Dany is meek when it comes to her singing, she will often be caught humming and softly singing something, but quickly tends to stop around others. She is often back and forth with how she sounds and often shuts down when she hears someone she considers better than her. She just needs some encouragement and a gentle push from someone she really cares about. When she does feel the push and genuineness from someone she will sing her heart out. But of course prefers to sing for only that one special person~ can ya guess~ 🐯

31.  Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really).

Oh boi! I literally have moodboards to add to this! I pick Samantha, or Sam! 

She would totes have a Tumblr blog, and Instagram! You always look forward to see what she post and just feel an instant calmness and warmth when you see it! She is always tagging her things appropriately, a soft and warm spring like layout that is shades of yellows, golds, orange, white; an occasional blue and teal as well! She would reblog anything of her aesthetic, golds, yellows, dance and ballet related things (may even post videos or poses of herself in practice and dance related things), cafe shops, sweets and desserts, warm night lights, cats, lots and lots of cats and felines of all shapes and sizes! Her best friend/boyfriend, Takaru always cameos in her stories and posts 💖

She would also reblog or spread awareness of any issues happening in the world, marking them and making her own voice heard as well. In spur moments, you may see her not tag things, but will likely go back to name things accordingly. She would also reblog anything of Bi Pride too!

28. Your most dangerous OC? 

Hmmm,,, my most dangerous Oc, I am taking the notion that they are just plain dangerous and likely of evil intent in their actions. Because plenty of my Oc’s on their own are dangerous in their own right, such as the Legendary Wolf Warriors, who have a great power at their paws. They can be destructive in their actions if they lose control or use it for the wrong intentions, which they wouldn't do of their free will. 

I will say Danielle and Sam are the strongest of the seven, because of their powers of Darkness and Light, respectively. Their souls created the others, so the other Warrior’s power does not match theirs. They can definitely be lethal together if used for the wrong reasons or if they are under the control of a Human or Deadly Sin.

Which leads me to say that the most dangerous of my OC’s with the worst intentions and evil thought processes that makes them dangerous is likely the Deadly Soul Sin Pride, or Mikka Penelope King/Pride as her solid name goes. 

She is definitely the most sinister of the seven sins, even worse than Wrath, who you may figure would be the worst. She has a calculating mind and is very precise in her actions and ways of manipulation. She has a poison within her veins that is just as deadly, capable of blinding others or even killing without remorse or care. While she may be a ghost like entity in my stories, a person/digimon holder in my Digimon College Au, she has enough power to influence people to fall under pride and vanity in the most dangerous level possible, heck even possess them if she wishes. That makes her stronger, as well as the other sins. Does not matter if she is dead or fades away for a while, her influence remains and if it does, than she can exist for a long as she desires.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

Lol I saw cinnamon roll and instantly had a list of ocs ready, honestly any child OC I have is instantly a cinnamon roll and to good and put for this world, please treat them all kindly!

Current top Oc’s that come to mind are Haruko Mason-Nakajima, along with their nameless sister/pup! They are the sweetest babies ever and love them so much. Too good and pure, especially nameless pup with her love for tigers; she wants to grow up and be like her sibling and papa 🥺🥰  You can see the post on them here!

Next up is my precious flamey boi named Alik Azure Mizuhara! A next gen. LWW, son of Sora and Yamato! A little sightless boi with the softest heart and warmest empathy for others. Very much like his mother in likeness and pure curiosity of the world’s secrets and tales. His father worries for him a lot, but gradually learns to trust in his ability to guide himself. Don’t worry too much about him, he is very smart and knows how to care and guide himself!

Thank you so much for the time and questions you asked me Edgy! I had so much fun with these and gave me a chance to gush about my dearest OC’s! I do hope you find them of interest! 🤗🥺🥰

May your day be beautiful and amazing!! 🥰✨💖

[daisy--sorbet]

heyyy, hope you’re having a good night!! if you have the energy and feel okay answering, what’s up w taz graduation? i haven’t checked it out yet but i was thinking ab it. just asking bc you’re the first person i saw talk ab the show having serious issues, but also feel free to not answer this!! hope you have a good week!

i took a nice hot bath, had a strawberry kiwi capri-sun, and did a nice face mask and i’m feeling pretty good - so, y’know what anon? let’s talk about it. 

for anyone who likes taz grad who sees this post: it’ll be tagged with “taz grad hate” (although i feel hate is definitely a very strong word - it’s for the simplicity of tagging it) - so please block the tag if you don’t want to see this post (especially because i put a readmore on a post before and it didn’t show up on mobile and instead gave the full post). mobile tumblr has a tag blocking system, so please feel free to use it! i don’t mind haha

anyway, so this is... probably going to be a lost post, and i wanna go ahead and preface it: this absolutely isn’t any hate on the mcelroys themselves. i love the brothers and their dad a lot, and while i doubt any of them would ever see this (or have it sent to them, or shown to them, because im pretty sure they try to distance themselves from this sort of thing), i just want to make it clear that criticizing a product is different than bashing a person. which brings me to the point of if i do end up sounding as if im bashing someone - please call me out on it! it’s not my intention to target anyone.

with that said, let’s talk about this campaign.

so my problems are as thus: the railroading, the shipping (a fandom problem, but it’s present in the podcast), the NPCs, and some misc problems others have addressed better than i have.

which. i know. that’s basically the entire podcast. (i promise i’ll bring up some positive points to balance it all out). keep in mind i’ve only personally listened to... what, six episodes? and it was enough for me to drop it. some people dropped it first ep, some dropped it ep four, and others are still forcing themselves to listen.

the railroading

there was a time i could handle travis and his railroading [making sure the story goes exactly the way he has planned], because it was the very beginning of the podcast and that’s what you can kind of expect from a plot-heavy podcast. hell, i wouldn’t mind it if the interactions and goofs weren’t a huge part of why i listen to TAZ in particular (which, by the way, is why amnesty still stuck out to me - even if there was a direction griffin wanted to push them towards, the interactions between the players (or players and npcs) made up for any railroading). it’s kind of hard to not railroad a little when it’s story-heavy and you’re trying to built up a world that you’ve put a lot of thought into. however, a huge part of d&d is the spontaneity. 

it’s kind of why i think balance was so popular. while there was railroading towards the end, there was the presence of improv that made it all good. most mcelroy content is enjoyed because of the goofs. the magic brian moment is memorable. the jenkin’s fight still stands out because it was funny (albeit a result of some bad rolls). the boys teasing angus sticks out because the four would play well off of each other. even without that - griffin had talked about how he had to roll with things (the fact he had planned for a fight atop the train, but ditched the idea for what his family members came up with instead). even in amnesty, a couple moments that stick out to me still are ned with the jetpack taking out a pizza hut sign, and the scene with the water where jake was trapped inside. they aren’t as fun, but they still stand out as “things i didnt expect to really end the way they did.”

with grad, it’s just. one after another. the thundermen want to subpoena a xorn? cool, let’s run with that until actually the xorn gets fed rocks and goes home and who cares about the subpoena now. fitzroy wants to keep his cloak? lets talk about it for a while and you also get no rolls to even try to keep it. fitzroy goes to meet higglemas in his office? oh, why are you here fitzroy? im going to keep asking you until you answer fitzroy? you arent getting out of this scene until you answer me, fitzroy, so just tell me why you’re here already, alright, fitzroy? 

and even later in a episode i read a transcript of: hey argo, remember how you have this whole secret motivation? fuck you, im gonna talk about it here in your dream and reveal it to listeners and remove any tension you had building up, and you dont get a choice to talk about it because this all-knowing villain knows all about it :)

and even NOW in the latest episode, there’s a comment that “we should cap argo’s skills here” instead of just... making the checks higher. rogues are good at certain things and usually arent the best in battles. better hope argo never makes it to level 11, because who knows how people are gonna handle the fact that he gets a skill that’ll make it so certain skills can’t have a roll below 10 (reliable talent). 

(griffin, thankfully, calls travis out for that, but still - travis, why would you even imply that, considering you should be aware of how rogues work considering magnus multiclassed into rogue and you played one on tiny heist?)

and in the newest episode, their Big Bad chaos (which, god, i personally hate that name) straight-out says “dont do this” to the thundermen. travis tries to say, on twitter, “a character saying “dont do this” is different than me saying it” but i need to point out that it’s one thing if you’ve said “no” in character but worked with the PCs doing otherwise, but the railroading says differently.

the shipping

ill try to make this quick, because it’s nothing to do with the fandom (ship however you want, man) - but i really feel the need to draw attention to this.

fitzroy, as confirmed by griffin in a ttazz episode, is asexual. not aroace, but ace nonetheless. and i find it... troublesome that the idea of rainer and fitzroy having a relationship is still pushed nonetheless, despite the fact that fitzroy (to my knowledge) was never once shown to reciprocate any feelings. not to be that person, but i really hope that grad doesnt have any sort of romantic relationships in it (at least - not between NPCs and PCs unless they’re actually like... warranted?). 

i dont know, man. one of my closest friends is ace, and i know she wants a relationship, but i think it would reassure her a lot to see an ace character who isn’t pushed into one in case she ever changes her mind. someone once mentioned that they hope fi/tz/ra/in doesnt happen because theres relationships that have that “oh, you can just date” and it goes upwards there to “oh, you can have sex just to please them <3″  (which, to be honest, is kind of a gross mindset - if someone isnt interested, they arent interested).

also, uh, the TTAZZ where griffin states this, there’s kind of the mention tht the whole sexuality question was posed in relation to the episode “creative thinking” (the dream one i mentioned earlier) - which. uh. i don’t know if anyone caught this, but... rainer straight-up wrote fitzroy a letter in the dream like “are you going to accept my proposal? a girl doesn’t like to be left waiting” which. leaves me with some gross feelings because uh.

if... if the whole thing about fitzroys sexual orientation was addressed here, then why would you push your ship anyway? feels kinda iffy, man.

to which i want to say: fitzroy can date. he’s allowed to date. griffins allowed to do whatever he wants with his character. but when a lot of the flirting is met with nothing, i’m not gonna see the chemistry there. just because travis ships it doesn’t mean it’s canon.

the npcs

ah yes. lets talk about the npcs.

there’s... a lot. a lot a lot. i think travis trimmed down how many were present in a scene, but uh. there’s still a lot. and... uh... i kinda wish there wasn’t?

look, i know im going back to balance/amnesty, but just. hang in there for a moment. chill with me. vibe. 

balance didnt have too many NPCs present at all times in each mini-arc. gerblins had some big names like barry, klarg, gundren, killian, yeemick, and magic brian. rockport limited had angus, jess, graham the juicy wizard jenkins, and all of the tom bodetts mentioned. 

amnestys first arc had mama, barclay, jake, dani, pigeon, kirby, minerva, and that was about it for like. big names? and not all of them were present in each scene. 

in the first episode of grad alone: gary, hernandez, jimson, rolandus, zana, rhodes, buckminster eden, rainer, leon, tomas, hieronymous, higglemas, stuart, jackle, bartholomeus, mulligan, groundsy, germaine/victoria/rattles (the skeleton crew). and those are the ones i wrote down (minus groundsy, who i just. ignores. idk him).

like holy shit, my english prof got onto me for having too many characters in my first chapter and i didnt even have half the amount listed there! 

it’s just a huge cast. does this take place in a school? yes! theres bound to be a lot of students present - but you don’t have to name every single one of them, at least not in the first episode!

the miscellaneous

i don’t know if travis ever actually addressed it, but wheelchair users have actually like... said that rainer’s introduction bothered them, because she was like “please ask me abt my wheelchair :)” when travis saying she was in an ornate chair would have sufficed. 

uh. the colonization vibes people have discussed within the centaur arc. mentioned here, the replies here, and this post (and its replies) here as well.

the overall lack of d&d when the campaign was kind of advertised as a return to d&d if i remember correctly

also no one seems to be taking literally any criticism at all which like. ignoring the petty shit, sure, but people have stopped donating to taz and their listener-ship must have dropped some during this entire time - you’d think that maybe someone could say “we need to find out why people dont like the thing and fix the thing” consider this is. yknow. their livelihood.

anyway uhhh 

tl;dr: travis railroads way too much (even now), the shipping in-game has become pushy and gross (especially bc its shoving a relationship onto an asexual character), theres too many npcs that dont stand out well enough, and no ones taking any criticism about the major issues with grad. 

[voidsgalaxy]

Hey i got Bored and decided to do that NSR Ship Chart i’ve seen (idk the person who made it, sorry!). I’m putting it under the Cut because i wanna talk about the relationships and ships i have, and also because it includes Ships People might not be Comfortable seeing be talked about (i.e 1010 x 1010). I Hope everyone enjoys this! (And Please No Hate or anything similar, you will be Blocked.)

OTPs

Sayu x Her Crew: Talking about this one first since seeing the Red Line that Connects Sayu to Sayu might be Confusing, it’s meant to be Sayu x Her Crew (Tila, Remi, Dodo, and Sofa). Creator x Creation Ship Dynamics aren’t something i really ship often but i still find them Interesting! Plus this Ship just sounds really Wholesome? Sayu’s Crew are likely Considered Social Outcasts or are just Socially Awkward/Introverted, So them Being Loved by Someone as Sweet and Unhateful as Sayu just melts my Heart ;w;

Eve x Zuke: Exes falling back in Love is Great and i Love that Ship Dynamic so Much. I Always liked the Idea of Zuke and Eve becoming Friends with eachother again and Slowly rebuilding their Love for eachother. It’s just really Cute to think about!

Neon J x DJSS: I Don’t know what to say about these Two, I Just think they’re really Cute! I Probably Ship for the same reasons everyone else does.

1010 x 1010: Okay i should say this, I’ve never viewed 1010 as Brothers. since the Very First Video i saw of them it never Crossed my mind that they could be Brothers until i saw the Growing Fandom on Tumblr and saw how much everyone did view them as Brothers. I will always see them as Close Friends/Band Members and nothing will change that. Biological Relationships between Robots don’t even work the Same as Human Ones do, so 1010 can’t even truly be Related to eachother. It irks me How Willing People are to Shun and Hate Others who ship them, Unless the Creators come out and say they are meant to be related i will not think they are. 

(Also here are the Specific 1010 x 1010 ships i listed in the Chart: Rin x Zimelu, Zimelu x Purl-Hew, Haym x Eloni, Eloni x Zimelu, and Haym x Rin)

Me Likey

Purl-Hew x DK West/Dikirbiru: Honestly i just think they’re cool together, The Ship art i’ve seen of them is also Pretty Cute!

Haym x Purl-Hew and Rin x Purl-Hew: I Don’t like these Ships as Much as my Other 1010 Ships but they’re still Quite Cute, Rin x Purl-Hew especially sounds like it’d be Interesting

DK West x Yinu’s Mom: This was a Crack Ship i thought of that i ended up Liking. They’re both Nature Themed (Well DK West is imo) and I Feel like DK West’s Relaxed “Go with the Flow” Demeanor would be Nice when Paired with Yinu’s Mom who could definitely use someone like that

Eve x Mayday: This One is just Personal preferences, Enemies to Lovers is always something i Enjoy but i’ll Die on the Zuke x Eve Hill. Content i’ve seen of it is nice though

Eve x Tatiana: I Relate a Whole Bunch to Eve and Simp for Tatiana, This Ship was Destined to be one i liked. I’m Surprised i didn’t get any Ship Vibes when i first saw that seen from Eve’s Boss Fight (also surprised i haven’t seen much ship art of the two, though i don’t usually Browse Tags for characters other than 1010)

Mayday x Zuke: This one is almost leaning into Neutral, I just don’t really see them as much of a Couple and see them more as Friends. I Still like the Ship art of them though!

edit: BROTP (Ack! I forgot to include this Section!!)

Eve and 1010: I’ve seen a few Things where People talked about Eve and 1010 doing a Collab and i just Love that Idea!! I Consider Eve and 1010 to be the most Simped after NSRtists in-universe so the idea of them Doing a Collab just sdkdkllkfg- Also Eve and Eloni would get along Great you cannot change my Mind

Sayu and Yinu: I Never initially thought of them ever having some kind of Relationship but now i can’t stop thinking of Sayu being like a Big Sister to Yinu!! The Poor Girl could use someone like her

Framily Energy

DK West and Zuke: I mean, i don’t really need to say why, they’re canonically Brothers lol

Neon J and 1010: I May not view 1010 as being Related to eachother but i do View them as Being Related to Neon J as Father and Sons as much as a Robot can be. He did make them afterall

Sayu/Her Crew, Yinu, and Yinu’s Mom: Yinu and Yinu’s Mom are self explanatory like DK West and Zuke, but Sayu is where more Explanation is Needed. Honestly, i just Love the Idea of Yinu’s Mom casually Adopting Sayu and The Crew Looking up to Yinu’s Mom as a Mother Figure, While all of them also Consider Yinu like their Little Sister. I Don’t like the Idea of Yinu’s Mom adopting the Crew though, i HC the Crew all have Loving Parents/Families of their Own!

Neutral (I Don’t have any Frenemy HCs because Frenemies aren’t really Something i HC or know much about)

Tatiana x Mayday: It’s not really my Cup of Tea, but I’ve seen some Art of Mayday and Kul Fyra!Tatiana before and it’s definitely helped the Ship grow on me

Eloni x Mayday: I just Don’t Quite Understand this Ship? Mostly from a Canon standpoint as i imagine Mayday would like Rin more, However i still think this Ship has Potential and can be pretty Interesting to think about!

Dislike

Rin x Zuke/Zukerin/Onionshipping: This’ll delve into Personal Territory but Please Listen. Before when i first saw it Popping up i didn’t think much of it, and It’s Possible this could’ve been put in Neutral if not for the Bad Feelings this ship began to bring me. I Started seeing it everywhere, even on my Dash from Artists i like. It annoyed me that this Ship was so popular which idk why it did, but it did. Seeing how much people liked it while hating 1010 x 1010 just. Hurt me. Recently as i’ve started going through lots of Self Hatred for who i am i’ve been considering Forcing myself to like it. I’ve thought about browsing the Tags for it, and I’ve Read Fics that had it as a Ship, All in an Attempt to start liking it and be “Normal” so people don’t hate me for not liking it and Shipping Rin with 1010. So Yeah, i have a lot of Bad Feelings associated with this ship and it Makes me Pretty Uncomfortable. If you like it though that’s Great!

Neon J x Yinu’s Mom/Heart Monitor: This is nowhere near as Personal as why i don’t like Zuke x Rin, it just isn’t something i like. Though again if you like it, That’s Great!

[orionsangel86]

So, after a long conversation with super-powerful-queen-slaynna, whom you can thank for me sending this message, so like... if you like it good, if you don't blame them, I do want to apologize for assuming you were saying people can't talk about Destiel, its shippers and how much they dislike it in their group chats. That's what the post came off to me, as if you were policing what people could and couldn't say in these GC about Destiel. Slaynna made me realiza that you meant your post as a 1/2

warning to Destiel shippers who might wander into them. I understand this, because whenever a Destiel shipper follows me, I make it a point to warn them my blog might not be a positive space for them precisely to avoid this sort of unplesant interactions. It also came off as you were invalidating and dismissing the bad experiences people might have had with misbehaving Destiel shippers, which I'm sure you're nice enough NOT to do. My beef is really not with you, or Tink, or any other Destiel 2/?

meta writer, my beef is with shippers who are genuinely hateful and do hateful things. You simply came off as you didn't believe there are Destiel shippers who do these things at all. That say, I won't apologize for venting to like-minded people about my utter dislike for the ship, because we do in fact do that. But I don't think it's fair you walked in on us at that point and extrapolated that's all we do. BTW there is in fact an Anti-Destiel GC and the irony is, if you had walked into that 3/4

one 24hrs earlier, you would have in fact found people gushing about Megstiel and Sastiel, LMAO. 4/4

...

Okay, I’ll give you pointers for being bold enough to come explain this in my ask box, and I commend @super-powerful-queen-slayyna for reaching out to try to calm the stormy seas. I am most likely not going to make any further comments on that post anyway because it has blown out of control and has escalated into a full blown ship war post which I never wanted when I sent it. It’s now Destiel shippers and my friends trying to defend me or people blatantly calling me names and using unnecessary language which I am not even going to acknowledge or give the time of day as I don’t go in for that sort of childish name calling (unless you count my use of the word bronly but some things I think even we can agree are a necessary evil).

My post was a response to my own hurt and irritation at coming across two GCs, one for Sastiel, and one for Megstiel, which were both recommended to me by Tumblr, which were not tagged as anti-Destiel that I could see, that appeared on the surface to simply be places for people to discuss and squee over those ships. In both GCs I saw nothing but hate and lies and other upsetting comments about Destiel and Destiel shippers. It was extremely disheartening to see that in what on the surface appeared to be safe spaces. Because here’s the thing, these shipper GCs should be safe spaces. I have friends that are multishippers, that like Sastiel (and even the odd few who like Megstiel even though admittedly I don’t anymore.) There are plenty of other people out there in fandom that might like all three ships (I’d imagine those people simply want Cas to have all the love in which case SAME). 

To get one point very clear, I don’t actually care if people hate Destiel. I’m not going to preach to anyone about Destiel unless someone comes to me directly or comes scrolling my blog. I always tag Destiel so anyone who uses Tumblr blacklist should be able to avoid my blog completely. I would never intentionally go looking in an anti Destiel chat group. I’ve seen it all before anyway and it’s the same old arguments that really don’t affect my shipping preferences or my beliefs. 

What annoyed me was that those GCs were not anti Destiel chats. They were Megstiel and Sastiel chats. They were places where impressionable young Megstiel and Sastiel shippers could come across, who have zero feelings towards Destiel, and find themselves being told a bunch of lies and nasty crap about Destiel shippers and the ship. They are places where Destiel shippers who like to ship those other ships too might come across and suddenly find themselves isolated and alienated, which only perpetuates retaliation from those Destiel shippers and potentially causes the hate that you stress is so virulent among Destiel shippers to begin with.

My post was a warning for multishippers who are also Destiel shippers or at least Destiel friendly, that those GCs were being used to spread hate about Destiel. It was also an FYI to the people in those GCs that their hatred was very much public, in case they weren’t aware. I tagged the ships because I wanted people who ship Megstiel and Sastiel to see it, especially if they are Destiel friendly, because yeah, I’d want them to avoid those GCs.

Yes I then got snarky. I claimed that this does kinda prove a point because no Destiel GC that I’ve seen includes a bunch of hate and nastiness aimed at other ships. Sure, there is a high chance that there are hateful Destiel shippers out there. There are certainly a lot of bitter people on Twitter who piss me off when they scream queerbaiting at the writers so yes, of course there are bad eggs. I was shocked that from what I saw, there was no squee or shared theories or excitement about the ships, just page after page of hate aimed at Destiel shippers. So yes, perhaps I happened upon both convos right when those topics cropped up (which would be rather coincidental) and perhaps I had just missed the topics that I was interested in checking out - the theories, the meta, the spec... That’s what I was interested in. Since these GCs are a way to keep a finger on the pulse of what the fandom might be thinking in terms of the show and shipping and I was curious. Believe it or not I actually like to keep an open mind even though Megstiel is something that gives me a bad taste in my mouth ever since I sat myself down and truly thought about it. 

I generalised. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but those GC convos pissed me off. I don’t know a single Destiel shipper who would spend hours of their day just ranting about how awful Megstiel shippers are and how much they hate the pairing. I HAVE debated with friends about the suspected infiltration of the Megstiel ship by Bronlies who are using Meg to get Cas out of the way and to be spiteful towards Destiel shippers. This IS something that has been happening in recent years and I think even you admitted that in one of your replies to my post.

I also wasn’t trying to invalidate your experience with hate. I would never do that. The one thing I will say about anon hate in particular is that you don’t know who it is coming from. I occasionally get anon hate but I certainly don’t immediately assume it’s a w*ncest shipper just because I can’t stand w*ncest. Getting a message in your ask box that says “go kill yourself” is horrible, believe me, I know. But if that’s all it is, you can’t assume the sender was a shipper at all. Unless the message was “I ship Destiel and you can go kill yourself” you just can’t assume. If you have had actual Destiel shippers come and attack and threaten you and send you those messages directly then 1. I am so so sorry because no one deserves that kind of abuse, and 2. I hope you exposed them if you could. Because if there is one thing I have learnt about the Destiel shippers in MY circles, it’s that we find that kind of behaviour completely unacceptable and we WILL call it out from our own side if we see it. 

The reason I have such a high opinion of Destiel shippers being the “nice” people in fandom is simply because I have never seen that kind of behaviour from them. I interact with a lot of people. I have seen Destiel shippers get overly passionate, I have seen them get upset and angry when people lash out at them. I have seen them turn bitter and negative and go off on rants about the show. I have seen them dog pile on an anti’s post to provide evidence against a false claim “Kripke said he’s straight” and I thought it was a bit much... but it wasn’t hate. It was a reaction to years and years and years of being laughed at, called delusional, mocked and ridiculed by all other sides within the fandom. Destiel shippers are desperate for validation. They are desperate to disprove the lies. If people actually listened to us, or read the countless posts that have been written clearly providing evidence and sources to disprove every lie and false claim against Destiel perhaps we wouldn’t be so defensive. That’s what happens when you’ve been gaslighted for 11 years. 

But regardless, I’m not here to get involved in shipping wars. You’ll continue going on hating Destiel, and I will continue going on and, well, not hating, but very much disliking Megstiel in canon (though I have read some very sweet Destiel fics where Meg is Cas’s best friend and enjoyed the characterisations there.) 

My post was never to gatekeep and stop you from ranting about Destiel. Rant away to your hearts content. As I said above I really don’t care if people hate it. All I ask, is that you keep that kind of content in places that are clearly labelled as anti Destiel. So that should a Destiel shipper want to check out a Sastiel or a Megstiel GC, they can do, without feeling completely unwelcome and hated on just for enjoying Dean and Cas’s relationship as well. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. All it takes is one tag right? Create your Megstiel GC and by all means rant about Destiel in it, but please just tag it as Anti Destiel.

Thank you for reaching out to me and explaining your side of things. I do appreciate it. 

[crionsbelt]

This may or may not go up by the time midnight hits or slightly after for me, let’s see what happens! I’ve been working on this since 9:30 PM EST, I expect it’ll be done by 12:50 AM EST. Hopefully I’m right so it ain’t too late gjnhg

For starters: Happy New Year everyone! Hard to believe we lived in the decade where this beauty was created. Nonetheless, there are multiple people I want to thank -- along with a much needed personal note from me. Everything will be put into a read more, but trust me, it’s long. Thank you all for making the final days of this decade very welcoming for me!

@kiidreamu​ & @theabyssalmuses​

It’s rather silly for me to start with you two, because I’ve got quite a bit to say; so here goes! I’ve known you two for...quite a while huh? I can’t recall the exact time, but I know we’ve been mutuals since I went by Phantom -- which was a long while ago. Regardless, I’ve always enjoyed you two on my dash; and I’ve always really liked interacting with y’all OOC! I’ve always had a blast speaking with you two (specifically now w all this fuckin Bear Ass shit).  I really enjoy the way you two write your muses, I think you both should have a lot more faith in them because they’re very fun to see on the dash! It’s pretty clear y’all put a lot of effort into your writing, even if you say you don’t, I for sure notice it.  Hime, I know you said you admired me - but there’s nothing to admire! You and Kii are equally as good as me, but I’m definitely not much. However, I never posted it (because I had it in my drafts and still do) because it meant a lot to me. I’ve never been told something like that aside from Norgie, so it made me feel happy in a dark time.  Thank you both for continuing to be my friends, truly. 

@fantasyacrossworlds​

Awoo! You and I have known each other for a long time, too (most people tagged here I’ve known for 2 - 4 years hujhj)! I’m VERY happy that we’re mutuals again, I’ve truly missed interacting with you! I’m so glad that it seems Orion and Cass are going to have a chaotic friendship that will always end on Orion running to Artemis LMAO. I’m looking forward to more interactions! 

@sanzenxsekai​​ 

I already gave you a super long post explaining how much me and Norgie are thankful for you, so I’ll remind you in a tl;dr version. WE ALL LOVE YOUR STINKY GREMLIN + YOU!! Please keep writing Nobu in 2020! Thank you so much for being such a good friend to me. 

@mcphistcples​

You don’t even realize how much of a positive impact you’ve had on both me and my girlfriend. You’re absolutely hilarious and I’m incredibly happy you chose to start interacting with a disaster like me. As a Dies fan, I fucking love your Rein. You write him fantastically and it’s always fun to see your interactions with BB’s JAlter.  I am looking forward to the dramatic reading of My Immortal: Bear Ass Edition : ) 

@stxrdust-pxper​

We haven’t talked much OOC properly, but we’ve known each other just about the same time as me and Norgie have been dating - so almost 2 years! You’re a pretty cool person, I’m happy you joined my new server because it’s given myself and others a chance to chat with you more. Thank you for all the kindness you’ve given me throughout the time we’ve known each other, I’ve never said it until now, but it truly has stuck with me and helped me become happier.

@bloodsoakedsakura​ / @idoldragos​

There’s actually a lot I’d like to say, some I’ll leave out for now. For starters, thank you for having my back for three years straight. Seriously. You’ve been there for me through a whole lot, honestly surprised you’ve stuck with me for as long as you have.  You’ve stood up for me when the time came for it and I’m honestly so thankful you did. Every time you hop in call with us it’s usually always fun and stupid (in a good way), so thank you for being part of my band of misfits as long as you have Sades. Even though you’re a boomer who didn’t stop me rolling 200 of my Quartz, I forgive you... dontkillmepls

@yuichiroswife​

Speka, you’ve been a great help to me and Norgie a great amount of times as of late. Thank you so much, you’re an incredibly kind person and I’m glad we became friends!!

@muniificus​

I’ve known you for 3 years too I’m 90% certain, it’s insane how long I’ve known a lot of you - it feels like forever but it also feels like time has gone by so quickly! Much like Sades, I’m very thankful you’ve stuck around for as long as you have Icarus. Thank you for putting up with my dumb ass, and ultimately having fun in return! alsoihavethereplyforanastasiadraftedipromise

@fakepriest​

I’ve sent you an ask with a lot of what would’ve been said in here, but I want to let you know that I’m extremely grateful that you’ve kept being my friend to. I enjoy our conversations a lot, especially when we talk about things like Heaven’s Feel because they’re usually always such fun things to talk about. 

Much like the ask I’ve sent you, your Kirei is so scarily accurate it nearly simulates his actual personality flawlessly. That’s how scary good at writing this tofu loving fake priest. I’m so happy it’s you who’s writing him, not to play the pedestal game, but I genuinely can’t see anyone else (not even myself) coming close to how phenomenal your portrayal is.  #kireisquad

@arkdiia​

Though our first conversation first chatting again wasn’t expected, I’m super glad you came back to Tumblr and I’m thrilled to be friends w you again! Hopefully for 2020, you and I /both/ catch a break lmfao.

@saintguine​

Much like Anna, I’ve already told you what I wanted to here in the form of an ask a few hours ago - however, I do wish to say smth that I’m sure a lot of people feel. Regardless of how you think about yourself, you’re a very good person BB and we’re all very blessed to know you. You’re absolutely one of my best friends, and though there was a point where we lost communication for a bit, I’m very grateful our friendship is the exact same. 

We all care u BB, thank u for bein gud to all of us

Kayla & Sere

This post is incredibly long already, luckily I’m just about done -- but I’ve got three people to go starting with you two!

Sere, you’ve heard me vent a lot and you’ve known me (Kayla has known me this long too) for a pretty damn long time if you ask me, 3 years may not seem like a lot to people, but with all the stuff we’ve all gone through these 3 years? It’s been a LOT and I can’t say I’d be the person I am without you hearing my dumb ass vent and creating Cursed Night.  I appreciate all of your icons, thank you for giving us (Hell) special treatment with them. Seriously! While you are a best friend for sure, you’re also practically family to me. Thank you again for everything. 

Kayla, the same of what I said for Sere is said for you. You’re legit like my older sister, you’ve been there for me for just bout the same amount that Norgie has; you’re someone who means a lot to both me and Norgie, so thank you for giving talking to us a chance way back when you were shy (I think that’s what it was!). There have been a lot of ups and downs for all of us, but I’m glad the downs at least had the positive effect of giving me a second family who I love dearly. I actually teared up on this part, so god help me when I write for Norgie.

@letoborn​ / @uwuwrote​

I’m going to save a lot of what I want to say to you for our anniversary in June, but I will say a few things because I love you so very much.

When I met you, I was not expecting you’d turn out to be the woman of my dreams. You’re genuinely my better half, and I have never been as happy as I am than I am with you. You’ve truly had the biggest impact in my life Norgie, you’ve made me laugh, cheered me up when I’m sad, called me out when I was dumb and helped me better myself. 

I’m so incredibly happy I got to spend the rest of the last decade being your boyfriend, and now, going into 2020 - a whole new decade with you. Like I said, you’re my better half - I can’t see myself with anyone else but you. You’re the greatest treasure in my life, I’m so happy we’ve had all this fun with roleplaying.

Thank you so much Norgie, for giving me Orion/Artemiis, all of our other ships - being my soulmate (at least, I think so). I hope 2020 treats us both well, but I’m willing to go through whatever as long as it’s with you.

Now, that’s the end of that -- but I have a few extra things to say.

My 2019 has been...quite possibly the hardest year of my life, at least on the internet. For a very long time, I was fearful of interacting with others - I made mistakes that I wish I could take back, I got put through hell for nothing...man, I don’t wanna go back in and say what happened, what is and isn’t true -- the long story short is, shit happened, but it’s the past now. 

I want to go into 2020 just..as positive as I can be, I’m tired of the drama, I just want to have fun with my friends and my girlfriend you know? So, I’m finally choosing to move on and just...try having fun again. This choice would be impossible without the people mentioned in this post. 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all of you who have stuck around through it all for me. I’m so incredibly thankful to be part of the friendgroup I’m in, to know everyone I’ve met who’s put up with me. I’ve had so many times where I wanted to leave this site, but I wanted to keep trying to write with everyone -- to have fun with everyone. You all have no idea how genuinely happy you’ve all made me, just by writing with my Orion and Norgie’s Artemis. 

Though I couldn’t think of anything to say specifically for the others tagged below here, thank you all for everything as well -- just following me makes me happy. I’m sure I’ve forgotten some people, but trust me, I’m so very happy to know all of you.

@dekirukoto @wisesteyed @lacobscur @akhilleuskcsmcs

[sassysweetstories]

where i belong

Request: “TW imagine the reader is Scott sister who is a wolf and a painter which helps her cope and vent and stuff and she wants her art work to haunt them and the reader has feelings for Theo which some how the pack found out about and stuff and the reader is misunderstood just as Theo is and understands him better then the pack and she's scared to death about losing him and Theo is the readers first love and stuff like that and the reader only wants her happiness w/ Theo and not be controlled so much by the others and things like that And one of the things is she doesnt ever regret loving Theo bcuz  he was there for her when the pack tuned her out and stuff like that.”

Ship: Theo Raekan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, yelling, fluff, cussing, etc. 

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners. 

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317@bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19@violence-and-velvet@lachicadelamanzana @teenwolfbitches2

Your P.O.V

The blood red paint dripped down the canvas. Not as thick as the liquid that ran under my own skin. I let it fall carelessly before tugging it back up towards the sky. Dark, thick black and grey clouds cascade on the backdrop, giving the audience an ominous feeling. At least that’s what I was going for. Whomever sees this painting; man, woman or child, could perceive the image entirely antithetically. To everyone else, it could seem malicious or even too dark for the normal eye. But for me, it was an escape from the nightmares that plagued my own head. 

I’m so intertwined in my own world I almost don’t even notice the packs presence till one of them nudges my shoulder, half scarring me to death. “Jeez, (Y/n). That’s a little dark, don’t ya think?” Liam looks down at the painting with fright and disgust. It takes everything in me to not smack him outright. Scott doesn’t come to my aid, choosing to not say anything at all. Even though I shouldn’t, I still hope my older brother can support me on something, especially my painting abilities. Malia tears into it, without mercy. 

“Why do you always draw things that are dark? It’s not like anyone died. I mean, jeez. It’s so depressing.” She shrugs, as if what she’s saying is the gospel truth and should enlighten me. 

I sit up, back as sharp as a blade. I will not cave in and beg for validation. I won’t get on my knees for these people. Suddenly a new body makes its way into the art room and I wish he hadn’t. Theo Raekan looks at the group before his eyes fall on me. Stiles glares at him, clearly frustrated with his only thirty-second presence. He ignores him, more focused on me and the painting than the hungry eyes that want to tear us both apart. That seems to be another thing I have in common with the young boy. 

He pulls up a chair and slides it next to mine, knee grazing my thigh and I glance down to hide the blush that’s made its way onto my cheeks. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t think I could bare the negative feedback. It pains me enough to listen to the people I thought once to be my friends. I could never hear it from him. Not from the boy I’ve fall hopelessly for. I close my eyes, awaiting for him to rip me apart the same way the others do. But when he opens his mouth, I hear something very different. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

His voice is so soft and gentle, I almost don’t recognize the tone to belong to him. The others gawk outright but he presses on, almost pouring salt into a wound all of them seem to bare. 

“This painting is absolutely exquisite, (Y/n). Let me take a guess. These two are lovers-” Pointing to the grey people, outlined with red and yellow hues to show fire across their bodies. “But they’re being torn apart due to other people. They want to be together but they’re forced apart and broken down themselves until they’re no more.” 

This time it is my turn to outright gawk at the young boy. And to think I couldn’t fall more in love with him. He understood the message I was trying to send. So much so, that I believed that at some point in his life, he felt it too. He smiles down at me, glancing back at the painting. 

“I didn’t know you could paint so well.” I blush and can’t seem to hide it no matter how hard I try. He compliments me effortlessly despite the group of people glaring down at him with distaste. “I mean it. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous and a phenomenal artist. I would love for you to come by and paint something for me actually. Would you be interested? I promise I’ll pay.” 

But before I could say anything, I’m forced out of my seat and pulled away. “Absolutely not.” Stiles says, completely fed up with Theo even though he’s done no harm. I rip his hand off my arm and push him away. “Get away from me.” Growling lowly before grabbing the painting and Theo’s hand. Though my heart beats a million miles a minute, I stop outside of the art entrance and hand him my number. 

“Call me when you want me to come over. F-For the painting, I mean.” 

He smiles and I try not to swoon. 

“Of course, honey. How about tonight at seven? I’ll order your favorite pizza as thank you. I’ll be giving you money for the painting as well and you can’t say no.” 

His joking authority sends chills across my skin and I nod, bidding him farewell. The next few nights I spend them with Theo, eating food and painting a description he showed me the first night I came over. As time passes, I notice things change between us. Slowly but surely, Theo opens up to me, and I to him. We have created a level of trust and respect for one another. So much so, that he chooses to sit with me most days at lunch, even walking me to class when his are on the opposite side of the school. I know I shouldn’t over think it, but I can’t help myself. Wishful thinking and all that. 

I shove my books back into my locker, replacing them with new ones. But just when I do, a large hand shoves the door to a close. The pack glares down at me and suddenly I feel very small. “W-What?” Stiles is quick to provide an answer, as always. 

“You can’t be around Theo. We don’t trust him. You need to end your little childish crush and stop before you get yourself hurt.” 

Malia and Liam back him up, firing the final blow. “You’re so naive to think he’d want to be with you. He’s using you, (Y/n).” 

The claim is outlandish and disgusting; plain and simple. Though this situation is nothing of the sorts. I look at the people who stand before me. A few days ago, I was looking but not seeing. And suddenly the world seemed oh so very clear. Without thinking, I laugh so hard I have to put my hands on my knees to keep myself afloat. They look at me with confused eyes as I collect myself before speaking with confidence. 

“Theo is the only person who has ever given a damn about me. Don’t you dare stand in front of me and lie to my face. You are all selfish, bastards. He’s the only person who has ever cared for me, asked me how my day was, basic things and went farther than all of you combined. You’re all worthless and I choose him over any of you, any day.” 

I don’t let them speak and walk to Theo’s side. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, smirking. “Damn, babe. That was brutal.” 

I couldn’t help but smile, wickedly. “Well, I only treated them the way they treated me. I deserve better.” He nods in agreement and approval. “That’s my girl.” Theo peppers my cheeks and forehead kisses, fawning over one another. This was where I belonged. 

(I hope you guys liked it! PLEASE COMMENT BELOW!!) 

[thefloatingstone]

overlordraax replied to your post: Not feeling much better after waking up. Somebody...

List your top fave fanfics. List your top fave tropes in fanfic.

Oh noooooo this is a really good one too sdjkjdhfsh

I was actually thinking of doing a fanfic Rec list tbh!! I hope you don’t mind that they’re all Undertale fics! I think I’ve read more fanfiction for this fandom than I’ve read for any other fandom I’ve ever been in. (Including MLP which is a friggen miracle if you stop to think about it)

BUT ANYWAY! Please check out these fics by some incredibly talented individuals (some of these I’ve put in lists before but w/e here it is again!)

(in literally no particular order at all)

Postcards from Waterfall

Rating: Explicit (Fic as a whole is T but occasionally has specific smut scenes which are marked for easy skipping)

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic timeline

Word Count: 353 763

Ongoing

After an unremembered Genocide timeline, Sans is struggling with lingering feelings of dread. On top of this, coming to terms with his own childhood, and dealing with a lifelong recovery from a massive accident in his youth. However, things seem to slowly improve as he unexpectedly grows closer to Grillby, and feelings turn towards the romantic. But there are still things lurking in the Underground that would do them harm.

(the fic mostly focuses on Sans’ childhood trauma dealing with a apathetic Gaster, an mysterious “Accident” he can barely remember in his near-childhood, his developing feeling for Grillby, and their awkward relationship developing and reacting to situations around them. the plot is paced slowly, but I wouldn’t call it a slice-of-life story as there are larger things at play and get slowly revealed as things move forward)

Thunderstruck

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader / Underfell Papyrus

Setting: Classic Timeline with Underfell Sans and Papyrus

Word Count: 263 284

Ongoing

It’s the classic timeline, and monsters have been on the surface for almost 2 years already. In the Skeleton household though, Sans and Papyrus have acquired two tag-alongs in the form of Underfell Sans (Red) and Underfell Papyrus (Edge) who have come from a much more violent and desperate timeline with no way of going back. This wouldn’t be so bad, but a lifetime of being on constant alert and being intimidating and scary to everyone, where it once had Edge be the most respected of monsters as Captain of the Royal Guard, now sees him severely emotionally and socially crippled. Unable to make friends due to his learned behaviour of being scary and permanently angry, unable to find work because most monsters AND humans find him too hard to handle, and struggling to find his place in his own family unit, with his relationship with his own brother awkward after so many years of pretending to be “boss and henchman”, a strained relationship with Sans who does not trust him (for admittedly good reason) and with the only person he seems on good terms with being Papyrus (who also represents everything Edge could have been but have no hope of achieving).

Things change when caught in a pretty bad thunderstorm, Reader (you) finds him hiding in an alley outside your apartment. And lucky for him, you’re crazy enough to let a terrified stranger into your home until the weather improves, and even crazier, as you decide once he starts yelling, that you’d like to stay in contact with him.

The story is a slowburn Reader-insert romance, but it’s almost much more than that. Told from Edge’s perspective, it’s a recovery fic more than anything. Recovering from a lifetime of trauma, violence, learned survival behaviours, mending relationships with family, learning to fit into a world that at first seems completely incompatible with you, and finding a place in life. Lots of self reflection, sometimes self loathing, pining, confusion, frustration, brief arguments over stupid petty things, arguments over really IMPORTANT things, and a lot of tenderness, even if you’re not someone to go for Reader-insert stories, I highly recommend this one if only for the characterisation and emotional and psychological exploration, especially for Edge and his relationship to to his brother and the world at large. It definitely sold me on his character in a way I’ve never really considered.

Panic Room

Rating: M (note cw on fic)

Ship?: Nothing yet but working towards Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 150 548

Ongoing

It’s been years since monsters broke the barrier, stormed into Ebott, and forcefully took over, place Toriel as the monarch and cutting the city off from the outside world. Ebott has become a dystopian dictatorship, where humans are second class citizens who can have incredible luxury depending on how useful and accommodating they are to their new monster rules, or simply be exterminated if stepping out of line. Reader (you) have been imprisoned for almost a year, living in torturous conditions, scarred from beatings and with no hope or future to even think of. But due to your spirit of Perseverance, you continue to live, to not give in to despair. One day, Swapfell Papyrus (Rus) wanders into the prison, looking to “buy” himself a human (for reasons unknown to you) and, for whatever reason, picks you.

He brings you home, has you cleaned up, healed up to the best of his ability, and then has the hurdle of trying to present you to Swapfell Sans; the Lieutenant of the Royal Guard and Alphys’ right hand man. On the verge of throwing you out, Sans allows you to stay and work as the maid in his meticulous home. A hard job, but you accept, unwilling to try your luck on the streets of Ebott. And so your new life begins with the brothers, and the longer you work there, the more you learn. You learn more about the very touchy but at his core good-hearted Rus, you learn more about the terrifying and ruthless Sans, and the sadness and desire to show kindness behind his mask, and you learn more about Ebott. About the constant servailence, the propaganda machine, the injustice, the violence, the broken system ruled by the blind and terrible queen.

You don’t know what sort of life or future is in store for you now, but it’s better than the prison (ANYTHING is better than the prison) and just at the edges of reality, where you can’t even see or notice them yet, a change is coming. Invisible and far in the distance, but slowly approaching.

Dirty Laundry

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (poly relationship, no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 49 369

Ongoing

Reader (you) have recently moved to Ebott for a change in life (it being monster central may or may not have something to do with that). It’s been a few months since monsters were freed, and many are integrating with society slowly but surely. One day, while at the laundromat, you find yourself watched by a scary but ultimately nervous and “I don’t know how to laundry!” Swapfell Papyrus.

In time, a friendship forms. He’s a really sweet guy, anxious but eager to please. It would all be very cute if not for the fact that his asshole brother doesn’t seem very pleased with you (or anybody?) “worming their way” into his baby brother’s life. Nevermind that their therapist said they needed time apart! Nevermind that Papyrus has asked him for some space! He’s going to make sure his little brother is safe! Just as he always had.

Besides... if he doesn’t, what else is there for him to do? Leave Papyrus alone? Leave both of you alone? Accept that Papyrus doesn’t need him any more? May not even want him any more?

...would that make him happier?

Fired Up and Bone Weary (Series)

Rating: G - T

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic Timeline

Word Count: various

Complete

A collection of short stories and oneshots, documenting the everyday life and events in Sans, Grillby and Papyrus’ lives, starting underground and early dating, and working its way to surface life and marriage. Mostly just fluffy, slice of life settings, only now and then undercut by misfortune or drama. Dealing with Grillby’s complicated family, trying to manage Sans’ fluctuating depression, and Papyrus’ role and desire for a family. Most of it is just small, everyday happiness though. And the fear that at any moment all of it could disappear with a reset is (most of the time) not thought about.

(I haven’t finished the series myself just yet. I got stuck on the third last story in the series, the one with the most chapters, due to personal reasons. I do plan to finish it at a later date, but at this point in time it hit a little too close to home. I still recommend all of it whole-heartedly, as I doubt other people will react to it the way I did.)

There are also a few oneshots as well as fics I’ve mentioned before (like SSLL for instance which I STILL love and you guys should STILL read!!) but these are the main ones I’m reading/have read at the moment!

If you guys want I can make a list of oneshots too. Just let me know 8′D I also didn’t include people’s tumblr names just in case they didn’t want it spread around for any particular reason, and I didn’t include more than one fanfic per author, I may add some of their other work in another post at some point. But I wanted to give each author equal exposure in this post.

Anyway! Hopefully you guys consider any (although you really should read ALL) of these fics! And give the authors comments and kudos!

[juniper-tree]

Disaster Recovery

Rating: Mature for dirty talk (but very immature)  |  4577 words

Mass Effect: Andromeda - Sara Ryder x Tiran Kandros

Link to AO3 - thank you for reading

When Kandros and Ryder's private email exchange ends up in the wrong hands, everyone is embarrassed.

Having some fun torturing Ryder & Kandros (my loves), and also doing a little head-hopping and generally being a goof.  

Warning: mention of reproduction & reproductive issues near the end. Just a head's up. <3

The message went astray somehow. The cause must have been an errant keystroke, or a clumsy jerk of the hand—the careless, one-handed typing of someone, flustered and hot, with more indulgent things on their mind than precise data entry.  

Someone who was distracted, imagining the quickened pulse and hard swallows of the person meant to read their words. Imagining how quickly that person would close the email if they were in public, lest prying eyes happen to see. The things they might do when they read it again, in private.  

Someone who was too distracted to see they'd accidentally put an extra name in the "Send to:" field.  

---

Cora rubbed her bleary eyes and tapped the datapad awake. Her morning messages scrolled up the thin blue screen.

The coffee on her desk did not send graceful spirals of steam into the air to entice her, or transmit any It's time to wake up! signals to her brain. Instead it sat there, flat and heavy—hot, but not very excited about it. That made two of them. She drank it anyway.

It was bad. They would have to find something new in Heleus. A native substitute. There had to be one. This Milky Way coffee was over 600 years old, and tasted like it.  

Yawning, Cora swiped her finger across the screen in a sluggish rhythm, trashing a dozen useless messages. There were copies of copies of intel reports from every corner of the cluster, useless ads from Nexus merchants, and more insidious emails from Kadara black market traders.  

These were not-so-carefully disguised as personal notes, to trick a sleepy, or distracted, brain into reading. The family holos you ordered are in! or You'll never believe how good this synth suit looks on me... They weren't usually pornographic—the Initiative's system filters were surprisingly good at blocking those—but they were illegal, and annoying.  

Like this one, at the bottom of her list. Re: Last shore leave. "Oh, please," she muttered at the screen, rolling her eyes. These days, Cora's shore leave activities consisted mainly of waiting for shore leave to be over, so she could get back to work.  

But the trick still worked, because her eyes drifted down toward the body of the message. Then her eyes widened. Now she was awake.  

Every time I leave you, I can't stop thinking about the last time I touched you. The last time my hands found their way under your armor. I hate your armor. I never want to see it again. That's an order. I only want to see you, naked, beneath me.

"What the—" Cora could see her disgusted expression reflected in the glossy screen of the datapad. These ads were getting... creative. What were they trying to sell, some awful serial, like the ones Dr. T'Perro kept leaving in the bathroom?

Do you think about my hands spreading your thighs? How it feels when I lick my tongue up your—

That was enough. Cora huffed an angry sigh and scraped her chair against the floor as she stood up.  

In the research room, an equally sleepy bunch of crewmembers bent over their screens, making notes or checking their own morning emails. Vetra yawned, and her mandibles wiggled. That set off a chain of yawns from Liam, whose loud groan echoed off the metal wall, to Suvi, who squeaked and shook her head, her choppy red hair fluttering.

Drack never seemed to yawn. He said that when you were as old as he was, you were never not tired. No one believed him, based on the available evidence.

Cora stomped out of the bio lab and up to the round console in the middle of the room, holding her datapad up in one hand. "So is everybody else getting really filthy ads break through the email filter, or am I the lucky one?"

"Let me see," Liam mumbled, turning to take the pad from her. After a quick scan, he snorted a short laugh. Then his shoulders shook while he repressed a fit of giggles. Soon, he couldn't help himself, and laughed wildly. "Wow," he said, his free hand scratching his brow. "That's... really something."

Peebee, who seemed to have extra-sensory perception for anything indecent, ran into the room and up to Liam. "Ooh, let me see, too." She grabbed at the pad.

Liam held his hand, and the pad, straight up above his head and out of her reach. He calmly sipped his morning tea with a smug smile, while Peebee jumped around him, trying to take it. He was taller than her, and his arms were considerably longer. She grunted, frustrated, and then a devious look flashed in her eyes. Her hands, fingers clawed, moved to his ribs, tickling mercilessly.

He yelped and backed away, spilling tea onto the floor. "Just listen, ok?” He cleared his throat and put on a sultry voice.  

“Tell me what to do. Tell me where to put my fingers, how hard to grip. Tell me to go fast or slow. Tell me you need me, because I need you, everywhere."  

Everyone laughed but Cora, who folded her arms tight against her chest and looked at the floor, and Jaal, who did the same. There was a reason they got along so well.

With Suvi and Peebee looking over his shoulder, Liam scrolled through the email, which was one of a chain of dozens. "It just goes on and on," he said.

Suvi squinted at the pad. “It doesn't look like an ad to me."  

"Oh, shit." Liam pointed to the expanded data of the email thread. "This was supposed to go to Sara," he told Cora.  "Somehow you got tagged on this.  I'm going to assume that was an accident."  

"Good assumption," Cora said sharply. Liam didn't feel he deserved such a sarcastic tone, but he was, sadly, used to it.

"So the question is, who sent this to Sara?" He thought, for a moment, it could be a crazed stalker. As the Pathfinder, Sara Ryder suffered near-constant exposure to, and messages from, strangers throughout the cluster, especially after she led the attack on the Archon. It wasn't hard to imagine some nutter would get a strange idea in his head, and send her email after email of the worst dirty talk he'd ever read.

Not that he'd read a huge amount.

Peebee tapped on the pad in his hands excitedly. "Uh, you're reading it backward, genius. This is a conversation. The last one is from Sara."

Suvi gasped. "Ryder!" she said, with glee. They all looked at each other in stunned, but mostly amused, silence.  

Except Cora. "You know what?" She held up her hands in a grim surrender. "I don't want to know anymore." She shook her head and walked back to the lab.

"Who's she writing to?" Suvi asked.  

"Who do you think?" Drack answered with a grunt.

Vetra and Peebee gave each other a knowing look and answered in unison.

"Kandros."

"I mean, who's surprised?" Vetra asked. "She was more into the Turian flexing in Last of the Legion than I was."

They continued to scan the thread for more choice quotes to read aloud, now in ridiculous approximations of Kandros and Sara's voices. Everyone had to admit that Peebee did a pretty good Kandros.

“Let me be clear: the next time I come to your quarters, I will dig my fingers under your clothes and pull them off you, slowly, piece by piece.  Then I’ll drag my talons softly across your naked body until you shiver.”

She was appropriately boring with just a hint of apathy. It made his words sound deeply unsexy.

Kallo padded up to the group, his steps soft but anxious. "Suvi," he said, like an exasperated teacher at the end of the term, "we really should begin that trial run of the ODSY drive core overload procedures."  

Suvi, giggling and wiping tears from her eyes, didn't even turn to look at Kallo when she shushed him and waved him off.  

He looked around at just how many of the Tempest's crew were gathered here, and sidled up to the console. "If something's going on," he whispered, "of course I want to know about it." There couldn't be gossip on the ship that he was unaware of... at least not for long.

Vetra gave him the rundown. "Sara and Kandros from the militia office have been writing dirty emails to each other, and we're reading them out loud."

"Oh," he said. He considered, briefly, whether this was interesting to him, decided it was not, and walked back to the bridge, leaving them to it.  

To Kallo, this was nothing compared to Gil's latest attempts at sabotaging the Tempest's perfectly calibrated systems, which he would discuss with Sara at the earliest opportunity. She always seemed sympathetic. If she wanted to spend her free time with the Turian and send him... love notes, he supposed they were—well, it was not something he understood, but he hoped it made her happy.  

"This does explain a few things," Liam said to Vetra. "Like why we never see her anymore when we dock at the Nexus. Even if it's only a day, she's gone."

"If this is news to you, you haven't been paying attention," Vetra said. "Why do you think he comes aboard to debrief her every time?  In her quarters?"

"Debrief is right," Peebee said with a wicked smile. "I walked past the door once. On accident, of course. I had no idea status meetings involved so much moaning."  She held a hand to her chest, as though she were honestly shocked. "And grunts. So many grunts."  

Jaal had maintained his position, staring down at the floor, arms folded, though now there was the distinct air of a pout in his expression. "I do not find this humorous," he said in a low, sad voice. "If Ryder has her own"—he sighed—"romantic attachments, that is her business."    

Peebee elbowed Liam in the previously tickled ribs. "Jealous," she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.  

A large, friendly hand patted Jaal on the back. "Don't worry about it, kid," Drack told him. "She'll get tired of him eventually."    

Everyone else looked at Drack, and subtly shook their heads. Drack shrugged. What did he know, anyway? He was only five million years old. From what he'd seen—and he'd seen a lot—some stars burned out hard and fast. Unless there was something else to it, something like love, all the fucking in the galaxy wouldn't make it last.

If anyone thought this wouldn't end in the worst way, they were wrong. It ended when Sara jogged into the room.

It wasn't a large ship, and she would have come past here on her running route eventually.  It just so happened she ran by while everyone (except Jaal) was still laughing.

She was all smiles, catching her breath and pulling down her headphones to hang around her neck. "What's up? Having an all-hands without me?"

The laughing stopped. To call what followed an awkward silence would be a sincere understatement.  

Everyone suddenly found themselves busy with... something far from the research room. Everyone but Liam. If no one else would tell her, he would.  He could handle it. Crisis management was his thing.  

"I think this is yours," he said softly, and handed the datapad to her. "Bad routing on the email. Got mixed up."

When she realized what was on the pad, her face stiffened. Her whole body stiffened. She did not look up. All she could do was stuff the pad tightly under her arm, and take herself back to her quarters on legs which were suddenly very bad at walking.  

Everyone knew her secrets now.  Everyone knew about her relationship, the dreams and fantasies she could sometimes barely type, much less say aloud.  They were things she would never have shared with anyone, except Tiran.

Sara was not hurt, exactly, and not angry, exactly, though she was not not those things. At heart, she was supremely, profoundly embarrassed. The only cure for that, she knew from painful past experience, was time. But a shower and a stiff drink, and some quality time with Benny the hamster, might help, too.  

Maybe a holo call to Tiran. He would make her feel better. He could also send a Strike Team to obliterate her entire crew. He wouldn't, but he could. Perhaps they hadn’t considered that.            

---

One week later, Liam Kosta strolled past Nexus onboarding security and made his way to the tram terminal. A few days' break for Tempest repairs meant he could not only get some overdue work done here, he could get some fresh, non-ship air. He could go to the Vortex or anywhere really, but preferably the Vortex, and see some faces that were not the same ten faces he saw every day.

For now, he was on an odd, but hopefully short, mission. He was headed to the militia office, to see Kandros.

If Tiran Kandros had a temper, if he was the kind of guy who would get violent when slighted or embarrassed, he wanted to know about it now. Sara was his friend, even if he had messed up and hurt her. She didn't deserve what he—or any of them—had done, but she also didn't deserve some idiot with more fists than brains.    

Besides, if he was going to get decked, or worse, he'd be prepared for it.

Kandros stood in his permanent spot. Militia officers buzzed from terminal to comm around him, but he didn't move. There were probably dents worn into the floor from his feet. His ever-present aide, Lt. Sajax, stood nearby, giving harsh orders to her omnitool in a soft, light voice.  

Liam could have sworn he saw a flinch from Kandros when he approached.  If it had been there, it vanished quickly.

"Kosta." Kandros hardly looked at him, but Liam felt the quiver in his subvocals. He wasn't especially angry, it seemed. More like embarrassed. Both of them knew what both of them knew. But Kandros wasn't about to acknowledge it.

Timidity. Not what Liam expected, but it was better than a three-knuckle sandwich.  

"Hey, Kandros," he said, keeping his voice high and friendly. "Good to see you."

He didn't know if Turians could, physically, roll their eyes, but the withering look he received from Kandros was close enough.  

"Ryder come aboard with you?" Kandros asked, with calculated, and transparently false, disinterest.  

"You don't know?" Liam teased.

Kandros didn't answer, but he shifted uncomfortably, without moving from his spot.  

"I believe she's still on-ship," Liam said. "You could email her."  He smiled at Kandros, a bigger and more obnoxious smile than he'd given anyone in a long time.  

He wanted to test him, yes, but it was also entertaining.  If anyone knew Liam Kosta could be an ass sometimes—well, first in line would have been his mum, but close second was Liam himself.    

Kandros didn't punch him, or curse. Not even a subharmonic growl. The biggest reaction Liam could see was that his small round pupils narrowed just a bit further, and his mandibles twitched once. Then he pushed past Liam without a word.

That must be Kandros at Level: Pissed Off. Not bad. As long as it didn't all explode out of him later in an uncontrollable rage, Liam guessed he was probably an all right sort of guy. He passed the test. For now.

“Touchy.” Sajax sighed and shook her head. “But he’s been that way lately.”

“Oh, I deserved worse,” he said. “We found a bunch of… intimate correspondence between the chief and the Pathfinder.”  

Sajax groaned. “Gross.”

“She must have told him we found it. I feel bad. A little, anyway,” he said with a sheepish grin.  

“Only a little?” Sajax laughed, and her laugh was softer and higher-pitched than he might have guessed. It was lovely.  “I may not want to know the details, but I’m not sure why they thought it was a secret. In the early days, every time she came by, we had to mop up the drool.”

“Hers or his?” he asked.

“Both. I hope it didn’t take them long to figure it out. If it did, they’re both clueless.”

Liam laughed, recalling all the times Sara, in the middle of a firefight or exploring a vault, would turn to him and say, I really have no idea what I’m doing, you know? Never. Not a clue.  

“That wouldn’t surprise me at all,” he said with a smile. “Sounds like they’re made for each other. We should all be so lucky.”

“Aw,” Sajax said, her subvocals humming. “That’s really sweet.”

He leaned in closer. “I can be, sometimes.”  

She looked him over, and it seemed to him like a positive appraisal. “So you’re the one who pissed him off, and made my life hell for the past week?”  

“Is he that bad?” Maybe his test method was all wrong, and Kandros wouldn’t show his true colors around Liam, if it would get back to Sara.    

“Nah,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You saw him. Grumpy and miserable. Nothing I can’t handle.”  

“Grumpy is still a pain in the arse. Let me make it up to you?”

“And how do you propose to do that?”  

He pretended to think it over, as though it had not been in his mind the moment he stepped into the office. “Buy you a drink at the Vortex later?”

“That’s a start.” Her purple markings crinkled in a kind of smile. “I’ll be there at 2100.”

“Roger that,” he said, walking backwards out of the office. “Looking forward to it.”

2100. After he finished up a few errands, he’d have just enough time to swing by the ship, and change into something a little nicer for her.  

---

We, the undersigned crew of the Andromeda Initiative Survey Ship Tempest and others, while in support of the freedom of both Pathfinder Sara Ryder and Nexus Militia Chief Tiran Kandros to pursue a life in their off-duty time, are nevertheless distressed by the lack of opportunity and means for these individuals to keep their private discussions just that.  

We ask that the AI Communications Steering Committee extend the budget for holovideo conferencing to include two room-to-room comm devices for the aforementioned personnel. The benefit of this outlay would well exceed the cost of not only the devices themselves, but the mental cost to the undersigned from hearing, or seeing, anything of a personal nature between our respective leaders.      

Cora Harper Liam Kosta Pelessaria B’Sayle Nakmor Drack Jaal Ama Darav Not Of The Tempest Crew Permanently But For Now Gilbert Brodie Dr. Lexi T’Perro Vetra Nyx Dr. Suvi Anwar Kallo Jath  Suvi, I did not sign this.   Lt. Popitina Sajax, Nexus Militia

---

Kallo found her in the galley, alone, drinking coffee. Sara had been so quiet on the ship lately. That whole email thing really made her clam up, as they say.  

Clams. He wondered if there were any clams on Aya.

He pulled a tall glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the filter tank. It was time for his daily algae juice, which he had every afternoon at roughly the same time, in the typically empty galley. Except today, it wasn’t empty.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, Sara?”  

She gestured to the empty space on the bench seat beside her. “Be my guest.”

He spooned in the dried algae powder and it bloomed in his glass. Reconstituted, never his favorite, but working on ships for years allowed him grow accustomed to it. At least back home, there was always the opportunity for fresh.

Here? Only powder, not even tank bred. Unless…

Clams on Aya. If there were clams, there could be algae. Natural algae. He filed the idea away to ask Jaal about later.  

He took the seat next to Sara and set his glass on the table. She stared down into her coffee, her hands wrapped around the cup. Her face was blank, which was unlike her.

Perhaps some conversation would cheer her up. He always enjoyed their chats on the bridge.

“So,” he began, “seen anything fun off-ship lately? I never seem to disembark these days,” he said with a laugh.

She thought for a moment. “Well... last week on Voeld I counted twelve frozen, snapped-off toes in the snow. Most of them were Angaran. Their toes are long. That’s how you can tell.” She sipped her coffee and grimaced.  

So much for small talk. He gulped down half his algae juice and glanced anxiously toward the door.  

“This is bad,” Sara said. She sounded so dejected.

“Are you all right?” he asked.  

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “I just meant the coffee.”

The problem was, she didn’t sound fine, and he wasn’t sure what he could do about it.  

That wasn’t true. There was one thing he could do, one uncomfortable thing, but he had a feeling it was the right thing.  

“Sara,” he said, “I’m sorry your private emails were read by everyone and I’m sorry everyone laughed at them.”

She turned to look at him, to really look at him, he thought, for the first time since he entered the galley. “Uh… thanks,” she said, a slightly bewildered smile on her face. “But I didn’t think you were in on it.”  

“No, not me.” He found himself looking deeply into his own drink. “I didn’t find it very interesting. We—Salarians, I mean—don’t have those kinds of relationships. It’s really only about procreation for us.”

What he wanted to say is that he found everyone else’s preoccupation with sex to be dull in the extreme. Unfortunately, most species took offense at that notion. For them, it seemed, mating was the center of their universe. To him, it was a family duty, and only as exciting as that sounded, which was not at all.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Are you… looking for someone to procreate with from the Paarchero? Or on the Nexus?” she asked with a small smile.

Sara meant well, he knew, but she could only see such things through her own lens, her own cultural experience. It was not a fun process, or a love match. In fact, family negotiations were very fractured here in Andromeda, because there were so few intact families.    

“No, not yet. I suppose I will look for someone to make a procreation bond with soon,” he said. “It would make my parents happy, if they knew.”

“It probably is weird to you,” she said, her brow furrowed.  “I mean, I can’t… um, procreate with Tiran, but that’s not what it’s about for me.”  

“Not weird,” Kallo answered, and he meant it. “Just different.”

“I’m not ruling out procreating with someone else,” she said, almost to herself, as if she’d never thought this through before. “Although with everything I’ve been through, I’m not even sure I physically can—”

A pained look came over her face, and she held her hand in the air. She always did this when the AI in her brain interrupted her.

“Thank you, SAM, but I truly do not want a real-time update on my reproductive system. Don’t need to know how many eggs I have. Let’s keep it a mystery, ok?”

She sighed and sipped her coffee, though she seemed to instantly regret it.  

He couldn’t help but ask. “Humans have eggs?”

Sara held her eyes shut tight. “Yeah, we have eggs. The point is that for me, there’s a lot more to it than all that. And—”  She laughed, and looked surprised by it. “It’s not about what was in those emails, you know? I care about Tiran. He cares about me. I—”

She looked up at the ceiling. “I love him, I guess.” Then she laughed more.  

Kallo had never been more grateful to be spared this overly complex and difficult cultural ritual. Love was simple—immediate family, close friends, those who were good to you. Whatever Sara was experiencing looked painful and… confusing. He hoped it was worth it.

“And, honestly,” she continued, “kids or not or whatever, my legacy is set. I’ve made a difference.”

Now here was something that made sense to him. Something that had only been a fleeting idea to him at first, but had settled in his mind more recently.  

“Actually, I do understand,” he said. “I don’t feel the same pressure I might have back home to continue my family’s line. Despite how few of us there are here,” he said, an acknowledgement that made him feel guilty. But he could not change his response to that.

There was so much he had done to be proud of. He had helped build the Tempest and come with her on this long voyage, to see what he had built come to life. He had helped Sara and the others defeat a terrible threat, and saved so many lives. He had made friends, and seen new worlds.  

“I will still try to make a bond but… I feel much the same as you, Sara,” he said. “I have made a mark here. And that’s important.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Exactly.  Cheers to that.”

She held her coffee cup in the air. He held up his algae juice. He didn’t think he’d ever been in a “cheers” situation before. He was not sure who was supposed to initiate the clinking, or if it was a simultaneous clink.

Sara clinked for him, ever the leader.  

---

>> ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATION RECEIVED

>> CONFIRM PATHFINDER COMM ID - ***.****.***

>> AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED>> RUNNING DECRYPTION…

APEX mission on Eos - your report

Pathfinder,

Spirits know you’re busy, but can I get a little more detail on this Eos report? I appreciate brevity—in official comms, anyway—but “your guys took care of it” isn’t going to cut it. And “my guys” aren’t being very forthcoming.

What happened down there? Something I should know about?    

Kandros

PS - I’m sending all of my messages to you encrypted from now on. Just in case.

____

>> ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATION RECEIVED

>> CONFIRM NEXUS MILITIA COMM ID - ****.***.**

>> AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED>> RUNNING DECRYPTION…

Re: APEX mission on Eos - your report

Tiran,

Nothing happened, really. It was a very boring mission. They walked in, did the job, and walked out. The only details I left out are personally embarrassing to me and don’t need to be in your status files. I don’t even want them in an email. For obvious reasons. Your team is doing me a favor.

You know, if you want to teach me the proper way to write a mission debrief, you’ll have to give me a hands-on lesson. Of course, I only have time late at night…

Sara

____

>> ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATION RECEIVED

>> CONFIRM NEXUS MILITIA COMM ID - ****.***.**

>> AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED>> RUNNING DECRYPTION…

RE:  Re: APEX mission on Eos - your report

Honey,

I know how to get you to talk. You say all kinds of things in my bed… I’ll find out sooner or later.  

Make it sooner. I can’t stop thinking about you whispering in my ear, your breath against my hide…

Can you do a holocall tonight? I’m off duty at 1800 Nexus time.  

____

>> ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATION RECEIVED

>> CONFIRM NEXUS MILITIA COMM ID - ****.***.**

>> AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED>> RUNNING DECRYPTION…

Yes

Need to clear the meeting room... I’ll just tell them the pyjak peed in there again. Worked last time.

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY