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syd-djarin · 11 months

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Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo) squirting (sue me), Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him.

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel.

Boiling water for pasta? Joel.

Doing the dishes? Joel.

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel.

And this morning is no different.

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters.

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements.

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not.

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.

Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time.

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache.

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend.

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year.

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible.

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel.

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment.

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise.

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything.

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech.

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence.

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you?

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile, learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you.

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you.

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face.

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice.

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought.

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house.

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you.

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country?

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore.

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you.

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again.

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you.

Driving home from work? You.

Making dinner? You.

Making his morning coffee? You.

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you.

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience.

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron.

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now.

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.”

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable.

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.”

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab.

“You’re doing great. Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.”

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough.

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her.

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven.

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?”

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination.

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes.

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie.

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too.

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion.

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go.

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places.

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra.

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot.

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy.

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn.

Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home.

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed?

“What uh-what’re you doing here?”

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings.

You have a moment of realization.

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises.

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so.

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace.

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation.

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.”

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here.

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel. You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation.

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile.

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat.

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny. He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again.

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too.

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him.

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind.

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together.

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same.

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears.

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together.

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time.

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves.

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core.

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties.

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter.

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort.

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?”

“Mhmmm…” You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions.

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it.

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable.

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice. His rock hard cock twitches in his pants.

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him.

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests.

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning.

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs.

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more.

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure.

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad.

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy.

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed.

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release.

You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-”

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole.

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth.

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex.

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong.

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours.

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure.

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before.

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene.

You fucking squirted. Everywhere.

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.”

His gaze goes dark.

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you.

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough.

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

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fairysluna · 1 year

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INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 3: Bejeweled.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY – You listened to Aegon, and you decided to give another try to dating and flings, though things, once again, don't go as planned.

TAGS/TW – make out sessions with some inappropriate touching, anxiety(?, mentions of sex, robbery(?, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs.

AUTHOR'S NOTE – did i use the house of shameless as a visual? ofc i did. this is dedicated to my sweet nicole <3 this whole series is dedicated to you actually, ilysm mi amor🤍 i didn't proof read it, so pls be aware of that before reading and srry if there's mistakes!!

WORD COUNT – 4.3k

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The heels were too high for your liking, the dress too tight, and everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong when you tripped at the entrance of the bar. You have missed the enormous sign that said ‘WATCH YOUR STEP’ with big, thick, red letters. Luckily for you, no one seemed to have witnessed that embarrassing moment of your life; you trying to look sexy and flirty, and failing miserably.

It was Friday night, almost a week has passed since your desperate attempt to move on from your ex, and there you were, standing as you scanned the room for a man that looks available and cute enough. The Green Banner was filled with people that had come to look for a relaxing time after work; it was 9pm, and most of the men there were wearing office clothes. Being honest to yourself, you thought they all looked quite boring.

However, your big issue right there was not the dull colors of their clothing, it was Jace’s and Aemond’s presence. They had helped you to choose the dress after you asked them to, but it appears as if they did not want to let go of you just yet. They started to judge all the guys that you picked; too short, too informal, too formal, too douchey, too boring, too dumb, too drunk; it was never enough for them. You started to grow tired of this, feeling too overwhelmed with the pressure of finding the perfect match that you barely were enjoying the process of starting over. They were suffocating you.

“What about him?” Jace said, pointing at a dude that was talking cheerfully with a group of friends, still wearing the formal suit from his job.

Aemond shook his head, “he’s being too flirty with that girl, he’s probably dating her.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath that was interrupted by the tightness of your dress. Now you were doubting yourself, and the urge to go home consumed you; leaving did not seem as a bad idea at all. But then you saw Aegon behind the bar, preparing some drink as he laughed with a girl by his side; you tilted your head a bit, weirded out by his attitude since you rarely saw him laugh in the loft. He was always serious or absentminded, but here he was… happy.

As you kept watching him, completely ignoring the words of Jace and Aemond, you saw how his flirtatious manners were way too obvious for anyone who lay an eye on him. You could even swear that you saw a slight blush on his cheeks as the girl by his side made him laugh with a joke. Your haze softened at the sight, seeing a part of Aegon you did not even know it existed before that moment; and then, there was this part inside of you that actually wanted to help him to get that girl, even when Aegon was a very private person when it comes to his feelings, you felt the urge to do something about it.

That is why, as soon as the girl left his side, you stood up as you excused yourself with your friends, and walked towards Aegon. Jace frowned as he asked you where you were going, but you just replied with a soft mumble that was barely understood by them.

Aegon saw you getting closer and his smile faded, being replaced by a confused grin that appeared in his face. Your smile, as bright as usual, was the first thing he noticed; you were always so damn happy, it was actually a bit triggering for him. He tried to avoid your stare, but you sat right in front of him, looking up at him with those gleaming eyes which had some mischievousness in them that made him feel curious about your intentions.

“May I have a virgin Mojito?” You told him, trying to suppress your giant smile.

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a judgemental stare, “So you want a mint lemonade?”

“Yes, please.”

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have some essays to grade?” His mocking tone was easily perceived in his voice, but you did not let yourself be bothered by it. Instead, you just laughed it off.

“I’m following your advice!”

Aegon closed his eyes, “that’s a terrible mistake.”

“Listen, I also came here because I saw you with that girl over there,” You pointed out to the ginger girl at the other extreme of the bar, “you smiled at her, you like her!”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he quickly said.

“You barely smile at home,” you pointed out.

“I barely smile at you,” he explained, “you’re a bit annoying, to be honest.”

You tilted your head, pressing your lips in a thin line before you rolled your eyes ignoring his words, again. You just sat there, watching Aegon making your drink with such easiness that it actually left you impressed, nimbly moving his hands to grab the cup, the ingredients and putting them together in a medium size cup. You found yourself so distracted watching him doing his job that you almost lost the focus of the conversation.

"You should ask her out," you told him, leaning towards him to whisper your words. He leaned back almost immediately, trying to stay away from you.

"Mind your business, y/n," he replied, sternly. "Look, there's a guy that's lonely, go for it and leave me work.

You turned to look at the guy Aegon pointed at. You immediately recognized him as the man who looked too lazy according to Aemond. You thought he was cute, he was a good looking guy, but your beloved friends did not even let you give your opinion before they decided he was not proper for you.

"Aemond didn’t like him," you explained to Aegon.

"Is Aemond gonna sleep with him?" He raised his eyebrow and you softly shook your head, "then why does his opinion matter to you?"

"He's my friend," you shrugged.

"Just go and fuck that guy. Be a whore, remember?"

You took a deep breath before nodding, decided to listen to Aegon's advice once again. You mumble a small 'yes' that came out as a sigh, and then you grabbed the glass in front of you, and drank it in two sips. The sour taste of the lemon made you wrinkle your nose as you groaned, but somehow it gave you a boost of confidence which made you stand up from the chair. Aegon frowned. "You know there's no alcohol in that, don't you?"

"Shut up," you mumbled as you left his side. "We have a pending conversation, remember that!"

"No, we don't."

His words faded into the air as you walked away from him and towards the handsome and lonely man sitting at the other side of the bar. He was looking at his phone with an uninterested look while holding a beer jug. There was some sort of self doubt in you as you slowly stepped forward to meet him, but Aegon’s words were in a loop inside your head giving you the motivation to keep going and take the first step into the ‘single life’ you have been wanting to live. No strings attached, just fun and meaningless sex.

You stood behind the guy for a few seconds, taking big breaths and calming you down before daring to speak to him. You saw the curls on his dark hair and bit your lip; your eyes went to his exposed arms and hands; they seemed thick and veiny… it somehow turned you on. You gave one last look behind you; Jace and Aemond were nowhere to be seen, and when your eyes laid upon Aegon’s frame, he was already staring at you with an expectant look. He gave you a slight nod, and that was all you needed to do it.

“Hey,” you said. The guy turned around and a confused look appeared on his face. “Do you mind if I sit here?” You pointed at the spot next to him.

A smirk crossed his lips as he clearly saw your intentions, a blush took over your cheeks but you played it down by looking at your heels. He answered with a small ‘yes’ and you quickly sat down by his side. He shifted his position so he could take a better look at you and your only instinct was to smile. At that moment, your college girl moments invaded your mind as a reminder that there was a time when you were good at flirting with random guys; that girl was still inside of you, and you just needed a small push to let her out and take over the shyness that you developed as you grew older.

“I’m Mace,” he introduced himself. His charming smile was seductive enough to make you smile back. Before you knew it, your hands were on his arm as you laughed at a terribly boring joke that he said.

You found yourself actually enjoying this. He was an attractive guy that was looking for the same thing as you; a one night stand. You could easily tell by his body language that he was interested in you; the way he would casually look at your lips, the way he would touch your knee and use his thumb to leave gentle caresses there. It was making you slightly nervous, you would be lying if you said otherwise, but you forced yourself to do it; to keep it up. This was your chance to leave your whole past away. No more broken hearts, no more crying while watching Beetlejuice. This was your opportunity to finally move on. So, when he leans towards your ear and whispers with his raspy voice, “do you want to come home with me?” You could not reject him.

Jace saw you walking through the bar with Mace holding your waist and immediately went to your side. The worried look on his face was quite visible as he grabbed your arm to stop you. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at the guy by your side from head to toe and then looking back at you with an incredulous stare.

“I’ll be home later, don’t worry,” you assured him. A kind smile appeared on your visage, trying to make him understand that you would be fine. Jace, however, was not too convinced by your words. His lips pressed tightly as he turned around in a failed attempt to find Aemond. “Jace, I’ll be fine… Just go home, I found what I was looking for.” You whispered the last words discreetly pointing at Mace.

It took him a couple seconds to accept it, but when the grip of his hand around your wrist loosened up a little, you took it as an approval even when his face was not showing signs of it. You waved your hand and left with the new guy, begging that you were not doing anything dumb.

The car ride was awkward. The sound of the exhaust pipe dragging against the pavement was the only thing you heard during the whole ride; the radio was not working, and Mace was too focused on driving to even say a word. As he drove, you started to notice how the streets were getting darker, and before you realized, you were in the middle of the worst part of King's Landing; just a few blocks away from Flea Bottom. You had been warned about that place since you moved to the capital, and yet there you were; sitting in a car with a stranger in the middle of the most dangerous zone of the city.

When he parked outside his house, the urge of running away came over you. You thought about how stupid your decision had been, getting in the car of someone you barely knew, only because you were trying to prove to yourself that you can do this. It was dumb, completely irresponsible, and still you willingly entered his house, ignoring all the signs that were screaming at you to escape.

He closed the door behind him as soon as you both were inside. The house was messy, small, and there was an unpleasant smell in the room. You took a look around and saw some papers on the center table and an ashtray filled with ashes.

"So, uh… do you want to eat something or-"

His lips silenced you in a kiss that was too wet for your taste. It took you by surprise, but something deep inside of you made you feel thankful for it. You certainly knew that you would have punched him in the face if he would have taken too long to kiss you. He just did it, and it barely gave you time to react before he pressed your body against the wall, and his hands grabbed your waist.

Your mind shut off, trying to enjoy his brutish touch. His tongue was trying to get inside your mouth and you allowed him to as he removed the loose white cardigan you wore on top of that tight green dress. Your hands went to his hair, tangling your shaky fingers with his locks. You were deadly nervous, but you were trying your best to not look like it.

"Gods, you're so hot," he whispered in your ear before going to your neck and collar bones, kissing and nibbling the soft skin with an obvious lack of care. He was moaning against your throat, his hands contouring your shape as you tried to enjoy it. But no matter how eagerly you tried to convince yourself; this was not pleasant for you at all. “I’ve been waiting for this since you came to me”.

His hands went to your thighs and he lifted you up, you yelped as a response, not expecting such an action. He took you to the couch where he sat with you on top of his lap. His touch was all over your body and you felt like everything was happening too fast. You were expecting to arrive in his house, drink a few beers and then start a steamy make out session. Instead, Mace decided to skip all these steps and go straight to the point. Soon, grabbed your hips and started to make your body move on top of him as he started to kiss your neck once again.

But just when he started to lift your dress, you decided that it was too much.

"W-wait…" you mumbled, panting already. Mace hummed as he kept kissing your neck, "wait, uh… can we- can we stop for a minute."

"Why?" He questioned, pulling back and looking down at you with confused eyes.

"I- uh, I need to go to the- uh, to the bathroom," you lied, desperately looking for an excuse to take a break from the overwhelming feeling on your chest. "I just need a minute…"

Mace sighed, but he stepped back. His hands went to his hair as he pointed at the stairs, indicating where the bathroom was. You politely nodded and picked up your bag, which had fallen onto the floor, before going upstairs. Your hands were shaking and your legs felt numb.

You fool, you thought, look where you put yourself into.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, leaning your back against the door as you sighed and closed your eyes. You felt trapped in that place, no way out of the situation you put yourself into. You remembered Jace's expression, how concerned he was about you; that only made you feel even more dumb. How could you not see how bad your decision was?

You grabbed your phone from the pocket of your cardigan and quickly searched the number of Jace in it. You could call him and ask to pick you up, pull out the 'I have an emergency at home' card to Mace, just leave with your friend and never talk about this again. It was a good plan… so you did it.

As you put your phone against your ear and started to hear the beeps, waiting for him to pick up, you started to hear a song in the distance. It was too low, but you still were able to perceive the melody of a known song that reached your ear, 'kiss me thru the phone'. The voice Soulja Boy was heard at the other side of the window and you get close to take a look, that ringtone being a little too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

You looked down and your mouth dropped open when you saw Jace and Aemond hiding behind a tree as they spied towards Mace's house. Your eyes widened as you managed to watch how Jace's phone fell on the pavement while Aemond seemed to be scolding him. You immediately left the room and ran down the stairs, almost fuming.

"My earring is missing, I'm gonna see if it's outside," you said to Mace, who was shirtless sitting on his couch.

"Oh- you want me to help-"

"No need," you interrupted him, walking out of the house and closing the door behind you.

You walked furiously towards the three and when the guys saw you standing there, they panicked. Though it was a bit too late for them to run away. "What in the seven hells are you dumbasses doing here?!" You yelled in a whisper, your cheeks red with embarrassment. "Have you gone mad?!"

"You really expect us to let you go by yourself with a complete stranger?" Jacaerys replied, "we have sisters, for gods' sake!"

"And thank the Gods we came," Aemond muttered in the low, looking around the outsides of the house with a discontent look on his face, "look how terrible this neighborhood is, I saw some youths doing crack on an alley on our way here!”

“We’re gonna stay here until you finish your… your business.” Jace claimed, Aemond nodded in agreement. You could only manage to roll your eyes.

“Don't try to deny the fact that you wanted to leave." Aemond pointed out. "You called Jace."

"You had no right in coming here, I-"

"We're visionaries, girl," Aemond interrupted you, "we told you we didn't like him!"

"Aegon said he was fine," you explained.

"And you trusted Aegon?" Jace asked. "Why would you do such a stupid thing?"

"Don't talk about him like that," you scolded him. A serious look on your face.

"Why would you follow his advice in the first place?" Aemond questioned, raising his eyebrow.

"Because he's my friend too."

"Oh, honey, no.” Aemond chuckled. “Aegon doesn't have friends."

There was a silence after his words, where you were staring at them as if you were trying to find a reason behind their stupid actions. After a few seconds, Aemond spoke again.

"Listen, we know how dangerous it is for you girls out there," he explained, "and you decided to go to a stranger's house at night. We were worried about you."

"If you want us to leave, that's what we'll do," Jace started, "but if you want to come with us, we'll take you back to home. It's your decision."

"Just know that you are like our hāedar now, we will always take care of you," Aemond finished.

A tender look crossed your eyes as you stared at them, unable to remain angry. You took a deep sigh as you softly nodded, accepting that what they said was actually true. It was a relief to know that they were there for you, acting as brothers, and saving you for what could have been the worst night of your life.

"Let's go home," you muttered.

"You won't say goodbye to your friend there?" Aemond pointed at the house behind your back, where you were certain there was a guy waiting for you on the couch.

You bit your lip as you checked your bag, and you realized you had all of your stuff there. "No, just get me out of here, I can't do this anymore."

Jace offered you his arm and you took it, starting to walk with them towards Aemond's car, which was parked a few blocks away, for he did not want you to notice they had been following you around. The streets were dark and there was no noise in them besides the one your high heels made with each step you took. Your legs freezing with the cold wind as you huddle against Jace’s arm.

The night was rather peaceful… until you heard Aemond gasp.

"Oh, no…” He started, “oh, no, no, fuck! FUCK!"

Your attention quickly went to the Jaguar parked in the side of the street; rocks were holding it up, for his wheels had been stolen. Aemond panicked as he turned around to look at Jace and you, both too distraught to even react. You were able to see the despair in your friend’s eye as he walked around his car, whining and sighing, almost losing his mind.

“Those crack addict youths!” He yelled as he brushed his face with his hands. “For fuck’s sake, I just changed the fucking wheels!”

“Oh, Gods,” Jace sighed, “he lost his mind.”

Aemond stood in the middle of the street walking from one side to the other. His breathing fast and unsteady as a proof of his anger which grew even more when he noticed that there was an obscene drawing sprayed in the trunk.

You turned to look at Jace, ignoring the insults that Aemond threw at the gods, and you softly said, “shall we call Aegon?”

The brown haired boy nodded half-heartedly, not too charmed by the idea but accepting it after he realized there was no other option left besides that one. He took his phone from his pocket and dialed Aegon, who picked up after three calls. You heard Jace speaking to him, and almost begging him to do this favor; you were able to hear most of his excuses, but he finally ended up accepting.

Twenty minutes later you were sitting in a bus stop, your head on Jace’s shoulder as you both saw Aemond being seated inside his car with his forehead against the steering wheel, he had not been moving for five minutes; as if he was grieving his car. You both decided to let him be, too tired already to do something about it.

When Aegon arrived, he immediately noticed his brother’s car condition and he chuckled with a mocking tone. You stood up and quickly went into the passenger seat, turning on the heater as quickly as you could.

“Guess Vhagar lost her legs,” Aegon said when he saw Aemond getting down from the vehicle and Jace talking to him about something you could not decipher.

“He named his car?” You asked surprised. Aegon turned to look at you and nodded with a smirk.

“Yep, he did.” He laughed.

“Hey, I’m sorry that you have to come all the way here, I know you were probably busy working but-”

“Nah,” he shrugged, “It’s okay. My boss wasn’t there tonight and my coworker covered my ass.”

“Do you mean your friend?” You teased him.

“Shut it,” he quickly said. “How was it?” He questioned, changing the subject and looking at your freezing frame from head to toe, as if he was looking for a sign in you. “Was it good?”

“Nothing happened,” you replied to him, looking at how Jace was trying to convince Aemond to go into the car. “I chickened out.”

“Well, you can try next week,” he simply said, shrugging. “There’ll be more men willing to bang you if you give them the chance.”

You shook your head, “I can’t do it.”

“What you mean? You just need to open your legs, the dude does all the work-”

“Jar,” you interrupted him. He rolled his eyes and gave you a gold coin from his pocket. You remind yourself to put that coin into Aegon's Douchebag Jar once you get home. “I wasn’t talking about that…” You continued.

“Then what is it that you can’t do?”

“I can’t be a whore,” you softly said, as if you were afraid to disappoint him. “Is not in my nature anymore. I want the romantic stuff, you know? Flowers, dates, chocolates, and all that crap. Not just meaningless sex.”

You looked at your hands while your fingers played with each other. A silence was formed but it was soon interrupted by Aegon’s sigh. You thought it was a judgemental gesture, which made you feel your face warm as your cheek flushed. But then, he spoke again,

“The whorish lifestyle isn’t for everyone,” he explained, “but at least you tried and for that I’m proud of you.”

The way you quickly turned to look at him almost made your neck hurt. His words were completely unexpected, but they –somehow– made you feel better about yourself. The soft smile that appeared on your face was impossible to hold back. You nodded subtly as Aegon looked back at you with his lips pressed in what seemed to be an awkward smile.

“At least I tried,” you repeated.

The back doors of the car suddenly were opened, interrupting the moment. Jace and Aemond entered the vehicle in silence and soon Aegon started to drive away from the dangerous streets.

“Vhagar’s legs are gonna be in amazon tomorrow,” Aegon teased. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.

“Shut up,” Aemond grunted.

The soft music from the radio was all you were able to hear as your eyes discreetly went to Aegon’s profile. You saw his nose, his plump, rosy lips, and his chubby cheeks that made him look adorable even when he seemed grumpy. You stared at him for a bit longer than you expected, and as soon as you realized it, you looked back at the front of the road.

A sigh left your lips while, once again, you felt your cheeks being victims of a rouge blush.

(BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU)

INVISIBLE STRING TAG LIST - @aemondssiut @tillyt04 @doublesparrows @afro-hispwriter @chrisevansslutttt2 @fan-goddess @trshngyn @hiatuswhore @heavenly1927 @deltamoon666 @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @n4tforlife @lovevellichor @f4ll-for-you @namelesslosers @marytargaryen

GENERAL TAG LIST - @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen

AEGON TARGARYEN: @lovelykhaleesiii @ganymede-princess @xfancyuu @megatardisbaby

296 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

Do you ever struggle with feelings of discouragement or inadequacy if your fics don’t do as well as you had hoped?

I’m struggling with that myself. I try not to get so hung up on it but it’s very hard, especially when something I’m so proud of doesn’t do as well as my other works.

I don’t even feel motivated to write bc I don’t wanna set myself up for disappointment

Discouragement, sure, I think that's natural sometimes. But I really don't feel like stats have anything to do with adequacy. Baring my soul, yuck. But fuck it we ball. Sorry it's a long answer.

I don't think I've ever answered a serious ask aside from the time i created Dr. rock which hardly counts but I've seen a lot of people struggling with this lately and hope this might be idk comforting to a person or two without leading to debate/discourse.

You mentioned something you're proud of isn't doing as well as your other works, and I can see how that would be disappointing. For laughs, I'll compare 2 of mine. These fics are impossible to compare (as are most, I think) but I def understand the urge to measure yourself against what you see as the potential. Aches: <1k popular trope I banged out in no time, wasn't sure about it, literally thought "people don't have to like it" before I hit post. >4 notes per word. Left in Lincoln: >22k posted so far, challenging, writing it for months. Has possibly driven me crazy bc I had this passing thought the other day and not about TLOU. (I didn't feel like re-reading it all): "I should just rewatch the movie. . .wait." 🤡 The whole Lincoln series combined has fewer notes than Aches lmao. But it's far more rewarding in getting to see it come to life, quality of engagement, and stretching myself 😏. It's not for everyone, for various reasons. Surely would have better stats without the twist I went with. But at what cost??

-------

Often, if people don't read or like something, it's a reflection of their own interests, limitations, and assumptions. And the right "fit."

I don't rly read much in general, but specifically, I rarely read long stuff (if I do I prob scan a lot tbh). I normally only want, if any, just enough plot/premise to build sexual tension. I don't read fluff or angst. I don't have the attention span / commitment to get invested in original characters. I tend to avoid stuff similar to what I'm working on. I make assumptions - If there's no word count, maybe it's too long. I know a lot of the fics I skip for these reasons must be fantastic. Assumptions I experience - I've seen very popular fics in the wild that strike me as dark, creepy, or pervy but aren't tagged that way. So some things that are tagged dark, etc., including plenty of mine, might not be dark in the way people assume based on their own ideas, or based on what others do tag. Also some people think I only write dark when sometimes it's just horny (see master list).

I've sometimes found myself thinking "It sucks more people don't read this bc i bet they would enjoy it" (not just my own fics). It might sound egotistical but I think it's often true.

------

Of course I want engagement because that means more people reading something which can mean more interaction, discussion, learning what you liked, what you think, etc. that's what I love.

But notes aren't rly near the top of what I care about, even though it does feel great to get them and I truly appreciate every single one.

Night walks doesn't get nearly as many notes as some of my other stuff, especially these days, but it's fun to write and I like to feed his feral fans who only get more into him with time. Same with raider: among those who do read and engage, I sense rising enthusiasm, thirst, and rate of falling in love with him (my bad). That's all worth more than 1000 likes to me. I have a good time writing these guys, so I write them more than other ones that get way more notes 🤷. I'm not saying notes don't matter at all, I know they affect exposure and engagement. But if just did what gets notes, I don't think I'd have such high quality engagement bc I'd just bang out more stuff with the most popular tropes instead of our fave Joels and those destined to become our faves bc they offer something special.

My outlook was the same before I had so many followers btw. Rock Bottom (22k) was what I felt like writing, still more ambitious than anything I've done in the Halloween fandom. I was disappointed it got way less attention than my one shots, but I know it's a banger, just certainly not for everyone lol.

I'm sorry for what you're experiencing and feeling, but I think it's very common and hope you can reframe it to not feel inadequate. I especially hope it doesn't discourage you from writing. ❤️

#ask #how the sausage is made #toxicanonymity writer's room #this doesnt mean i answer serious asks now lol

26 notes · View notes

married2myphone · 2 years

Text

Loving Wanda

Pairings: Wanda x Reader

Tags & Warnings: angst, unrequited love, first love

Summary: For someone who held such little understanding for human emotions, it felt like love simply wasn't in the cards for Y/n L/n. She was content with knowing that it was possible she could live her life without ever knowing the meaning of love, and she never made any effort to search for it. Even then, love had managed to find it's way into Y/n's life, and it came in the form of Wanda Maximoff who turned Y/n's entire world view upside down, introducing her to all the ups and down that came with loving her.

Word Count: 10.5k

A/n: Happy 500 followers, enjoy the pain.

Tag List: @olsensnpm, @natasha-belova

Main Masterlist

—

Y/n was never one for love or long term relationships. She found the idea of being with one person forever scary and oftentimes, couples being sweet made her roll her eyes, and even imagining herself in that sort of scenario made her gag.

Relationships were never in the cards for her, and Y/n was content with that. She was okay with knowing that she was never going to understand what it meant to be in love. Twenty-six years of going through life without love, and Y/n was doing perfectly fine for the most part.

Then Wanda came into her life and ruined everything for her.

There wasn’t an instant attraction at first. Originally, Y/n didn’t even like Wanda. She was too friendly for her own good, and Y/n wasn’t the type of person who was used to being around such positivity, so she just didn’t think she would connect with Wanda.

Y/n was quiet and reserved, only having a small circle of friends and never finding any interest in searching for more. Wanda found a friend in every person in the area and was always willing everyone to go on some crazy adventure to get everyone smiling and laughing.

Polar opposites. Y/n saw that they had absolutely nothing in common, so she never bothered trying to make friends with Wanda because she knew she wasn’t able to keep up with all of her energy.

For whatever reason though, Wanda did. Whenever she saw Y/n, she never failed to greet her hello with a smile so bright that it managed to add color to the dull gray halls of their workplace. Each time, Y/n would give a tentative smile and a nod in response, not wanting to be rude. But as long as Y/n didn’t ignore Wanda’s attempts, the smile never left her face.

As time went on, Y/n slowly started getting used to Wanda’s presence. All of a sudden, barely there smiles and nods in response transitioned into real smiles and actual greetings back. The more Y/n grew out of her shell from those greetings alone, the brighter Wanda’s smile got, and Y/n subconsciously found herself actively searching for all the different ways she could get Wanda to smile in the mornings they passed by each other.

Y/n remembers the first time she made Wanda laugh. It was during a company party and somehow, Y/n and Wanda had found themselves lingering alone in the corner, watching everyone else socialize and have fun for the night.

They had greeted each other like they normally did, and Wanda began some small talk regarding how nice it was to have a break, and whether or not Y/n was having fun. Nothing out of the ordinary from their usual interactions thus far.

It could have been the alcohol, or it could’ve been something else entirely. Whatever it was, something urged Y/n to push the boundary that the two had set for each other and test the waters for something new.

“I’m surprised that you’re standing here alone. I expected you to be the center of every conversation being held in this room.” Wanda turned to Y/n with a look of pleasant surprise on her face.

It was the first time Y/n had ever started a conversation with her. Wanda knew that Y/n was the type who preferred to be alone, so she never tried approaching her the way she approached everyone else in fear of overwhelming or making her uncomfortable. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be nice to the girl or at least subtly let her know that she was open to being friends.

Wanda really wanted to get to know her, but she knew that Y/n would have to be the one to cross that line. Having her start a conversation for the first time meant that Y/n was finally taking the first step, and Wanda was already excited for what else laid ahead.

“I’ve already made my rounds through everyone, I’m just letting them interact with each other for a change.” Wanda explained and Y/n nodded in response.

“I thought you finally realized how much of a pretentious hipster everybody in this office is.” Y/n said, eyes widening when she realized what she had just said and who she said it to. Wanda was friends with literally every single person in their department and she had just generalized them in one sentence.

Y/n opened her mouth to apologize, but was stunned to silence when what she thought was the most mesmerizing sound reached her ears. She watched in wonder as Wanda threw her head back with body shaking laughter

She was trying her best to remain decent by covering her mouth, but the smile on her lips was so big that it peeked through anyway. Her cheeks were being pushed up so high from her laugh that it reached her eyes, causing creases to form on the corner of her eyes to the bridge of her nose. Y/n found herself wanting to study every detail.

Y/n didn’t understand what was funny about what she had said. It was as if Wanda was laughing at some inside joke that she had just come up with that only she knew about. Part of Y/n wanted to be let in on that inside joke, just so she could experience the absolute joy on Wanda’s face with her, and another part of her wanted to repeat what she had said a second time, all so she could hear her laugh go on for a little bit longer.

“I didn’t realize that I was such a comedian.” Y/n said with a slightly awkward laugh and Wanda shook her head in amusement at the words.

“I should’ve known you’d be really blunt. All that time not talking, I guess it just bubbles up and comes out without you being able to control it, huh?” Wanda asked, looking at Y/n with a surprised smile as the giggles continued to slip through her lips.

“Everyone here is nice, but you’re honest. I like that.” Y/n was aware of that. She never thought much of it and often cursed herself for never knowing when the proper time was to be honest or not.

White lies and ignorance was a beautiful thing that people liked to drown themselves in. It was no wonder that Y/n was seen as unapproachable; nobody liked having the truth constantly placed in their face when it wasn't even called for, and Y/n understood that.

But Wanda did. Wanda didn’t turn away and call Y/n rude when she had accidentally let her truth slip past her mouth. Instead, she laughed and smiled, even complimented her for being so. For once, Y/n felt proud of herself for being honest.

“Wanda, come here! Have a drink!” A co-worker called from somewhere in the room. Wanda turned to Y/n and gave her a smile that made anything Y/n could have possibly said get stuck in her throat.

“Enjoy your night, Y/n.” All Y/n could do in response was smile and watch her walk away.

She fell asleep last night with that laugh filling her mind, wondering when she’d be able to hear it next.

They got closer after that small interaction. It was a slow progression, but they got there at some point. Wanda would start to strike up random conversations with Y/n who often didn’t understand what Wanda was talking about, but she listened anyway.

She found that simply hearing the woman talk was a good way to pass the time, and Y/n enjoyed the little talks they had. It was something she began to look forward to each day, and the more they happened, the more Y/n wanted it. So she gathered the courage to be the one to start the conversations and come up with topics just so she could get to be around Wanda and hear her talk.

Her voice was soothing and had this matureness to it that was a stark contrast to how absolutely youthful Wanda was. It flowed like honey and was just as sweet as it, especially when she laughed. Y/n was never one for jokes, but after Y/n found out that jokes weren’t the only thing that could make Wanda laugh, she started doing her best to get a laugh out of the woman whenever she could.

Y/n enjoyed being around Wanda. She was never judging and always acted comfortably around her without ever acting like she actually knew who Y/n was. She didn’t overstep any boundaries, but she wasn’t afraid to give them a light push either.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to start wishing that Wanda would overstep. Y/n never liked talking about herself, because she never thought there would be anything to say. But she wanted to tell Wanda everything about herself if that meant they could grow closer.

But as always, Wanda was one step ahead of her because it seemed like Wanda already knew everything about her. It was the little things, but it made Y/n feel special. Y/n never knew what it was like to feel special until she met Wanda, and she found that she quite liked that feeling.

Y/n let out a sigh as she dropped her pen for what felt like the millionth time that day. She picked it up and silently prayed to whatever god was out there that she still had some luck in her before attempting to write again.

Y/n’s let the pen roll out of her hand, leaning back and gripping the bridge of her nose in frustration when the ink wouldn’t come out. She really needed to be more careful with those.

She grabbed it, opened her drawer and tossed her pen inside with the rest of the broken ones before running a hand through her hair. That was her last good pen, and now, she was going to have to use one of those cheap ones they give out at the front desk that made her handwriting look like chicken scratch.

The sound of tapping on her cubicle caught Y/n’s attention, and the girl looked up to see a pen peeking through the top before Wanda peeked her head in as well, that usually cheeky smile on her face that instantly lifted Y/n’s spirits from just seeing it.

“That was your last pen, huh?” Wanda asked and Y/n raised her eyebrows in amusement before a light laugh left her lips.

“That it was.” Y/n answered, making Wanda’s smile widen into a full grin as she got up and placed a box on Y/n’s desk. To Y/n’s surprise, the box was filled with completely brand new pens that just so happened to be the exact pen brand that Y/n always used.

“I kept hearing pens falling throughout the week, so I knew you were bound to run out at some point.” Wanda said and a small smile appeared on Y/n’s face, looking at the box in front of her before looking back up at Wanda.

“Thank you.” Wanda sent her a wink before going back down and Y/n spent the rest of the day smiling from that point on.

Despite feeling special, Y/n knew she wasn’t actually special. At least not in Wanda’s life. Wanda was an incredibly considerate person, it was in her nature to go out of her way to do nice things for people just to make their day better. She had a huge love for people, and in expressing it, it made people love her.

Y/n didn’t think much of it. She knew Wanda was a very kind person, and Y/n wasn’t the only person in her life who she did nice things for. She noticed all of the little things about a person that they, themselves, didn’t know about, and she always made it a point to let that person know that someone saw them. Y/n wasn’t an exception, but she wasn’t an exclusion either.

Each time Wanda did something kind for someone in their office, Y/n would feel a sinking feeling in her stomach that made her feel awful in more ways than one. She liked the feeling of being on the other end of Wanda’s smile and having the ability to make her laugh.

But when that smile was directed at someone else or whenever Y/n was reminded that she wasn’t the only one with the power to make Wanda laugh, she wanted to run away. It was something that she didn’t understand. Wanda had so much love to give, but whenever Y/n saw her giving it to someone that wasn’t her, she felt awful. Then she’d feel more awful for thinking that way, and she was starting to grow confused.

“Come on, give me your hands.” Wanda said, reaching out to Y/n with both her hands and wiggling her fingers, making Y/n laugh in amusement.

“I told you, I don’t believe in that stuff.” The two were currently sitting together in the staff room. Y/n was sitting alone and reading the paper when Wanda approached her with an excited look in her eyes.

She was telling her about how she got a tarot reading and she got the woman who did her reading to teach her how to read palms. Wanda even bought a book about it and had been studying it for a few weeks now, but she had yet to actually try it on someone. For whatever reason, she thought Y/n would be the perfect person to start on.

“Just humor me.” Wanda said with an endearing eyeroll and Y/n stared at her with raised eyebrows, silently asking if she was being serious or not.

“Please?” Wanda asked with a shyer smile now and seeing the usually confident and bubbly Wanda be sheepish for once tugged at something in Y/n’s chest.

Showing her reluctance plainly on her face, Y/n reached forward and placed her hand into Wanda’s. Her hands were soft and gentle as she cradled the back of Y/n’s hand with one and started running her finger over Y/n’s palm with the other.

Her touch was light and sent tingles around Y/n’s hand. Wanda adjusted herself in her seat and leaned forward so she could get a better look at Y/n’s palm, and Y/n found herself leaning forward to try and see whatever it was on her hand that made Wanda look so intrigued and focused.

“So there are five major lines on your palm. Here, you have the life line, the head line, and the heart line.” Wanda said as she traced her finger along the lines of Y/n’s palm that corresponded to whatever she was saying.

“There’s also the fate line and the marriage line, but surprisingly enough, you don’t have those on your palm.” Wanda explained and Y/n slowly nodded her head as a look of unsure surprise appeared on her face.

“That is exactly what I want to hear when I’m getting my fortune told through my hands.” Y/n joked, making Wanda laugh and hold onto her hand as she bent forward from the laughter. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat as she looked down to see her hand being completely enclosed in Wanda’s, relishing the warmth that came from it being held.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing! It just means that your fate isn’t clearly laid out for you and you get to choose how your life goes. I think that’s very fitting for you.” Wanda said with a smile that made the corner of Y/n’s lips quirk up ever so slightly.

“I’m guessing marriage isn’t a part of that either?” Y/n joked.

“We’ll just have to see then, don’t we?” Wanda said, giving Y/n an optimistic smile that fully reached her eyes, mouth stretched big causing her nose to scrunch up in that adorable way that left Y/n absolutely mesmerized.

She wasn’t even able to listen to whatever it was Wanda was saying about the lines on her palm anymore; too enraptured with the way the sun was perfectly hitting Wanda’s face, and how at certain angles, her eyes were a mystical emerald green or a soft gray that reminded Y/n of clouds littering the bright blue skies on a beautiful Sunday morning.

Y/n counted the little bumps and moles on her face, mentally connecting them together with lines to see if they were able to paint a picture as breathtaking as the canvas they laid on.

The curve of her lips whenever they climbed up to her eyes to create that smile that had made its home on the woman’s face, never seeming to leave her features because Wanda simply wasn’t Wanda without her smile.

Y/n wondered how she managed to live through her days in a world so gray when Wanda was yet to enter her life and add color to it with her smile alone. She pitied a distant world that didn’t know what it was like to be graced with the smile and beauty of the woman in front of her.

“You’re not even listening.” Wanda said with a laugh when she saw the distant look on Y/n’s face, one she often unintentionally wore when her mind was elsewhere.

“No, no, I am.” Y/n defended poorly with a smile of her own while snapping out of her thoughts.

“You’re just lying now, that’s not a very good thing to do.” Wanda scolded lightheartedly and Y/n shook her head from the silly feeling in her heart.

“Well, we’re getting to the best part now, so you better listen up this time.” Wanda said and Y/n let out a playful sigh while resting her cheek on her fist that was resting on the armrest of her chair.

“You have my undivided attention.” Y/n said, causing Wanda to giggle, her heart flipping at the sound as another smile made its way onto Y/n’s face.

“Okay, so this one is your heart line and it’s the line that determines how you love and your experiences with love.” Wanda said and Y/n hummed in response to show she’s listening.

“I’m surprised I have one at all.” Y/n said jokingly, but Wanda didn’t laugh, simply staring at Y/n with a small smile as her thumb comfortingly stroked her heart line.

“Don’t be like that. Your heart line is actually very beautiful. It’s very clear and long, which means that you’re a really loving partner who’s understanding and sweet.” Wanda said and Y/n raised an eyebrow at that.

“And you got that from a line on my palm that was caused by creasing whenever I open and close my hand?” Y/n asked and Wanda rolled her eyes playfully once more.

“That, and you have very soft hands, which is a really good quality to have in a partner.” Wanda said as she slowly ran her fingers up and down Y/n’s palm to further feel how soft they were. Y/n felt her throat close up on her as her senses became overwhelmed with Wanda’s touch.

“It’s not very wavy and it’s impressively straight with only a little waviness in them. That means that you don’t fall in love a lot, but when you do, you love with every ounce of your being. You’re just not very good at expressing it.” Wanda explained.

Y/n felt those words stick into her head and repeat themselves over and over, bouncing off the walls of her mind and never quite sinking in. She didn’t quite agree with what Wanda said, but a part of her deep down did, and she didn’t know how to access it yet to understand why.

“Or they’re just creases.” Y/n retorted and Wanda let out a huff.

“You’re a skeptic, and I respect that… But you’re still wrong.” Y/n laughed through her nose and shook her head endearingly which made Wanda smile proudly.

“Your marriage line might not be here, but your heart line is really strong. Maybe that just means you’ll have a love stronger than any bond marriage could tie together.” Wanda said and Y/n felt her smile slowly fall away from her face.

“Maybe I’m just not meant for marriage and love.” Y/n said, not sounding sad nor bitter about it, but simply stating it as if it were an obvious fact that everyone already knew.

“I don’t believe that.” Wanda said with a casual shrug.

“Because my palms told you so?” Y/n asked curiously, but Wanda shook her head.

“You did. Just by being you, I can tell that you have a huge heart that’s waiting to love and be loved. But right now, it’s closed up, and you just have to find someone who’ll help open it up to the world.” Wanda said, gently closing Y/n’s hand into a fist and holding it in her hand, caressing it with her thumbs while she sent Y/n a big smile.

It was an odd feeling, to have the entire world fade away from Y/n’s view as the only thing she could focus on was Wanda. From her touch, her closeness, her smile; they filled up Y/n’s senses entirely and it left her useless. Y/n typically had about a million thoughts going through her mind with each second that passed, but now, it was quiet.

And she liked the peace and silence, and she liked the fact that Wanda was the person to bring it to her. Without even thinking, Y/n opened her hand and held onto the hand that was on top of it, running her fingers along Wanda’s palm like she did moments ago to her, all so she could feel the softness.

Her heart wasn’t racing, but it was pounding against her chest as if wanting to be set free. Wanda’s smile grew wider when Y/n held onto her hand and Y/n let out a slow sigh through her nose as she took in every little detail that her smile added onto her features.

Looking at Wanda at that moment desperately made Y/n want to take a photo and keep it forever so she could look at it whenever she wanted to feel whatever it was she was feeling then. She wanted to take this moment in time and live in it forever, because for once, Y/n could say she was content. Just being there, looking at Wanda smile at her as she held her hand in her own.

“Wanda, did you get the email I sent you about the meeting?” But time wasn’t going to stop all because Y/n wanted it to.

Y/n looked down and stared at her hand once Wanda’s slipped out of it. She could still feel the warmth of where Wanda’s hand previously was, the physical reminder fading, but the emotional impact lasting a lifetime.

It was a beautiful feeling, whatever it was that Wanda gave Y/n. Each day that passed by, Y/n and Wanda had another interaction that made Y/n’s world more filled with color that she had completely forgotten what life was like before the woman entered it.

Y/n liked being around Wanda. But she wasn’t the only one.

Wanda had tons of people vying for her attention, and Y/n understood that she was just one of many; that Wanda wasn’t going to tell everyone no in favor of spending time with her. That just wasn’t who Wanda was.

But there was a deep part of Y/n that wanted Wanda to do that, and every time that feeling came up, it made her feel awful about herself. It was an incredibly inconsiderate thing to feel, and Y/n had no idea why she would ever feel that way, especially that selfishly when it comes to Wanda, one of the kindest people Y/n had ever met.

Y/n felt that exact way as she was watching Wanda dance around with everyone during another one of their company’s parties. She had been wishing to talk to Wanda all night. Wanda was the main reason why Y/n decided to even attend. But Wanda had a lot of people who wanted to talk to her, and Y/n understood that. It was enough to even get a simple hi from her.

It was odd, how lately, Y/n’s thoughts have been consumed with Wanda. Every single thing she did throughout her day, she somehow managed to tie it back to Wanda, even if she wasn’t even at work.

She’d water a plant and wonder how Wanda’s own house plants were doing because Wanda couldn’t go a day without mentioning her ‘babies.’ She’d read something completely nonsense on the paper and think of showing it to Wanda, knowing the woman would find it absolutely hilarious. She’d find herself smiling at the most mundane things in the world all because she knew if Wanda was there with her, she’d be smiling as well.

“Y/n, come here!” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts and her eyes widened when she saw Wanda jumping up and down, beckoning Y/n over with an excited smile on her face.

Y/n simply shook her head because there was no way she was going to be caught dancing in front of their co-workers, or any living thing for that matter. Wanda rolled her eyes and started walking over to Y/n who eyed her suspiciously and took a step back.

“No, no, no, you are not running away!” Wanda said with a laugh, reaching forward and quickly taking Y/n’s hand when she saw her turn away and attempt to leave.

“I’m not much of a runner anyway, but I’m considering becoming one if it means avoiding dancing.” Y/n said as she reluctantly let Wanda lead her to where everyone else was dancing.

“There’s a dancer in there somewhere, Y/n, I just know it. You’re always tapping your foot when listening to music, I know that dancer in you is just waiting to be let out. You’ve been repressing it for too long.” Wanda said as she turned to Y/n and took both of her hands, moving them back and forth as she slowly started swaying side to side.

She giggled when Y/n stood completely stiff but let her arms be forced by Wanda’s direction.

“I’m afraid I have two left feet.” Y/n said as a poor excuse, but Wanda wasn’t going to take any of it.

“Here I thought you were the best at telling your right and left apart.” Wanda said as she continued moving Y/n’s hands to the beat of the song.

“I’m not very comfortable with dancing around everyone here.” Y/n said honestly and Wanda’s eyes softened as she gently squeezed Y/n’s hands in response.

“Then just look at me. Pretend there’s nobody else in the room and that it’s just you and me.” Even through the blaring music, Y/n was able to hear Wanda’s words so clearly that it felt like they were in a silent room.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to do exactly as Wanda said, because these past few weeks, Y/n’s mind had been doing exactly that without even meaning to. All it took was being in Wanda’s presence to make Y/n forget about everything else that was on her mind beforehand.

Everything was a blur, and the only thing that made sense in that moment was Wanda, who kept her eyes trained on her, making Y/n’s heart pound against her chest in that familiar way.

Y/n slowly nodded as Wanda started moving her arms again, slowly bouncing on her feet and Y/n started mimicking the movement which made Wanda slowly start to smile.

Wanting to see it grow into the smile that brightened the entirety of Y/n’s day, she started moving her body in a more energetic way that made Wanda’s smile grow bigger with each step that Y/n took. A smile made its way on Y/n’s face as well as she took it further and let go of one of Wanda’s hands in order to spin her around, making Wanda gasp as she looked at Y/n with wide eyes filled with pure delight.

Wanda laughed when Y/n lifted her arm so she could spin herself, her laughter causing her to bend forward, hands holding onto Y/n’s arms as she tried her best to gather herself. Y/n held onto Wanda when she leaned forward and started swaying them back and forth.

The laughter that kept coming from Wanda made Y/n feel the best she ever had about herself in years. Wanda’s hands made their way up from her arms to her neck, lacing her fingers behind them as she threw her head back in laughter.

Y/n was quick to place one hand on Wanda’s waist and the other on the small of her back to support her. Wanda leaned back up and buried her face in Y/n’s shoulder so she could contain her laughter, knowing that she would fail if she saw the huge grin on Y/n’s face at the moment.

Feeling Wanda’s breath on her neck made Y/n suddenly feel more out of breath than she actually was. When Wanda moved closer, Y/n placed both of her hands on Wanda’s waist to fully support her. The feeling of having Wanda so close, having her in her arms as she laid her head on Y/n’s shoulder…

Y/n didn’t know why, but she honestly felt like crying at that moment. She wanted to wrap the entire length of her arms around the woman’s waist and pull her so close that she would never be able to forget what it felt like to have this wonderful woman in her arms.

When she calmed down, Wanda lifted her head from Y/n’s shoulder and leaned back, a big smile on her face from the dance they had just shared. She had never seen Y/n so full of energy before that it felt like she was with a completely different person in the last few minutes.

She opened her mouth to compliment the girl about it when something behind Y/n caught her eye.

“Babe!” It felt like time had slowed down for Y/n just so she could have those last few seconds of having Wanda in her arms for longer than it was.

Those last few minutes with Wanda meant forever for Y/n, but it was like she had just blinked, and the moment had completely passed. The next thing she knew, Wanda was running out of her arms and towards someone behind her.

Y/n turned around to see what had gotten the woman’s attention, and it was then that it felt like time had completely stopped as she was met with the sight of Wanda running into the arms of another man, jumping up so her arms could reach his shoulders as she pulled him down for a kiss.

Her stomach fell, her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and the entire world came rushing back to Y/n. Suddenly, it felt like she couldn’t breathe and no matter how much air she was taking in, her body wasn’t able to process it because it was too busy recovering from the shock.

Never had Y/n felt such pain before, and she didn’t know what to do to make it stop. Her eyes were glued to the couple, and she could see that another smile had made its way onto Wanda’s face. It wasn’t a smile that Y/n had ever seen on the woman previously before.

It still brought beauty to Wanda’s features and continued to light up the room, but there was something different in her eyes as she gazed at the man holding her by his side. An entirely different expression that got Y/n’s heart racing like never before, but it brought her great pain to only be able to see it from the side.

For once, Y/n had felt envy; desperately wishing she was standing where the man was so she could get a perfect view of that expression on her face. But no, Y/n knew from where she stood that the smile on Wanda’s face was reserved only for the man whose arms she was currently in.

Y/n had the privilege of holding Wanda in her arms, even if it was just for a few short seconds. It was the best few seconds of Y/n’s life, but Wanda didn’t belong in her arms. She wasn’t hers to hold, she was someone else’s. That thought alone was enough to make Y/n’s world feel like it was spinning.

“Y/n, I want to introduce you to someone!” Wanda called happily as she led the man by the hand to where Y/n was standing.

“Y/n, this is Vision, my boyfriend.” Wanda said with a smile bigger than any of the smiles she had ever given Y/n before, and a sharp breath escaped Y/n’s lips which she masked with a laugh.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Y/n greeted the man with the best smile she could muster, holding her hand out to the man who smiled back and gave it a brief and firm shake.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. Wanda tells me you’re a great dancer.” Vision complimented kindly, making Y/n laugh awkwardly.

“Actually, I think I’ve done enough dancing to last a lifetime.” Y/n said and a fond smile appeared on Wanda’s face and Y/n tried her best not to succumb to the urge to stare.

“You know, I’m actually pretty winded. I think I may step out for air for a moment.” Y/n said, struggling to get the words out because all of it was getting caught in the back of her throat.

“Oh, are you okay? Do you need me to come with you?” Wanda asked in concern.

“No, no, I’m just not used to being very active. I’ll be fine.” Y/n reassured with a smile.

Unable to stand in that environment anymore, Y/n bid the two a quick goodbye before walking past them and heading out the door. Her hand went to grip at her chest as she tried her best to breathe, stumbling as she walked down the hall with the other hand shooting to the wall so that she wouldn’t fall.

It was too small, Y/n needed space, she needed to breathe, she needed to get out.

So she ran. She ran outside of the building and didn’t stop. She ran wherever her legs took her, knowing that the farther she got from the party, the easier it would be to breathe. Where she was going, Y/n hadn’t the faintest idea because her mind was far from thinking of a destination when it was still stuck in the middle of that crowd.

Her legs were taking her elsewhere but her heart was still back there, hands on Wanda’s waists with hers around her neck. Where Wanda had her head resting on her shoulder as they slowly swayed back and forth to the music that Y/n couldn’t even remember the tune of.

Back at the staff room where Wanda was running her fingers through the lines on her hands and talking about nonsense that Y/n could listen to without understanding the meaning. Where Wanda’s hand was held in her own, her soft skin sitting perfectly in her hand as she gave her the smile that added warmth to the place in her chest that Y/n previously thought was empty.

She stopped in her tracks, legs and lungs burning from the distance she had just run. Her eyes scanned the area to see where she had taken herself, and she instantly recognized the building that was standing beside her. Without another thought, Y/n entered and made her way up to a familiar door, hands desperately knocking on the wood as she felt her heart pump in her ears.

“At this time, I swear to- Y/n?” Kate asked in shock to see the sight of her best friend looking completely distressed.

She wasn’t even able to question her further when Y/n invited herself in. Kate shut the door and turned back to Y/n who was walking in, breathing heavily as her eyes flitted all across her apartment.

“Y/n…” Kate asked in concern.

“I don’t like it.” Y/n spoke, barely managing to push the words out with a shaky breath. Kate didn’t speak, not knowing how to respond, but knowing that Y/n just needed to get everything out.

“I hate it. I hate her. No, that’s not true. I hate a lot of things in this world, but never once has she made that list.” Y/n spoke, mostly to herself as she tried to make sense of the thousands of thoughts flashing through her mind.

“She changed everything, and I hate change, but I don’t hate her. She’s very confusing. I don’t understand how a person could constantly surround themselves around other people every second of the day and not get sick of it. For some reason, she spends time with me, and nobody does that. She might be crazy, I don’t know.” Y/n spoke as if she was trying to solve a theory or an equation that’s been bothering her for years.

“She sees the good in people that isn't even there, and she believes that people are more than they actually are. She looks at me and sees something that was never there and believes that it was there all along. She’s known me for only a few months, yet she looks at me like she knows everything there is to know about me, and somehow, it still makes her smile.” Y/n said as a familiar warmth in her chest started to appear as she was reminded of all the little conversations she’s had with Wanda.

“Which is absurd, because if she actually knew who I was, she wouldn’t smile. She wouldn’t stick around, she wouldn’t try to be my friend. She would run for the hills and never turn back, because that’s what everyone else did. She sees a me that isn’t there and it’s the most frustrating thing in the world!” Y/n shouted, hands going up and pulling at her hair as everything she’s felt for the last few months started coming back at her in full force.

“It’s frustrating because it makes me want to be the person she sees when she looks at me.” Y/n admitted in a tired tone as she placed her hands over her face and took a deep breath so she wouldn’t go completely crazy.

“Because if I’m not who she thinks I am, then I am undeserving to be in her presence. Because that woman deserves every good thing the world has to offer, because she has managed to make herself a beacon to the lives of every sad person she comes across. She makes them feel special, she makes them feel more even when they’re nothing but less, and the least I could do be the version of myself that manages to get a smile on her face.” Y/n said as her breathing became heavy.

“She looks at me and makes me feel like being myself is enough. I do the smallest thing and she’s already giving me that smile that sends my entire world into ruin, but it doesn’t feel enough to me. I want to do more because she is always doing the most without expecting anything in return, and I want to be the one to give her what she deserves.”

“I want to be the one who makes her smile, who makes her laugh, who makes her world filled with so much color in the way she did to mine. But I’m not the only one with the ability to do that, and the constant reminder tears me apart.” Y/n said inhaled sharply before a bitter laugh left her mouth, shaking her head and gripping at her hair again.

“God, that’s awful. She’s constantly doing good and changing people’s lives just by being in them, and here I am wishing that she would stop and stay in mine. As if me, alone, will be able to give her everything she deserves and more. I don’t deserve her. This world doesn’t deserve her, yet she’s kind enough to continue walking on it.”

“I want her to look at me. I want everything to fade away when she looks at me, I want her to only smile at me, I want to be the one to change her life. I hate that I’m not the only person who gets to experience the beauty that is Wanda Maximoff, and I hate that I feel this way. Because it is selfish, it is awful, and I’m an awful person for feeling it.” Y/n said feeling herself start to hyperventilate from all the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

“Y/n, Y/n, hey no. We don’t think like that.” Kate decided to finally step in, walking over to Y/n and placing her hands on her shoulder to stop her pacing.

“Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully, I need you to hear this.” Kate said in a steady tone, talking to Y/n as if it was any other conversation because talking down to her wouldn’t do any good.

Y/n nodded in response and tried her best to fix her breathing so she could focus on whatever it was that Kate wanted to tell her.

“You’re not awful.” Kate said and Y/n started shaking her head, but Kate stopped her by placing her hands on the sides of her face, turning it so she would properly face her.

“You’re not awful. You’re selfish, but that doesn’t make you awful. You know what it does make you?” Kate asked and Y/n slowly shook her head and Kate’s eyes turned soft with a fondness that made her want to cry.

Y/n, always so pragmatic and serious, never understanding people or emotions, finally feeling the greatest emotion of all.

“It makes you in love.” Kate spoke with a bittersweet smile, feeling so proud that Y/n had finally gotten to this point, but hating seeing it tear her apart.

The words echoed in Y/n’s head, and that was when the first tear fell from her eyes. It was as if everything fell into place after being a mess for so long, and everything that Y/n had been so confused about finally made sense. She couldn’t even feel the tears flowing down her eyes because everything felt so light.

Just as fast as that feeling lifted the weight on her shoulder, it all came crashing back down and all that pain that Y/n had felt back at that party burst through her. The tears started flowing faster and Y/n laughed as her brain was finally processing everything. The laugh grew harder, hands reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

Then, the laugh slowly descended into sobs as Y/n desperately wiped at her eyes.

“Oh, Y/n.” Kate whispered, pulling Y/n into a hug and letting the girl cry into her shoulder.

Every moment with Wanda after that felt awfully bittersweet to Y/n. She continued on like normal afterwards, because the world wasn’t going to stop just to give Y/n time to take in everything.

Part of her wanted to avoid Wanda, thinking that it would help lessen the feelings and make them go away faster. But Y/n could never stay away from Wanda for too long, because Wanda simply wouldn’t let her. Whether it be from approaching Y/n and making her unable to say no from spending time together, or from her presence just being it’s usual magnetic self.

Y/n decided that adding to the pain by separating herself from the one person she wanted to be around wouldn’t do much good. So instead, she faced her feelings head on and tried her best to get used to the fact that this was how it was going to be as long as Wanda was in her life. Y/n was far too selfish to let Wanda go, so she could sit through the pain if it meant that Wanda was able to numb it every so often.

Her presence continued to bring the color that Y/n’s life desperately needed, but compared to the bright and energetic colors before, it had dulled down into soft and cool tones. Y/n missed the brightness, but it was nice to let her eyes rest from it.

That warm feeling in her chest and that irrepressible need to smile whenever Wanda was around remained a constant in Y/n’s day to day routine, but the need to take deeper breaths whenever she felt her heart pinch at the sight of Wanda enjoying herself with someone else was something she had to get used to.

Y/n never thought she’d grow accustomed to pain. In a way, it was a good form of pain. It was a pain that reminded Y/n all of the good things about Wanda even if it wasn’t only for her to see. It reminded Y/n that she was allowed to want even if it felt wrong, and that she had finally known the meaning of love.

People would constantly tell her that love came with just as much hurting as it was loving, and she never understood why people would deliberately put themselves through pain just to feel love. But Y/n understood now.

The price of love was pain, and Y/n oddly found it comforting. It was a nice balance that made Y/n feel grounded. Being in love wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, and the fact that Wanda was the person she was in love with helped a lot. Y/n couldn’t imagine loving anyone better, because there wasn’t anyone better. There was just Wanda.

But the longing was still there, and it left an emptiness in her heart that Wanda had previously filled. Maybe it was because Wanda wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t able to fill all of Y/n’s heart since hers belonged to someone else. As time passed, Y/n slowly became content with that. Having Wanda in her life was already enough of a privilege. Even if she couldn’t have all of her, Y/n was happy with experiencing a part of her.

She sighed, watching her breath form into fog as she adjusted her hands around the warm mug of hot chocolate she was holding. Their team had managed to score a very important business deal that shot their company up at a great amount, and their boss had decided to reward them with a company trip.

They were brought to a cabin right next to a lake, and Y/n wondered why they couldn’t go somewhere warmer, considering it was practically winter season without the snow. Everyone else was gathered around the bonfire, roasting marshmallows, drinking beer, and sharing stories. As always, Y/n was alone by the side, sitting on the steps leading up to the cabin and taking in the dulled silence of being alone.

The sound of leaves and soil crunching against footsteps reached Y/n’s ears, and she didn’t even have to look up to know who was coming. The fluttering in her heart already told her who it was.

“Hey, stranger.” A small laugh left Y/n as she looked up to see Wanda standing in front of her with a small smile on her face.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?” Wanda asked and Y/n moved to the side so she wasn’t taking up all the space.

“Be my guest.” Wanda gave Y/n a brief smile and a whispered thank you before sitting down next to her.

The space was small, and they sat close to each other to the point where their thighs were touching. It made Y/n’s heart start to pound against her chest again, but she was so used to the feeling by now that it was practically as second nature as breathing.

“It’s very cold.” Y/n said when she saw Wanda rubbing her hands up and down her sleeveless arms.

“It’s fine. I like the cold.” Wanda whispered and Y/n watched the girl with a curious look on her face.

The past few days, Y/n noticed that Wanda wasn’t smiling as much as she usually did. When she did, it was never as bright as they typically were, and it seemed to use up all of Wanda’s energy when she tried. It was an incredibly odd sight to see from such a happy woman. It almost felt wrong to see anything but a smile on Wanda’s lips, but it was interesting to see a different side to the woman.

They sat there in silence, neither feeling like there were any words that needed to be spoken. Y/n didn’t have any words to say, and Wanda didn’t feel like saying anything. It was quiet, and it was peaceful. The two enjoyed it together despite the silence weighing heavy on the two who knew it was unusual.

“My, um…” Wanda spoke softly, her words barely above a whisper, but Y/n’s attention was always a hundred percent on Wanda, so it wasn’t difficult for her to hear.

“We…” A sad laugh left Wanda’s lips as she reached up and wiped at the tear threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Vision and I broke up.” Finally getting the words out made Wanda take a long and deep breath, as if she was finally able to breathe after being deprived of air for a long time.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” And Y/n meant it. Normally, people would be jumping in joy at hearing the person they love be available, but Y/n didn’t like it. Not when Wanda looked so sad and was without her smile for so long.

Y/n might have felt pain from knowing that Wanda was with someone else, but she was given comfort in knowing that someone was able to make Wanda feel the happiness she deserved. She still remembers the smile on Wanda’s face when she saw Vision at that party. Y/n still wishes that she was on the other end of that, but Wanda having that smile was already enough for her.

“It wasn’t a messy breakup. It was a long time coming. We both knew that we weren’t going to be together forever, and that was okay. But I didn’t expect the end to come so soon, you know?” Wanda explained as she desperately tried to contain her emotions so she wouldn’t cry.

She didn’t want to tell anyone else, knowing that they would all just look at her with pitying looks, wondering how the always happy Wanda could do anything but smile and be joyful. Wanda just couldn’t face that type of thing.

But it was all getting so much and she just needed to talk to someone before she exploded. So she went to the one person she knew wouldn’t look at her with pity or expect her to be happy. Because Y/n was honest, and she always liked that about her.

“I don’t know what to say to make you feel better.” Y/n said and a small laugh left Wanda’s lips.

“That’s why you’re the best.” Wanda said, tiredly resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder and letting out a sigh.

“You don’t need to say anything to do that.” Wanda said, letting her eyes fall shut as she let herself feel the closeness that she’s been missing since Vision left.

Y/n felt completely tense, but she didn’t want Wanda to be uncomfortable, so she slowly let herself relax by releasing the breath she was holding. Wanda was a touchy person, so it wasn’t the first time Y/n had been in close proximity to the girl.

But they had never gotten this close, and they had never been this intimate. She didn’t know if she should wrap her arm around Wanda’s shoulder or lay her head on hers, so she just sat there and let Wanda rest and be someone who didn’t always have to smile.

She looked down at Wanda’s face, and Y/n decided that she liked the way Wanda looked at that moment almost as much as she liked the sight of Wanda smiling. She looked relaxed and at peace, as if a weight had just been lifted from her shoulder and only now was she able to breathe. Y/n liked knowing that she played some part in that, even if it was just giving Wanda a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen to her woes.

“Wanda!” Some of their co-workers called from the bonfire and Y/n let out a quiet sigh, knowing that her time with Wanda was up.

“I think they’re expecting you.” Y/n pointed out and Wanda opened her eyes, turning to the bonfire and seeing everyone be loud and cheery, singing and dancing around the fire and being the happiest they could be.

“I think I’ll stay here for a little bit longer.” Wanda said, patting Y/n’s thigh and adjusting herself so she could rest more comfortably on Y/n’s shoulder before closing her eyes again.

Y/n felt tears stinging at her eyes, but she took a deep breath and willed them away, ignoring the ache that had appeared in her heart. She didn’t want to waste the moment by thinking about all the ways it made her feel pathetically happy. She could do that any other time, but for now, she was just going to enjoy the extended time she had with Wanda.

That night, Y/n dreamt of Wanda. In her dream, there was nothing but her and Wanda, and Y/n was just holding the woman in her arms. No words were spoken, there was no scenery, there was no sound other than the sound of their breathing and the beating of their hearts going in sync as they aligned in their hold

When she woke up, Y/n felt tears slipping past her eyes as the warmth of Wanda’s body in her dream went cold, and the only thing she was holding was the pillow she had fallen asleep holding. The sound of snoring from the co-worker she was rooming with completely got rid of any longing Y/n felt, and she sighed as she got up and made her way downstairs to drink coffee.

“Vis, you can’t just call me like this anymore.” Y/n stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of Wanda’s tired voice coming from the kitchen.

“Of course I miss you too, but calling each other whenever we feel that is just going to make moving on harder than it already is.” Y/n heard Wanda let out a sigh, and she didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was frozen on her feet.

“I know… I know… I really do wish you the best… Yeah… Goodbye, Vision.” Wanda let out a shaky breath as the line went dead, placing her phone on the counter and covering her face with her hands before wiping at the tears.

Y/n took a deep breath before forcing herself to go down the rest of the steps and enter the kitchen like she originally planned.

“Oh, hi.” Wanda said in surprise to see Y/n enter the kitchen and go over to the counter to make herself some coffee.

“Good morning.” Y/n greeted and Wanda gave her a small smile, turning to continue wiping at her tears before leaning her back against the counter.

“Um… How much of that did you hear?” Wanda asked, wrapping her arms around herself and turning to Y/n who had her back to her as she continued to make coffee.

“Just that last part. I didn’t mean to listen.” Y/n said and Wanda let out a sigh, feeling comforted by the direct answer.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t being very discreet anyway.” Wanda said and Y/n hummed in response.

Y/n grabbed the two finished mugs on the counter before turning to Wanda and handing one to her. Wanda looked surprised but took the coffee anyway and took a tentative sip, feeling more relaxed than she did just moments ago.

“It’s instant. There wasn’t anything else.” Y/n said, leaning against the counter as well next to Wanda and taking a sip of her own coffee.

“Thank you.” Wanda said and Y/n simply shrugged in response, causing a small smile to appear on Wanda’s face.

It was a familiar atmosphere of the two just being there in silence, enjoying the company without having to indulge in any conversation to make it feel enough. Their presence alone was enough to bring comfort to the other. This time, there was no loud laughter or owls hooting to add dull noise in the background. It was just them, and nothing else.

“Have you ever been in a relationship, Y/n?” Wanda asked as she stared down at her coffee and slightly swirled it around in her mug.

“No.” Y/n answered simply and Wanda nodded in response.

“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t have to experience the heartbreak that comes with saying goodbye to the person you got so used to spending every day with.” Wanda said with a sad smile.

“That’s only a part of it though, right?” Y/n asked and Wanda looked at the girl, tilting her head in question.

“It’s just… That’s not all there is to it, right?” Y/n asked with furrowed eyebrows, and Wanda nodded at the girl, silently telling her to continue.

“With relationships and love, pain is just a part of what it comes with. There will always be the bad, but there’s so much good, isn’t there? All the moments where you’re at your best because the person you love makes you want to become better than who you are. Those moments where you feel happiest because you’re lucky enough to be around the person who makes you feel most loved… Does that not make the pain worth it?” Wanda looked up at Y/n and felt a burning sensation beneath her eyes.

When the tears fell, Wanda didn’t bother wiping them away as a smile appeared on her face.

“You sure are something else, Y/n.” Wanda said, shaking her head as she set her mug on the counter before wrapping her arms around Y/n and pulling her into a hug.

Y/n felt all the air be knocked out of her lungs as Wanda buried her face in her shoulder just like that night at the party. It felt surreal, feeling Wanda so close and having her arms pull her close just to feel the warmth.

Slowly, Y/n raised her arms from her side and carefully wrapped her arms around Wanda’s waist, not wanting to make any sudden movements in fear that this was all just a dream, and that she would wake up in bed and lose the warmth all over again.

When her arms were fully situated around Wanda’s waist and she didn’t disappear into a cloud of nothingness, a shaky breath left Y/n’s mouth as she pulled Wanda closer and rested her head on hers, feeling the tears slip past her eyes as she held onto the moment for as long as she could.

“Whoever gets to open that heart of yours will be the luckiest person on the planet.” Wanda whispered, and Y/n felt her body start to shake as the familiar feeling of her throat closing up came to her. But she didn’t want it to.

“It’s you.” Y/n whispered shakily. Wanda froze for a moment before leaning back and looking at Y/n with a look of surprise in her eyes.

But she stayed in her arms. She didn’t run for the hills and tell Y/n to never speak to her again. She just stood there, letting Y/n hold her while waiting patiently for Y/n to say whatever else was on her mind. Y/n swallowed her nerves as the tears continued to fall from her eyes, completely overwhelmed from all the emotions pushing through her, just like the night she had first realized.

“Wanda, I’m in love with you.” Y/n whispered with a sob as the fear started settling in her.

But before it could completely take over, Wanda reached one hand up to cup Y/n’s cheek and bring her back to Earth and away from the thoughts that were consuming her. Y/n took a sharp breath in and focused back on Wanda who gave her a small smile.

“I know.” Wanda whispered, the tears continuing to fall from her eyes as well.

A full sob wracked through Y/n’s body as she held back onto Wanda who pulled her close, caressing the sides of Y/n’s neck with her thumb as she let the woman cry on her shoulder.

It felt freeing, to finally say the words and have Wanda know about the thing that’s been burdening her mind ever since she met her. She didn’t need an answer, she just needed her to know. All that weight, all that pain, it was all lifted from Y/n’s chest the moment she uttered those words.

The complete lack of judgment in Wanda’s eyes, along with all the warmth and kindness inside them made Y/n’s chest soar, the aching feeling of her chest being compressed disappearing as she took that breath of air she didn’t know she needed.

This was love. It was the longing, the wanting, the hurting, the feeling, and the loving. Not long ago, Y/n thought she was above love and that she would’ve been better off without experiencing it at all.

But now that she has, she couldn’t feel more grateful that she was able to experience it through the most wonderful woman she had ever had the pleasure of coming across. Loving Wanda was the best thing that could have ever come out of Y/n’s life, and Y/n was going to continue loving Wanda with all of her heart, because the feelings that came out of it were unlike any other.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fics #wanda x reader #wanda x female reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff

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luminnara · 3 years

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega! reader Part 2

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part one | Part two | Part three |

Warnings: NSFW, Knotting, ABO

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch

The soldier’s rut seemed to come around on a perfect schedule. Like clockwork, every few months Amoretta would be pulled out of her usual living space and sent to the rutting cell to wait for him. Sometimes, he came in smelling fresh and clean, like they had just hosed him down. Other times, he was covered in dirt and blood, most of which didn’t seem to be his own. She didn’t care; her heart soared every time she heard his heavy boots stomping towards her, and she always faced him with a confident, even gaze.

They would spend his rut together, the soldier knotting her over and over until it passed. He grew bolder with her, showing her affection she never thought he was capable of. He would carefully lay her down on her side so that he could curl around her, waiting for his knot to go down so that he could start all over again. His hands became increasingly gentle, calloused fingertips brushing over her folds carefully as he tried to pull those beautiful moans out of her throat.

He often succeeded; Amoretta woke up to his touch more times than she could count, her thighs already trembling as he played with her clit. The soldier was good at getting her ready for him, though she was almost always prepared to take his cock anyways. Her body responded to him eagerly, slick always pooling between her legs whenever he was nearby. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if HYDRA didn’t have her on so many heat suppressants.

Even without her hormones raging, she was falling for him. He was big and strong and protective, always putting himself between her and the guards whenever they appeared in the doorway. If it weren’t for his trigger words, Amoretta was positive he would tear them apart before they even got close to her. Did that mean he felt the same way about her, too? Or was she just being a silly omega, stuck in a cold series of tunnels, latching onto the only alpha she was ever permitted contact with?

She couldn’t tell.

She didn’t really care.

All she knew was that she wanted him. She had begun looking forward to his ruts, and by the end of her first year in captivity, her body had begun being able to predict when they were coming without the use of a calendar. It was like waking up on Christmas Day, excitement flooding her while she waited for the guards to come let her out of her cell. It always put her in a good mood, knowing that she was about to see the one person who seemed to care about her in that godforsaken place.

And he did.

He cared.

Whenever he saw her, the soldier felt his chest swelling with happiness. There were no bond marks on either of them, but she was his, and she knew it. His omega knew that he was there to keep her safe. He was driven by a simple urge to take care of her whenever he saw her, his need to protect her always taking over his mind. She was so much smaller than him, but she took him so well and fit so perfectly against his chest when they laid together. He never wanted it to end.

“Alpha?” She asked one night, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His knot had gone down a little while earlier, but he was too exhausted by a full day of fucking to go at it again yet. Instead, he was dozing, an arm draped over her protectively while she snuggled up against his chest.

“Hm?” He grunted, cracking an eye open.

“Do you…” she sighed. “Never mind.”

He was fully awake now, both eyes open as he looked at her. “Do I what?”

She bit her lip, feeling stupid. “Do you think we would be together outside of this place?”

He was silent as he thought about it. He didn’t know anything other than HYDRA. Shit, he had never stopped to wonder if there was anything other than HYDRA. Did he have a life besides killing? He had no memory of it, if he did.

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb.” Amoretta said, burying her face against his chest. “Forget it.”

“‘Mega,” his chest rumbled with the word. “It’s not dumb.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?” She huffed.

He snorted quietly. There it was again. That brazen attitude she always had.

“Because...I don’t remember anything outside of this.” He finally said.

Amoretta looked at him. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s always been HYDRA.” He didn’t sound too concerned.

She frowned. “Well...if it wasn’t. If we were just two normal people.”

“Normal?”

“You know.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Just...two people, living in a city—“

“New York.” He interrupted quietly.

She paused. “New York?”

“A city. To live in.” He said. “New York.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Why would he choose New York? It was a large city, to be sure, but it seemed out of character for him to interrupt with something like that, especially considering that they were currently being kept somewhere under Eastern Europe. They were as far away from the States as they could get, and she had expected to be talking about someplace like Paris, or Moscow, or Berlin.

She knew the soldier was someone HYDRA had captured a while ago, which meant he had to have had some sort of life before they pumped him full of the serum. Could this be part of it? Was he...remembering? If he was, she wanted to know more. All HYDRA used her for was getting their asset through his ruts, so she had plenty of time to think, and plenty more time to be curious. The most interesting thing in the compound with her was him, and she had spent hours just wondering about him. This could be her chance to actually get him talking about something other than rutting, and she wanted to encourage more.

“Okay, New York.” She said, a reassuring hand on his arm. “What part?”

He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate. “Brooklyn.”

“Why Brooklyn?”

The soldier shrugged. “Heard about it. I think.”

“Never been there?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Hmph.” She played with a strand of his dark hair. “If we lived in Brooklyn, what kind of life would we have?”

“A house,” he said.

“We’d have a house?”

He nodded, his nose finding the scent gland on her neck and rubbing against it. “Filled with lots...and lots...of pups…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately felt heat coiling around in her belly. She couldn’t help it; she was pre programmed to get excited at the concept of being bred. Even without her heats, the thought filled her chest with butterflies.

“Wanna breed you…” his voice pulled her back to reality.

Amoretta licked her lips, grinning. “Then breed me, Alpha.”

He let out a playful growl, somehow finding the strength to roll her onto her front and grab her hips. He held onto her tightly enough to leave little red marks, but he never had to worry; she was strong. She was made for him. He knew that she could take whatever he gave her.

“Want my knot?” The soldier asked, toying with her wet folds for a few moments before he shoved his cock inside of her.

“Y-yes, Alpha!” She squealed, pussy immediately tightening around him. She had grown so used to his size by now, she hardly even needed any preparation to take him. Her body accepted his girth eagerly, wanting nothing more than to feel his knot catching on her.

He groaned appreciatively as he began thrusting in and out of her, setting a lazy pace for himself. “‘M gonna fill you up, Omega...gonna fill you up, get you nice and pupped…”

Her cheeks were flushed as she listened to him, skin burning as her alpha fucked her. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved everything about him.

“Please,” she moaned, melting down against the sheets.

“Yeah?” He let go of her hips, moving both hands to hold her ass. He gave it a squeeze, chest rumbling happily at the feeling of so much supple flesh in his grip. “Fuck, omega...my pretty ‘mega…”

She sighed happily, her pussy squeezing his cock as a little orgasm fluttered through her. He was good at that, and giving her those tiny little ones every so often with nothing but his words.

He snarled at the feeling. He wanted more.

A metal hand snaked around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it roughly. She immediately cried out, surprised by the sudden stimulation, and it wasn’t long before her thighs were shaking and she was a moaning, crying mess underneath her soldier. How did he know what to do? Why did he even care if she got off, when she was only there to please him?

He had to be more than just a flesh and bone HYDRA machine. She knew he had to be.

As she tipped over the edge, he followed close behind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he bit into her shoulder. The pain felt dull, despite his massive fangs tearing into her. It always did; Amoretta was never worried about it, often sporting bruises and bite marks after her soldier mounted her. With the quickened healing abilities her body now had, nothing lasted very long before fading anyways.

She wished they would stick around, though. She wanted to feel claimed.

She felt his knot swelling and she sighed happily, slumping down onto the cot as he pressed his chest against her back. He began lazily licking at her shoulder, swiping his tongue over the bloody wound to soothe it.

“One day,” he grumbled, “One day, ‘m gonna mark you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Wh-what?” She asked, looking back at him.

He nodded, sure of himself. “You’re my omega. An’ one day, I’m gonna make sure everybody knows.”

—

How many years did she spend there, in HYDRA’S compounds? After the first, it was easy to lose track. She was kept on a monotonous schedule that consisted of a few feedings a day, exercise sessions, and the occasional “doctor’s visit.” Those always just meant that her suppressants were being increased, as her body was growing steadily angrier about them. She was building up a tolerance, the doctor said, and they would simply have to keep ramping up her dosage.

She dared to ask why they couldn’t just let her have heats like normal, and the answer was simply that they didn’t have the facilities ready to raise super soldier pups. The thought of being separated from her own offspring mortified her; it was bad enough that she was always so far away from her alpha, and she knew she couldn’t bear to give up her pups for some twisted HYDRA program.

So she shut up, and learned to deal with the side effects of the suppressants. They made her constantly nauseous, not enough to make her vomit, but definitely enough that she was uncomfortable all day. As her dosage increased, so did her headaches, and there were moments she considered begging the doctors to take her off of them so that she could feel at least some relief.

But she knew that would be a bad idea. She had to continue acting like she had absolutely no interest in returning to her normal heat cycle, or else risk HYDRA thinking about how quickly they could get things ready to start a new super soldier program. Amoretta wanted to keep their minds off of it for as long as she possibly could, and it seemed like she was successful; it never came up during her visits to the lab, the doctors seeming much more focused on how to keep her from getting pregnant at all.

It was for the best. She knew that. But part of her whined and yearned to be allowed to start a little family with her alpha, even though he hadn’t given her a bond mark. With every rut she spent with him, she felt herself growing more and more comfortable at his side, wishing more and more that they were normal people. She wanted to live that life in Brooklyn with him, to smell fresh air again instead of the recycled oxygen they pumped through the compound.

Sometimes, Amoretta was moved to different facilities. They were always underground, always just as gray and dingy as all the others. The guards always tranquilized her in order to transport her, and she would wake up in a similar, yet different cell from the last, groggy and even more nauseous than usual. She figured they were moving both her and the soldier around, depending on where they wanted to send him off on missions. She just wished that she could go outside once in a while, too.

One night, she got her chance.

She woke up early, her body fighting off the tranquilizer she had been given. She could tell that she was in a cramped, dark transport crate, moonlight filtering in through the air holes on the top of it. Fresh air was coming in, too, the scent of grass and pine filling her nose. It smelled so delicious that she was gulping in lungfulls, immediately shifting to press her face up against one of the holes.

It was small, barely large enough for her to see out of it, but she could spot a few twinkling stars up above her.

She wanted more.

The crate was heavy, reinforced with metal bars meant to keep her in and the soldier out, but she was determined. She hadn’t seen the outdoors in...shit, decades?

A few good kicks was all it took before she was scrambling out, bare toes digging into the dirt as she stood and looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, a few trucks idling nearby as HYDRA workers moved supplies into the compound.

As soon as they noticed her, she ran, sprinting off into the trees. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop, too excited by the feeling of the wind against her bare skin. The night air was cool and refreshing, and as she skidded to a stop at the edge of a field, she could hardly believe she was really outside.

Turning her eyes up to the sky, she let out a happy gasp. The moon was full and bright, an entire galaxy of stars twinkling in the inky blackness of space. Amoretta hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

Heavy footsteps drew her attention away from the stars, but she didn’t turn to look. She could smell her alpha approaching, his scent seeming more curious than angry now that he had found her. He was alone, free of the entourage of guards she had expected to come after her.

“Omega,” he growled, his low voice rumbling.

“Look at them,” she sighed.

He stepped up next to her, his side brushing hers. “At what?” His blue eyes were scanning the treeline, searching for anything that could be threatening his omega. When he found nothing, he tilted his head to look down at her curiously. “What is it?”

“The stars,” she sighed again.

Stars?

He watched her face for a moment, surprised to find her smiling up at the sky. When he finally followed her gaze, he paused to admire the stars. He never really did that, did he? Whenever HYDRA let him out, he was sent with strict orders. There was never any time for stargazing. Though...it was nice, and the look on his omega’s face was even nicer.

“That’s Ursa Major,” she said, pointing up to a collection of stars. “See? It’s a bear.”

The soldier snorted. “I don’t see a bear.”

“Then look harder.”

She glanced over to see him actually squinting, the lower half of his face obscured by the black mask he wore on missions. The sight made her laugh, quiet giggles quickly turning into full, hearty laughter that had her gripping her sides. There he was, a huge, terrifying super soldier, the most dangerous assassin in the world, and he was trying to figure out constellations.

“What?” his head whipped around to look down at her.

“N-nothing,” she giggled.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I might be.” she nudged his side with her shoulder. “You’re just...cute. That’s all.”

She could see him raise an eyebrow. “Cute?”

“Mhm. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of a rut.” she leaned against him, looking up with big doe eyes. “I like it.”

His chest puffed up a little as he looked down at her. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” his throat rumbled with a low purr. “I have to take you back now.”

She deflated with a sigh. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Not safe out here.”

“There’s nothing out here scarier than you, Alpha.”

His purr grew louder, a little more smug. “You’re right. But I have orders.”

“Can we stay for just another minute?” she pleaded. “Then you can drag me back.”

The soldier considered her offer. He really did enjoy watching her gaze up at the stars, and he had no idea when he would get this chance again. “...Fine.”

Amoretta smiled. “Thank you, Alpha.”

His arm found its way around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You like stars, omega?”

“I used to sit outside and look at them every night back home,” she said. “Well, when it was clear.”

“Back home?”

She nodded. “I grew up in this quaint little village, tucked away in the mountains...at the foot of the alps.”

He cocked his head. Something about the alps...it felt like there was a memory nudging at the back of his mind, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he had gone there on a mission? HYDRA was good at always wiping his memory between outings. It was hard to tell where he had been.

“Let’s go.” he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

Amoretta didn’t resist as he scooped her up, instead resting her cheek against his chest and trying to surround herself with his scent while he walked. She could tell that something was bothering him, but with no idea what, and with him nearing the HYDRA base, there was little she could do to try and pry it out of him.

She would just have to wait and try again during his next rut.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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alidravana · 2 years

Photo

Fandom: Advanced Warfare

Pairing: Gideon/Mitchell

Length/Rating: ~1.2K, Teen

Tags: Upset Stomach, Nausea, Vomiting, Grief/Mourning, Stress, Hurt/Comfort, Dating

Summary:

Only two days after the KVA's attacks on the world's nuclear reactors and the death of Carter, Gideon's team has been working non-stop. Eventually, something had to give.

Written for @sicktember Day 18: Upset Stomach/Nausea. Thanks to @sugaredmayhem for the editing!

Check it out here on A03 or continue reading below!

*****

Gideon groaned, curling his legs up towards his stomach.

His stomach had been feeling a little off before bed, but he figured it was due to stress, lack of food, lack of sleep, or all three. It had only been two days since the KVA successfully blew up sixteen nuclear reactors across the globe, and Gideon and his team had been running security non-stop for medical personnel.

They still hadn’t had time to deliver the news to Carter’s next of kin, and that was leaving an awful pit in his stomach. And Gideon insisted on being the one to do it, Carter was one of his men, and had been running ops with him over the past two years. They had been so close to making it out of there, and he took his eyes off his men for one second and -

Fuck, Gideon thought, as another sharp pain shot through his stomach, a dull cramp starting to spread through his back. He could feel the rolling in his stomach, the acid in the back of his throat, the nausea as it continued to build up in his body, and then, he just knew.

Shooting upright in the bed, Gideon scrambled to get untangled from the sheets. Not even bothering to put his shoes on, he dashed for the door, sending a quick thanks to whoever put the automatic doors in the barracks, even though they were a pain at times.

Luckily, the men’s washrooms were only a couple hundred meters away, and being in the middle of the night, no one else was around to see Gideon’s frantic dash down the hall in his bare feet, wearing nothing but a pair of simple boxers. He’d never been so happy to see a toilet in his life as he threw himself down, leaning over the porcelain to throw up.

Collapsing wearily beside the toilet, Gideon took a few deep breaths, relieved that the pressure had resided slightly in his stomach. But he could almost hear the gurgling in his stomach, and quickly shifted to his knees again, ignoring the chill from the tiles.

This could be a long night.

Mitchell yawned as he walked down the hall. He should have gone to bed ages ago, but he had volunteered to start putting together the memorial tribute for Carter, and had been trying to get the website up and working for the last two hours. Mitchell didn’t know the man that well, but he also knew Gideon and Joker had been struggling the last couple of days with his passing, and hoped it might give them a small break from their grief.

Even with the urge to want to find every single KVA terrorist and make them pay for what they had done, including being the cause of Carter’s death, Mitchell still found he had a slight hop to his step, a bit of optimism that he hadn’t had for a long time.

About two weeks prior to the attack, Gideon had asked him out. The two of them had a great time at dinner, even ending with a make out session that left them both wanting more, but agreeing to take things slow. In Mitchell’s experience, slow could be a very, very good thing, and he was optimistic that once things settled down a bit, that they would be scheduling a second date for sure.

A slight smile at his plans for their next date, he was thinking they could maybe have fun at one of those vintage arcade locations, Mitchell turned the corner into the bathroom.

Gideon started as the bathroom door banged open, narrowly missing bonking his head off of the toilet paper dispenser. He had lost count of how many times he had thrown up, and he started hoping that his stomach could hold off until the other person was done, not wanting an audience. But when had anything gone right the last few days?

Gideon’s stomach violently rebelled, but the man no longer had anything to throw up. Choking out the bit of bile that remained, tears leaked out of Gideon’s eyes at the searing pain in his throat.

“Hey, do you need a hand?” A man asked outside of his stall, and it took Gideon longer than it should have to recognize the voice. It was Mitchell.

Gideon cringed, leaning away from the stall door. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Mitchell, or that he was scared of him, but he didn’t want Mitchell seeing him like this. He had finally gotten up the nerve to ask Mitchell out on a date, with encouragement from Ilona and ribbing from Joker, and it had been a great night. But they had only been on one date, they weren’t really at the helping through sickness stage yet.

Gideon mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that his silence was enough of a response. Mitchell wasn’t one to walk away when someone needed help though, something that Gideon normally admired, but hated in the current situation.

“Look, I don’t want to leave you alone-” Mitchell started to say, opening up the door slowly only to freeze when he saw who was on the floor.

Gideon froze too, eyes darting to the floor, not wanting to see the look of disgust that was likely written across Mitchell’s face.

“Gideon, are you okay?” Mitchell asked, still not taking a step closer. “Wait, no stupid question. Let me get you some water.”

Gideon could hear his steps walk further away, and then the sound of water running. Then Mitchell reappeared, but this time he crouched down on the floor next to Gideon, a cup in hand. Mitchell must have seen Gideon’s hand tremble as he reached for the cup, because his hand wrapped around Gideon’s, helping tip the cup up for him to take a couple sips and then back down again.

While not very cold, the water was still refreshing, and it was all Gideon could do to stop himself from chugging down the rest of the cup. If Mitchell would let him of course. The two sat there for several more minutes in silence, Mitchell helping him with the cup when he wanted another sip.

“If you think you’re okay to move, I can help you back to your room,” Mitchell offered, breaking the silence. “Or, I can go get Ilona to help, if you’d like someone else here,” he added, his voice breaking a bit on the words ‘someone else’.

Gideon shook his head, his hand darting out to grab Mitchell’s wrist, failing to realize that it was Mitchell’s left hand and not his right that he was holding onto. “Stay,” Gideon croaked, feeling mortified, but pushing aside his embarrassment. His embarrassment paled in comparison to making Mitchell feel unwanted. “Sorry,” he couldn’t help but add, his head starting to tilt in the direction of the toilet, Gideon no longer having enough energy to keep his body upright.

But Gideon could feel Mitchell’s hand on his cheek, then on his shoulders as Mitchell maneuvered him into his arms, Gideon’s head now resting against his chest. His bare chest, Gideon briefly registered before another cramp reminded him of the current situation.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Mitchell said softly, placing his free hand gently on Gideon’s head, his fingers lightly brushing through his hair. Gideon leaned into the sensation, throwing any remaining unease into the wind as he closed his eyes, letting himself be soothed.

“We’ll move when you’re ready.”

#call of duty #advanced warfare #gidchell #sicktember2022 #day18 #upset stomach #nausea #tw: vomiting #hurt/comfort #dating

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thesolferino · 4 years

Text

True Calling

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ word count: 3.9k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream meets his favorite singer on an among us livestream.

“Dude, what could go wrong? Just do it.”

“What could go wrong?! Literally so many things, you ass.”

Dream heard Sapnap sigh through the mic right into his headphones, the dim grey of his Discord background doing barely anything to illuminate his features as he stared at his open messages blankly.

“First of all, don’t.. speak to me like that, I am doing you a favour by sitting here and listening to you panic about stupid shit. Second of all, nothing big could go wrong. What, you’re a little awkward in the beginning, maybe, and that’s it.” Dream adjusted his headphones a little bit, Sapnap’s rant flowing into his ears but dissipating somewhere halfway to his brain, because, yes, things could go wrong and he can’t be proven otherwise.

“Did you forget that I’m a public figure? And that my fans are insane? I say one wrong thing and it’ll be memed and haunt me in my dreams. Did you forget that SHE’s a public figure? And that this is live? God…” he retorts back, listening to Sapnap helplessly sigh once again in response. He anxiously switches from his Discord to Twitter, then to YouTube, to Twitch and then back to Discord, frantically clicking around. In reality, he knows Sapnap is right, and it’s anxiety whispering into his ear that he’s gonna somehow fuck up, but maybe it’s simply easier to stay and argue with him into the night instead of actually responding to that message.

The stream is still going. Quackity’s voice speaks over Sapnap’s quiet breathing. “Damn, he’s still not responding. Um, let me try Tubbo, maybe?”

Before he knows it, the opportunity to join the stream is slipping out of his fingers, and Dream isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. On one hand, he gets to meet one of his favorite artists whose album he’s played way too many times to count, and on the other, the chances of him embarrassing himself in front of that same artist and a hundred thousand other people are extremely high, and he’s not sure if he likes the odds of that.

“Man, I don’t know. You won’t listen to me, anyway. Don’t join if you don’t want to.” Dream hears the annoyed tinge in Sapnap’s voice, and that’s what pours the last bit of courage into his veins because the best way to do anything in life is to follow Sapnap’s advice after you’ve already irritated him to the point of defeat, and he murmurs a quick “bye” and hangs up before the other can even respond, typing a rapid “Sure, send me the VC link” back to Quackity.

He hears a delighted exhale coming from his Twitch tab just as Quackity forwards him the link. “Okay, nevermind, we’ve got Dream! He’ll join in a second.”

With that, he swiftly closes the Twitch tab and with an encouraging sip of water, he finally joins the Discord voice chat with the rest of the players. Your Discord image sticks out like a sore thumb to him despite being a super basic, Googleable picture of you that he’s probably seen a million times by now, and upon seeing it, reality slaps him right over the face and he realises that, oh shit, he actually joined.

“Hey everyone.” Dream speaks into the mic and a mix of excited voices greets him at the same time as he loads up the game. Your icon is missing the green halo. He stares at it, as if you’ll magically speak up if he stares long and hard enough. That, apparently, works.

Pokimane’s “Dream, hi!” seems to set something off in your brain, and you speak again.

“Oh, Dream?” the green halo appears, and Dream resists the urge to say something stupid or bite his hand or anything of the sort when you say his name. “Aren’t you the guy who listens to my music all the time?” you giggle.

Quackity laughs loudly in his usual fashion, and Dream feels his hands go cold as the Among Us loading page pops up. “Wh-huh?”

“Yeah, you-you listen to my music a lot! Your fans always tag me under that… ‘Dream’s Spotify’ Twitter account, I remember you.” Dream swears his heart is about to jump out of his chest and start bouncing around on the floor because his ribs are way too restrictive for that type of movement, but he tries his best to play it cool and laughs lightheartedly.

“I do! I’m, like, your biggest fan.” he grins, as if you can see him, and you laugh in return.

“Yeah, man, you pay my rent. Thanks.” you say and a couple of people laugh while Dream inputs the code and his character finally pops up, immediately running around like the rest of the group. He runs around your purple character and hears you chuckle as you run around him too, but not for long, because the game starts and everyone mutes themselves. He audibly sighs, because he can afford to, considering he’s not streaming and nobody can hear the amount of courage this whole thing is taking him.

A notification pops up on his screen - the Dream Team group chat seems to be talking. Must’ve already found some way to make fun of me, he thinks to himself as he huffs out a large breath and runs through cafeteria and weapons to do his tasks in navigation. Corpse is hot on his tail the whole time, and not to say he’s an untrustworthy guy, but Dream isn’t really looking forward to getting killed before even speaking to you properly, so he runs around, trying to find somebody to stick with so Corpse doesn’t shove a knife in his back while he’s doing a task.

Thankfully, Karl emerges somewhere from the direction of storage right into communications where Dream was going, too. Just as Dream starts finishing download and Corpse and Karl line up behind him, his screen flashes bright red and white and the bold letters “Dead body reported” pop up. Everyone unmutes themselves and his eyes bore into your character, immediately.

“Alright, the body was in top left of the… uh, upper engine. I need everyone’s positions.” Rae immediately spoke.

“I was in electrical, I-I went through cafeteria to the upper engine with Poki, there was nobody there, we did our tasks, went down to lower engine, then Poki left with Toast, and I went to electrical and the body was reported.” Sykkuno said, and Pokimane confirmed with a hum of agreement.

“Dream?” Rae asked, and he spoke up.

“I never even went that way, I went through weapons to nav, and then to communications, and then the body was found. Corpse can vouch for me because he was following me the entire time and I kinda thought he was gonna kill me. And Karl saw me in communications, us three were all together when you… reported the body.” He rambled, trying to defend himself.

“Yeah, it’s true, he was with me the whole time.” Corpse supported.

“Karl, which way did you get to communications?” Toast asked.

“Uh, through storage.” Karl replied quickly.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was in security, and I could swear I saw you walk past.” Toast said, and a couple of “ooh”s echo through the call.

“That makes no sense because even if I did go that way, I wouldn’t have time to get to communications and start doing my task with Dream and Corpse if I killed Ethan! And Rae, you-you saw me do my task in storage!” Karl loudly defended himself.

“...that… that’s true, yeah.” she said.

“If you ask me, Toast, you’re being real sus for lying about that.” Karl threw it back at Toast, who protested.

“Listen, I didn’t say you killed anybody, I just said I saw someone run past!” he claimed.

“Bretman and Y/N are being real quiet, though.” Corpse points out, and the green halo around your icon lights up once again.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise I was muted. Sorry, guys.” you laughed. “Um, I was with… Quackity, in… what’s that shit on the right called?”

“O2.” Quackity quickly jumped in.

“Right, O2. I went to… top left, first, and I did my tasks there, and then to weapons and then to O2, and then the body was reported.”

“You were in top left?” Rae repeated.

“Yeah.”

“And was there anyone with you?”

“Um… no? I was alone, and then I saw Quackity in top right, and then we went to, uh, O2 together.” you said and Corpse sighed loudly.

“That means she could’ve had the time to kill Ethan and run.” Toast points out.

“Hey! I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even know how this game works…” you whined into the mic and Quackity laughed.

“Yeah, I dunno Y/N, you were dancing real suspiciously around me…” he said, causing you to defend yourself louder.

“Why would I kill anyone?! I don’t even know how to do that, I’m a nice person!”

“I don’t think she did it, guys.” Dream pipes up, tugging at the wire of his headphones absentmindedly.

“Shut up, you simp.” Quackity fires back instantly, making everyone in the call laugh, including Dream.

“Damn right, I’m a Y/N simp. She can do no wrong. I mean, look at that innocent face! She did nothing, I’m-I’m sure.” He argued, making you cover your mouth and giggle.

“Their face is literally the same as everyone’s! We’re all astronauts!” Rae protested, but Dream kept shaking his head.

“No, hers is more innocent.” he said. “Toast, why are you so set on accusing everyone, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re so not attacking Toast right now-”

“Guys, I think we should skip.” Sykkuno pipes up to calm the conversation, and everyone agrees, even though most of them mumble “sus” under their breath as soon as they mute their mics.

Dream’s tiny green astronaut stomps his way over to the left side immediately, changing paths this time and making his way into the Upper Engine, trying to finish his tasks in time and possibly find someone to accompany him so he at least doesn’t have to argue over his alibi. He had four tasks left, two of them in Upper Engine, so after that he was free to roam around wherever his heart desired. Just as he started doing one of them, he watched your purple character step in and run circles around him, earning you a quiet laugh that he didn’t know he uttered until he heard himself do it and silently scolded himself for getting that flustered at something so simple.

The two of you did your tasks together before going down to reactor. Just as Dream started doing one of his tasks, a dead body was reported again and he unmuted himself as Toast immediately started borderline yelling into his headphones.

“Bretman just killed Sykkuno RIGHT in front of me. I literally watched him do it. He killed Sykkuno in COLD BLOOD.” he confidently claimed and Dream, quite uninterested, grabbed his bottle of water and lightly sipped on it, wiping beads of sweat resting right above his eyebrows with his forearm, blindly looking around the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust looking away from the computer screen. His eyes searched for the window - it was open, just enough to let a fresh breeze inside, but it never seemed to do that, letting humid air in with open arms like a welcome guest. Florida is fucking hell, he thinks, gulping down some more water.

“No, I didn’t! I seriously did not, he’s the one who killed him and is trying to frame me now. I swear to God, Toast…” Bretman shouted into his worn mic, trying to argue back.

“Yeah, to be honest, Bretman, you were silent the whole time when Ethan died.” Rae reasoned, earning quite a lot of “ooh”s and causing little “voted” signs to appear next to Poki, Toast and Karl’s names as Bretman tried his best to fight back.

“I didn’t know I was muted the whole time! You know I’m bad at this! Why would I... you know what, nevermind! Vote me! Vote me! You’ll see when Toast kills you all, I don’t care anymore. I literally saw-”

Dream slumps further into his chair, sure that the foam would have a dent of his body shape imprinted even when he’s long gone from it, and unlocks his phone with a quiet sigh. He opens Discord, and wishes he hadn’t, because Sapnap and George are always on the front lines and ready to make fun of him at any chance possible. He types back a stupid joke, calling them losers, but before he can press send, a Twitter notification pops up on his phone that almost makes his painfully sweaty hands lose grip of the phone.

“this is so boring” your message reads, from your official Twitter account. Dream blinks a few times, and looks up from his phone to observe his murky, empty room, eyes flashing from the window to the ripped chocolate bar wrapper that somehow made its way onto the floor to a cup of coffee from this afternoon. Did the humid air finally get to him? Hallucinations?

He clicks on the notification - it proves to not be a product of his imagination, after all. Three dots dance around on his screen cheerfully, but they suddenly stop. His ears tune in. Bretman is still defending his honor. Something else must’ve interrupted you. His shaky hands barely hit the right letters.

He takes a handful of screenshots amidst his euphoria, and forwards them to the group chat with no caption besides an emoji sticking its tongue out - he wants to tell them to suck his dick, or something along those lines, but your message remains a priority as he rushes back to the Twitter app to reply.

“Right” he manages to write without a typo. “They’re annoying”

Three dots immediately return to his screen like a happy memory, and he almost can’t believe you’re texting back so fast. George would probably humble him by saying it’s because you have nothing better to do, but what George doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Dream supposes, and clicks on your profile instinctively as he adjusts his headphones on one ear. By the time you finish typing your message, the group decided to vote out Bretman, who ended up not being an imposter.

The three dots disappear as quick as they came, and so does the anticipation that bubbled up in Dream’s throat as he sourly leaves to finish the rest of his tasks. The rest of the game stays as boring as it started, save for the giggles and hushed laughter that came from you at every few jokes he made - of which he made quite a lot, in a desperate attempt to make you laugh, at least a little bit. Of course, Quackity was there every step of the way to accidentally mention how Dream sounded a lot more hype and alive during this game than he does ever, but you win some, you lose some, eh?

In the next game you actually decided to set up proximity chat, so of course Dream followed you around everywhere, hot on your tail at all times - what else is he supposed to do, when the chance presented itself, really?

“Are you imposter?” His character obnoxiously ran circles around you as you did your wires task slowly and unsurely since this stream was your first time playing.

“No, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I was, dummy.” You replied, running around his own character briefly before running up to do the rest of your tasks, watching the green astronaut follow you close behind.

“Why not?” Dream questioned, eyes following all your movements since he didn’t have anything better to do considering he finished all his tasks.

“Do you not know how this game works?”

“Yeah, but you’d tell me, right? I wouldn’t… rat you out.” He heard a sigh coming through his headphones in response, and his grin widened just a little, watching your character walk away from him.

“I know you wouldn’t.” you replied. “I’ll tell you if I’m imposter, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, would you?” Dream spoke into his mic, reaching to fix it and realising the way his hand trembled a little, fully aware he was walking the line between flirty and obnoxious more than usual. He lowered his gaze just to see his keyboard reflect the light of the computer back to him - the sweat from his palms seemed to seep onto the keyboard. He refused to think about the mocking things his best friends would say if they found out how nervous he was just to talk to you.

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be able to kill you.” You chirped just as a dead body was discovered and the two of you were torn from the conversation.

In the next one, his screen flashed an ominous black and red with the word “Impostor” and your purple character stood proudly next to his green one, and he snickered to himself, adjusting his headphones one more time (the more he did it, the more he was convinced it was one of those anxious habits of his).

Shifting in his chair, he started moving and couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised the two of you managed to lock yourselves in a room with Corpse and Sykkuno, accomplishing a double kill in barely the first two minutes of the game. The two of you vented while Dream muttered curses under his breath, breaking out in a sweat wondering if you’re going to get caught or not as you casually hummed to a random tune while faking tasks, hitting the notes in such an effortless way that it made Dream relax and get even more nervous at the same time. It didn’t take too long before the body was found, and you seemed to adapt to the game very quickly, as Dream just sat back most of the time and watched you stretch out a whole essay on why you and Dream could NOT have been imposters.

“Why would they stick together the whole time? Couldn’t they get at least someone else to vouch for them?” Toast complained.

“Girl, Dream wants some… alone time with Y/N, obviously.” Bretman said, despite being the one most sus of you in the first place, forcing laughter out of the whole lobby, Dream’s sticking out the most as his mood constantly swayed from finding the whole thing funny to being worried sick if you actually find him weird.

“Exactly! And we’re gonna have our alone time if we want to, thank you very much.”

Well, Dream thinks, taking a stressed gulp of water from his bottle, at least we cleared that one up.

“I don’t think that sounded the way you wanted it to, Y/N.” Karl pipes up, making Quackity burst into another fit of loud laughter, and you immediately protested.

“It sounded exactly the way I wanted it to! Now, vote Rae or else.”

When the meeting was over, he ran after you through cafeteria, grin splitting out on his face before he even spoke.

“You’re pretty…” his silence extended as he watched your character stare at his. “...pretty smart.”

You snorted. “Right. You’re pretty…” you extended your silence in return, mocking him. “...too.”

His heart jumps. “You forgot a word there.” he says as you stomp out to storage.

“I said what I said, Dreamy.”

He swears this can’t be healthy for his blood pressure. In the corner of his eye, Discord notifications pop up like crazy. The boys must be watching your stream. His heart swells with both pride and dread, knowing he’s about to be called something along the lines of pretty Dreamy for the next two months.

“How do you know I’m pretty? You’ve never even seen my face.” Dream replies as heat creeps up like a spirit rising from soil, from the back of his neck, seeping into his ears and cheeks somewhat equally. His eyes dart to the window again. Of course it’s the stupid Florida weather that has him burning up, flustered. Maybe he should open another window.

“Is this an invitation to see it?” you say, a teasing tone clinging off your voice and he can practically hear you smiling.

“No, I’m just saying! If you want to see it, though, that… that can be arranged.” he bites his lip as a physical attempt of holding back the smile that breaks out as he waits for your response, chest puffing in both nervousness and odd confidence.

“Can it? I mean, I don’t need to see it, I just know already, you have those… pretty boy vibes. But I wouldn’t…” you chuckle. “...be opposed to seeing it, for sure. Don’t count on me not to leak the pictures, though. I want the clout.”

“What do you MEAN you want the clout, you’re Y/N! You don’t need clout from a Minecraft YouTuber!” He argues back, a small wheeze escaping him mid sentence as you giggle and run around, with him following your every move.

“You keep my fucking lights on, man! Whenever your Spotify Twitter account thingy tweets that you’re listening to my stuff, the streams go up! I need your clout.” you say as you run into admin and snap Toast’s neck and run back out casually, as if nothing happened.

“Yeah, that’s how me listening to your songs on repeat works.” he says and you let out some sort of irritated groan.

“Shut up, smartass.” Just as you say that, somebody seems to find the body and you’re pulled into a meeting, where Rae susses both of you immediately.

“No, because both of you are always together! And someone always spots you walking by the place where the bodies are found! At some point that can’t be a coincidence, right?” she accuses, practically yelling into the mic.

“Of course they’re always together, check- check fuckin’ Twitter! They’re trending on like three different spots already!” Quackity jumps in, loud as always, and the lobby gives off mixed reactions.

“What? We are?” Dream asks, and Quackity confirms with a “yeah, man! Check!” and so he complies, quickly pulling out his phone to check the trending tabs. Sure enough, among the politics and sports, “DREAM Y/N”, “PRETTY BOY” and “DREAM FACE” are crammed, sat at 7th, 14th and 18th place, respectfully. A satisfied grin breaks out on his face. At least they see it, too.

“This has to be the first time Dream has trended for something heterosexual.” Karl points out, earning loud laughter from Quackity and Bretman, less loud on your part.

“Exactly! We’re a power couple! Stay mad!” You shouted, with Dream supporting you in the background, although still shyly adjusting his headphones every few seconds, unable to comprehend that oh, this is actually happening.

Both of you get voted out during the next few minutes, but that really means nothing to Dream - they actually do him quite a favor, because the two of you get to excuse yourselves and he sees those three familiar dots dance on his screen again as he leans back into his chair with a dopey grin, playing with the strings of his sweatpants, waiting for your next and next and next message.

He opens Discord on his computer to type one last message into the groupchat before turning it off for the night:

Dream (03:14): maybe Minecraft wasn’t my calling after all

Dream (03:14): can’t believe I just met my soulmate on Among Us

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagine #dream fanfic #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream fluff #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfic #mcyt x reader

2K notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

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

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

You came back in one piece this time. Barely.

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

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

Dameron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You're finally alone.

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

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

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

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

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

You don’t even think you want to anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

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

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

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

There. There’s the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cum.

You lose. Fair and square.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You lose count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that’s it. That is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you just start giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… to pull a bag of chips out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a nice voice, you think.

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

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space-dragon-ace · 3 years

Text

Family

Characters: Albedo, Sucrose & Child!Reader Word count: 1507 Description: Small words, big changes Additional info: Last part of Child Reader Saga! Tagging @clouds-rambles; @deadlyboyy; @irethepotato

Albedo smiled as he looked over to you and Sucrose. She had offered to show you some safe experiments and tell you about them, which you had happily accepted. While you had your fair share of interests, you were also very happy whenever you could learn something about Albedo's work. Oftentimes though, you misremembered information, so he had to correct you when you tried to talk to him about it. Then again, it was a lot of complicated information for a child, by the Archons, not even many adults understood what he was talking about! So really, the mere fact you could remember some of the elements he used was impressive. „Okay sweetheart“, Sucrose said, „I think it's time for you to eat your lunch.“ Albedo placed down his quill and rose to his feet, knowing you'd like him to join you at the meal. Yet you did not run up to him like you usually did, you stayed put next to Sucrose. Confused, both looked to you, worried that something might be wrong. You looked fine though, only tilting your head. „Will you come with us, Mama?“

Both Sucrose and Albedo choked on their breath, Sucrose even needed to grab the table edge to not fall over. Had she heard correctly? Did you really call her Mama?! Albedo was in shock as well. He had been aware of how much time you spent with his assistant, but that you would start seeing her as your mother?! He had not expected that. Neither had Sucrose, who looked at you with wide eyes. Her heart beat faster, and she fought against the urge to cry. She loved life and everything that was to discover about it. Yet the thought of becoming a mother had never crosser her mind. How could it? She could barely talk to people! „W-what did you say, [Y/N]?“, Albedo asked, kneeling in front of you. You blinked and tilted your head again. „I asked if Mama can come eat with us. I want to spend some time with her, too“, you answered, as if it was the most common knowledge in the world. Albedo and Sucrose looked at each other, both a bit unsure what to do now. „Well...“, he began, „If Sucrose wants to come with us...“ You turned your head, beaming up at her. She shrugged, chuckling a bit awkwardly. „Of course I'll come. I'd be honored.“ You cheered, throwing your arms into the air and hugging her, before you stormed out of the laboratory. Both adults followed, though a bit more slowly.

The walk to the restaurant was silent, and thick with awkward tension. Usually, Sucrose had no problems talking to Albedo, but now, her tongue was tied. As was Albedo's, he just couldn't bring himself to say something. How did they start this conversation? And where? He groaned, pinching his brow. „So...[Y/N] sees you as their mother“, he finally said, addressing the elephant in the room. Sucrose nodded, biting her lip. „It seems so. I'm sorry, I did not mean for this to happen“, she apologized, looking at her feet. He sighed, taking her hand. „It is not your fault. They are their own person, and you are the woman they're around the most. With Klee talking about her mother...and seeing all those happy couples around the City, it was only a matter of time until they wondered why I'm raising them alone.“ Sucrose blushed, not sure if she'd survive this conversation. Months ago, she had realized her feelings of admiration to Albedo had turned into feelings of love. And since she was averting her eyes, she could not see that Albedo's face was just as red as hers. Had he known for a while now how much he loved his assistant.

The people of Mond were quite amused by the sight. You, running and jumping around, your arms stretched out as if you were a bird in flight. And the Chief Alchemist and his assistant, both beet red in the face, avoiding each other's eyes while holding hands. It surely was something that did not happen every day. But no one was complaining. In fact, the people were happy that the couple seemed to be finally okay with showing public affection. Everyone had noticed how they looked at each other, how they spoke about each other. Sure, some old ladies gossiped how reckless they were, having a child before marriage. Gossips about where they hid you the last years. But no one spoke out loud. There were probably reasons for keeping you hidden, maybe you had been sick or something like that. No one wanted to be the person to bring back dark and painful memories, so the people kept quiet. Maybe in the future, they would ask Lady Jean for details. For now though, they'd leave this little family alone.

A few days later, Sucrose entered the lab, having just dropped you off at the church. You still called her Mama, and her heart melted whenever you did. She genuinely loved you, and quickly found herself wanting to keep the title as your mother. How exactly she'd tell that to Albedo, she had yet to figure out. Her brain was not helpful, only coming up with scenarios in which he would get mad at her. After all, you were his child! Still, she needed to at least ask if she could take on the role of a mother for you!

„Ah, Sucrose, there you are“, Albedo said, looking at her, „Come over here for a moment, would you?“ She blinked in surprise, but did as she was asked to. Albedo scooted over, so she could better see what he had been working on. Tilting her head, she looked at the three reports, which held very similar data. There were some differences, but the one in the middle held information from the other two. With a raised brow, she turned to her boss.

„What am I looking at?“, she asked, genuinely confused. Whatever this experiment was about, she had not seen it happen, nor helped with it. That much she was sure of. Albedo smiled, resting his face on one hand. „I was going over some data again. As it turns out, I am not the only one who provided DNA when [Y/N] was created. They have another parent beside me“, he said. Sucrose heart clenched with pain. You had another parent. She could not be your mother, because Albedo probably wanted that person to help raising you. He'd probably want to be with that person, so she could kiss her crush good-bye.

„And...who is their other parent?“ Her voice was quiet, and she could not hide the disappointment and sadness in it. Albedo smiled at her kindly, taking her hand and squeezing it. For a long moment, Sucrose was confused. Then, realization dawned on her, her eyes going wide as her mouth fell open. She looked at the reports again, then to Albedo. Slowly, she pointed at herself, gasping when Albedo nodded. She was your mother, on all accounts now. Albedo could prove it, it was official. You were her child, just like his.

„What...what do we do now?“, she asked him. Albedo shrugged, squeezing her hand again. „I don't know. But I know they see you as their mother already. And I'd be happy...if you would raise them with me“, he said. Sucrose blinked, not only because of this proposal, but also because Albedo was blushing bright red. She could feel herself blushing as well, her hopes suddenly reaching to the skies. „I'd love to“, she answered to unspoken question, giving Albedo her softest smile. He smiled back, squeezing her hand once more. You were happy that afternoon, seeing both Albedo and Sucrose to pick you up. You ran up to them, happily greeting them with „Papa! Mama!“ and hugging them both. This happiness only increased when Sucrose stayed over for Dinner, and even tugged you in for bed. And seeing her the next day at breakfast, you were overjoyed. From then on, Sucrose staying over became a more regular thing. First, only a day or two. Then a week. Then a whole month. You saw how she and Albedo acted around each other, being more open and friendly. And when you saw them kiss, you asked if Sucrose would really be you Mama. Hearing her say yes made your heart swell. You did a little happy dance when she officially moved in with you and Albedo. And a year later, all of Mondstadt celebrated them when Albedo and Sucrose married, sealing the contract on being your parents.

It was a strange little family. A researcher on bio-alchemy, an artificial human who was also the Head Alchemist, and their child. Another artificial human. And while there was no family like this one, and it was one of the strangest families in Teyvat, it was also one happiest. You, your Mama, and your Papa. And none of you would have it any other way.

#genshin x male reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact albedo #albedo x sucrose

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Burden

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,261

Warnings: None

Premise: Xiao fell in love with your goodness, with your selflessness and generosity towards others. Perhaps, however, in doing so he had misunderstood your own complexities.

In which the reader feels they are a burden.

Author’s Note: I feel like I should note that there are going to be some relatively extreme emotions, mostly negative. I don’t feel like it’s enough or specific enough to be given a warning, but if anyone wants to tell me to tag it for something I will gladly. That being said I’m pretty proud of this one

Xiao

Ever since your first interaction you had been helping Xiao. It had seemed so natural, even then, even when nothing seemed natural about interacting with a human, those strange people from who Xiao must always be separated. Yet there you were, asking if this perfect stranger was alright. And there Xiao was, suddenly seeing his world opening up before him.

Perhaps it was for this reason that your relationship had developed in the way it had. To Xiao your selflessness, your never ending kindness, the fact that you would stop to help someone regardless of circumstance, all of that was normal. It was innate in your personality, and perhaps that was why Xiao never questioned what effect having that kind of personality might have on you. It is easy to assume that a kind and selfless person is also one with a short memory. After all, how could they stand it otherwise?

So when the first, barely noticeable, traces of that burden which Xiao saw so often began to swirl around you the yaksha’s initial reaction was that of utter panic. Was this not the exact reason that Xiao had chosen to disconnect himself from humanity? Was this not proof, right before him, that the chains he carried could not be contained. Though Xiao generally thought of humans as vaguely useless, deserving of protection because Rex Lapis proclaimed it be so, the idea of harming any one of them with the legacy of his own sins, it was something that he could never stomach, no matter how many times he feigned apathy. That you should be the person upon who his burdens should be transferred, how could he bear it?

Of course a small, more logical, part of him urged the adeptus to stop and think. The miasma that Xiao attracted in such high concentration was everywhere, and humans were not exempt from this burden by themselves. After all, did humanity not channel great evil as well as good? Did not the most ordinary human, dejected by their lot in life, become swarmed by little wisps of evil? Yet those were other, ordinary humans. Ordinary humans couldn’t understand the sheer capability to love that you seemed to possess. No, if Xiao could sense such a miasma around you then it was surely his fault.

Still the idea of leaving you was something quite painful to Xiao, to the adeptus who had so recently learned what it meant to love someone wholeheartedly. He told himself that it was best to leave immediately, best to disappear with the wind and never look back. Yet a part of him couldn’t seem to bear the idea; and that was the part that won out as Xiao approached you later in the day, as if in a desperate last attempt to prove himself wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“Xiao!” You jumped slightly, having evidently been lost in thought. Smiling widely you shook your head. “Of course I’m alright! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I…” Xiao paused for a moment as the idea of telling you what was going on flitted through his head. Almost immediately the thought was squashed. After all, would the knowledge not worry you more? “I was just asking.”

“Well thank you Xiao, it’s very kind of you to think of me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Still,” your smile never faltered. “You deserve thanks for what you do nonetheless.”

Xiao tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, tried to block out the emotions that crashed over him like great waves as you leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Was this not a good thing? After all, if Xiao was what cause this miasma to float around you, then was that not your salvation? Xiao knew how easy it was to drown in the burdens that one must shoulder. He knew how easy it was for humans to sink to the bottom of their despair and never once more emerge for water. Why should it not be a blessing that you would never have to fight to keep your head up, to keep yourself from a life full of burdens? Why, why did it hurt so much?

During the night, Xiao would leave during the night. After all, you deserved one last evening of happiness, if the yaksha could even believe that he brought you happiness. Or maybe it was for his sake that he refused to leave before the world was plunged into darkness. Maybe it was simply that Xiao could no longer imagine a world without you, and that such nightmares came out easier at night. Lying on top of the roof, eyes closed, ears focused on the familiar tread of your feet, Xiao willed himself not to think. He could regret when he was far away from you, when you were once more safe. For now he could only follow that ritual which had so long kept him sane, kept him from joining his brethren. For now he thought only of the contract he had once made.

The sound of your feet on the ground below came all too soon, as the sun finally began its descent across the heavens in earnest. Keeping his eyes closed, as if to stall the darkness for a little longer, Xiao took a deep breath in. He needed to steel himself for this evening; if not, well, Xiao had no wish to cry for the first time in a millennia.

Only once these thoughts finished flitting around in his head did the yaksha finally recognize the change in your footfall. Usually you were very light on your feet, dashing this way and that, stopping to ask Goldet or Yanxiao some mundane question, inquiring after the old lady who had basically set up permanent residence on the bottom floor of the Inn. This time, however, you seemed to drag, as if you were indeed carrying something very heavy. Alarm flashing through him, Xiao willed himself into perfect stillness. He wished to hear more, wished to understand what had caused such a change in you.

What he certainly hadn’t expected was the labored breathing of someone seconds away from tears.

The moment Xiao heard the door to your room close the sobbing began in earnest. Though you certainly seemed to be trying your hardest to hide your tears the sound of your muffled sobs rang through Xiao like a siren, flaring up every bit of alarm he had to offer. Jumping off of the roof Xiao catapulted his way through the hallways of the Inn, not bothering to hide his presence to the few, very confused, residents that were out. Reaching your room he didn’t allow himself a moment’s hesitation before grabbing the knob and opening the door.

Your head snapped up, eyes a mixture of dark emotions as you stared at him. For a moment you seemed ready to flee, to run and hide somewhere, or perhaps to throw him out. However almost immediately you seemed to sink back into yourself, and though Xiao could still sense your distress, at least the initial shock of his arrival seemed to have passed as quickly as it would otherwise.

“Xiao! I, I didn’t expect you. I, could, could you leave? I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want to be seen right now.” It was all you could get out before another round of sobs wracked through your body.

Trying to remember what you had done for so many people, for himself, Xiao grabbed the pitcher that sat at one of the tables in the room. Pouring some water into a glass he crept towards you as softly as possible, hoping that he could convey his worries in these odd, brusque actions. He knew that he didn’t have the talent you had to comfort people, knew that all his gestures of kindness inevitably came out cramped and awkward. Nevertheless he shoved the glass into your hands, staring just past you as you tentatively downed the water. Taking the glass from you Xiao then reached out one of his palms to you. His relief when you placed your own palm on top of his was indescribable.

“I guess you probably would like an explanation,” you rasped out.

Xiao said nothing, waiting for you to act on your own. If he knew anything the yaksha knew that attempting to force the truth out of anyone would never worked. Hadn’t his own years as a pariah taught him that.

“It’s just,” you finally continued, taking in deep, labored breaths. “It’s just so hard. It’s so hard Xiao, I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Stand it?”

“Stand the… the hurt!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you went to grab the handkerchief that you left on your nightstand. You always needed one with you, as your eyes stung terribly whenever you began to cry. Xiao said nothing as you sobbed once more, only moving to draw small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“It hurts so much, to see other people. To hear their problems. Not that it’s their fault, or that I don’t want to help them. I do, I really do. I look at all the people suffering near me and I just want to take all their burdens and give it to myself, after all they don’t deserve all their sufferings. But it’s so hard Xiao, it’s so hard to take on people’s burdens, even a little bit. And I feel so selfish when I think that, so selfish and so worthless. How can I say that? But it’s true, it’s really, really true. And when I think about that, when I think about all the other people suffering worse than me, it just makes me feel so horribly selfish. Like, like all my problems are so stupid and selfish and telling others would only hurt them, and didn’t I want to take everyone else’s burdens away? I’m so stupid. And it just, it hurts.”

Xiao sat there quietly once more, waiting as you cried. At one point you seemed to collapse in on yourself, leaning against his shoulder as if to support yourself. Only then did Xiao allow himself to move. Carding his hands through your hair he said nothing, he merely waited.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. You already have enough burdens, I know. I shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people. I, if you want you can tell me if something is wrong. I mean, you always can, I, just. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“My burdens are my own,” Xiao replied softly, finally letting the emotions swirling through him try to string together as words. “It has nothing to do with you. It never will. You, you should come to me when you feel burdened.”

“But then I’m only passing my problems onto you!”

“I told you, my chains are my own. They are the payment for my contract. They aren’t what you tell me or push on me. If you feel these burdens then give to me. That is my duty.”

“But Xiao, I, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“How can you say something so stupid,” Xiao scoffed. Bringing his hand to your cheek he sighed softly. “You will never be a problem. You will always be dear to me. Let me help you. You help so many humans. I want to help you.”

“I, I don’t know,” you spoke, voice faltering.

Though Xiao could still feel the tension in the air, could still see the miasma which swirled around you, there was something fragile about it. It was as if Xiao could reach through the tangled threads and pull them away, if only he could find a way to do so. Stroking your cheek softly Xiao pressed his forehead to yours. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in. After a few moments he heard you do the same.

The rest of the evening Xiao stayed vigilant by your side, listening as you finally let yourself say all the things that had been weighing down upon you. It was painful, listening to you. Xiao constantly had to fight the urge to tell you how wrong you were, how much you mattered and how far he would go to bring you all the happiness he could possible gather in his stained hands. Still he said nothing, for if you had taught him anything it was that simply listening could do infinitely more than promising to fight or trying to shoulder each burden as you lay them out in the daylight.

Eventually you grew exhausted, a combination of the crying and the talking and the reliving. As Xiao listened to your breath even out, softly shifting your head from leaning on his shoulder to resting in his lap, the yaksha thought about all that had happened.

Xiao had assumed that you were somehow above all the humans around you. Purer, gentler, kinder. He hadn’t stopped to think how that might have affected you. Now that he knew that wasn’t true, now that Xiao knew how deeply you felt, how sometimes your mind too chased after darkness or found itself struggling to keep above water, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d missed something before. Perhaps you shouldered these burdens and perhaps you were just as human as the rest. You were still kind, kind and selfless and utterly beautiful. And Xiao still loved you in a way that continued to burn brightly through his soul.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #oneshot #my writing

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penrose-quinn · 3 years

Text

Green Light | Part Five

“Well, aren’t we sort having one right now? Friends go on dates.”

“Yeah, but what I meant was more like a date-date.” Shinichiro was unable to keep a straight face. “Like a couple.”

“Uh, so you’re asking me out?”

pairing: shinichiro sano/gn!reader

content tags: road trips. childhood friends. angst and hurt/comfort. feelings realization. fluff. idiots to lovers. old friends trying to reconnect but are being dumbasses about it. they don't deserve the friends to lovers tag because they're stupid and pining. talks about sex; mildly suggestive.

m.list ❁ read on ao3

Back on the road, there was a point where the direction of your conversations had all been harmless enough until it strayed down a path about him not being a virgin anymore from a slip and the rest had opened a complicated set of questions about yourselves that the both of you were on the fence to admit as of yet.

Intrigue was one thing, but what really got the two of you to talk was because of boredom.

Shinichiro stopped counting rejections when he turned twenty-three, and ever since he laid eyes on porn, he had a list of expectations in sex.

It's sweaty. There's a chance it could be good. He might actually resent it a little for different reasons.

“Sex isn't really all that good if you're screwing a stranger.”

“Sex can be good, if the one you're with know what they're doing.”

“Yeah, there's that. But it isn't as fulfilling, like it's just an urge.”

“That's the point, though,” you said with a halfhearted shrug. “It's physical. We can't help it. It's there to satisfy the urge.”

Shinichiro didn’t mention that you had an odd way of saying urge. “But doesn't it leave you feeling empty after?”

His first time turned out fine. His second was more fun than the first. Both partners, however, wound up leaving him when he woke up by himself in the womb of a love hotel, as if the night before hadn’t been real and what remained lingered on the wrinkles of cold sheets; a scattered trail of a person, barely there. He stared at the wall for a long time. Is that it?

“If you want fulfillment, then get into a relationship.”

“Not much luck on my end.”

“Well, we're both bad at this, aren't we?”

“Don't lump yourself with me,” Shinichiro refuted. “You got around and even had a girlfriend.”

You didn't make a wry remark about it, falling back to a contemplative silence, as your gaze drifted to the car window; detached from the world outside where the trees and utility poles seemed to blur along the route from the outskirts of Miyagi.

If he had it his way, the both of you would've already been bumming a cigarette, maybe parked at the side of the road and then you could just talk to him about it or nothing at all under the afternoon sun.

Bakery girl, Shinichiro tagged your ex as in his head when he didn't ask for her name from you. Not like it mattered now, and he knew you would've just preferred to leave it like that.

There's a weariness to your eyes, but you went out of your way to tell him, “I still think you'd be a decent boyfriend.”

“Decent?” he echoed back.

“Just figured you'd be the kind of guy that'd treat the love of your life like they're your world. That kind of decent.”

“And you're not like that?”

“I was selfish. Probably a jerk,” you confessed, sounding pensive.

“Hm, some people go for that.” Shinichiro didn’t say that because he believed it, though he hoped it could lighten you up. "Compared to you, I'm not that interesting."

You sent him a long, incredulous stare. If he didn't know any better, you almost looked annoyed.

"What are you talking about, Shin? Some people don't usually know what they want, but that doesn't make them stupid or anything. Attraction just works differently for everyone," you said. “So don't ever be a jerk. Just be yourself. I think you're fine as you are. I'm pretty sure there's someone out there for you.”

You meant well. Probably misunderstood him a bit too, but that's his fault for not conveying his sentiments clearly. His chest stammered from your words; more reassurance than praise, yet it caught him off guard, regardless.

Still, his reply didn't come out right. It's probably the lamest thing he told you all day. “I'm not desperate for a relationship.”

“And you shouldn't,” you reminded him anyway. "Commitment's a lot of work."

"Why'd you say it's fulfilling then?" Shinichiro carped. This time, he's just needling you for the sake of it.

"It's fulfilling because of the work. It's a mutual effort, getting there," you explained, and he thought it's a bit of a shame that you missed the chance to slide a dirty joke in there.

However, he did acknowledge how earnest you were about it, making him catch on that it must've all been worthwhile, what you had with Bakery girl. He wondered how happy you were with her. Would you have even left Nagoya, if you were still together?

"What I was correcting you on was not being desperate. Figured you should know that already, given how many times you got rejected for it."

"Don't be an ass. You don't have to remind me about that."

"Oh, sorry. Almost forgot how delicate you are," you retorted.

Shinichiro scoffed, but he did find himself reflecting about it.

"You're right, though," he admitted, because it took him a long time to realize that gaining someone's affections wasn't like getting himself beat up in a fight but still winning over everyone. Sighing under his breath, he shed a tilt of a smile. “So this is what happens when you go to Meidai, eh?”

You shrugged noncommittally. “You meet all sorts of people in Meidai.”

“Nice way of sayin' you dated a lot.”

"They weren’t serious, Shin."

You had one, though.

The thought endured.

The two of you ended up answering what was the weirdest experience you had during sex.

Since Shinichiro brought it up, he started first. Perhaps, alcohol had given him the blunt confidence to admit this to his friends the first time because he painfully lacked it now after recounting that he licked the inside of a woman’s bellybutton out of curiosity when he was about to give her oral.

When you asked him if she hated it, he sucked a breath and a little surprised of himself, he adopted a more bashful tone around you when he blurted out that she was actually into it. You whistled at that, which made his stomach flip, mouth all twisted, when you amusedly said to him that it's great to know that he had it in him after all.

What's that supposed mean? Shinichiro demanded, and found himself more disgruntled when you teased him that he wasn't shy and that his experience wasn't weird at all. He shot back that you’re probably a closet freak, which then got him to coax you that it’s your turn to share.

He had a suspicion that this one hadn't been your weirdest with the manner you recounted what happened, but you seemed adamant to not disclose more and you were already embarrassed enough. You told him about the time you did it with some guy in university, though the issue was it turned out messy; a stain on the passenger's seat of his parent's car.

Oh. Shinichiro asked you why you did it there in the first place. Your explanation was that the both of you were semi-drunk, and it wasn't like you were going to see him ever again.

Somehow, this prompted the awkward question: “So have you . . . ? In Takeomi's car?”

“No! I would never,” he exclaimed, though it had him surmising on his friend. “You think Takeomi's done it in his car?”

“Don't know. You're the one who borrows it," you said before settling for a low, conspiratorial, "found anything strange before?”

“No, not so far,” Shinichiro mused; Takeomi didn't have a girlfriend, but he had flings. He even kept in touch with that hostess from a club in Shinjuku. “Check the glove box.”

The two of you seemed to be in line with each other when you nodded readily, opening the compartment and rummaging inside for some form of evidence.

There’s a smirk on the edge of your lips.

"You might like this."

You waved an old CD at him. It's a Shinkai album from Mr. Children, which was a present from him when he'd been scrounging up pocket money in high school.

Shinichiro wasn't even sure if Takeomi had outgrown his rock ballad phase nowadays, and you just smiled from knowing that he kept it anyway.

So he still listens to Mr. Children, you assumed, and why you're able to recall that was because it went uncontested that Benkei had the best taste in music in your circle of friends. You were forever grateful to him for introducing you to Scha Dara Parr after all.

Amused of your conclusion, Shinichiro couldn't help but agree, followed up by a comment on how Benkei and Wakasa also seemed to share the same preferences in music, considering how those two got along so well – given their past rivalry, ironically enough.

"We're horrible friends for expecting the worst from him," stated Shinichiro, and you didn't deny him.

"Was really hoping I’d find something incriminating." You shrugged shamelessly, making him sigh.

Murata was a small, antiquated town.

Enclosed around the blue outline of mountains, there’s a rustic charm to it that almost reminded you of a quiet district in Kyoto, which would eventually lead to him admitting that he hadn't been in Kyoto and the most of what he had seen was through travel ads and postcards. Even his knowledge about it was limited to being that old city and the Fushimi Inari Shrine.

That's enough to prompt you to pull out your phone and shuffle for pictures you’d taken in your business trip back then. Shinichiro marveled at the shots of forest landscapes, traditional streets, and temples with detached awe.

"But why don't you have any pictures of yourself?" he pointed out, disinterested of the geishas on the screen.

"Why should I? I just like the sights," and as to emphasize this, you showed him a sprawling view of Gion in the springtime.

"You should've taken a good picture of yourself with the sights."

Your lack of interest only drove out a sigh from his mouth.

"You're so hopeless. You know what? I'll just take a picture of you now." Shinichiro snatched your phone from your grasp, finding a good angle of you from the camera as he moved it around.

"What? No."

"Why not? There's a nice view behind you. You look great."

"That's not the point. What's this for?"

"Figured you should have more pics of yourself. Think of it like a small keepsake of Murata," he said before pressing the camera button, followed after a resounding click.

Then Shinichiro did it again; lips screwed up in appraisal.

You bristled. "Delete those."

Another snapshot.

"No. Do a pose," Shinichiro suggested, though you didn't budge when he tried to convince you, drawling out your name. "C'mon. Just one or two pics."

You took more than just two. You huffed with crossed arms. "Fine. But only if you do it with me."

Shinichiro did. He was actually more eager about it than you were, but he’d fuss over that the camera must have a perfect angle of him. You’d roll your eyes from him being pedantic over such a thing so you kept that awkward shot of him attempting a selfie with you. There were too many photos of you two doing peace signs on the streets. Your smile got broader as this went on.

The both of you even had a photo with the statue of the town’s mascot, and the woman from the tourist information office remarked that you’re such a cute couple after taking your picture. You stared dumbfoundedly at each other from that.

Shinichiro corrected her that you were just friends, retrieving back your phone, though before he returned it, he sent the images to his phone when he asked them from you.

You'd learn later on that he saved his new number in your contacts, as well as having your candid shots before you took the time deleting all of them, except your pictures with him.

“Ever thought of dating me?”

“What,” you said.

“Harmless question. Just humor me.”

“Well, aren’t we sort having one right now? Friends go on dates.”

“Yeah, but what I meant was more like a date-date.” Shinichiro was unable to keep a straight face. “Like a couple.”

“Uh, so you’re asking me out?”

“No. I don’t know. I’m just curious, really.”

His denial clumsily sounded like it was strangled out of him.

“Curious,” you repeated, letting out an amused exhale. “That lady got to ya, huh?”

Your eyes didn’t meet, but he yielded to a slow nod, as if he was registering what he instigated between the two of you.

“Yeah. Had me thinking,” said Shinichiro.

It wasn’t like you weren’t either.

“Hypothetically speaking," you started, hoping he wouldn't take it too seriously. "Would it have even worked out?”

Shinichiro caught onto it, the levity of your inflections, and as he always did, he indulged you with an answer. “Can’t really tell. You already can't stand being around me and you know how to push my buttons,” he replied in a wry tone, but he lingered with a musing hum at the last note. “Yet I'm betting you would've stayed longer.”

You snorted. “Out of pity.”

“Don't be like that. I already won you over!”

“Take me on a date first, and we'll see how that holds up.”

There’s game on his grin, baring a hint of teeth at the dare. “All right. Where do you want to go?”

Folding your arms, you mulled it over for a minute. “How about the aquarium?”

“Why there?” he asked interestedly.

“I've never been in one since I was in sixth grade,” you admitted, anticipating for his response.

Shinichiro didn't ask for a reason why you didn't have your previous dates there, though it felt as if you didn't have to when he beamed at the indication of you just wanting to gawk at fishes with him.

There's something about it that made this all the more special than what it was.

“Then the aquarium it is.”

Unfortunately, there weren't any aquariums in Murata.

"Doesn't have to be an aquarium, you know."

"There’s one in Sendai. It isn't far from here."

"It's probably about to close, though."

"Then we could do it tomorrow."

"Okay. Tomorrow."

The both of you agreed to book a hotel for a night. It wasn't cheap, but the parking was free.

No one had qualms about the room having one bed.

You were dressed in the hotel yukata, plain and blue like his, as you padded heavily to the bed barefoot, even though there were a pair of slippers in the closet.

You said something about wanting to feel the carpeted floor before sitting down and collapsing on the bed, head grazing against the side of his leg from the fall. You mumbled out a sorry and Shinichiro stared at you and your hair splayed over his lap, though he would also trace the dark circles under your eyes, wondering if you got any sleep ever since you took the wheel to Koriyama.

He nagged you to just take a nap during the ride on the way to Sendai, but he was always met with the shake of your head, muttering I'm good.

"You don't look good at all," muttered Shinichiro, leaning down on your face.

You only blew a sharp puff of air to his eyes, making him cringe back and mention that at least your breath didn't stink.

"I'm gonna use your toothpaste, by the way."

"There’s a complimentary one."

The two of you were aware that the toothpaste here was shit and he wasn't really asking for permission to mooch some of yours.

You didn't mind anyway, like how you didn't mind him lifting up your limp ankles and dropping them on the sheets. Your eyes were a little dazed, heavy-lidded, but you scrutinized him and the sash of his yukata, a bit skewed up.

Shinichiro didn't care if it was, intending to emulate a laid-back appearance, and you just likened him to an overgrown kid that couldn't properly tie his own sash. You took it upon yourself to rise up, kneeled on the bed to fix it for him and he allowed it after you tugged his sleeve, goading him to come closer.

"If I'm an overgrown kid, what does that make you?" he grouched out when you rewound the sash on his waist after unfastening it.

"Your sad babysitter." You finally tied a knot on his sash before running up your hands on the front of his yukata to smooth out the creases.

"You really sad?" Shinichiro asked, pinching your cheek.

You shooed his hand away from your face. "Do I look sad to you?"

"You got those bags under your eyes so you must be. I keep tellin' ya," he said your name in a soft reprimand. "Just rest. Relax."

Then you sighed, long and deep. It’s almost resigned. "Not that I don't try, bocchan."

"Don't call me bocchan."

"I won't call you aniki either."

"I'd rather you don't."

His words rang too earnest to his ears, and he wondered if they also did to yours.

Shrugging, you lied back down, plopping your head on the pillow. You're sprawled on the bed again with your tousled hair curling along the hemline and the sweep of your collarbones . . .

Shinichiro was overcome by some foolish thought of whether he wanted to take a picture of you like this or roll you up in the stick of his cigarette to set alight later when he felt like lingering on a sentiment he wanted to burn.

Which he was about to do inside the bathroom to not risk setting off the smoke alarm until he realized he forgot to bring his lighter with him.

When he stepped out of the door, he saw you dry-swallow a pill from the edge of the bed, but you didn't notice him.

There's a moment of clarity, and drawing in a quiet breath, he wondered what had happened to you.

Shinichiro thought about Takeomi, and then back to you.

He wanted to reach out, though he hesitated and found himself walking back into the bathroom as if he hadn't left there at all.

The first time you had your tattoo, you confided to him that your mother didn't talk to you for an entire month, acting all aloof about it with a cold, mirthless smile. I'm probably gonna be disowned, but I don't care.

The both of you knew you weren't, though these words were the kind of thing that hurt you the most.

Shinichiro was raised by a mother who loved him fiercely. One who reassured him that he didn't have to try so hard to earn her affection, that he was a child that deserved to be loved and to love others in return.

In her eyes, he was perfect, and because he was happy and naive, he believed all mothers were the same like his. Though he never thought that mothers could also love like yours or Izana's. It didn't make sense to him in his youth, and he was inconsiderate of all the times you complained why no matter what you did, you never felt like you were good enough to her eyes, and perhaps to an extent, to anyone else's.

She's afraid that I'll become like my big brother, you used to tell him on the days you skipped rocks on the river, hitting water as if to shatter glass, or when you stayed out late with him from some desolate corner of the city, scathed more by the rebuke and disappointment of her words than every battle lost, every bone fractured, when the expectation wasn't met and you'd wear yourself thin and bloody to measure up for approval.

Despite it all, Shinichiro still believed that your mother opened up to you like that because she just cared about you a lot, but he failed to realize that it's the manner of how she cared for you that had caused you so much pain.

Something he couldn't quite fathom until his mother died, and you tried to keep silent about all of your grievances with your own when you were around him ever since.

It frustrated him when you were protecting him like that, though when you were trying to protect yourself, he couldn't do anything but wait by your side when you felt ready to open up more.

Shinichiro wouldn't question why you had medication, but he wished you could've just taken it sooner.

He laid down with you on the bed. It was like this for awhile until he poked your cheek, and you're unfazed by it, but you're giving him this look. Smiling, he said you just looked like a baby, and this time, your eyes squinted at him. Am not.

He would've teased about you secretly wanting to be coddled, but he settled with your pout and made a small victory out of it. He swept back the strand of hair between your eyes and you let him. The both of you forgot about the TV for a moment.

"What are you thinking about?"

You sounded heavy, like you had too much to drink, and in the past, you'd tell him that fatigue felt like receiving the worst hangover after slugging down a six pack of Asahi.

The comparison was amusing just because of how you disliked beer – for the taste, not the lightheadedness – but his head tilted at you in concern, regardless. You mistook the gesture for bemusement.

"You're a little hard to read, sometimes," you said, sinking deeper into your pillow.

"Really? Thought I'm easy."

"Who told you that you're easy?"

"Figured I am." Shinichiro shrugged before his shoulders sagged a bit over your words. "Hm, so I'm not?"

"Depends. You'd let everyone in your life, except your head," you mused. "Or who knows? Maybe, it is empty."

His lips pulled up into a half-smile. "Maybe not," a flicker of a glance, but you didn't notice his wistfulness. "I'm thinking about you."

"Oh, me? What about me?"

"I'm thinking about how you used to complain a lot about not getting enough sleep," he worded it carefully. "When you snuck out late for meetings, for fights."

"That's because we had school the following day. I had priorities, unlike you," you retorted, and he nudged your ankle with his foot. You're slow to react, but you made a gripe on his cold toes, even though you didn't flinch back from them. It remained like that, feet lightly touching, under some unspoken insistence that his toes would warm up this way.

"Don't take it personally. I know you had to raise your siblings."

Shinichiro shifted closer to you when you continued.

"You even visited . . . Izana? Ah, Izana. Spent time writing letters for him and all. It's amazing how he understood your handwriting," you drifted off into a chuckle after his brows scrunched at the jab.

Even so, he thought the both of you might've gotten along, if he had introduced you properly this time than the last one. If he still could. He smiled ruefully.

You stared at him. There's a mildness to your eyes and it wasn’t from drowsiness when you could comprehend the feeble curve of his mouth. You didn't know what happened between them, but somehow, you knew what to say.

"You did your best."

He tried.

Then your foot gently brushed up against his. "You always do. Emma also had you. If it weren't for you and Mikey, she wouldn't smile as much. Used to close up a lot. I might've scared her too."

"She isn't scared of you." Shinichiro recalled that Emma was just scared of feeling out of place once she opened up her heart to everyone again; the kind of fearful loneliness from abandonment. "She likes you better, remember? You even got her to laugh about that stupid joke about my nostrils or whatever."

You were still blank about that, admitting that you'd only remembered that time the both of you let her give you makeovers, along with Barbie hair extensions and sparkly eye makeup. He wore lip gloss that had the same shade of spaghetti sauce, making you remark that he looked like a clown princess.

Clicking his tongue, he ranted that you were turning him against his own sister, and you argued that you were actually complimenting him, albeit as a joke. You’re a princess ‘cause Emma’s a princess. Get it?

Shinichiro sighed, exasperated but fond. If you got her to beam like that, then he'd let you call him a clown princess everyday. "Not surprising, how she warmed up to you. You have experience with Keiko."

"I love my niece with all my heart, but she’s still a brat. Like Mikey. Oh Mikey," he heard the tired aggravation of your voice, and he couldn't resist laughing a little.

“He was such a handful, wasn’t he? You'd even go to Akemi-nee for advice and stuff. Thought it was odd at first . . . what's a ten-year-old boy asking how to fold diapers and heat milk bottles for? You could've been playing outside or doing homework, but you're with her, trying to change Kei's diapers with that determined look on your face. Kinda struck me at the time.”

Then you offered him a smile. “You've done a lot of things later on, but that's when I really admired you the most.”

“Where's this all coming from, huh?” was all Shinichiro could manage out because he’s a fool for mistranslating his truer feelings, though his smile betrayed the disbelief in his words, and it always came with a startling awareness of how there wasn’t a time he didn’t feel as if he gave so much of himself away around you. “You should be going to sleep.”

"Almost there," you whispered so quietly that he could've misheard it as a sigh, frail along the arch of your mouth. It parted open for his name when he let himself be drawn closer to you, mesmerized over how your lips moved – soft and inviting – though he withdrew back at the last minute. You blinked lazily at him.

He reached for the remote and switched to a different channel. A desperate part of him hoped that it was distracting enough.

"Shinichiro," you called him again, and perhaps the soundtrack playing on the movie had an awful tune because he'd never heard his name sound so pleasant from your lips. Your lips.

His eyes were narrowed on the screen, but he wasn’t even paying attention at all.

"What are you watching?"

Shinichiro didn’t know. “Some horror movie, I think.”

You hummed. “Looks more like a chick flick to me.”

“There’s a ghost in it.”

“Oh.”

Apparently, it was a horror movie, but with a romantic subplot.

Shinichiro thought it was misplaced, and it was kind of boring. The jump scares were dumb too. Those usually got him, though he was about to yawn. He wanted to ask you if you still liked that creepy book about kappas, but you were already fast asleep.

He decided to get up to turn off the TV and the lights. Slipping back into the thick covers with you, he settled in the mattress that's uncomfortably soft it could swallow the rest of him and the low drone of the air conditioner. Then he turned to you, a bent arm tucked under the side of his head, and he stared at your eyelashes before whispering your name in the quiet.

"Good night."

part four ❁ m.list ❁ part six

#sano shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x y/n #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro sano imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers headcanons #shinichiro sano #tokyo revengers #green light #pen writes #i want to apologize to an absent takeomi for being dragged in their bs

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