#waited until i was awake and not being pulled in ten different directions to join in

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

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

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

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

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

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

Dameron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You're finally alone.

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

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

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

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

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

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

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

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

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

There.  There’s the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You lose count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you just start giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… to pull a bag of chips out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a nice voice, you think.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Two. Jackbox Shenanigans

warnings: swearing word count: 2.6k (not including pictures) behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n flinched awake, startled by the sounds traveling from the kitchen. Once again, the frosty air pricked her skin, trying to convince her to not move, to stay in bed under the warm blankets. Despite the feeling pulling her into her bed, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, grabbing her phone from her nightstand. Texts from Karl flooded her screen and she replied as she took her comforter off her mattress and wrapped it around herself. She pattered to the source of the noise to find her roommate was making food.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Naomi asked, eyes wide with concern as she looked at Y/n. "I dropped a pan."

Y/n, who was observing the world through one squinted eye, shook her head and she sat at the counter in the kitchen. "No, I should be awake anyway."

"You're usually awake much earlier. Late night?"

Y/n nodded. "George streamed and we all talked for a little after."

"Oh, yeah, I watched his stream this morning..." she started, eyes focused on the food in front of her but Y/n still caught the mischievous glint in her roommate's eyes.

"Of course you did," Y/n laughed through a yawn. "That's your lover."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you gave me his number he would be."

"He doesn't give it to many people. I just barely got it and I've been friends with him for a year. I'm pretty sure Karl doesn't even have it."

Naomi groaned, though Y/n knew it was a joke... for the most part. She got another text from Karl, and consulted Naomi for a second opinion.

"Should I post this?" Y/n asked, lazily holding up her phone with a picture on the screen. Naomi squinted as she looked back over her shoulder. "Karl keeps yelling at me too."

"Yeah! That's a cute outfit. Make sure to credit Karl or he'll yell at you for that as well."

"No chance I'm doing that."

.

Incoming FaceTime... karol <3

Y/n hit accept and held the phone up to make a face at Karl. He mimicked the position. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, ma'am."

"What are you doing?" she asked him, walking to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her comforter dragging on the floor behind her as it continued to protect her from the cold.

Karl got distracted and started messing with something out of the camera view. "Um, trying to figure out what to do for my stream tonight. What about you?"

"I'm waiting for you to give me a fit check!" Y/n yelled. Karl quickly looked at the camera and smiled. He set his phone down on his desk and ran backward so his whole body was in frame. He posed awkwardly a few different ways before running back and resuming his position.

"Yes!" Y/n hyped with a mouthful of toothpaste. "Let's go, Karl! Karl with the old man sweater!!"

He giggled. "You're the one that told me to buy it."

"Because it's sick. Doesn't mean it didn't belong to an old man before you."

Karl pouted before his face lit up. "Guess what. I met a girl."

"Oh?" Y/n cooed. "Where? Do you have pictures? Is she cute?"

"She's Jimmy's new cameraman. Camerawoman. I don't have pictures, and yes. She's very cute." His cheeks turned red and Y/n smiled, flipping off the bathroom light and heading to her closet. She threw her comforter back on the bed and tried to pick out an outfit.

"Come on, bud, elaborate. What's her name? Have you asked her out yet?"

"You don’t get to know her name, I don’t want to jinx anything. Plus, you’ll just look ‘Mr Beast crew’ and find out anyway. Also, no, I haven’t. I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate her because I have not said a single word to her. I get so nervous when she's around I freeze up and just like... act weird. And then as soon as she's gone, Chris freaking roasts me so bad."

"Aw, I can teach you how to flirt if you want!"

"Yeah, okay," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"What's with the attitude? I'm great at flirting."

"No, you're not. I watched Gogy's stream last night."

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"I heard the way you spoke to Dream."

"What?!"

"You have zero game, Y/n. Absolutely none. Zilch, if you will."

"Yeah, because I wasn't flirting with him?"

"Not successfully, at least."

"Karl, what?" Y/n laughed but she was so confused. "No part of me was trying to flirt with anyone in that stream."

"Oh, come on," Karl groaned. "Don't do this again. Don't pretend to not like a guy and then cry to me when you're wack ass attempts don't win him over."

"Karl," Y/n started, looking directly at him. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't flirting with him. I do not like him."

"I'm just saying, you talk about him a lot. Like, you always panic when he interacts with your posts because you're scared he's going to DM you right after. And you gush about him a lot."

"I do not gush. I admire the hard work he puts into his videos but I talk the same about him as I do with George and Sapnap. The only difference is I'm friends with them and not Mr. Minecraft. He's intimidating, that doesn't mean I have a crush on him."

Karl stared for a moment, trying to read Y/n's expression to detect any lies. "You'd tell me if you did, right?"

"Karl, I tell you everything. I'd tell you if I murdered your family." They both laughed. "It's impossible to hide anything from you, you're my best friend."

"Okay, sweet, but please don't murder my family, just to be clear."

"I won't. I love your mom too much."

"Well, how was meeting Dream, then? Despite apparently not being in love with him?"

"It was cool. Terrifying because it felt very forced but the four of us hung out on the call after George ended his stream and he was much more relaxed."

"That's true. Aren't we all?"

"Not you! You're the exact same person on and off camera. Just a little ball of giggles."

Karl giggled which made them both laugh more. Suddenly, as if he completely forgot until that moment, Karl sat up quickly and yelled, "What am I going to do for the stream?"

Y/n shrugged. "See if anyone wants to play Jackbox. Chat always loves those and it's relatively easy to throw together last minute. You just need to find people that are free to play."

"Genius. Who should we invite?"

"We?"

"Yeah. It was your idea, you have to play."

"But, I've never played! And I barely know all your friends so I wouldn't get half the inside jokes. I'd be a boring addition."

"Please? They're your friends too! You just talked to Sapnap and George for four hours yesterday and George was the only one playing anything. That's friendship if I've ever seen it."

"But... others.... like literally everyone besides Sap and George...."

"Things like this are how you get to know them better. Besidessss, you're never boring."

"Fine, I'll play."

"YES!" he shouted. "Okay, who should we invite?"

**********

**********

Y/n huffed and scooted her chair closer to her desk. She pulled up Discord and hovered over the voice chat everyone was in. An overwhelming number of voices chaotically spoke over each other as soon as she joined.

"Oh no," she mumbled.

"AYYEE!!" a voice yelled, the green bubble lighting around Quackity's name confirming her suspicions.

"Aye," she said back less enthusiastic. "Hi everyone."

"She's here!" George cheered.

Y/n could hear Sapnap huff. "Finally. Geesh."

"This isn't even your stream, calm down." Y/n's eyes scanned the names on the left to read who else was involved in tonight's games. She had suggested a few people to Karl but wasn't sure about the final list. Besides the boys who had already greeted her were BadBoyHalo and Dream.

"Hello, Bugsy! It's nice to meet you! I'm BadBoyHalo."

Y/n smiled widely at his voice. "Hi, BadBoyHalo! Nice to meet you too."

Her eyes slowly traveled to the last name on the list, which had yet to greet her. She wasn't bitter, but she was curious why he hadn't said anything yet. The boys hyped up him talking about her so much but she had yet to feel that energy from him. She picked at the bottom of her hoodie, eyes darting between the names as they lit up when someone spoke.

"Is Dream still AFK?" Sapnap asked.

"I think so," Bad replied.

Maybe that's the only reason he hadn't said anything. Y/n felt stupid for thinking it had anything to do with her.

"He's probably coding something or something like that," George teased.

"Haha nerdy ass man," Quackity cackled.

"Language."

"Don't you also code shit, George?" Sapnap called out. "You're probably helping him test something after this, huh? As Quackity said, nerdy ass man."

"You know what, Sapnap? I'm not sure I like your attitude all that much."

Y/n smiled. Despite feeling nervous, she was already having fun just listening to everyone talk. The real nerves would kick in when they were live in front of tens of thousands of people and she would have to be funny.

A message popped up in the general chat, notifying everyone that Karl was joining the voice call soon so they shouldn't say anything bad.

"Everyone say something weird," Quackity directed.

Discord dinged and Karl's name joined the list on the side. "AAAHHHH-!" he started yelling over everyone to let them know he was here in case they were saying anything bad. With his luck, they were going to say stuff anyway to mess with him.

"So, yeah, that's how I lost my virginity," Quackity said as if he just finished a story.

"To a prostitute?" Sapnap added quickly. "Wow, I never thought you... oh Karl!"

"Language!" Bad gasped.

"What the..." Karl laughed loudly. "What did I just join?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry," Quackity apologized, which was hard to make out since he was laughing so hard, surprised at what Sapnap added to his joke.

"Bad, you can't say language about a prostitute," Sapnap defended. "That's really rude of you. Maybe it's a little unconventional but they're just tryna make some money the best way they know how."

George laughed with Quackity as Bad sputtered. "I-I said language about what Quackity said!"

"What, virginity?" Karl asked innocently and Bad yelled again.

"Bad hates people who have had sex!" Y/n called, causing Quackity to laugh loudly.

"Bad! How could you?! That's so messed up!"

"Wait, guys, is everyone here?" Karl asked.

"Dream isn't. We don't know where he went."

Karl groaned and started typing something, presumably yelling at Dream to join.

"Let's goooo! We're popping off!" Quackity started saying, stalling. "We're popping off!" George joined him, becoming absolute fools to keep the chat entertained.

"Okay, he's here!" Karl said. "Everyone's here!"

"I'm here, I'm here, sorry. I was... yeah, sorry," Dream stuttered out.

"Welcome back, Dream!" Bad chirped.

"Hello!" he replied. Unexpectedly, his next greeting was directed at Y/n. "Hi, Bug."

Y/n instantly got shy for no discernable reason. She blamed it on his voice and its ability to manipulate emotions any way he wanted. That and she was getting attention from someone first. "Hi," she squeaked back, hoping the contrast of her icy hands would cool her face enough to focus on the game.

"Bugsy, you are adorable," Bad stated simply.

"Sapnap! What did you just send me?" George asked loudly, and just like that, the attention was off of her and she could breathe again.

"What?" Sapnap feigned innocence.

This was going to be a long game.

"Let's play!" Karl decided. "Should we warm up with some Quippy?"

Y/n focused intensely on her answers, silently hoping the others would find her funny.

"Oh my gosh," she mumbled as everyone else finished writing. "Y'all, I'm about to get Quiplashed so hard. Don't make fun of me."

"I seriously doubt it," Dream said. "You can't possibly be worse than George at this game."

"Shut up, we always-  it's like 3 am my time. I can't, like, think of things 'cause my brain isn't functioning."

"Yeah, that's why," Sapnap teased.

"Surreee," Dream said.

The first round wasn't too bad. Y/n was in 5th place but she got quite a few laughs so she didn't care too much about where she stood. She got a notification from Dream on Twitter as everyone laughed at one of Quackity's answers.

Y/n looked back at her screen and saw the new prompt and answers. She read them quickly as everyone was laughing and with a few seconds left to choose, voted for the one on the left. It was funnier anyway.

She loosened up substantially after another round, and she knew it was mostly because Dream had reached out to her. Something about him comforted her and made her feel safe, which warmed her heart.

"Bugsy! What the hell, that's so messed up. You're so messed up," Quackity yelled, laughing at the answer on the screen. They were playing Survive the Internet and her comment got taken way out of context, just as the game intended.

"Oh my gosh!" Karl cackled loudly. "Bugsy, I didn't know you felt that way. Oh my gosh? They're just kids?? Bugsy out the gang?"

Y/n hid her face in her hands and laughed. "Noooo!! Wait I never knew- I didn't know I was ever in the gang?"

"She really said, 'infant children? slaughter them all'," Sapnap joked.

"You know, I think you'd get along really well with Technoblade," Dream added. "Though his specialty is orphans, as it appears."

"No, no, no, whoever wrote that heading is SO messed up!" Y/n defended, rereading the heading that made her comment look bad. She knew it was a game but all the attention on her was making her embarrassed. "Who would think to put that?"

"Everyone cancel Busgy!" Karl yelled.

"Karl, no! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I don't know how I feel about my best friend killing children..."

"Karl!!"

"Nooo," Bad protested softly. "I like Bugsy. Don't cancel her."

"Everyone vote!"

The article with Y/n's name turned out to be Dream's. "Dream! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, causing him to wheeze loudly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wanted point."

The whole night ended up being like that. Y/n had a lot of fun and by the end, she felt a lot more comfortable with all of them. Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap were loud and very high energy while George and Bad were quieter. Dream was half and half, sometimes matching Quackity's volume and sometimes going a while without saying a word. Overall, Y/n had a lot of fun and hoped to let back in the gang in the future.

**********

PREVIOUS • NEXT

**********

A/N: WOOO PART TWOOO!! Hope you guys enjoyed this part! Also thank you so much for all the love on the first part!! I did not expect it to get as much attention as it did!!!!!

we clearly haven’t got to dream and yn being close yet bc they literally met the day before this but i added a small little dream/yn moment :] pls let me know how you liked this part!!!!!!!!!!!! 

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan

[illyaana]

credits to the artists who made the fanarts I used!

Dorm Life - Shoto Todoroki

Thanks to @missuga for this collab! Sorry I gave to you late TwT Do check out their collab over here!

Tags: Shoto Todoroki x Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Cursing, Minor Angst, Kissing (escandalo)

Synopsis: A compilation of drabbles of your life during the pandemic, quarantined in the UA dorms.

Word Count: 2734

⋯⋯ ⫍ SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

CLASSES

The Sun let its light brush against your skin, giving you a warm hug in the morning. You awoke to the pale blue skies that were painted so elegantly it made you stare. The cumulus clouds softly danced on its stage, etching a smile on your face. You looked around the room, checking for the clock to see what time it was currently.

10:00 a.m. - You were supposed to wake up at 8:00.

Worry rushed through you. The fear of you being late for class thrummed as you tried to get out of your bed.

Hint: tried.

You turned to your side and looked at the male beside you. His hands had found their way around your waist, pulling you in. His head was pressed against your shoulder. His twin-colored hair was disheveled thanks to him turning himself all through the night, His long eyelashes framed his closed lids, his lips slightly parted. Small snores came out in intervals as he snuggled into you, his vice grip around your body tightening even more.

You could help but trace his lips with your finger - it was so soft, you had to.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then laid your forehead against his.

“Get up, Sho - class starts in 10 minutes,” you said, rubbing his shoulder.

“I don’t want to, this is too comfortable,” he mumbled, rubbing his head on your shoulder.

“What are you, a cat?” You joked, placing your hands on his cheek, “Let me at least get my laptop on - I can tell Aizawa we’re sharing my laptop and we can just join the class here.”

“Getting the laptop means that you move - and you are not moving,” he said, tightening his grip on you.

“You know we’re going to be in trouble if we don’t join the class, right? Oh yeah, it starts in 5 minutes,” you said, slightly annoyed at him.

Shoto sighs in defeat, “Fine - but, hurry up,”

You pry his arms off of you and rush to your table to get the laptop on. Thankfully, you managed to join the class 3 minutes before it began.

“Aren’t you coming back in here?” Todoroki whined, patting the space beside him.

“Are you finally awake?” You question him.

“Kind of?”

“ ‘Kind of?’ “

“Yes, I am awake - I no longer need to sleep,” he groans.

You take your laptop and place it in the space between the two of you as you sit back on the bed. You pressed another kiss on his forehead, making him smile.

“Good morning, snowflake,” he says as he returns your kiss with one on your forehead.

“Good morning, Sho.”

“Now that you both have shown a great deal of affection, Y/N and Shoto,” Eraserhead says from your Zoom call, “Can my class finally begin?”

⁜

⁜

⁜

LUNCH BREAK

“I got the money from Aizawa for our meals! Can you all go through the menu and tell me what you want on the class group chat?” Momo shouted from the living room.

“Imagine eating great food for free?” Uraraka smiled, enjoying how our meals were paid for by the school itself, “The pandemic is amazing yet so annoying at the same time.”

You chuckle at the brown-haired girl, seeing her awe-filled expression.

“What are you getting?” You ask her.

“Hmm… maybe Udon? It’s been a long time since I ate it, and since it’s not coming from my pocket…” she eyed the menu, “I’m getting the most expensive one.”

“You know he gave a set amount for the whole class right?” You look at her mischievous expression.

“I’m pretty sure we can stay within the budget. Our class generally doesn’t spend much money on food, right?”

You looked across the room to see Kaminari and Kirishima going through the menu.

“You think those two will be reasonable with their spending? Knowing them, they’re most probably buying the whole menu plus snacks,” you say, looking at their joy-filled grins.

You saw Shoto walk beside Iida, heading towards the two males. Intrigued, you and Uraraka walked towards the group of four.

“Hey,” you say as you hug Shoto from the back, “Everything okay?”

“These two,” Iida said, anger laced in his words, “Ordered everything on the menu.”

You held back your laughter, unlike Uraraka.

“Your skills in predicting the future astound me, Y/N L/N,” she says, covering her mouth.

“Hush,” you say, smiling.

“The two of you…” Iida began, looking at the two wrongdoers, “I don’t know how your closer friends handle you two.”

You look at the scene unfolding in front of you, smiling.

Iida was full-on lecturing the two males, his hands moving in all ten directions. Kaminari and Kirishima just stood there, dumbfounded. You could see the two of them slowly spacing out from the ‘conversation’, but Iida kept going on.

“Hey,” Shoto whispered, “Wanna have a mini-date tonight? I’ll order a few things and get them sent here, and we can watch a movie together?”

“Don’t use the money Aizawa gave though - we don’t need a third victim of Iida’s lectures,” you whisper, earning a smile from the stoic male.

⁜

⁜

⁜

MINI-DATES

You opened the door to Shoto’s room, comfortably dressed in your Axolotl onesie. In your hands, you brought a hard drive filled with movies that you felt that you both would enjoy. Seeing that Shoto wasn’t in the room, you laid on his bed, waiting for the arrival of the owner of the room. Your eyes went straight to his mirror. He had slid multiple polaroid pictures of you and your friends in the corners of the mirror. Each one of the photos had a small remark, reminding you of all the memories you’ve made throughout your years in UA.

Your hands grazed on the photo he kept on the bedside table.

It was a picture of him and his mother smiling.

Your chest panged when you saw it. He had told you the story behind his scar and his life within the Todoroki household. His hatred for his father grew every day, yet he could never hate his mother - the very person who gave him the scar on his face.

“I love that picture, but not as much as I love this one,” Shoto said, pointing at a photo in the top-left corner of his mirror.

It was a picture of both of you visiting his mother with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

“I’ll admit Natsuo was not the most welcoming to the idea of me dating you, but he slowly loved you as a sibling. I did talk about you to Fuyumi a bunch of times, but she had her suspicions - that all changed when she met you, though. Mom…”

He hesitated, “...she didn’t like the idea of me dating anyone. Yet, you managed to make her like you so much, now she only asks about you whenever I call her,” he chuckled.

“My family loves you - except Endeavor, of course,” he groaned.

“He’ll come around, eventually. You, however,” you walk up to him and cup his face, “Need to talk to him properly - no filter, just say everything.”

You lie back down on the bed, patting the space beside you, “Hurry up - the snacks you bought are calling me.”

After multiple small banters, you both finally decided on Shrek and began to watch the movie.

After a while, you found yourself lying on Shoto’s chest, playing with his fingers as you focused on the movie. Shoto, however, stared at your cute expressions, taking mental notes of all the small things you did when a scene disgusted you, made you laugh or made you feel sad.

“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear once the movie ended, “Thanks for loving me.”

You turned to face the fire user, cupping his face in your hands. His fingers found their way in your hair, enjoying the feeling of your soft locks against his calloused skin. Your thumb began to move in circular motions, eager to feel his soft skin against yours. You stared into his dual-coloured eyes, enjoying the brown and icy blue flecks within each eye. He relaxed against your touch, warmth radiating from him to you.

“I love you so much, Sho - and I will no matter what happens later on.”

You shared a kiss under the glow of the pale moonlight, but all you cared about was how perfect the man you were kissing was.

⁜

⁜

⁜

TRAINING

“Hey Sho,” you say, nudging the male beside you, “You wanna train after this?”

“I can’t,” he said, looking down, “I asked Midoriya to help me with some things. The only time he’s free is after this, so…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Uraraka!” you say, kissing him on the cheek, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing with Mido.”

Soon, both you and Uraraka headed to Ground Beta to train your hand-to-hand combat.

“Luckily all of us are vaccinated, or the training grounds wouldn’t be open,” you say, thinking.

“Okay, okay - you wanted to work on hand-to-hand combat, right?” You nodded.

Both you and Uraraka got into your positions, mentally preparing yourselves. You were ready to move towards her until you heard sounds coming from the entrance.

“Well, well, well - isn’t that two students from Class 3-A?” Monoma snickered.

You groaned before turning to face him.

“Hello, Monoma? Where’s Kendo?” you ask, hoping that the ginger would come and stop him.

“Kendo’s eating right now - don’t want to disturb her. I don’t mind messing with the two of you, though.”

“What’s the difference, Monoma?” Uraraka added, “We usually keep quiet, but Y/N and I would like to train, so it would be greatly appreciated if you either kept quiet or left.”

“Why would you want to train with them, though?” He said, looking at Uraraka, “They’re the weakest bitch in your whole class, aren’t they?”

“The fuck, Monoma?!” you shouted, “That’s going a bit too far, don’t you think?”

“What? I’m just stating facts; you entered the class later than everyone else, you’re quirkless since you depend on your weapons, you need to train with others so that you can win 10% of the time - don’t the facts say it all?”

“Monoma, you might want to - ”

“Stop? Why should I?” he laughed, “It’s about time someone told you the truth; you’re useless, unneeded, a waste of space, and never going to be a hero - not even a sidekick.”

“So, the student who single-handedly served you your own ass in a fight doesn’t deserve to stay, but your weak fucking self can stay?” Shoto chuckled darkly, his hand slowly freezing Monoma’s shoulder, “That’s a lot of self-confidence for someone who hasn’t fought well for 3 years straight.”

“Next time you talk shit about Y/N, don’t expect to leave without losing any limbs,” he shouted, scaring Monoma.

“Shoto,” you begin, “Let me fight my own battles.”

He stares at you and sighs. His vice grip on Monoma loosens as you walk towards him.

You run your sword against his hands, small cuts forming.

“Talk shit about me again and you won’t be standing. Get the fuck out, dumbass.”

Monoma runs out of Ground Beta, making you chuckle.

“Damn, Y/N,” Uraraka says from afar.

“That’s my lover,” Shoto says, smiling.

⁜

⁜

⁜

NIGHTMARES

You woke up to the sounds of Shoto whimpering in his sleep.

His clothes were soaked by his sweat, trails of tears strung down his face.

He was shaking - shivering.

Small screams of Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei’s names escaped his lips along with soft sobs.

“Shoto!” You shouted, shaking him, “Wake up, it’s only a dream - they’re okay, they’re alive.”

You heard your name.

You heard his voice become louder, screaming your name in pain.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m right here, Shoto - I haven’t left you. I am here, hugging you. Wake up, okay?’

You heard his whimpers stop as he wrapped his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your chest as you patted his head.

“Y/N…” you heard him mumble, “Y/N… you’re fine, right?”

“I’m fine, Sho. I’m here hugging you, aren’t I?”

He nodded, pressing his head against your chest.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No…” he trailed off.

“Okay, don’t worry,” you say, kissing him on his head.

“You want me to get you something? Milk, water…?” you ask him, slowly prying yourself off of him.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Ok then, koala - I’m not going anywhere,” you say, chuckling.

You hummed a song as you rubbed Shoto’s back, giving him warmth. You wiped the trail of tears and pressed kisses on his cheek.

If he needs you to be his haven, you’ll be an oasis from all the bad.

⁜

⁜

⁜

CLASS FUN

“Ok, so - everyone is here, right?” Mina said as she stood in the middle of the living room.

You looked at everyone in the living room. Everyone was excited - after all, it’s been a long time since you all did something together as a class.

“I think everyone’s here, Mina,” Shouji said, passing you your drink.

Shoto placed his head on your shoulder, groaning.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, worried.

“I wanted to just sleep in today…” he said, sulking.

“Come on, it’s been a long time since we did something as a class - who knows? This might be our last little thing as a class,” you retort.

He hummed in agreement, “Fine.”

“Great! Let’s bring back an old classic, shall we? The game that made all the couples in this classroom, the game that made the impossible possible,” she looked at Bakugou and Izuku, “Spin the Bottle Truth or Dare!”

“This fucking game?” Bakugo cussed.

“Relax, Kacchan~,” Kaminari said, teasing the other blonde.

“Shut up, dunce face,” Bakugo said with anger.

“Keep quiet, you two. Mina’s getting angry,” Kirishima said, eyeing the pink-haired female.

“So what if-”

“Kacchan, shush,” Izuku said, glaring at his partner.

“Thank you, my green-haired savior,” Mina said, smiling at Izuku.

“Let me re-explain how the game works; Person A will spin the bottle in the middle of the circle until it stops on Person B. Person A will play truth or dare with Person B. Clear?” Mina said, smiling.

The game soon spiraled out of control, just like everyone expected.

Kaminari danced in a maid dress, Shinsou was forced to call Aizawa and Present Mic ‘dads’ in a call on speaker, Kirishima was forced to scream “I’m hard!” out loud, and Mina sang Baby Shark to her lover - something we never thought Kirishima would enjoy.

In the last round, the bottle landed on Shoto.

The person who spun the bottle was Sero.

You knew he had something planned - you could see it in his eyes.

“Shoto Todoroki, truth or dare?” He said, smirking.

You looked at him, begging him to not choose dare.

“Truth, I guess?” he said, looking at you.

Phew.

“What do you and Y/N do when you’re alone?”

Shit.

“Take dare, take the dare, take the dare…” you mumbled under your breath, hoping he’d listen.

“Can I take the dare?” Shoto said, questioning your actions.

Phew.

“Make out with Y/N right here.”

Shit.

“Give them some privacy, Sero!” Uraraka shouted on your behalf.

“He already evaded the truth question, I’m not modifying the dare,” Sero said, huffing.

“Y/N,” Shoto said, looking at you, “Is it okay?”

You sigh in frustration, “I put us in this situation, Sho. Let’s just get it over with.”

Shoto smiled, looking at your pissed expression.

“Look at me,” he whispered in your ear, raising small goosebumps on your skin.

His hands slowly went to your cheeks, eyeing the flecks in your eyes - how they sparkled just for him and him alone. His thumb reached your lips and parted it - enjoying how you were putty in his hands. His hand slowly went from your cheek to your chin, raising it to make your forehead meet his.

“Geez, Y/N,” he said, lust filling his eyes, “You’re so perfect.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours. He sucked on your lips, enjoying the strawberry lip balm you put just before you entered the living room. Your hands gripped on his dual-colored hair, fingers entangled.

The soft kiss soon turned desperate, needy.

In, out, in, out - the synchronization of your lips.

The need for breath soon came and your lips parted from his.

“Well, that was something,” you said, laughing.

⁜

⁜

⁜

[viastro]

catch me | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: jihoon didn’t want any weaknesses, he couldn’t afford to have any. that’s why he ended your guys friendship. he couldn’t risk your life because of how dangerous his lifestyle is, but everything seems to crumble the moment he saves you for the first time.

ミ★ genre: best friends to strangers to lovers!au (kinda?), spiderman!woozi, action, angst, some suspense, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: since this is a superhero au, there will be violence in this oneshot as well as the mentions of some weapons (knives and guns). some suggestive jokes, minor character death

ミ★ word count: 13,787

ミ★ pairings: woozi x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! sorry this is so late, but here’s my 2,000 follower celebratory oneshot <33 i remembered how much you guys liked my spiderman!joshua oneshot, so i decided to write another one. i’d like to thank @thepixelelf​ for giving me the idea to make spiderman!woozi <33 i’m not very good at writing fighting scenes ?? and i feel like more could’ve been done, but this is the best i can do with my busy schedule ! sorry if it’s not up to par </333 this shit is long as fuck though holy shit why do i write so much helPBJEKSBRGKD anyways, make sure to give woozi lots of love ! thank you for 2,000 followers again, i’m so grateful to you all.

“You’ll never catch me!” You squeal, running around the playset as fast as your small legs will allow it. The similar sound of other children laughing and screaming from joy just by being at the playground ring in your ears. You turn back to see if your best friend is close behind you, only to let out a scream when you see him close enough to tag you.

“Uji! Go away!” You say with a laugh as you run under the slide, moving to sprint up the stairs. You’re only stopped once you feel Jihoon’s small hand grab onto your wrist, and you let out a whine. Turning your head, you see Jihoon standing behind you with a toothless smile. 

“I caught you, yn! I’ll always catch you, remember? You have to tag me now, we only have time for one more game because it looks like our moms are tired.” You pout at him, and he giggles, reaching out and patting down the flyaways of your hair. 

“But I hate being the tagger.” You whine, looking down at the ground to try and appeal to your best friend. Jihoon only smiles, shaking his head at you as he releases your hand from his grasp. He motions for you to cover your eyes, and you let out a sigh, before nodding your head.

“Count to ten. Okay, yn?” Jihoon asks you, and you find your lips morphing into a smile, nodding your head. You raise your hands up to your eyes, and Jihoon immediately begins to find a hiding spot. He turns his head to glance back at you as he runs, smiling when he hears you call out:

“One!”

You gasp awake, staring up at your dark ceiling. Your bedroom is silent, except for the quiet sound of your humidifier, a stark difference to that of the squeals from the playground. You roll over with a groan, reaching out and checking the time on your phone, just to let out a tired sigh. 

“Six in the morning? I don’t need to be awake until nine.” You whine, raising your hands up to cover your face. The remaining bittersweet feeling from the dream slowly drifts away as you feel your fatigue begin to take over. 

Before you drift off completely, you find yourself hoping that you’ll fall into the same dream again. For it’s the only place where you can speak to your ex-best friend, Lee Jihoon.

“Woozi, we have a quiz today! I can’t keep saving your ass from the professor.” Seungcheol says in exasperation as he attempts to keep up with his friend, internally wondering why no matter how hard he tries to match Jihoon’s pace, he’s unable to.

“Well you have to if you still want my mom’s kimchi! Please, I’ll make it up to you. Something came-”

“Something came up, I know, I know. Just text me when you get back to your apartment, okay? I’ll give you my notes later.” Jihoon quickly turns back to glance at his friend, letting out a grateful smile and nodding his head.

“Of course! I’ll see you later, Cheol.” Jihoon calls out in response, hurrying towards the exit of the university. Seungcheol just watches until that black head of hair disappears, before sighing and walking in the direction of their building. 

“Gonna make him buy me bbq this time, I swear to God.”

You tiredly enter the bank, needing to deposit cash from your recent tutoring job. Holding back a yawn, you walk over to the shortest line and step behind the last person. You pull out your phone and scroll through Twitter, beginning to question why you haven’t asked the parents if they could just pay you through Venmo. 

“Open the vault if you don’t want a bullet in your head!” Your eyes widen when you hear the loud voice boom in front of you. Glancing around, your heart falls into your stomach when you see a few of the other people who you presumed were also waiting to be helped by an employee, are now holding guns up towards innocent people. 

Your thumb moves on its own across your phone screen to call the police, but the cold sound of a click next to your ear makes you freeze. You don’t dare to move, staying frozen as you watch the other gunmen shove the innocent employees of the bank towards the corner. 

“I suggest you give me your phone and go join them if you don’t want your head blown to bits.” The man behind the gun says to you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly move your phone in his direction, and he snatches it out of your hand. He nudges you with the butt of the gun, and you quickly make your way to the other people, sitting down beside one elderly man on the floor. 

“We’ll need to take all of your phones. For our safety, of course. I suppose for yours too, considering that if you call the cops then we’d have to kill you.” The man who pressed the gun against your head says with a smile, and you watch as everyone slowly reaches into their pockets or purses and holds it out. You presume he’s the leader when the other people in the group take the electronic devices and throw them into a box they stole. 

You look down at your trembling hands, intertwining your fingers together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but to no avail. You sit in silence as you listen to the robbers discuss when their ride will get here, wondering how cold hearted they must be to not even care. 

“Someone. Please help us.” You quietly plead, feeling the elderly man begin to shake beside you as he holds back his own tears. 

“I don’t think that money belongs to you.” Your ears perk up at the sudden voice, looking up when you hear the sound of the front doors close. Your eyes widen when you see the familiar dark red and blue suited figure, the one you’ve seen on the news. 

“Spiderman.” You mutter, watching as the gunmen all turn towards him, guns aimed at the superhero’s head. The presumed leader of the group tilts his head with a laugh, still holding the backpack full of money in his hand. 

“And who are you to decide that?” The man asks, lazily switching off the safety of his gun as he holds it in Spiderman’s direction. You watch as the superhero shrugs his shoulders, looking like the definition of ease as he leans against the wall. 

“I pay my taxes.” Spiderman responds, and you bite back a laugh when you notice the twitch to the leader’s eye. The amusement almost immediately turns into fear when you watch the leader’s finger press on the trigger, and you unconsciously reach out towards the superhero. 

Everything moves faster than you can imagine.

Within seconds Spiderman has the leader’s hand trapped onto the wall with the spiderweb, and knocked the guns out of half of the robbers hands. You watch as he fights with a few of the other guys, and you hold back a scream when you hear the sound of a gun go off. Your eyes widen when you see one of the men fall to the ground, blood pooling around him. Your gaze trails over towards the leader, seeing him staring at the body with an indecipherable look on his face.

“We have to go while they’re distracted, come on.” You turn your head away from the sight and look up at the elderly man, watching as he holds his hand out towards you. You look around and see the other hostages speeding towards the exit, knowing that the superhero gave them the signal to run. 

You nod your head, reaching out and grabbing the elderly man’s hand. The two of you quickly walk towards the doors, the sound of grunts and fighting being heard from behind you. You’re about to reach the exit when you’re yanked backwards by the collar of your shirt, choking you in the process as an arm wraps around your neck. 

You almost let out a scream until you feel the familiar feeling of cool metal being placed on your temple, and your body immediately turns rigid in the hold of your captor. You flinch when you hear him whistle beside you, gaining the attention of the superhero. 

“Spiderboy! I suggest you don’t make any move to come closer unless you want a bullet in their head.” The familiar voice of the leader rings in your ear, and you clench your fist at your side. You take notice of the fact that Spiderman freezes the moment he looks in your direction, and you blink back tears when the head of the gun is pressed harder against your temple. 

“So you do listen to commands when someone’s life is at stake, good to know.” The man says, and Spiderman just stands there, staring at the two of you as the rest of the robbers lay on the floor. Either knocked out or held in place by the strong web that was shot at them. 

“Let them go.” Spiderman seethes, and your captor simply laughs, causing you to flinch. He tightens the grip he has around your neck, and you let out a squeak, causing the superhero to take a step forward. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t want to lose an innocent life today, don’t we?” Spiderman halts his movements when the man turns off the safety of the gun. The tears slip past your eyes from the sound, and you look at the superhero, silently begging him for help. 

Spiderman tightens his fist at his side from the sight of your tears, before tearing his gaze away from you and looking at your captor. “What do you want?” 

“Let my men and I-”

“Me and a few of my men.” The captor pauses, tilting his head at the superhero, wondering if Spiderman really just corrected him on his grammar in this situation. You even have to hold back a snort, which is an odd thing to do considering that you’re on the verge of losing your life if you make one wrong move.

“Let me and a few of my men take a few bags of money and go. I’ll let this,” Noticing the red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows, the man wiggles his arm around your neck a bit, constricting your airway as you let out a gasp for air.  “This civilian, go.” 

The two stare each other down for a bit, before Spiderman loosens his fist, nodding his head. Your eyes widen at the superhero willing to protect your life by letting the money be stolen. Your captor lets out a chuckle, before releasing his hold on your neck. You immediately fall to your knees, gasping for air as the tears fall from your eyes onto the tiled floor. 

“No funny business, Spidey.” The leader says, grabbing two backpacks full of money and nudging a few of the guys until they wake up. Spiderman doesn’t respond, instead rushing over to you and grasping your face in his hands. 

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?” The superhero asks in concern as he checks over your features, but you don’t respond. Instead you stare at him in silence, suddenly wondering why his voice sounds so familiar, and why he’s holding your face so tenderly. 

“Who are yo-” 

“Oh! Spiderboy.” The two of you glance over towards the leader and a few of his men, now holding quite a few bags full of stolen money. Your eyes widen when he raises the gun in your direction, and Spiderman sharply inhales when he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Never trust a conman.” The leader states, before pulling the trigger. 

The loud echo of the gunshot rings around the room, along with the sound of the doors opening and closing as the robbers try to escape. Your eyes slowly open when you don’t feel any pain, and you realize that you’re being held in the arms of Spiderman, hanging high from the ceiling. 

He slowly lowers you both back to the floor, and he lets you go as soon as your feet touch the tile. You slide down onto your knees, feeling dazed as to what just occurred. 

“Don’t get yourself into trouble again.” Spiderman says in a soft tone, and you slowly look up at him. The two of you stare at each other in silence, and you wonder if he’s always this worried about other people he saves.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the doors to slam open. You freeze, fear crawling up your throat at the thought that it may be the robbers, only to relax when you see the police and FBI enter, already beginning to make arrests. 

“Are you okay? Someone get this person a blanket!” An FBI agent orders once they walk up to you. They help you up off the floor, and you turn your head to look for the red and blue suited superhero, only to see that he’s disappeared without a trace. 

“Thank you, Spiderman.” You mumble, before getting escorted out of the bank. 

“Fuck.” Jihoon cries as he limps towards Seungcheol’s apartment, hand clutching onto his thigh in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As soon as he left the bank, he realized he didn’t leave unscathed as he flew through the city. He changed once he got to the alley where he put his stuff, and made his way to Seungcheol’s. 

Once Jihoon reaches the door, he immediately slams his fist onto it, desperately needing his friend to help him. “Woozi, I already told you how my neighbors feel about you banging on my front door.” Seungcheol says with a grin as he opens the door, having not looked up at his friend yet. It’s only when Jihoon practically crumbles onto the door frame that Seungcheol realizes the state he’s in, and he immediately pulls him inside. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Seungcheol asks as he practically carries Jihoon into the bathroom, placing him onto the toilet. The blonde scrambles through his drawers, searching for the first aid kit. While Jihoon just grimaces in pain, rolling up his pants with a shaky leg to reveal the gunshot wound on his thigh. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, the first aid kit falling from his hands at the sight. 

“You got shot?!” Seungcheol hisses, and Jihoon just lets out a tired laugh, beginning to feel a bit faint. 

“I’ll explain later, but I can’t go to the hospital. I know you’re only an intern right now, but you’re the only one I trust. Please.” Jihoon pleads, and Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek harshly, before nodding his head. 

“I swear to God if you’re a drug dealer Jihoon-” 

“I’m not a drug dealer, you fucking buffoon.” 

“Oh my God.” Jihoon quietly eats the instant rice, letting Seungcheol go through the five stages of shock. He glances over at the blonde, finding him still staring down at the table with wide eyes.

“My best friend is Spiderman.” Seungcheol mutters, his hands going up and gripping his own hair as his eyes widen even more. Jihoon nods his head, reaching over and taking some kimchi, placing it into his mouth.

“That’s why he always left class at the most random times.” Seungcheol whispers, hands trailing down to cup his cheeks as all the pieces begin to come together. Jihoon continues to eat in silence as he lets his friend go through an existential crisis. He glances down at the stitches on his thigh, before looking back up at Seungcheol from across the table. 

“Thank you for stitching me up. The hospital would’ve asked a lot of questions and I couldn’t afford that.” Jihoon says, placing the empty bowl of rice on the table. Seungcheol finally looks up at his friend, and he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Is that why you suddenly got really strong in high school?” Seungcheol asks, completely missing the fact that Jihoon just thanked him. The black haired beauty nods his head in response, taking a sip of water. 

“Got bit by a weird spider on that field trip in junior year, and suddenly my hands were sticky and I could break sinks easily. It was a strange moment in my life.” Jihoon answers, and Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair again. Jihoon rolls his eyes, reaching out and slapping the blonde’s hand, making Seungcheol yelp. 

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep pulling your hair like that.” Seungcheol frowns, before leaning back in his seat and letting out a sigh. He glances over at Jihoon and raises an eyebrow when he finds him with a furrow to his brow. 

“Now you’re the one who looks like you’re going through an existential crisis. What’s on your mind?” Jihoon looks up from the table to find Seungcheol staring at him in concern, and he lets out a breath. Jihoon takes another sip of his water, before pursing his lips. 

“Yn was one of the hostages at the bank robbery today.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at the mention of your name, having not heard Jihoon utter it since your guys’ falling out in high school. “I don’t know why the fuck the guy chose them to get to me, but he did.” 

“Is yn okay?” Seungcheol asks, and Jihoon nods his head. He looks off to the side, remembering the frantic look in your eyes as tears trailed down your cheeks. Biting his bottom lip, he stands up from the table and limps over to the couch. 

“Woozi.” 

“Yn’s fine, Cheol. I made sure of it. The stupid guys all got caught by the police and FBI outside anyways, I saw the blue and red lights. It’s the only reason I let them go. They can’t get to yn either, they don’t know shit about us.” Jihoon says with a sense of finality, laying down onto the couch and closing his eyes. Seungcheol nods his head, knowing better than to push his friend for more answers. 

“Spiderman doesn’t have any weaknesses that the public knows of. Yn’s safe.” Jihoon adds, soon falling asleep while clutching the throw pillow on his side. Seungcheol looks down at the table, wondering if Jihoon is saying that with confidence, 

Or in an attempt to convince himself.

You walk to your next class on campus, feeling self conscious from everyone’s stares as you do so. Reaching into your pocket, you turn up the volume on your earbuds, trying to block out everyone’s whispers. 

Everyone on campus knows of what occurred at the bank, and you’ve become a hot topic since you were saved by your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. The thought of his voice still lingers in your head, and the feeling of his hands cupping your face remains even if it’s been a week since the incident. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look down at the ground as you walk, attempting to pick up the pace so that you can get a seat in the back row of the auditorium. You’ve always been clumsy though, as you soon find yourself accidentally slamming into the shoulder of someone walking past you, making the person drop their books behind you. 

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, quickly pulling out your earbuds and bending down to pick up all the textbooks that fell onto the ground. Once you’ve grabbed all the books, you glance up, only to freeze when you look into those familiar brown eyes. Slowly you stand up from the ground, books in your arms as you and Jihoon stare at each other in silence, unsaid words being exchanged through your gazes.

“Jihoo-” The black haired beauty takes the books out of your grasp, and simply nods his head at you. 

“Thanks.” He mutters, before continuing on with his day, not another word or glance back at you as he does so. Your eyes trail after him for a moment, before you purse your lips, nodding your head at the sad reality that is, 

You and Jihoon aren’t best friends anymore.

You walk towards your apartment with the bag of takeout in your hand, feeling tired from the eventful day you had at university. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the sky for a moment as you walk, staring up at the cloudy skies. 

“When will the sun come back?” You mutter, wondering if a smidge of sunshine will be able to lift your spirits. Looking back down at the pavement, you freeze when you feel something sharp be pressed into the side of your stomach. 

“Give me all your money.” Tiredly, you turn your head, seeing a man with a black ski mask over his face as he stares at you. Glancing downwards, you find that he’s pressing a dull knife into your side, before boredly letting your eyes trail back up towards his face.

“Are you kidding me? Another robbery?” The robber tilts his head in confusion as to why you’re not afraid, watching as you look up towards the sky and send a middle finger towards the clouds. 

“God. You know that I’m a poor fucking college student, yet you continue to put me in these money stealing situations not once, but twice in the span a week?!” You shout, and the robber flinches slightly at the anger in your tone. Letting out a sigh, you turn back towards the masked man, staring at him for a moment. 

“I hope you can still have children after this, but then again, you shouldn’t be robbing people. Especially broke college students, have you even looked at my backpack? So you know what? Fuck you actually.”

“What?”

Without another word, you rest both hands on the robber’s shoulders, and with as much force as you can, knee him right in the crotch. The man lets out a shriek, falling to his knees, knife hitting the sidewalk as they clutch their poor genitals. 

“I fucking hate it here. My backpack literally has holes in it and I have a bag of takeout from the cheapest restaurant in town. Are you dumb? Why would you try to rob me?” You rant to yourself as you take the knife and chuck it down the alleyway. The man calls out to you, and you shoot him a glare, before turning around and walking away. 

“Sick and tired of this bullshit.” You grumble, about to turn the corner when you hear footsteps coming from behind you. Your eyes widen, fear taking over as you impulsively start to walk faster, wondering if the man already healed from the fact that you destroyed his chances of having children. 

You’re about to break into a full on sprint when you hear two bodies collide behind you, followed by a grunt of pain. Slowly you turn your head, just to find the robber hanging upside down in a web from the top of the streetlight, and your eyes slowly trail down to see the red and blue suited figure staring at you.

“Spiderman?”

“I thought I told you not to get into any trouble again.” The superhero states, walking towards you after making sure that the robber is unconscious. You raise an eyebrow, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “You think I’m trying to get robbed and murdered?”

Spiderman shrugs his shoulders, now standing directly in front of you. “Considering that this is the second time I’ve come to save you in a span of a week-”

“Are you complaining about your job to me right now, Spiderman?” You ask with a grin, and the superhero pauses, before letting out a sigh. You chuckle, tilting your head at the red and blue suited figure standing before you. 

“Just. Be safe, please.” He says in a softer tone, and you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he seems so familiar, and why he cares so much for you. 

Jihoon searches your eyes through the mask, somehow feeling both heartbroken and happy. Heartbroken because him being in the suit is the only reason he can speak to you right now. Happy because he’s able to see you, even if it’s only for a brief moment.

He nods his head before you can ask any questions, preparing to shoot a web to swing away, but you reach out and grasp his wrist. Jihoon sucks in a breath, turning back to glance at you, “Yes?”

“If I happen to be in a situation like this again-”

“Which you won’t.” Spiderman states, and you nod your head, but give him a small smile. 

“Will you come save me?” You ask, and the red and blue suited figure stares at you in silence for a second, before nodding his head. 

“Of course.” Spiderman mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting go of his arm so that he can swing away. You raise your hand up and wave at him with a smile on your face, 

“Bye, Spiderman.” 

Jihoon’s heart warms at the sight of your smile, sending you a wave as he shoots a web towards the top of the building. 

“Bye, yn.” You watch as Spiderman swings away from you, staring until he’s out of sight. Reaching into your pocket, you call the cops to make sure that the robber gets arrested, before walking in the direction of your apartment. 

It’s when you’re about to enter the building that you pause, turning back to glance behind you when you realize. 

“How does Spiderman know my name?”

“You said their NAME?!” Seungcheol yells from across the table, and Jihoon flinches back from the volume. He lets out a frustrated sigh, slapping his own face for his stupidity in the moment. 

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know why I said their name! It just slipped out when they waved at me with a smile on their face!” Jihoon responds, looking out the window as he recalls the warm look on your face as you stared at him. His expression morphs into a scowl, wondering why he let himself do that.

“As long as yn doesn’t get into trouble again, it should be fine. I won’t have to run into them anymore.” Jihoon mumbles, letting out a sigh as he rests his forehead down onto the table. Seungcheol watches as his friend’s shoulders slump forward in exhaustion, and he takes a sip of water. 

“If you ran into yn again as Spiderman, it’d be sus too. Enemies might look at them as your weakness if it happens too frequently, so hopefully yn getting into trouble was only a two time thing.” Seungcheol adds, and Jihoon glances down at his hands, remembering the harsh reality he has to live as a superhero.

“I hope so, or else the pain of ending our friendship would’ve been for nothing.”

“Cheol, do you know where Uji is? I’ve been trying to reach him for the last week but he hasn’t replied to my text or calls. I even went to his house multiple times but he won’t answer, and when I’d walk up to him during class he’d mutter an excuse and leave.” You explain, fumbling with your hands as you wonder why your best friend hasn’t contacted you. Seungcheol stares at you with a sad look to his eye, before pointing with his chin in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Jihoon just left to go to his car, he should probably still be there.” You nod your head, giving Seungcheol a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, Cheollie. I’ll text you later!” You call out as you run to the parking lot, and the black haired beauty simply watches until you turn the corner, now out of sight. He lets out a small breath, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side. Closing his locker, he looks back up in the direction you left in. 

“Woozi, why are you hurting yn like this?” 

You push open the front doors, and let out a hopeful smile when you see Jihoon’s car still in its parking space. You run towards the vehicle, tapping on the glass of the driver’s seat window when you make it. Your best friend turns his head to look at you, and you frown when you see a tired sigh leave his lips. Jihoon rolls down the window, looking up at you from his seat. 

“What?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? You’ve been missing out on our weekend movie nights and my mom’s been asking for you-”

“Yn, we’re about to be seniors and you’re this dependent on me? You expect me to free up my schedule all the time for you?” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Jihoon, curious as to why he’s being so cold. The black haired beauty sighs again, turning on the engine to his car. 

“I think it’s best for us to not be friends anymore. We’ll probably go to different universities anyways.” Jihoon states, taking one last glance at you before backing out of his parking spot. You clench your fists at your sides, heartbroken and angry at the complete bullshit you just heard. 

“Just like that? Ten years of friendship gone just like that?!” You yell out, and Jihoon glances at you. You suck in a breath at the iciness to his gaze, never having had that look directed towards you before. 

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t care anymore either.”Jihoon simply rolls up his window and drives out of the parking lot after his harsh words, leaving you standing there alone. Harshly biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from falling, you walk back towards the school, not sparing the vehicle another glance.

You lean back into your seat at the memory, wondering why your ex-best friend has been on your mind for the last couple weeks. Letting out a quiet sigh, you stare down at your notes for statistics, suddenly feeling a weight of exhaustion lay itself on your shoulders.

“I’ll take a small walk then.” You mumble, standing up from the table you’ve been occupying. Stretching your arms above your head, you begin to take a walk around the university library. Unconsciously, you head towards the manga section, wondering if you could possibly rent a sailor moon manga. 

You walk into an aisle and look around the assortment of manhwas you can choose from, and a bright smile forms on your face when you find the next volume of the sailor moon manga you wanted. You take a step forward and grasp it, only to freeze when you look up and lock eyes with those familiar brown eyes in the aisle in front of you. 

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, before you look away first, grabbing the manga and walking out of the aisle. Clenching your fist at your side, you head back towards your table, now feeling more angry than exhausted.

Jihoon lets out a breath as he watches you sit down at your table, opening up the manhwa and beginning to read. He walks over to a table by the window, sitting down into the comfy seat and opening up his laptop. His eyes slowly trail up towards you again, and he curses to himself, looking down at his assignment. 

“Why’d I even come to the library to study when I have my own apartment?” Jihoon asks himself quietly, but he already knows the answer. He glances up in your direction again, finding you still reading the manga as your foot taps the carpeted floor beneath you. He lets out a soft smile when he catches you giggling quietly, his heart warm just from seeing you.

Jihoon just wants to protect you.

You stir slightly, your vision blurry as you blink your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You gaze around the room, before sucking in a breath when you realize that you’re at the library. The manga you were reading lays open in front of you, and you cringe at the small drool mark left on the table. 

Frowning as you inconspicuously wipe away your drool with a tissue, you recall the feeling of being poked. You glance up from the table, just to squint when you see a familiar figure walking towards the exit of the library. Your eyes widen when you realize who it is, and you quickly shove your stuff into your bag, rushing towards the exit to catch up to him. 

Jihoon steps out of the library, walking down the steps. He let you sleep for around half an hour until he received a text from Seungcheol letting him know of what seems to be a dangerous drug deal occurring near his apartment complex. 

On his way out, Jihoon carefully poked your shoulder until you began to stir, before exiting the library. He only stayed at the library for so long to keep an eye on you, as you have been a magnet for trouble recently. 

“Jihoon!” The black haired beauty’s eyes widen at the call of his name, refusing to turn around and instead continues to walk towards the crime scene he needs to go to. “Lee Jihoon!” He picks up the pace when he hears your footsteps draw nearer, only to stop when your hand grasps his shoulder. 

“I know you heard me.” You breathe out, and he slowly turns to look at you, trying to appear as uninterested as possible as he does so. Jihoon sighs, “Do you need something, yn? I’m busy right now.”

“Why did you stay at the library while I slept? Did you wake me up?” You ask, and your ex-best friend chuckles, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. Your arm awkwardly falls back to your side, and you clench your fist.

“It’s embarrassing to drool on the library table.” Jihoon answers, and you scoff, turning away from him to look up at the sky. The black haired beauty raises an eyebrow at your reaction, “What’s got you so annoyed?” 

“Why would you care about whether or not I was embarrassing myself?” Jihoon stares at you, unable to answer your question. Looking up at the cloudy sky, you let out a bitter laugh, before looking back down towards him. 

“You said you didn’t care about our friendship three years ago. You said you didn’t care about me, but your actions right now are fucking confusing me!” You shout in frustration, raising your hands up to your head as you stare at Jihoon. Tears fill your eyes the longer you look at him, and you bite your bottom lip when one escapes your left eye. Jihoon’s gaze follows the single tear, watching as it trails down your cheek.

“You ended our friendship without any remorse, acting as if ten years never mattered. You left me, Uji. You left me! You can’t just suddenly come back into my life and act like you care when you fucking left.” You hiss, stepping forward and poking his chest with each enunciation. Jihoon just stays quiet, feeling nothing but remorse as he watches the tears fall past your eyes. The pain is obvious in your gaze and your words, but he can’t tell you the truth. 

He can’t risk your life. 

“Fucking pick one. You either care about me or you don’t. If you choose the latter? Then fucking leave me alone, please. The pain is still too much to bear.” You state, before wiping away the tears from your face and turning around and walking away. Jihoon’s eyes follow after you, and he clenches his fist at his side once you turn the corner, now out of sight. 

Letting out a breath, the black haired beauty shakes his head as if it’ll clear his thoughts. He turns back in the direction of the drug deal going on and continues on his way, knowing damn well he’s already far too late. 

He somehow can’t bring himself to care right now, though.

Jihoon swings from building to building, heart still heavy from the conversation the two of you had a few days prior. 

Is it bad for a superhero to despise being one?

Jihoon never asked to be bitten by a radioactive spider and become your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to lose you, one of the people he cares about most in this god forsaken world. 

Jihoon never asked for this. 

“Ah, but my morals won’t let me just not use this power for good.” Jihoon mutters to himself as he swings onto the top of an apartment complex, staring down at the streets as the stars shine brightly above him and the car lights shine from below. 

Removing the mask from his head, he pats down his hair, just looking out for any trouble going on from below him as he does so. He lets out a sigh, letting his legs dangle off the ledge as he stares out across the city, somehow feeling lonely. 

The sound of your voice from afar rings in his ear, and he looks down to find you waving off a guy. Reaching over and putting on his mask, he squints his eyes when the guy tries to grab your shoulder. 

“You’re really attractive, can you just give me your number?” You hold back from rolling your eyes, instead just shaking your head and giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not interested.” 

“You don’t have to be a bitch. Just give me your fucking number-” You’re about to yell back when a flash of red and blue lands right in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s advances. The guy’s eyes grow rather large, and you hold back a smirk of amusement as he takes a step back.

“They said they’re not interested. Did your parents teach you nothing about consent?” Spiderman asks coldly, and your eyebrows furrow. 

The man takes another step back, having suddenly lost all of his confidence as he shakes his head. The superhero gestures with his chin, waving the guy off. 

“Leave while I’m asking nicely.” Spiderman states in an icy tone. The creepy man doesn’t need to be told twice, as he practically sprints away, not sparing another glance back as he does so. The red and blue suited figure turns back towards you, tilting his head at the sight of your frown.

“Are you just a magnet for trouble or something? Why do you always-”

“Jihoon?” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, you with wide eyes, and Jihoon with his mouth dropped open behind the mask. Your eyes trail over his physique, the pieces suddenly coming together as you realize Spiderman and Jihoon have the exact same body type. 

Why Spiderman was so stunned to see you at the bank, why his voice was so familiar, why he was so adamant on you being safe, why he’s always there when you’re in a bad situation. 

It’s all because it’s Jihoon.

Your ex-best friend is Spiderman. 

“Who?” Jihoon asks, trying to play off that he wasn’t shocked at all by the fact that you just uncovered his identity. You continue to stare at him in shock, and you raise a hand to your mouth that you didn’t make the connection sooner. 

“You’re fucking Spiderman?!” You whisper-shout, and the superhero runs his hand over the top of his mask. After a moment, Jihoon extends his hand towards you, and you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else, yn.” Spiderman, no, Jihoon says. You stare at his hand for a second, before your eyes trail up towards his mask. Letting out a breath, you reach out and grasp his hand, and he pulls you closer so that your arms have to wrap around his waist. 

“You trust me?” Jihoon asks as he shoots a web towards the top of the building. 

“No, not since you left.” You answer, and your ex-best friend lets out a breath. He turns to glance at you, and you look back at him, aware of the close proximity between you two. 

“Hold on tight, yn. I won’t let you fall.” Jihoon tells you, and you slowly tighten your grip around his waist. His hold on you is strong as well, and before you know it, the two of you are flying up into the air, swinging around. 

“Oh my God!” You shout, holding Jihoon’s body even tighter as you close your eyes to the sight below you. Before you know it, the black haired beauty has landed the two of you on top of a building, but you keep your eyes shut. 

“Yn, you can let go now.” You hear him say, but you refuse to let go, still holding his waist as you keep your face in the crook of his neck. Jihoon’s aware of how fast his heart is beating from the fact that you’re basically hugging him right now, but all he can hope is that you don’t feel it. 

“Yn-” 

“Just. A few more seconds, please.” You plead, voice shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotions you feel as you hug your ex-best friend. Jihoon bites his bottom lip, nodding his head as he keeps one arm wrapped around you. 

After a moment, you pull away and stare at the masked figure. He lets out a breath, knowing how dangerous this is, but he was already caught red handed by you. Slowly, he reaches his hand up and takes his mask off, revealing that familiar face you’ve always known, just with his black hair sitting messily atop his head.

“We need to talk, Jihoon.” You state, and he nods his head, turning to look out towards the city. 

“Let’s talk then.” 

“So you ended our friendship to protect me, not because you suddenly decided to be an ass?” Jihoon purses his lips at the term, knowing that he did act like a bitch. Nodding his head, you turn back to look out towards the city, letting out a sigh.

It’s been almost an hour since you realized that Jihoon is Spiderman, and the two of you are currently sitting on the ledge of the building. He just told you everything that you didn’t know, and it gave you all the answers to the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the last three years. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off though.

“You could’ve just told me the truth.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty beside you immediately shakes his head, no. “No one knew I was Spiderman until the day I saved you the first time. I had to tell Cheol the truth because he was convinced I was a drug dealer when I collapsed into his apartment with a bullet hole in my thigh-”

“You got shot?!”

“So he was the first person to ever find out the truth after three years of me keeping my identity a secret. You were able to figure it out though.” Jihoon finishes, ignoring the fact that you’re staring at him with a shocked expression on your face, very concerned at the fact that he got shot. The superhero is fine though, it healed nicely.

“You really hurt me, ya know.” You state, turning to glance at Jihoon. He looks away from you, feeling ashamed for what he felt that he had to do. He nods his head, staring out at the lights in the city, watching them shine brightly. 

Jihoon thinks that they could never shine as bright as you, though.

“I know that my apology probably means nothing in comparison to what I destroyed and how much I hurt you, but I’m so fucking sorry, yn.” Jihoon says, the regret very clear in his tone. He doesn’t turn back towards you, but you understand. He’s never been good at being open about his feelings, let alone apologizing. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You mutter, turning away to look out at the city alongside him. The two of you stare at the lights from the cars and buildings, seeing how alive Seoul is at night. 

“I missed you.” Jihoon whispers after a moment of the two of you just sitting in silence, and you hold back a smile from breaking out onto your features as you glance down at the busy street below the two of you. Nodding your head, you let out a sigh, looking up at the stars as your vision soon turns blurry. 

“I missed you too, Uji.” 

Seungcheol practically drags himself to his apartment door after the insistent knocking continues even though he originally ignored it. The blonde wipes his eyes as he opens the door in an attempt to wake himself up more, only for his mouth to drop open.

“Yn and Woozi?!” Seungcheol gapes, and you give him a smile, raising your arm up and waving at your old friend. “Hi Cheollie!” 

Seungcheol nods his head at you, mouth still dropped open as his gaze falls to Jihoon, who is just giving him a sheepish smile. The blonde steps to the side, allowing you and Jihoon to enter his apartment as he closes the front door. 

“Would you like any food, yn?” Seungcheol asks as he slowly walks over to the kitchen, and you nod your head as you look around your surroundings. “That would be great, thanks.” 

Seungcheol grins, before grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and yanking him into the kitchen without another word. You bite back a laugh, choosing to walk over towards Seungcheol’s couch and sitting down, allowing the two to catch up on what just transpired.

“Yn KNOWS?!” You glance over towards the kitchen when you hear Seungcheol’s voice ring out. Finally letting out a giggle when you hear him shout in indignation from what you presume was Jihoon’s slap. 

After a few more minutes pass, the two finally exit the kitchen with a fresh pot of ramen, which Seungcheol places on top of a potholder onto the coffee table. Jihoon hands you a bowl and chopsticks, to which you gratefully accept and begin to eat.

“So. You know.” Seungcheol begins, and you nod your head as you slurp up more noodles. The blonde nods his head back at you, looking away and eating some ramen himself. “Good for you, good for you.” 

The sounds of the three of you slurping up noodles fills the strange silence that has settled itself over Seungcheol’s apartment. You share a glance with Jihoon, who just looks both amused and annoyed, before sneaking a peek at Seungcheol, who still appears to be in a state of shock. 

The latter turns to look at you again, “You and Jihoon are friends again?” 

As you chew the noodles, you take a look at the black haired beauty, only to end up catching his gaze. You tilt your head at him, wondering the same thing, and he just gives you a close-lipped smile. Taking a sip of the soup, he gestures towards you with his hand. 

“I don’t think I have the right to decide that after what I did, not to make that sound like I don’t want us to be friends again. I missed you a lot, but it’s your decision on whether or not you want to be friends.” Jihoon explains, and Seungcheol nods his head in agreement. You poke your tongue into the inside of your cheek, having appreciated Jihoon’s response. 

Leaning onto the back of the couch, you reach your hand up and rub the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. The two look at you expectantly, waiting for your answer as you take a sip of water. 

Giving them both a small smile you say, “Yeah. Jihoon and I are friends.”

Jihoon smiles softly at your answer as he stares down at his ramen while Seungcheol lets out a cheer, beginning to happily catch up with you on everything the two of you haven’t been able to discuss. His eyes trail over to you, seeing the bright smile on your face as you converse with the blonde. While Jihoon is happy that you’re in his life again, deep down, he’s worried for your safety. 

For good reason.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, on the other side of the city, people are talking. 

“I think Spidey knew who they were, that’s why he let us go that day.” The man reports, sliding over the photo of you and Spiderman standing before each other from a few hours prior. The leader clicks his tongue as he easily recognizes you, surprised that you’re still alive even after he shot his gun in your direction.

“So the superhero does have a weakness.” The leader says, amusement written across his features as he stares at the photo of you and Spiderman for a second longer. Placing the picture down onto the table, he looks up towards his underling, giving him a smile.

“Do more research on that person and get back to me when you find out where they frequent.” He orders, softly stroking the photo as he tilts his head. Letting out a chuckle, he leans back into his seat, eyes trailing over towards the window, seeing the lit up Lotte World Tower shining back at him.

“Can’t let Spidey’s weakness just slip out of our fingers, can we?” 

Sitting on a blanket laid over the grass at the university forum, you type out your lab report on your laptop with the soft ost instrumental playing through your earbuds. As you do your assignment, you fail to realize that the sun that was shining on you has been blocked for a few minutes now. It’s only when you look away from your laptop to grab a grape to snack on that you notice the pair of sneakers standing right in front of your blanket.

Your eyes trail up the body until you lock eyes with Jihoon, and you let out a bright smile at the sight of him. Raising your hand up slightly, you wave at the pretty man. 

“How long have you been standing there? Come sit with me.” You say, scooting over on the blanket and grabbing the bag of grapes. Patting the space beside you, you look up at Jihoon expectantly, who grins softly down at you. He places his bag down and slips off his shoes before sitting down next to you on the blanket, taking a glance at your laptop screen.

“Studying?” You shrug your shoulders at the question, typing out the last sentence of your lab report. Shutting your laptop, you turn and send a wink towards the black haired beauty. “Not anymore, I just finished. Now I don’t have any bio homework for the rest of the day.” 

Jihoon turns away when you wink at him, feeling warmth flood his face at how cute you looked. Confusion and discomfort settles over him after a second, wondering why he felt so flustered when you winked at him. It’s nothing new, you always used to wink and act cute whenever you were excited or wanted something from him. 

So why is Jihoon’s heart racing right now? Why has it been racing every time he’s seen you recently? 

Oh my God, am I having a stroke?

“You’re having a stroke?!” You ask, sitting up onto your knees to check over Jihoon’s face. The latter’s mouth drops open slightly, having not realized he said that out loud. He immediately raises his hands up and shakes his head at you, “No! I’m fine, yn. Don’t worry.” 

You let out a breath of relief, plopping back down beside him. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, just appreciating each other’s presence while the sun basks the both of you in warmth. 

It’s been a couple weeks since you realized that Jihoon was Spiderman, and the reason why he ended your guys’ friendship so abruptly. At first, he was too afraid to approach you, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol was now that you guys were friends again. However, the two of you quickly become comfortable, falling into a dynamic similar to what you once had three years ago. 

A similar dynamic, as the two of you have realized one thing incredibly different.

You unconsciously turn your head to take a peek at Jihoon, just to lock gazes with the pretty man. You’re about to look away, only to stop when you see the hint of a smile forming on his face. You tilt your head at him, wondering what he’s thinking as he lets out a breath, turning away from you. 

“Wanna go do something since you don’t have any more homework to do?” Jihoon suggests as he looks around the square, noticing all the couples that surround the two of you. Glancing down at your shut laptop, you nod your head, finding the idea of spending the day with Jihoon to be rather lovely. 

“What would we do though?” You ask as the two of you stand up from the blanket, packing all your things to bring back to your apartment. Jihoon places your laptop into your bag, before zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own backpack. He gives you a grin, “I have an idea in mind.” 

Pursing your lips as the two of you begin to walk off the grass and onto the cobblestone pathway, you find yourself wondering what his plan is. 

“Sounds suspicious. I’m in.”

“I’m concerned at what your thought process was to come to that conclusion, yn.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spidey.” 

The sweet flavor of the ice cream hits your tongue, making you let out a happy sigh as you look up at the night sky. Jihoon turns to glance at you, grinning at how content you look while holding your ice cream cone. 

“Now that idea wasn’t bad, now was it?” You smile at the sentence, nodding your head as you remember the events of the day. 

Jihoon took you both to the movies, where you both thoroughly enjoyed the new Disney movie as you shared a bucket of popcorn. There were a few cliche moments where you would both reach for the popcorn and grab each other's hand, only to jerk away and just not attempt to get a handful of popcorn for a few minutes. 

After the movie ended, you went to go and get dinner where you both just joked around like old times. An argument ensued where the two of you fought over who’s paying the bill, only for Jihoon to sneak the waitress his card while you weren’t looking. This resulted in you almost going back to the waitress to request a refund so that you could pay for the meal (which isn’t how it works at all), only for the two of you to come to a compromise.

Now here you both are at 11 pm, walking along the street towards your apartment complex as you each eat ice cream that you paid for. 

“It was rather fun. It reminded me of our old movie nights.” You respond with a grin, turning to glance at Jihoon. He chuckles at the old memories of the two of you meeting at each other’s houses on Friday evenings to watch movies, and he nods his head in agreement. 

Jihoon opens his mouth to make a joke, only to pause when he realizes you’re no longer beside him. Turning around, he sees you standing a few feet behind him, a look of awe on your face as you look up at the sky, ice cream in your hand long forgotten. His eyes look over in the direction you’re staring in, and he lets out a soft smile when he sees the full moon surrounded by billions of stars.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as your eyes sparkle happily upon the sight of it. 

Jihoon feels his breath get taken away when his gaze trails over to you, the light from the moon shining onto you, giving off an ethereal glow. His heart pounds against his chest, and he feels warmth flood his face when a smile forms on your face. Slowly, he looks back over towards the moon, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers softly,

“The moon was always beautiful.”

“Jihoon! Stop banging on my door, I’m coming! Jesus Christ-” Seungcheol calls out as he walks over towards his door. The blonde is seriously contemplating just giving his friend a key to his place due to how often he comes over nowadays.

Seungcheol swings the door open, just to find his superhero best friend looking incredibly dazed and confused. He raises an eyebrow when Jihoon just walks inside the apartment without being let in, and he sighs. 

“Can I come in, Cheol? Yeah, of course I’ll let you in Woozi! Thanks for asking so nicely. Of course, you’re my best friend, Cheol! Oh really? You’re my best friend too, Woozi.” Seungcheol bitterly roleplays as he watches the black haired beauty walk over towards his fridge and grabs a can of cola. He tilts his head to the side, wondering what has his friend so distraught as Jihoon mindlessly drinks the battery acid in a can, before crushing it in his hand once he’s finished. 

The two stand in silence for a moment. With Seungcheol staying a few feet away for his own safety as he’s never seen Jihoon act like this, and Jihoon just staring absentmindedly down at the floor with wide eyes. 

“You good, Woozi?” Seungcheol asks after a second, and his friend finally looks up at him, making the blonde squint at the state Jihoon’s in. “Woozi-”

“I like yn.” 

The two stand across each other in another beat of silence. With Seungcheol gauging the incredibly out of the ordinary information that was just bestowed upon him, and Jihoon staring at him with wide eyes. 

Seungcheol gasps, raising his hands to his mouth after the confession suddenly hits him. He raises his hand up and points at Jihoon, and the latter winces slightly at what he knows is about to happen. 

“YOU LIKE YN?!”

“Stop squealing! You’re hurting my ears.” Jihoon grumbles, but the upwards tilt of the corner of his lips shows that he’s anything but angry at his friend. Seungcheol just lets out another squeal in response, and the black haired beauty sighs as he leans back while taking a sip of water.

Jihoon finally admitted the truth that he had been avoiding since the moment the two of you shared underneath the full moon.

He likes you.

Lee Jihoon likes you.

This could either be a very good thing or an incredibly terrible thing depending on what he decides to do. 

“You should confess!” Seungcheol exclaims, causing Jihoon to look at him with a look that says, are you crazy?! without actually saying it. The blonde runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to go on but Jihoon simply shakes his head again.

“No.”

“Hear me out, Woozi-”

“Absolutely not. I just got yn back in my life and you want me to quite possibly ruin our relationship a second time? I don’t even have the right to have feelings after what I did to them.” Jihoon snaps, gulping down more water to try and soothe his anger.

“But yn likes you back!” 

All the water is now on the table as Jihoon coughs rather violently from the news Seungcheol just delivered, while the blonde just sighs and walks over to the kitchen to grab paper towels. Jihoon punches his chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm down. 

“Yn what?” Jihoon asks once Seungcheol enters the living room again, wiping the water that the superhero coughed all over the table. He watches as his friend scratches the top of his head, giving him a smile.

“Okay, so yn may not have actually admitted that-” Jihoon stands up from the table and walks over to the front door to leave, only to halt when he hears Seungcheol shout out towards him. 

“But I can see it from the way they look at you!” His hand rests on the doorknob, waiting for Seungcheol to continue so that he can decide whether or not to leave the apartment and pretend this whole interaction never occurred. The blonde quickly throws away the used up paper towels and steps closer towards Jihoon, knowing that he only has a few seconds to explain what he meant.

“What you did to yn was awful, they know that, you know that, we all know that.” Seungcheol begins, and Jihoon purses his lips. “But you apologized and told yn the truth, and you know what? They forgave you. The two of you have been hanging out almost every time you’re not out there saving the city. I wish you could only see that the way you look at them, is also the same way they look at you when you’re not looking.” 

Jihoon stands by the door in silence for a moment, gauging the information that Seungcheol just dropped on him. He looks down at his socks, trying to remember the times he caught you staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Tilting his head, he begins to wonder if the sparkle he saw in your eye is only there when you look at him. 

Jihoon lifts his head up towards the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Seungcheol waits in anticipation, finally grinning in excitement when Jihoon turns to look at him with a furrow to his brows. 

“If you’re wrong, I’m going to stick you to the ceiling.”

“I know.” 

“Okay, good. Now help me figure out how to confess to yn in a cute way.”

You walk through campus, a smile on your face as you look up at the bright blue sky, feeling happy with the weather. You’ve always enjoyed the sunshine, it always automatically uplifts your mood.

Glancing over to the side, you see a familiar blonde head of hair walking while looking down at his phone, making you raise an eyebrow in amusement. Quietly, you sneak over to where he is and rest your hands on his shoulders as a means to make him look up at you. 

“Who the fuck-”

“Seungcheol!” You greet cheerfully when his eyes lock with yours, and you watch as his look of confusion melts into one of joy when he recognizes you. 

“Yn! Were you heading this way?” You shake your head, no, at his question. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you, and you just grin. “I just wanted to say hi before I head over to my next class. Have you seen Jihoon today?” 

Seungcheol bites his tongue to prevent himself from spoiling the whole surprise, and instead gives you a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. He looks off to the side, just to see the man in question heading over in your guys’ direction. 

“No not yet, why?” Seungcheol asks, and you purse your lips, wondering why you asked that question as well. When you open your mouth to respond, you jump up slightly when a hand softly rests on your shoulder, making you turn to see Jihoon smiling at you. 

“Uji! I was just asking about you.” 

“Mmm, talking shit?” 

“Of course.” You respond cheekily, making the black haired beauty roll his eyes as you let out a laugh. Seungcheol and Jihoon share a glance, to which the blonde shoots him a quick nod of his head. Seungcheol raises his arms above his head, and you look over to see him giving you a regretful smile. 

“While I would love to stay and hangout with you guys, I gotta go do my internship. See you two later!” You grin and wave at your friend, to which he waves back. Seungcheol pats Jihoon on the shoulder as he passes by him, and soon the two of you are left alone. 

“Are you busy later?” Jihoon asks you suddenly, and your eyes widen slightly. After a moment of thinking of any possible homework, you shake your head in response. “I haven’t been assigned any homework that’s due anytime soon, so I’ll be free. Why?” 

You squint when you notice the pink tinge on Jihoon’s cheeks, watching as he runs a hand through his black hair. While avoiding your inquisitive gaze, the superhero mutters something that you’re unable to decipher.

“Heh?” Jihoon almost lets out a sigh, feeling too shy to ask a second time, let alone a bit louder. He finally looks back into your eyes, and you feel your heart stutter within your chest at the warmth to his gaze. 

“Meet me at the ice cream shop we went to a couple weeks ago at around six. I have something to tell you.” Jihoon says, and you tilt your head to the side with a teasing smile on your face. You watch as he scowls at your expression, making you let out a giggle.

“What?”

“Why are you edging me?” Jihoon chokes on his saliva from your out of pocket question, causing you to laugh loudly and reassure him that you’re just joking when he doubles over. The black haired beauty looks back at you with a look of disbelief once he’s calmed down, but you smile when you see that all the traces of nervousness have disappeared from his face. 

“I forgot how out of pocket your lingo is, Jesus Christ.” Jihoon mutters, and you shrug your shoulders with a chuckle. Glancing down at your phone, you notice that it’s almost time for your lecture, and you let out a breath. 

“I have to go to class, but I’ll definitely meet you at six tonight!” You reassure, and Jihoon nods his head. Beaming, you walk past him to head to your class, his eyes following after you. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you stop a few feet away, watching as you turn around to face him again. 

The sun shines down on you, casting a pretty glow on your skin as you smile at him from afar. Your eyes sparkle prettily at him as you raise your hand up and wave at him, causing warmth to flood Jihoon’s face as he reaches up and waves back at you shyly.

“See you at six, Uji!” You call out with a wave, before turning back around and heading to your class. Jihoon sighs, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal once you’re out of sight. Running a hand through his hair, he goes back on his way towards his apartment, a soft smile forcing itself out onto his face at the thought of you.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you walk towards the ice cream shop with a content smile on your face. The night air is warm this evening, adding onto the remains of your happy mood from earlier in the day. 

Tilting your head, you wonder what Jihoon has to tell you that he had to wait until the evening. You pause your movements, suddenly realizing how stupid you are. 

“Yn, he’s literally a superhero. He’s Spiderman! He has other priorities, that’s why he had to wait. Don’t be dumb.” You remind yourself, shaking your head as you continue on your way towards the ice cream shop again. Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pull it out, seeing that Jihoon’s texted you.

uji: i’m here

want me to order your ice cream ?

You smile down at the message, seeing that he’s a few minutes early. Glancing up, you notice that you’re about a block away from the shop and nod your head. “Might as well order for me already.”

you: awe are you paying for me? <333

uji: sigh

i suppose....

you: AWE<3333

uji: are you almost here? i don’t wanna order your ic if you’re still far

you: i’m about a block away !

btw what did you wanna talk to me about?

uji: you’ll find out when you get here stinky

see you soon

you: booooo okay

see you soon <333

Grinning down at your phone, you place it back into your pocket. You look up to start walking faster towards the ice cream shop in order not to keep Jihoon waiting, only for everything to turn black.

Panicking, you reach up to try and remove the bag that’s over your face, only to let out a garbled scream when an arm gets wrapped around your neck. You’re pulled backwards, and you claw at the arm that’s wrapped around you, about to scream more when you hear the sound of a van door open behind you.

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. I’d stay silent if you want to live.” Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice near your ear, making you halt your movements. You’re thrown into the van, and the bag gets yanked off your head once the door closes. 

You’re about to break through the window of the van when the familiar sound of a click resonates next to your ear, and you know that you’re fucked. Slowly, you glance over to your side, just to lock eyes with the leader of the failed bank heist. He lets out an amused smile, nudging your head with the gun.

“So I see that you know Spiderman?”

Jihoon panics as he walks around the block, raising his phone to his ear as he calls you for the upteenth time. 

You were only a block away. You told him that you were only a block away. 

An hour has passed and you’re nowhere to be found. 

“Yn, please. Please pickup the phone.” Jihoon begs as he crosses the street, trying to give himself excuses of what could’ve possibly made you late. He curses to himself when the call goes straight to voicemail, and he lowers the phone so that he can call you again. 

He’s about to press on the call button when his phone rings, and he lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he sees that it’s you calling him. Immediately, he presses the phone to his ear. 

“Yn! Where are yo-”

“Spidey! You’ve been calling yn’s phone so much I almost wanted to break it.” Jihoon’s blood runs cold at the voice, any sense of relief he felt now down the drain as he stares at the sidewalk with wide eyes. 

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done to yn?” Jihoon asks icily, looking around for any suspicious vehicles. The man on the other end lets out a shocked laugh, and the superhero squints his eyes.

“Now, now, Spiderboy. I’m a bit offended that you’ve forgotten me so quickly.” Jihoon’s mouth drops open when he hears the incorrect name, only having heard it from one person so far. He bites his lip harshly, anger running through his veins.

“You’re the guy from the bank. The conman.” Jihoon mutters, looking up and beginning to head towards his apartment so that he can change into his suit. “Ah, so you do remember.” 

“Yeah, thought you were in fucking jail. Guess the police couldn’t do their goddamn job right again.” The black haired beauty says angrily, already blaming himself for having left you alone. 

“True. You know, the police really aren’t all that great at catching us bad-” 

“Cut to the chase. Tell me where you’re holding yn and I’ll go there.” Jihoon cuts off, and the man on the other end lets out an amused chuckle. Tilting his head, the conman turns to glance back at you, smiling when he sees that you’re still passed out. 

“We’re at the top of the Lotte World Tower. Be here by 8:00 or else.” The man says with a smirk, and Jihoon clenches his fist at his side as he begins to sprint. “Got it.”

“See you soon, Spiderboy.”

Jihoon climbs to the top of Lotte World Tower, the only thing on his mind being that he has to get you out of here. He knows that the police and FBI are on their way, having called them while he was swinging over. Looking down at the busy street below him, Jihoon sees the flashing red and blue lights a few blocks over, and he purses his lips.

Jihoon’s about to pull himself onto the rooftop, only to pause when he overhears a conversation, staying where he is.

“Boss, don’t you remember how fast he was able to unarm us? There was double the number of our team at that bank heist than there is here. He’ll be able to-”

“Shut up, Doyoon. Remember your place.” 

Jihoon lets out a breath, before pulling himself onto the top of the building. He locks eyes with the leader of the group, who only smiles cheekily when he lays eyes on the superhero. The conman glances down at his watch, seeing that it’s 7:58 pm.

“You made it with two minutes to spare. Good job, Spidey.” He announces, voice laced with sarcasm. His four men all turn with their guns pointed towards Jihoon, and the superhero lets out a scoff.

“I let you guys go with your money and yet you’re calling me back here? Do you have a fucking deathwish?” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth, and he has half the mind to hold back his chuckle when he notices the worried glance two of the guys share. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Remember Spiderboy, I can push yn off this building at any given moment.” Jihoon’s gaze trails over to find you tied up in a chair close to the edge opposite of him, tears filling your eyes as you stare at him. 

“Yn.” Jihoon breathes out, about to take a step forward, and you shake your head at him. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your lap to try and hold back your sobs. Jihoon clenches his fist at his side, before turning to look back at the leader.

“What do you want, whatever your fucking name is?” Jihoon asks, and the conman laughs loudly. He paces back and forth in his spot, grinning at the superhero. 

“My name is Kangdae.” He answers, and Jihoon sucks in a deep breath, beginning to run out of patience. 

“Well, that’s one question answered and that was the most useless one of the two. Now tell me what you want from me, I’m impatient.” Jihoon practically commands, eyes flitting over towards you after every beat. The conman, now Kangdae, simply lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he looks up at the night sky.

“I had everything planned for the day of the robbery. My men and I planned it for months, it was fool proof.” Kangdae begins, and Jihoon almost lets out a scoff, but holds himself back as he simply just calculates how to snatch all four guns at the same time. The conman chuckles darkly, “We never expected the supposed superhero of the city to appear, and I never expected for him to kill my brother either.”

Jihoon’s head snaps towards Kangdae, and the leader of the group smirks to himself. He looks down from the sky, locking eyes with the superhero behind his mask, silence passing between them.

Jihoon remembers someone getting shot that day, but he was never the one behind the trigger. 

“I didn’t kill your brot-”

“Bullshit!” Kangdae’s voice booms, staring at Jihoon like a rabid animal. He chuckles darkly, raising up his hand to scratch his head. “You were fighting him when it happened. There’s no other way my brother would’ve died except by your hands.” 

Jihoon just stands there, not knowing what to say as he knows it would arise a reaction from Kangdae either way. The man laughs as he stares at the superhero, before he hears a quiet cry from beside him. Jihoon’s eyes widen when he realizes that Kangdae has remembered that you’re sitting in the chair close to the edge. 

“I tried looking for any type of weakness from you, but there was nothing and no one I could find. Until my men discovered how often you saved yn, that I finally found your weakness.” Kangdae states, slowly looking up at Spiderman with bloodshot eyes. Jihoon glances over at you, seeing your eyes widen when the conman turns to look at you. 

“This will serve as a reminder to never have a weakness in this field.” Kangdae practically mutters, and Jihoon snaps his head to look at the man. The leader turns and grins at Spiderman, before motioning towards his men. “Kill him.” 

Kangdae turns back to face you and grabs your chair, tuning out the sounds of your screams and cries for help as he drags you closer to the ledge. You sob loudly, trying to stop the man from getting any closer as you try to plant your heels into the ground. 

Jihoon’s already moving, having unarmed the four men right away. His heart pounds loudly against his ears as he hears the sound of your screams, fighting the men with his instincts doing everything for him as he just blindly punches and kicks. 

“P-Please. Please don’t do this.” You beg, hiccuping as you let out another scream when you realize that you’re able to look down over the tower. After a moment of just listening to your hiccups, Kangdae tightens his grip on the back of your chair, before bending down and cutting the ties around your wrists and legs. You’re about to ask what he’s doing, feeling a sliver of hope rise in your throat. He grabs your arm tightly and pulls you up so that you’re standing.

All hope goes down the drain when he looks at you with sad eyes, “It’s what I have to do.” The conman mutters. Your eyes widen when he pushes you, and suddenly you’re falling.

“YN!” Jihoon yells when he sees you fall off the edge, finally knocking the last guy unconscious before sprinting over and shooting a web down to your body. You reach out towards it, feeling the web hit your stomach so that you’re no longer falling. Panicking, you look down, seeing how high up you are from the ground, and you hold on tightly to the web.

“Oh God. Oh my fucking God. I’m gonna hurl.” You whisper to yourself, looking up at Jihoon to give him a thumbs up that you’re okay.

Jihoon lets out a breath of relief, quickly tying his end of the web to the ledge. Right as he finishes, he’s shoved onto his side. His eyes widen when a sharp blade comes straight down towards his face, and he dodges it, immediately standing up to fight Kangdae properly. 

“You’re ruining my plan.”

“I didn’t kill your brother.” Jihoon mutters, eyes flickering over to the web to make sure that you’re still okay. Kangdae notices this, and he lets out a grin. “Yeah, and I didn’t kill yn.” 

Within a second, Jihoon is fighting for the knife from Kangdae. Knowing that if he doesn’t get the weapon away from him, then he won’t be able to protect you. Jihoon lets out a hiss of pain when he doesn’t dodge fast enough, the blade slicing a bit of his arm. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” Jihoon mutters as he continues to dodge all of his stab attempts. Kangdae chuckles darkly, staring at the superhero with hatred in his gaze. “You didn’t show my brother that mercy.” 

The two begin to fight again, with Jihoon simply dodging the knife as swiftly as he can with his wounded arm. He kicks Kangdae’s legs out from under him, making the man fall hard onto his back, letting out a wheeze. 

“Stop this, Kangdae.” Jihoon orders, staring down at the man below him. The conman simply chuckles, slowly standing back up as his eyes trail over to the web that’s tied to the edge of the rooftop. Kangdae looks back up towards the superhero, and lets out a smile.

“You’ll never catch yn.” 

Kangdae quickly steps over and slices the web, only for his mouth to drop open in horror when he loses his balance and begins to fall over the ledge himself. The superhero quickly shoots a web towards Kangdae’s foot, keeping him from falling to his death as Jihoon sprints and leaps off the building to catch you.

“YN!” 

“JIHOON!” You sob, reaching out towards him with your hand.

Jihoon positions himself to fall faster, panicking when he sees how he won’t make it to you in time. In a last ditch attempt, he shoots a web towards you, almost letting out a cry of relief when he sees you catch it. Jihoon pulls you up with the slim string, watching as you outstretch your arms towards him once he’s close enough.

Jihoon wraps his arms tightly around your body once you’re within grasp, before turning and reaching out his hand, shooting a web towards the top of the Lotte World Tower. Your bodies jerk when the string attaches itself to the ledge, and he swings the both of you towards the building beside it, the wind blowing against you as Jihoon safely lands the two of you onto the rooftop. 

Once your feet touch the ground, you cling to Jihoon’s body tightly, sobs wracking your body as you refuse to let go, even though you know you’re safe and sound. The superhero holds you just as tight, tears falling from his eyes at how close he was to losing you.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Jihoon mutters, his own body trembling as he reaches his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you continue to cry. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as a way to tell him it’s not his fault, unable to find any words at the moment as you just want to hold him. 

“I caught you.” Jihoon breathes out after a moment, tightening his hold around your waist as you sob loudly into his neck. You nod your head, letting out a wet laugh, hands still shaking as you hug Jihoon tightly. 

“You’ll always catch me, Uji.” You mumble. He closes his eyes, the feeling of relief flooding the both of you as you hold each other underneath the night sky.

“I caught you, yn.”

[hyungieyoongi]

Sleep

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 2,300+ 

Genre: fluffy + angst (because I am clearly stressed studying for my final exams, and I am projecting that into my writing) + HYBE employee from America falling for Joonie b/c who wouldn’t

Sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for a couple of hours before realizing it was futile with how fast her mind was turning over possible scenarios, worries, and anxieties one after the other. She sighed, pulling back her covers and bringing her laptop from the nightstand on top of her comforter. If she couldn’t sleep, she would at least get some work done for tomorrow.

Yawning, she opened her computer, logging in and sorting through the emails she had ignored since getting home from the HYBE offices. If something was really urgent, she would get a call. She looked over the text with glazed eyes, fighting the urge to go back to sleep, knowing she would feel wide awake as soon as her head hit the pillow again.

The truth is, she kept thinking of him. The thoughts kept streaming in, refusing to let her rest or even work. Today had hurt. It had felt like someone was laughing in her face at the sick cosmic joke the universe had played on her, forcing her to deal with her growing and overwhelming feelings for someone she could never have.

A new hire in the public relations department of the label falling for the leader of the biggest band in the world? It had disaster written all over it. Which is exactly what she told Namjoon. He had laughed, saying she was being paranoid, that they weren’t doing anything wrong by hanging out, getting closer, but she knew better. She wasn’t laughing. And by the end of their conversation today, he wasn’t either. Instead, he was looking at her like she had slapped him in the face, ruining any chance of a normal relationship between them.

“Ha, normal,” she thought with a slight, sardonic chuckle. Like anything involving this situation could be classified as normal. She knew how she felt–there was nothing normal about that considering their situation. Two people from different sides of the world, the employee-employer aspect of it all…not to mention the fact that he was a beloved Idol and completely untouchable. It could never work, she knew that. So why was he being so stubborn? He was fighting her every step of the way, telling her that the way they felt about each other warranted at least trying to be together. But it wasn’t that easy. If they didn’t work out, well, easy enough for him to move on and forget this ever happened. But, for her, it meant career devastation.

“But what if it did work out,” Y/N whispered to herself, letting the warm feeling of possibility wrap around her like a hug. She didn’t let the sensation linger, squashing it with a shake of her head as she began to furiously type to try and distract herself from the broken record that was her head versus her heart.

Her phone began to softly buzz on the nightstand next to her. She glanced at the time on her computer - 1:04 a.m. A little late for even an emergency client call. She reached for the phone, answering before checking the name on the screen.

“This is Y/N,” she said, putting on her best professional tone despite her current state of being tucked into bed in her pajamas.

“Y/N.” She knew right away she made a mistake answering the phone.

“Namjoon,” she whispered into the receiver. “What’s - what’s going on? Are you alright?” She shook her head with worry, assuming the only reason he could be calling at this hour after the way the day had transpired was for an emergency.

“Yes, no, well, technically yes,” Namjoon said. It sounded like he was on a busy street. Not hard considering her location in downtown Seoul, but he was clearly outside rather than calling from his home with the rest of BTS.

“Why are you calling me? It’s late, Namjoon,” Y/N said, not really knowing what to say. Alarm bells were ringing in her head, but she needed to know he was really okay before hanging up.

“I know, I - I’m outside,” Namjoon said. Y/N felt her breath catch, realizing the noisy street in the background was her street. She got up like a shot, keeping the phone to her ear as she rushed to the window, pushing the curtain to the side and peering out, seeing a bundled up Namjoon on the phone outside of her apartment building door. He was wearing a black hat, mask covering the lower half of his face, glasses perched on his nose–an attempt to look inconspicuous. He seemed to sense someone’s eyes on him, looking up at her window. She reeled back from the window, tripping over a nearby chair in her haste.

“Fuck,” Y/N swore under her breath, gaining her balance.

“Y/N, please,” Namjoon whispered. She knew he had seen her, but she needed another 30 seconds to gather herself before she could really, truly wrap her head around the situation. It was late. He was here. “Y/N?” Namjoon said her name like a question, wondering if he had lost her.

“I’m here. I - I’ll buzz you up,” Y/N said, grabbing a sweatshirt out of her top drawer to pull over her loose t-shirt and shorts to try and cover up at least some of herself. She counted backwards from ten, knowing exactly how long it would take him to get in the door and up the stairs until...

Two knocks on the door broke her out of her dreamlike state. She tiptoed to the door, opening it slowly, taking in the sight before her. She hadn’t seen him since their fight, and, honestly, she assumed she really would never see him like this again. Frazzled, hair messed up from anxiously running his fingers through it again and again.

He bore his eyes into her so intently she looked down at a worn spot on the floor to avoid them. She saw one of his feet step forward toward her, and she instinctively stepped back away from him. He stopped. She looked up. He looked - hurt. Hurt that she had stepped away from him. Hurt that she was so clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The easy way they used to talk to each other, laugh with each other in the hallways outside of his studio - it was gone. He wanted so desperately to get it back, see the glimmer in her eyes right before she hit him with a sarcastic comeback, watch her cheeks get red when he teased her. He craved it, that comfort, that familiarity.

She spoke first.

“Namjoon, what are you doing here?” She knew she needed to be direct - get to the point so he could leave and she could get back to pretending everything was fine–normal, even.

“I couldn’t leave things the way we left them today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about everything I wanted to say but didn't. I felt like, well, I felt like I lost you. And I couldn’t stomach that. I just couldn’t,” Namjoon said quietly. They were still standing in her doorway. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes. She blamed exhaustion. She took a deep breath before turning away, walking toward the kitchen. He took it as an invitation to come inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he took off his coat. He heard the kettle start to hiss with the sound of boiling water and smiled - tea. Of course she was making tea. Her way to cope with stressful situations, with emotional coworkers, was always to make them tea.

Namjoon shuffled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, mask and jacket now removed, as he watched her work, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet and popping tea bags into each of them. The kettle started to get louder, causing her to jump slightly at the interruption to the otherwise silence throughout her apartment. She poured the water slowly, knowing that, when it was done, she would have to look at him again. When she couldn’t avoid it anymore, she turned, handing him a mug.

“Here,” she said simply, passing him and heading to her couch, sitting on the corner of it and curling her feet under her. Namjoon followed her lead yet again, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He felt like he was a mile from her instead of a few feet. He waited.

“I don’t like the way we left things either,” Y/N said. Namjoon turned his head to her, eyes wide with anticipation and hope. She didn’t return his gaze. “But,” his heart sank, “I can’t change my mind. This is the way things have to be.” She took a long sip of tea, shivering at the contact with hot liquid.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Namjoon said, realizing what she had really said.

Y/N looked at him shocked, realizing she had slipped up in her argument - she might be trying to fight this rationally, but her heart clearly wasn’t all the way in it.

“I - I don’t know,” Y/N said, defeated.

“Yes, you do,” Namjoon encouraged, putting his mug down on the coffee table. He turned to her fully now, refusing to break eye contact with her. “You just don’t want to admit it to yourself because then it will all be real. All the late-night phone calls when we’re stressed, the meals in my studio together. All of it.”

Her eyes got wide and her mouth opened slightly before she quickly shut it and composed herself.

“If it’s real, we’ll both just end up getting hurt, and you know that. You can’t sit here and pretend it’s all going to be okay. Because it’s just - it’s just not,” Y/N suddenly felt more tired than she had all night, dropping her head into her hands and covering her face with her shaking fingers. She felt a tug on her right hand, Namjoon’s warm fingers circling hers as he pulled both hands away from her face. He got up from the couch, kneeling in front of her. She looked up slightly, meeting him eye-level in front of her. He put their joined hands in her lap, stroking the back of her hand subconsciously with her thumb, comforting her.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going anywhere before you believe it?” Namjoon asked. “It doesn’t matter if it gets complicated or difficult or messy. I will be here for you. I will fight for us.” The exasperation, love, and his own exhaustion were written in his eyes as he scanned hers for reassurance that she felt the same way - that she knew she couldn’t keep going on denying what felt right.

“How can you be so sure?” Y/N asked quietly. He let out a breath, gripping her hands tighter as he brought his face closer to hers.

“Because I’m in love with you. I love you, Y/N,” Namjoon whispered. He saw the emotion flicker across her face, tears fill her eyes. He didn’t have any other words - he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her, more passionately than he had ever kissed her. He poured every ounce of love and emotion into that kiss, wanting her to know and to feel exactly how he felt. She hesitated at first before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, his own dropping down around her waist and bringing their bodies as close as possible given their position.

Y/N pulled back first, trying to catch her breath. He looked at her expectantly, hoping she would let him hear the words he so badly wanted - no, needed - to hear.

“Namjoon, I love you, too,” Y/N whispered into the small space between them. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest, finally being able to say those three words to the man that had entered every part of her soul and refused to leave. The man in front of her who was smiling bigger than she had ever seen. He stood up, grabbing her right hand and bringing her to stand in front of him. Then, he grabbed her and spun her around, both of their laughter filling her apartment. After all of the tension, the stress of the day - it felt like the pieces were falling into place again.

He put her back on her feet, looking down at her with the most love and adoration. Her cheeks were tinged pink from laughter, her lips slightly swollen from their kissing. He had never seen her look so beautiful.

“What are we going to do?” Y/N asked, her joy from their mutual admissions of love being replaced with worry. Her forehead scrunched down slightly in worry. He kissed her on the forehead, then both cheeks, then the corner of her mouth, before placing a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. He pulled back, placing his forehead on hers.

“We’ll figure it out - together,” he said simply, confidently. He felt her nod slightly in affirmation against his head, his eyes closing as he just took in this moment between them. Hell, he had waited so long, he needed to just soak it in.

He felt her take his hand in hers, opening his eyes to look at the woman he loved. She led him to her bed, climbing in under the covers while he took off his shoes before climbing in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling as he felt her head nuzzle into his chest, body forming perfectly to his side. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. Y/N felt Namjoon’s breathing slow down slightly.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you, too,” she responded, snuggling closer to him, closing her mind to the stress that was to come, knowing that Namjoon would be by her side when it did. His arms tightened around her as they both fell asleep. It was the best night of sleep they both had gotten in a long time.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Opposite of Cuddling

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins.

Dome cuddles don't quite work out, but the Mighty Nein make do.

Wordcount: 1.8k (it would be short if it wasn’t supposed to be a snippet fic aaa)

A/N: maybe i am just in the mood for cuddly gang tickles. maybe so. 

---

“So,” Jester is proselytizing, brandishing a diagram from her sketchbook into dubious faces, “if we cuddle up around Caduceus just like this it’s going to be super soft and comfy and warm until we get out of this stupid weather! Any questions?”

Caduceus puts his teacup aside and leans down to peer at the sketch. It’s really good, especially the faces. She must have drawn it while watching them sleep last night.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. It feels good to see her happy, tail flicking as she clutches her sketchbook in clear delight - after two days of nonstop freezing rain, even her forceful cheer has been wavering. “It’s nice, sometimes, but not when we’re, you know. Sleeping.”

“So I could tickle you right now and you wouldn’t be, like, really mad at me?” Jester presses. She’s scooting towards him as she asks, practically trembling with excitement. It’s awfully cute.

Well, it’s been a while, but he can’t say he’s not a little eager for the contact. He ignores the looks from the rest of their group and flops back onto his bedroll, wriggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Um,” Beau says from somewhere behind him, a little strangled. Oh, right.

“We’re not keeping people awake, are we?” he asks, craning his neck to the various edges of the dome people have settled in. “Anyone set on sleeping right now?”

Beau makes a face. "That's not the weird part, Duceus."

“They can help!” Jester chirps, and then she’s cuddled into his side and wiggling tiny tiefling claws above his belly. “Oh, Ca-du-ceus!”

She’s pitching her voice as deep and scary as it can go. It’s not very far. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your very worst tickle spot?”

He laughs. “Telling you that feels like a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll just have to fi-ind it!” She tugs his shirt up with one quick move, and he barely has time to feel the cold before she’s latching onto his sides and burying her entire face into the downy fur on his belly. “Ooh, you’re so soft and warm! I want to cuddle you forever, Caduceus.”

It tickles, but just a little - honestly, he’s more amused by her. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before,” he chuckles, reaching out to poke gently at her side. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She squeaks, pulling her head up just enough to gasp at him. “Oh my gosh, Caduceus, did you just tickle me back? Guys, you have to come help me!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Beau snorts.

Jester lets out a massive sigh and flops back down onto him, and for a pleasant minute or two it’s just her nuzzling into him as he watches raindrops pelt off the amber dome overhead.

Then there’s a rustle, and some clinking, and before he can do anything more than lazily twitch one of his ears in the direction of the sound Yasha’s upside-down face pushes into his field of view.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asks in her quiet way. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Jester springs upright, grabbing happily for her hands. “Yes! Join us!”

Caduceus echoes her, snorting out a quiet laugh as Jester regains some of her energy and starts to scribble her way up his sides. He doesn't have any quiet siblings - Yasha reminds him a little more of the mourners, so it’s always nice to see her reach out. He's good at appreciating that sort of thing.

Yasha smiles shyly down at the both of them as she pulls his head into her lap and starts to play with his ears. “These are so soft,” she marvels. “Are you ticklish here?”

His ears have always been one of his siblings’ favorite spots to tease him with, and apparently they haven’t gotten any less sensitive in the last ten years. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Heh - just - hehe - a little bit.”

There's a frustrated groan off to his right. “Okay, I’ll bite.” Footsteps track around to his side, fleet and quiet, and he waits patiently for a flash of blue cloth to cross his gaze. “But only ‘cause ears are a fucking weird spot and I want to see if this works on you.”

Beau crouches by his side and curls her fingers loosely. “I’m gonna punch you,” she warns. “Probably not that hard, but don’t tense up.”

He nods as best as he can while tilting his head to better let Yasha worry her fingernails at the backs of his ears - he’s not sure if he could feel more boneless if he tried, right now.

The heel of her fist strikes him right in the middle of his chest, fingers clutching around something intangible - that something scurries its way down every nerve he has, and he coughs out a startled laugh before he can help himself. “What was that?”

“Payback for growing lichen on me back at your house,” she quips, but her eyes are narrowed in clear concentration. “Okay, ears, ears… wrists? And knees? And - fuck, man, your entire back? Really? Jes, let’s flip him over, this is going to be good.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Wait - ha!” Caduceus yelps, squirming as fingers start to pry their way underneath him. “Hold on now-”

He’s bigger than both of them by far, but they’re strong and not above tickling the backs of his ribs until he starts to squeal. "You're so thin, Caduceus!" Jester exclaims, hooking a finger into the tender gap between two bones and wriggling it mercilessly - his back arches entirely without his permission, letting Beau pry him another inch off the ground, and he whines defensively. "We have to feed you more!"

They get as far as rolling him onto his side before Beau loses patience and starts prodding smugly at his spine. “Your ki is pretty shivery around here, Duceus,” she teases. “Trying to hide your worst spots, huh? Bet you thought we weren’t gonna take this seriously.”

Caduceus is too busy laughing to deal with - any of that, really, especially when Jester slings herself over him so she can reach his back too. “I’m - ahaha! aaa! - oh, that tickles!”

As if in direct response to his babbling, a small weight bundles into the back of his knees. He curls up reflexively with a strangled shout - it’s Nott, cuddling up to him with a shivery sigh as an invisible hand starts to pinch at his kneecaps. “You’re right,” she crows to Jester. “He is soft.”

It does feel nice, being buried under this many people and tickled till the marrow of every bone in his body shivers, happy and helpless, and when Fjord finally sits in front of him and presses a questioning hand to his shoulder Caduceus doesn’t resist the impulse to clutch his hands and pull him in closer.

Fjord comes easily, huffing in quiet amusement as Caduceus buries his face in him and Yasha and wriggles like a freshly surfaced earthworm. “You alright there?” he drawls. “You sound like they’re trying to kill you.”

Nott snorts from somewhere near his belly. “We should stop, then, we’ve only got the one cleric.”

“Hey!”

Everything abruptly derails as Jester launches herself towards Nott and, from the sound of it, kicks Beau right in the face - there’s wheezing, and then shouting, and then the telltale sugar-sweet scent of Jester’s healing magic.

Caduceus holds very still. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Beau confirms, mangled. He can practically picture Jester frantically squishing her cheeks around as she checks for damage.

A typical tickle fight, as far as the Clays are concerned, just with a different smell - the Wildmother's healing tends more earthy. Even though they’ve stopped tickling, Caduceus can’t help but laugh.

He’s not sure if he imagines Fjord fluttering light fingers along the insides of his wrists as he catches his breath, but by the time he wheezes out one last fit of giggles and rolls himself back over everyone seems to be keeping a respectful distance, if a good deal closer together than they were at the beginning of the evening. “I think that went pretty well,” he says, pleased.

“...so you’re stupid ticklish,” Beau says dryly, scrubbing a bit of dried blood from her lip. “No cuddling Duceus while he’s trying to be unconscious, message received.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from all but one - Caduceus looks around and spots their final member for the first time since they sat down for dinner, nose buried in a book and ears suspiciously red.

He hasn’t moved an inch all night, even to escape the noise, which leaves him only a few feet away from the rest of them. Caduceus gets the feeling he’s about to regret that. “Oh, I’m sure there are those that have it worse,” he grins. “Right, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb’s gaze snaps up over the edge of his book. “Ja,” he rushes out, strangled. “I mean - nein - of course I am not - I am just trying to read here-”

Jester doesn’t wait for him to dig his grave any deeper. “Oh my gosh, Cay-leb, are you super ticklish too?”

Caleb stuffs his book back into its holster and holds a hand out preventatively, reaching with panicked precision for a strip of leather tied just above his knee with the other. “No, I am not-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Fjord rocks backward and reaches out with one broad hand, latching onto Caleb's wrist, and Caleb promptly abandons all spellcasting to kick at him like a startled rabbit.

Despite that, he reels Caleb in gently, scooping him into a neat little ball before he heaves him into the middle of their little circle and squarely on top of Caduceus. “I think we owe you a nice, long thank you for this lovely dome, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence as Caleb presumably thinks about how easy it would be to kill them all in this enclosed space. “This,” he says, as severely as he can with his feet in the air and hair in his eyes, “is the opposite of cuddling, and if you do not leave me alone then tomorrow night I am going to make all of you sleep in the rain.”

Even the seasoned homebody in Caduceus knows that’s the exact wrong thing to say to a group of damp and grumpy adventurers - if the mood in the dome was mischievous before, it takes a steep dive into outright evil.

Beau cracks her knuckles. “Yeah? Let’s see what you have to say when we tickle you again tomorrow.”

And if Caduceus laughs as Caleb gives one startled owlish blink and then scrambles to hide as much of himself behind Caduceus as possible - well, that’s not from the tickling at all.

[sambvcks]

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604​ @thiswasnevermylifefromtony​ @spid3rgwen​ @beautyandthebleh​ @victoriabaker112213​ @orthellqs @phasma-trash​

[thelittleplantlover]

Jetlagged buglar - Corpse x reader

Thank you so much @stylistiquements for letting me know about your prompt list. Finally, I am posting my spin on one of your lovely prompts. I really appreciate your patience and support <3

Pronounce: gender neutral

Warnings: none (mention of burglar)

Genre: fluff; platonic

Word count: 1996

Prompt: "I know it's 4 in the morning but ..."

~ A buglar broke into Corpse’s apartment, or at least that’s what he thinks.~

Corpse watches as his beloved green astronaut friend dramatically fell into the pool of lava. He had been, and still is, so sure Sykkuno is not one of the imposters of this round. The boy had also pleaded for his life, claiming his innocence, but to no avail. He had been found standing on top of Emma’s body by Jack. There had been no escape.

The new round began and forced him into action. The last thing he had wanted was to frame Sykkuno for his kill. It did buy him an alibi from Emma, who had met up with him in decontamination. She had not been experienced enough to realise Corpse had come from the direction of the kill to suspect him a little bit. She had quickly covered his ass and now he was free to begin his actual killing spree.

He decided that Emma should be kept alive as she seemed to be trusting him this round. His second kill was Brooke. She had been standing at the tree and it was all too easy to close the doors and hop into the vent. He met up with Emma afterwards again before splitting off to chase Tina into storage for another kill. Just as her little character fell to the floor, another body was reported. Not one he has made.

He listened to Dave describing where he had found the body when loud clattering of metal pulled him out of his concentration. He had heard rumour during this stream before. Soft sounds had distracted him momentarily now and then, making him question whether his neighbours were at it again. They could get pretty loud during arguments or resolving them. This clattering could not have been from his neighbours. It was too loud and not at all a sound he had heard from the other side of the wall before.

His attention was pulled back when someone questioned his location.

“Guys, I think someone is in my apartment.” He cautiously announced. Not wanting to be too loud in case the intruder could hear him.

“Sure! Where were you Corpse?” Rae interrogated him. Her voice strict and accusing. He quickly defended himself. He had not heard anything else, so maybe it did come from the neighbours. His defence, although slightly flawed, was accepted and Leslie was thrown out. The reason unknown to him as he had not listened to their conversation.

One more kill and the game would be won. He did not hesitate to call reactor to avoid one of the crewmates pressing the button. As he walked up to the left reactor, the victory screen played. A choired of no’s filled his ears, while Jack celebrated his win with Corpse. Normally he would join the celebration. This time another loud noise came from his living space.

“Guys. Guys. GUYS.” He whisper-yelled to get everyone’s attention. When only the among us theme came from his headphones he continued. “There is someone in my apartment. If I don’t return in ten minutes presume I am dead.” Without waiting for an answer, Corpse muted himself and took of his headphones. Grabbing a knife just to be sure in case there was indeed an intruder, he quietly stood up from his chair.

He had closed his door as usual. Hopefully, the intruder had not heard him speak. He had not been loud today due to his throat being slightly sore from being on other people’s streams lately. It might have helped him going undetected. Still, he was not fully sure whether or not there was an actual thief in his apartment. In the time he has speculated them being here and Corpse finally getting on the move the unknown presence had not moved from the main space. He was sure it would not take a thief that long to go through all his cabinets and other storage.

Slowly he opened the door to take a peek towards the origin of the loud noises. He could feel his heartbeat. The palm holding the doorknob clam. The lights were on, but he did not remember whether he himself forgot to turn them off or someone else had turned them on.

A thief would not turn the light on if they were on. Or this would have to be a very low experienced burglar.

Hearing no new sounds, he decided it was safe to investigate a little further. Corpse made sure to keep his eyes on the parts of his living room he could see, slowly making his way through the short hallway. When he finally arrived in the largest room, he did not spot anyone. No closets were opened nor was his stuff spread out on the floor. He let out a loud sigh. The loud noise had come from the neighbours after all.

Suddenly a head appeared above the counter, which provoked a loud scream to come out him. His heartbeat sped up again as he held his knife in front of him. He immediately lowered it when he realised who it was that stood in the middle of his kitchen.

The person in question seemed frozen. Eyes wide and arms filled with the snacks that previously housed the cabinets. None of them said anything, just staring at the other. Slowly they unloaded their arms on the counter.

"Look-," they were cut off by Corpse's hysterical laugh. After the initial shock of someone actually being in his house, laughing was all he could do to release the tension that had built inside him. The person behind the counter blinked dumbfounded before starting to whine.

"Corpse! Stop it's not funny!" Corpse on the other hand found the situation hilarious. The state he had found one of his best friends, (y/n), in was not one he would forget soon. It was not often you could find them in a total state of shock. The realisation that they had been busted red handed was imprinted on his retina.

"I thought you were a burglar!" Not that they were not. Except there is still a large difference between stealing a tv from a stranger or candy from your best friend. It was not unusual for Corpse to find (y/n) in his apartment holding a package of food. Sometimes, even his secret stash was raided. He had long topped from finding other placed to hide his special treats. It had always been to no avail.

The fact that he had not thought about the possibility of (y/n) being the one that broke into his home was due their vacation. Corpse had believed they would not be back in the States until later this week. If he had known they would be back already, he would not have assumed some burglar had though he could get anything valuable from this building.

"What? Why- okay. I know it's 4 in the morning, but I am extremely jetlagged, and I saw you go live so I knew you would be awake!” Corpse’s laughing subdued during the hastily explanation of the situation, leaving (y/n) to fiddle with one of the packed goods.

"I am pretty sure those are all the snack I own.” Corpse pointed to the snacks that now littered his counter. It was not much. A bag of potato chips, some candy bars, a pack of nuts he never ate one the plane and a pack of sour patches. (y/n) simply squinted their eyes at him, making him return the favour.

“They are mine now.” They slowly scooped the snacks off the counter into their arms again. He bursts out in laughter again, almost teared up from the look on their face. Snacks pushed flush to their chest, eyes that were squinted so far by now they had almost closed. Their nose and lips crunched. “Mine.” Was the last they said before making their way towards Corpse’s streaming room.

He had almost forgotten he was live due to the initial shock of someone being in this home. Quickly catching up with (y/n) he glided into his chair. The lobby screen was still on display and his chat flew by. All he could make out that he still had a few minutes before his agreed 10. He quickly unmuted to reassure his friend and chat that he was not harmed in anyway.

“I swear on my life Rae that I am fi-,” He failed to finish the sentence due to (y/n)’s facial expression. Dumb was the best way to describe it. They sat in a comfy chair next to him with their legs pulled up and their eyes were fixed on the screen, looking at some of the characters running circles around his. Their lips in a straight line, somehow still smiling.

Hiss laughter had caught their attention away. In response they grabbed one of his pillows of his bed that was just into reach.

"Stop. making. fun. of me!" Hitting Corpse rhythmically with their words. He tried to shield himself with his arms. Seeing as he could not stop his fit of laughter and his stomach started to hurt slightly, he was dubious whether to protect his head to hold is stomach.

The new voice that arose was recognized by two other people that have met up with Corpse in real life before, Dave and Emma.

"Is that (y/n)?" Dave’s English accent came out strong through Corpse’s headphones. He waved at (y/n) to stop hitting him for a second to catch his breath and answer the question he was asked. Dave, knowing more than enough to know the dynamic of these two, waited patiently on his answer. Rae on the other hand became hearable impatient by the long silence from Corpse’s side.

“Corpse. Answer the question!”

He slowly in and out haled to calm himself. A long loud sigh leaving his lips, before he answered the question. "Yes, yes, that's (y/n). Although I was right about the burglar as well. They are trying to raid my kitchen.”

(y/n) immediately sprang into action to react on that statement. Not wanting to be put in a bad light all by themselves. No, they would always happily share that special spot with a good friend. "Correct, TRYING. You literally do not have any food!"

"You dumped your arms full of MY snacks on MY table. Where I need space to actually play this game.” Corpse retorted.

“I think we established they are MY snacks now. Besides this is all you have. And it is not even touching your keyboard!” That statement was true. (y/n) had made sure to place the snack so that they did not hinder Corpse in their movements during his stream. A second reason for the snack to be not in close reach for Corpse was not named.

“I paid for those snacks.” It was a weak response. Corpse knew. But he rather let the bickering end sooner than later. His fans had been waiting anxiously for him to return and did not come to watch only to hear them bickering. However, looking at his chat they did not seem to mind at all. Still, there were more streamers live which audience might have a different opinion on that matter.

“Well, you did not pay for either Emma or me and we are definitely better snacks than I could ever find here.” They pointed to their friend’s little yellow character.  “So, I think I will take these as payment thank you very much.”

Corpse burst out laughing again a few seconds after, clutching his stomach that could barely take any more damage. (y/n) very well knew that whatever they had said was not funny at all. Or at least not this funny.

"What are they saying? Unplug your headphones!” (y/n) demanded while scooting the chair closer to the monitor.

After unplugging his headphones, Corpse asked Emma to repeat herself to share the comment with their mutual friend. He quickly pressed a button to increase the volume when she spoke up.

“We’re only worth five snacks??”

[moralesispunk]

Between the sheets

Chapter 5 of the Caramel Latte series

Chapter 4 / masterlist here / chapter 6

Summary: the morning after sharing confessions of love, Marcus begins to worry that you regret the night before.

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, soft smut

A/N: thank you so much for the patience for this chapter! It took me a while to find time to sit down and properly right and edit!

Mornings in the Moreno house were usually quiet. You had noticed this after your first few times staying here when Marcus, who was usually so composed would moan like a small child who was being woken for school before his first cup of coffee. Missy was definitely her father’s daughter, the same glum look on her face for the first hour out of bed.

This morning, you woke surrounded by blankets and pillows and the two snoring Moreno’s still in dream land. Marcus’s arm was draped across your middle, weighing you down to the pillows underneath. You lifted his arm carefully, moving slowly from underneath, before padding to the kitchen and turning on the coffee machine.

As you waited to the mug to fill you sat at the kitchen counter, your mind wandering to the night before. While there was something so domestic about this moment, sitting in the kitchen in your pyjamas waiting for the coffee to pour as the man you loved and his daughter you cared so deeply for were still sound asleep in the next room, you couldn’t stop the weighted feel at the bottom of your stomach.

You knew from the moment you said yes to a date with Marcus that a relationship with him would not be easy to navigate. He was a widowed, single father who had already lived a life before meeting you, while you were younger by the best part of ten years and a string of bad relationships meaning you hadn’t quite lived the family life you thought you would have by now. You loved Marcus and you loved Missy but you weren’t sure what life Marcus wanted from here on or even where you fit into their family.

You were so in your own thoughts you hadn’t heard the sound of Marcus walking into the kitchen, not noticing his presence until his hands were wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. You jumped a little and he chuckled against your neck before pressing a kiss.

“Morning, honey.”

“Morning, sleepy,” you turned your head to press a soft kiss against his lips.

You turned in the kitchen stool to watch as Marcus walked over to the coffee machine. His hair was standing in all different directions and his eyes were still half shut as he rubbed one with the heel of his hand. You liked waking up to Marcus like this, in his sleep shorts and t-shirt, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes still not quite awake to the morning sun, straining to see without his glasses. This wasn’t to say he wasn’t just as handsome when he was dressed smarter for work. Some mornings when he had to be up before you he would lean over the bed to give you a kiss good morning, the smell of his clean aftershave filling your senses before his lips had pressed against your head. You didn’t enjoy seeing him like that any less but when he wasn’t quiet awake to the world yet you couldn’t stop your chest from warming at the softness.

You hadn’t noticed you were lost in your own thoughts again until you noticed Marcus staring at you, one eyebrow raised a little.

“What was that?”

He chuckled before lifting the mug you had placed under the coffee machine out, “Where’s your head this morning? The coffee is cold already.”

“Oh,” you stood from the stool and walked to take the mug from his hand, pouring the now cold coffee out, “sorry.”

You placed the mug back under the machine, reaching to grab another from the cupboard for Marcus. The machine buzzed to life again, pouring two new fresh coffees as you leaned against the worktop next to Marcus.

“What were you so lost in your thoughts about then, hm?” Marcus moved you to stand in front of him between his legs that were stretched out as he leaned against the worktop. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you into his chest.

“Just… us,” you sighed looking up at Marcus and upon seeing his raised eyebrow you continued, “how happy I am but also how worried about how happy I am.”

You looked back down again, playing with the bottom of his t-shirt as you didn’t know how to word whatever it was you were feeling inside. You felt you had to tread that much more carefully with Marcus than with previous relationships. You wanted him to know that you were happy with this relationship, that you didn’t care he was a single dad and that didn’t change how you were feeling, but you didn’t want to overstep. Marcus’s hand came under your chin, tilting you back up to face him.

“That… doesn’t make sense. What do you-”

Marcus was interrupted by the sound of Missy now joining you in the kitchen, her footsteps dragging as she moved to sit at the kitchen table.

“We can talk later,” you smiled up at Marcus in an attempt to reassure his racing mind, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before lifting your fresh cups of coffee to the table.

Marcus followed behind, with bowls, milk and cereal.

You were glad that breakfasts were usually quiet, not having to pretend to concentrate on what was going on while your mind still raced at your worries of the morning. You could feel Marcus’s eyes on you, watching when you stared into space every so often before you would turn and give him a smile. He tried to smile back but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he hoped that whatever was on your mind wasn’t regret at admitting your love to one another the night before.

“Am I still going to Grandma’s today?” Missy’s voice came from between you both.

“Yeah, you can go get ready after breakfast,” Marcus turned to face her.

After finishing up, the three of you moved around clearing the table before you went upstairs for a shower. As the hot water hit your body you felt your shoulders relax and your mind ease. You trusted Marcus would understand what you were finding so hard to describe. He seemed to know you better than yourself.

You stepped out the shower, wrapping a towel around your body before wrapping your hair in another. After drying your body, you shook your hair in the towel, removing any water droplets before walking into the attached bedroom.

You noticed as you walked out the way your toothbrush sat next to Marcus’s in the holder, how your shampoo and conditioner was sat on the edge of the bath next to his, your moisturisers and other creams next to his hair moose. You walked by the drawers that were now full of your clothes and the table at the side of the bed where sat your book and phone charger.

On the bed, Marcus was sitting at the edge playing with his hands. When he heard the door click open his head shot up, watching you closely as you moved to sit next to him on the bed.

“Missy at her gran’s?”

“Yeah, my mum just picked her up there.”

You watched as Marcus’s eyes desperately searched your face, his lips parted slightly as he looked for any hint at what was wrong.

“Nothings wrong Marcus,” you reached over and grabbed his hands in yours, “I promise.”

“So, you don’t regret last night?”

“No,” you laughed softly, “not in the slightest. I love you, Marcus. I have known I have for a while I’m glad I finally admitted it to you.”

“Then what have you been thinking about?” he moved to turn his body to face you properly.

“I am so happy but I’m worried something will ruin this happiness. I do love you, Marcus, more than I thought was possible if I’m being honest. I love waking up to you even when you’re grumpy and going to sleep next to you after spending a day with you. I love how special you make me feel every day. I love how good a dad you are and I love Missy too. But you’ve had a life before me, you’ve made this family home that I’ve slowly started encroaching on,” you looked around the room at your items scattering the room, “we haven’t discussed where this is going or what you’re looking for and I’m worried one day I go further than you want or- or,”

“Or that I wont go as far as you want,” Marcus finished for you.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Well, I guess we better talk about,” Marcus smiled, lifting your head towards him by you chin. “I did have a life before you but you had a life before me in your own way. I was married and I had Missy. I loved my wife but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you because I do, just as much but in a different way because you are different. Us,” he moved his hand back down to squeeze your hand, “doesn’t mean any less to me because of what has happened before in my life. In fact it means more because you’ve accepted that. Accepted me and Missy. Also, you aren’t encroaching on this home because I want you here and so does Missy.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that quietly fell down your cheeks as he spoke gently to you, washing away whatever worries you had with every word he spoke. He softly hushed you as he pulled you into his side with an arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss to your head as he rubbed his thumb over your shoulder.

“What do you see in your future? Before me, what did you want?” he asks.

“I- marriage I guess. A family, the usual,” you turned to lean into his side even more.

“I know we haven’t been together that long but do you not see that with me?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted that. You’ve already been married and have Missy…”

“Well, you’ve never asked,” you could hear the smile in his voice without even having to look up again, “I would get married again,” he gives your shoulders a squeeze, “and I love being a Dad I would do that again too. Obviously, if Missy was comfortable with it but I don’t think she wouldn’t be, so long as she trusted I had the right partner by my side. She loves you too, you know.”

“You think?” you sniffed.

“I know.”

You looked up at him, your smiling boyfriend looking back down at you.

“I love you, Marcus.”

“And I love you.”

His head dipped down as his lips found yours. Your mouths moved against each other gently before his tongue found yours and suddenly you were breathless against one another. He pulled away and you sighed as he stood at the end of the bed, holding his hand out for you to take it. He pulled you to stand with him before his hand reached for your towel tied around your chest. When you nodded he pulled it apart, letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes dragged down your body, noticing every curve and drip of your skin, every freckle that marked your skin. As he took his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes flicked back up to yours now darker than before as a smirk toyed on his lips. You lifted your hands to pull at the bottom of his t-shirt, his arms lifting to allow you to lift it over his head and drop it on the floor next to your towel.

You stood on your toes as you attached your lips to his again, hungrier than before. He grabbed you by the back of the thighs, lifting you onto the bed and lying you carefully on the pillows at the top of the bed. He moved to kneel between your thighs. His hands dragged down your sides and thighs before resting above your knees.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighed, making you blush, “you are.”

He leaned down, kissing just above your belly button and whispering I love you into your skin. He repeated this, kissing down your stomach and each thigh before resting between your legs. His eyes found yours looking down at him and he reached for your hands, holding them in his on top of your stomach as he continued kissing and nuzzling his nose against the inside of your thighs. When you started to squirm below him, unable to stop your thighs from pressing together any longer in attempt to release some of the pressure pooling at the bottom of your stomach, he rested his head on your thigh and looked up at you with a lazy smile before moving to lick up your folds before attaching his mouth to your clit.

You gasped and your head hit back against the pillows, unable to stop the moans that fell from your mouth. You forced your head to lift slightly, looking back down at Marcus between your legs. His eyes were still on you, his lips smiling slightly before he want back to gently licking and sucking at you. He felt the way your legs tensed by the side of his head and knowing you were getting close his thumb began to stroke over the back of your hand. He moved one of his hands away, pressing two fingers slowly inside to feel the way you would tense around him.

Your back arched off the bed, moaning his name at the feeling. He moved his head away to rest on your thigh for a moment, his thumb circling your clit for a moment.

“Cum for me,” he sighed before attaching his lips back to you.

With those words you did. You let the wave wash over your whole body as it tensed around him. He kept his tongue moving against you as you rode our your high before your hands gently pushed his head back when you couldn’t take anymore.

“Good girl,” he moaned as he kissed once on the inside of each of your thighs.

You reached for his shoulder, grabbing to pull him up towards you. He moved to kneel, pulling his shorts down and letting his hard cock spring free. Your mouth fell open as you watched the pre-cum drip down his length. He leaned forward, resting a forearm at the side of your head before moving the shorts down the rest of his legs before kicking them off the bed..

Your hands reached up, holding the side of his face to bring it down to kiss him deeply. He held his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in and causing both of you to break apart in a moan. His head fell against your forehead as his free hand wrapped around your thigh to pull it around his waist. His hips stilled for a moment until you begged him to move and he started slowly thrusting into you as he lifted his head to now rest against your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

You moved your other leg to wrap around his waist, holding your heels against the bottom of his back as he thrusted in. They were slow and deep, hitting the right spot each time causing you to gasp. He kept his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Marcus, I think I’m go- Im gonna cum again,” you moaned.

“Cum for me, let me feel you,” he begged, keeping his thrusts at the same rhythm.

Your toes curled as your second orgasm of the night came, even bigger than the first. His name fell from your lips like a prayer along with moans of how much you loved him. Your hands gripped tight to his shoulders, your nails digging in until you came down from your high. He felt the way you tightened around him, holding his cock in place for a moment making him groan.

Marcus’s thrusts started becoming faster, losing their rhythm as he neared his own peak.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he moaned with every thrust until he came undone inside you as his lips attached to yours in a deep kiss, thrusting a few more times until he collapsed in your arms while still inside you.

His head is buried in your neck before he pulls out and collapses back onto your chest. Your hands reach up and play with his hair, combing through the short curls at the back of his neck. His breathing falls into steady breaths as you feel him grow heavy on top of you.

You know you will have to wake him soon so you both can clean up, but just for a while you hold him like this. You listen to his steady breathing and notice the feel of his curls between your fingers. You let yourself be with the man you love, in his home that is slowly becoming yours too, with no worries in your mind.

//

Marcus tag // @heythere-mel @over300books @computeringturtle @a-skov @leias-rebelion 

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog 

[shoutaaizawas]

hii :) can i request shoto with either a college au or fake dating au with the prompt “kiss me again” FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF (nfsw if it flows and ONLY if you want) please

thank you for the request! i always forget how much i like writing todoroki. im sorry but i don’t do nsfw but please take my offering of a kissing scene haha

↳ todoroki shoto x reader → ❝all-nighter❞

event: au!prompts summary: you never expected to become friends with shoto todoroki but when you need to share a book for a project due in the morning you end up bonding. word count: 1,939 tags/warnings: fluff, incident with a creepy guy at a party, comfort, first kiss a/n: i don’t know what college is like bear with me. thanks to @lilli-chae for the college insight. also im giving myself a reward for writing and posting before ten at night lol

Todoroki Shoto was the last person you ever expected to befriend. He was a rich boy from a rich family and those were people you usually tried to steer clear of. He was always silent, if someone asked you what he sounded like you wouldn’t be able to answer them. And he always stared, it wasn’t in a creepy way like some guys but it still unsettled you. You had a few classes with him but had only heard a few words from him.

The first time you ran into him he was lost on campus. It was oddly endearing, the sight of him standing there looking around confused. You asked him where he was going and it happened to be the same class as you. He hadn’t said much except for a ‘thank you’ once you reached the class.

It wasn’t until one night at the library that you started to see him differently. You had a project due the next day. Had you received it weeks ago? Yes, but in your defense, you had a lot of other projects. Okay, maybe you had procrastinated too much. It was late and you needed a specific textbook for the assignment. With your ice coffee in hand, you made your way to the library ready to pull an all-nighter.

As you reached for the book you were already so exhausted you hadn’t realized that someone else was reaching for it at the same time.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said looking up only to see Todoroki.

“Sorry.” He said, looking sheepish.

“I’ll grab another copy-” As you looked at the shelf you realized there was only one. “Oh.”

“My project is due tomorrow, otherwise I would offer to use it after you.” He said.

“Mine too.” You said. “We could share it if you don’t mind.”

“That seems like the best option.” He agreed.

The two of you set up at a table big enough for both of you to spread out. It turns out you had the same topic for the same class.

“So do you procrastinate a lot too?” You said trying to break the ice with some humor.

“Not normally.” He said but didn’t elaborate.

“I wish I could say the same but this happens to me more than I’d like to admit.” You said. “You can use it first, I have to get it started before I need the information.”

Shoto nodded and took the book before getting to work.

It was surprising how likable Shoto was once he opened up. He was a bit stiff and awkward but he was really funny and very considerate. You felt bad judging him on his family status. He was nothing like the rich brats you had encountered in the past.

The two of you would take breaks, you would offer him snacks, and most likely due to the sleep exhaustion, you shared a lot of personal stories. His family was something else. The more you got to know him all the pieces of who he was fit together.

The last thing you expected was to wake up with your head on his shoulder in the library the next morning.

“Shoto.” You said nudging him awake. You looked at your phone, you had less than ten minutes to get to class for your presentations. “Wake up we have to hurry.” You said.

Shoto’s different colored eyes opened and looked at you in confusion before he realizes where he was.

The two of you quickly scrambled to pick up all of your stuff and run to class. Thankfully everything had been pretty much done before you fell asleep but you were upset you wouldn’t be able to grab a coffee to wake you up before class.

Since that night you considered Shoto a friend. You would study together sometimes and grab a coffee or lunch between classes. You found yourself confiding in him and he did the same with you.

“When did you and our school’s prettiest boy become best friends?” Your friend Mina asked.

“I think best friend is a bit strong, we just barely started hanging out.” You said.

“Well, best friend was me going easy on the teasing. The real question is when did you capture his icy heart?” Mina teased.

“Wow, okay. There has been no capturing of icy hearts.” You defended as your face heated up. Sure, Shoto was handsome and you liked his personality a lot but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him and you knew there was no way he would have a crush on you.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She questioned.

“Yeah, he looks at me like he does everyone else.” You said.

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself,” Mina said throwing her hands up.

“It is what I’ll be telling myself.”

You did your best to push Mina’s words away but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to sneak glances at the way Shoto looked at you. Was his gaze softer when he looked at you? It had to just be your mind making it up.

It was a Friday night and that meant parties. Normally you were more of a stay at home and play video games and eat snacks kind of person but your friends wanted to go out and it had been a while so you agreed.

You ended up at a party on campus, it felt like almost everyone from school was there. You found yourself looking for one person in particular but you couldn’t spot him. Your heart sank a little bit, one of your motivations for going out was the hope that you would see Shoto.

You hadn’t meant to drink that much, you really didn’t have that many drinks but your tolerance wasn’t the greatest. You were having a good time, dancing with your friends. That was until some guy grabbed at you. Instinctually you hit him across the face gaining most people’s attention.

“Did he touch you?” A familiar voice said, your classmate Bakugou stood at your side in an instant with an intimidating glare. He was a bit over the top but underneath it all, he was a nice guy. Mina hung out with his group a lot and you had tagged along at times.

“Yeah.” You nodded. You didn’t have to say another word before Bakugou was dragging him out of the party, his friends Kirishima, Denki, and Sero following along. Mina rushed to your side pulling you out of the party in the opposite direction.

“Are you good?” She asked.

It was nice, the cool air of the night. Your head had been spinning but the ordeal had sobered you up a lot.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You told her.

“What happened?” A concerned voice interrupted. Shoto approached with concern on his face.

Mina explained what had happened and you saw an anger in Shoto you hadn’t seen before. He moved to the direction he assumed Bakugou had taken the man but you grabbed his arm.

“Can you get me out of here?” You asked him. You didn’t want him getting involved, this had been bad enough. You just wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Of course.” He said before looking to Mina. She nodded and Shoto placed his had between your shoulder blades and guided you away. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” You answered.

The two of you ended up in a 24/7 diner not too far away. Sitting down in a booth under the fluorescent lights you already felt better just being in Shoto’s presence.

It was quiet. You ordered water and chicken strips. You weren’t sure what to say, you didn’t want to talk about what had happened and Shoto seemed upset.

“I should have been there sooner.” He finally said. “My father called me, held me up.”

Was he blaming himself for not being there?

“Shoto, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. I’m just happy that I got to see you tonight and to be honest hanging out here is a lot better than at that loud house.”

Shoto sighed but his expression softened.

“I’m glad I’m getting to spend time with you too.” He said.

After that the mood was more relaxed, you talked about different things and laughed at Shoto’s jokes. Once you were done eating Shoto paid for your food, refusing to let you do so before he walked you back to the dorm you shared with Mina.  

“Do you want to stay for a bit?” You asked.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asked.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted quietly.

Shoto walked in without a word. You sat on your bed opening up your laptop putting on something to watch before placing it on the table beside your bed. Shoto hesitantly joined you, sitting beside you leaving some space.

In retrospect you probably had a little leftover liquid courage from your drinks earlier when you scooted over closer to him, your leg pressed against his. Or maybe you just needed the comfort of having someone you trust close.

It was nice. The sound of Shoto’s soft breathes, the warmth that came from him, the way his arm brushed against yours. It was all comforting and helped the tenseness in your body melt away.

Before you could stop yourself you rested your head against his shoulder, you tensed for a moment waiting for a reaction but Shoto said nothing. A few moments later you were shocked when he took your hand in his softly. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking up at him. His soft gaze was already on you.

It felt unavoidable, unstoppable, the need to lean up and press your lips against his. At that moment you didn’t think of any consequences the action could have. It just felt right. Shoto didn’t pull back, rather he leaned forward meeting you halfway. His right hand cupped your cheek, you felt so small in his grip. His left hand moved to your waist pulling you closer.

After a moment you pulled back to take a breath.

“Kiss me again,” Shoto said. You smiled at him and leaned in again. You adjusted yourself so you could wrap your arms around him, holding him close. It felt unreal. How could things change so quickly in one moment? In one second Shoto was your friend who you may or may not have a crush on and in the next you were kissing him wondering how you could ever lie to yourself.

How could you not like Shoto? He was so good to you, so interesting in every way. Every day your thoughts drifted to him whether you tried to stop them or not. You couldn’t get him out of your head. When you saw a cute dog you thought ‘I bet Shoto would like to see this dog.’ When you ate at a new place you thought ‘I think Shoto would like the food here.’

How had you convinced yourself you didn’t like him?

“I really like you.” You said pulling back again but keeping your hold on each other.

“I really like you too.” He whispered against your lips, looking deeply into your eyes. “Go on a date with me. Please.”

“How can I say no?” You smiled before kissing him again.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Mina’s voice filled your dorm room as the door opened. You and Shoto froze as Mina stared. “Nevermind, looks like you’re doing great.” She said before shutting the door and leaving.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of it from her.” You sighed.

[dakotafinely]

Okay yay! How about Splinter finding out about savage Raph and finally revealing the trauma that caused it? (Captured by hunter and escaped in savage mode after biting the man’s hand off...alligator snapper CHOMP)

Wow, immediate angst. Not that I’m against it or anything. Also, I like how you add that little () note. It’s a nice touch (and totally helps me start writing so-) anyways! Let’s get into it!

Side note: WOW this gets super long. So I put a little keep reading for those who don’t actually care about the story.

Raph never intentionally kept it from Splinter. It was something he didn’t like thinking about. And his brother’s never really thought to ask about it. One could suppose everyone thought the old rat knew and just didn’t want to explain it. Or that maybe it was something he just couldn’t explain away. Either way, that had all changed today.

The trio of little brother’s had made the mistake of leaving Raph alone down deep in the sewers. It wasn’t intentional, as the trio often forgot their older brother would break the longer he was alone. Since they usually didn’t really leave each other’s sides. And didn’t have the same issue as Raph had.

It was a chase. It was always a chase.

On the rare occasion that Raph did become savage. It was usually him chasing them, or something he was going to kill. The instinct to survive his main priority and the trio being seen as potential threats in the lenses of savage mode. But something was different.

Mikey had noticed it when the group returned to Raph’s location. Instead of the enraged attacks of Savage Raph, or the whines/scolds of Raph telling them they shouldn’t have been gone for so long. Raph sat in a corner, pressed against the wall furthest from the brothers. He was growling, a threat of course. But it seemed empty as with each step they took towards him. He simply wiggled, as if trying to get further away.

“Hold on guys, I think we need to approach one at a time,” Leo finally spoke up, he’d been slowly assessing the situation at hand. Deciding that if only one of them went in, it was less likely for Savage Raph to attack.

That statement of course, made it a unanimous vote for Leo to be the sacrifice.

“Well, go on then. We need to calm him down before April comes down,” Donnie spoke, checking his phone. April had already sent a text that she was on her way. They had to get wrap this up quickly. Leo looked to his twin and huffed. Before taking slow steps toward Raph.

Raph’s growl and squirming continued. But he still made no move as Leo’s empty hands held themselves up as non-threateningly as possible. It wasn’t until Leo tried to touch Raph that it finally broke the tense silence.

Raph roared, knocking Leo back as the other two pulled out their weapons. Ready for an attack from the blindly raging brute. But instead he ran off. Making the two look at each other confused. Before checking on Leo.

“You alright bro?” Mikey asked, pulling Leo up from the floor. Leo rubbed his shell and took a shake. Before nodding.

“Yeah, it’s more the surprise then the pain...” Leo trailed and looked around “where’d he go?” he asks, having expected the Snapper to fight them like the other two did. Donnie shrugged, looking off the direction Raph had fled to.

“Don’t know, he just... ran off,” Donnie spoke putting his Bo-staff away.

“Well, what are we doing just standing here? We gotta find him!” Leo immediately ran off the direction Donnie had been staring. Mikey not to far off his heels. Donnie sighed, taking a speed walk to still keep the two in his sites.

April had joined them about ten minutes later. Donnie sending her their location as they traveled through the maze of sewers in New York. Their efforts still fruitless as they’d completely lost the Snapper. 

What had been nothing more then ten minutes quickly turned into a few hours.

“Guys,” April spoke as the group had taken a moment’s rest. Having been on their feet for so long they’d chosen to take a pause. Just in case they’d have to fight the Snapper down when they found him again. The group looked to her as she spoke up “did you hear that?” she asked with concentration on her face.

No one spoke. All trying to hear what she’d just heard.

“What did-” Mikey was cut off by a noise. A much louder then the one April had previously heard. It was a whimper, a pained and tired whimper. If it weren’t for the fact that the voice was so recognizable. The group would’ve believed it was a small child lost in sewers with them.

“Raph!” They spoke in unison, chasing after the voice. And the heavy footsteps that ran from them.

It was a chase, but not a chase they had ever been use to.

Splinter was sitting comfortably in his recliner. Another uneventfully evening as he’d began to slowly fall asleep in the chair. The cake and warm milk filling his stomach in a comfortable and lulling way. Eyelids heavy as he no longer tried to focus on what was happening on the screen before him.

Until he was startled by his phone ringing. Immediately waking to “panicked parent mode” he began looking for his phone. Unable to find it despite it ringing next to him. Shuffling and shoving hands down the sides of the recliner until he let out a small, victorious, cry at his discovery. Only to disappointed at finding the remote instead.

A few more rings and a few more minutes of aggressive searching. He’d found his phone and felt his stomach drop at April’s name on his screen.

Not that he wouldn’t have panicked if it was one of his sons. But April was a whole knew level. He quickly answered and tried to not to yank the phone away from his head as April yelled on the other end. Most of it unintelligible through the phone aside from “Raph” and “we need help!”. He took a breath, trying to calm himself, knowing it wouldn’t help if both he and her panicked.

“April, slow down, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Raph! He’s gone into this- like -savage mode! He keeps running from us and throwing the guys if they get to close! Please! You have to come here quick! We just got him cornered but he won’t let us near him!” April spoke as quickly and clearly as she could. Trying to leave little room for more conversation as she watched Raph throw an aimless hit toward Mikey. The box turtle barely dodging out the way of the blow.

Splinter, of course, had already begun moving out of the lair.

“Okay, stay calm. Tell the boys to keep him their but don’t make any movements toward him. Tell me which part of the sewers your in,” Splinter began, keeping a calm demeanor. April took a hum before finding an indication of which sewer pipe they got him stuck in. Quickly giving the location to Splinter.

“Good, I’ll be there soon.”

When Splinter had arrived onto the scene. He was relieved to find the group sitting a few feet from Raph. Leo, Donnie, and Mikey all singing parts of the lullabies they could remember from their younger days. Back when they still asked Splinter to sing for them. It seemed to put the Savage Raph in a trance. Having calmed down. It was April who noticed him and backed off from the group to talk to him.

“Leo said he noticed something was attached to Raph’s tail. He can’t take a good look at it ‘cause Raph won’t let him come close.” She explained, looking back to the sight before her. She’d seen Raph go savage once, but it had been on the tale end of the savage episode. Splinter simply nodded and walked toward his sons.

He’d hummed the tune and the trio backed off. Quieting down, Raph started to growl at Splinter, before seeming to recognize him. And calming down, a soft and cautious churr came from him. But he didn’t flinch when Splinter passed the invisible line.

He did, however, flinch when Splinter raised his hand. Before relaxing as Splinter took a light touch to his forehead, sliding it down to his cheek. Still humming the lullaby. Raph had fully relaxed now, his body visibly easing as he let himself sit like a cat. Letting Splinters hands trail down his shell as he went to assess the damage.

It was a small, basic rat trap. Pinching his tail in a way uncomfortable for the mutant. Splinter grimaced at the memory that came with the realization of why his son had acted out this way. And had, with as much gentleness as he could manage, pulled the trap off his son. Raph let out a yelp and ran from reach of his father. Before noticing the lack of pain on his tail. A happy churr came from him as he slowly eased out of Savage mode.

Donnie, using the help of his enhanced limbs, began carrying the large mutant. Who had barely been awake enough to realize he was beginning carried to begin with.

The way back to the lair was mostly silent. Most of the group begin tired, energy spent on the chase. But April couldn’t help but speak up, having several questions.

“So... does anyone know why Raph does that?” She asked, looking to anyone for an answer. The brothers simply shrugged, having no answer. But Splinter looked surprised.

“Wait, this isn’t the first time he’s done this?”

“Well, he usually fights us,” Leo spoke up with a shrug “but this is the first time he’s run away instead.” Leo said with the wave of his hand. A partial dismissal of it.

“... You didn’t know?” Mikey asked walking next to his father. Who quickly shook his head, partially in disbelief.

“No! Why didn’t you boy’s tell me!?” Splinter asked with some exasperation evident in his tone.

“Well, you didn’t tell us you were Lou Jitsu for most of our lives,” Leo pokes, as if this was some sort of competition. Donnie rolled his eyes.

“It just never came up, we always thought you knew,” Donnie deadpanned, adjusting a bit to keep Raph steady. The snapper mumbled something incoherent but it didn’t seem all to important to the conversation.

“So, do you know why he does it Splints?” April asks trying to get back to her questions. They needed answer darn it! Especially after this most recent episode.

Splinter, nodded slowly. A part of him unsure, before nodding quickly. It was the only explanation.

“You all were only tot’s when it happened...” Splinter began.

--

Splinter knew that an enriching environment was important. Whether it was for kids or pets. So he did his best to take his sons down to a stream. One with no hiking trails nearby and not deep enough for fishers to use. But still enough that it was basically a naturally made kiddie pool.

He’d been tending to the box turtle, dubbed Orange for his little spots ‘til Splinter could find better names for them. Orange was the only one who couldn’t really seem to swim. Nor did he seem to want to engage with the water at all. So Splinter had been helping him make little piles of dirt, and rocks. Nothing fancy or necessarily pretty. But it brought utter delight onto Orange’s face every time one was completed. So how could he stop him?

Splinter had been keeping weary eyes on the other three. Wanting to make sure the shallow tide hadn’t swept them away. However, the other three seemed to mature faster then the box turtle to a degree. So he gave them trust to make some sort of noise to capture his attention if they needed it.

The only problem with that was, they would have to know they needed it.

Splinter would notice in 30 minutes that Red was missing. Dubbed Red because he, just like the color, was bold and brash. And Splinter had already used his other two favorite colors on the soft-shell and slider.

In 30 minutes Splinter would realize that his little snapper had decided to wander the forest. And he would panic because what if someone found him? What if someone took his son away from him? What if they hurt him?

It would be a few hours before Orange gets fussy. And Splinter realizes just how long he’d been searching for his eldest son.

It would be another hour before Splinter had to retire back into the sewers. Feeding and putting the other three to rest before he ran back out.

It would be three days of searching and failing to find Red. Splinter in a desperate state of trying to keep it together while in a constant state of worry for his boy.

It would be day number four. When Splinter would find a group of hunters. Cages set around them like trophies. And it would take everything Splinter had not rush down and attack them when he saw his son in one of them.

Locked in cage like some sort of savage animal. Curled in a corner, clearly afraid and confused. Whimpering like he was hungry. And Splinter could only soften in a pained way as he watched his son suffer.

“Aww, what’s the matter little guy? Ya hungry?” A hunter spit at Red. Tossing a small piece of beef jerky just outside of Red’s reach. Still, the naive snapper would go after it. Starved for days. And he would be mocked, and laughed at as the hunters around him would do nothing but watch him be helpless.

Splinter had to retreat. Wanting to go stealth with retrieving his son. Despite the rage inside of him telling him he could fight every single hunter in the group head on and come out unscathed.

Splinter didn’t see the one hunter that snuck Red some jerky. Watching with a small smile as he ate up. Before dumping the whole bag into his cage. Walking off as though they hadn’t done anything.

Splinter came back that night. A fire now lifeless as most of the hunters slept. Splinter had begun creeping toward the camp before freezing at the sound of a voice.

“Your not like the others are you little guy?” It cooed, soft and gentle. Splinter could barely see it. But he saw a woman crouching down in front of Red’s cage. And cursed himself for not taking the brash approach earlier.

Red churred a bit in response. Still unable to really form words. But his churr was curious and cautious.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ve seen snappers before and you don’t really look it,” she said, before letting out an awkward chuckle “I mean, you do kinda, but not really if you get what I mean.”

Another churr, confused.

“Yeah... sorry,” she said, Splinter heard the light click of a cage opening. And with the moon finally deciding to show itself from the thick clouds.

A tall, black woman stood up, thick curly hairs draped down her shoulders. Red in her arms with a gentle care of a mother. She’d turned, facing Splinter with eyes grown wide, mouth agape in shock. And that’s when he realized he should’ve moved to an actually hiding spot. The moon didn’t hide away as they stared at each other. Before Red began chirping happily, arms outstretched to his father.

Splinter held his arms out, staring a hole into his son. He didn’t want to speak, he wasn’t sure if he could. This was the first human that’d seen him in... well he wasn’t even sure how many years at this point.

Slowly, but surely, with eyes still wide and mouth agape. She handed Red to Splinter. The two sharing a tight, hopeful and relieved hug. Splinter couldn’t hold back the little sobs that came from his body. He had his son back, his son was safe. His son was here.

“Go,” the woman’s voice was a hoarse whisper, still recovering from the shocking sight. Splinter looked to her, startled at the interruption of his blessed reunion. She looked to him with concern, before glancing to the other sleeping hunters “if you want to get out of here with him now. You need to go,” she whispered. Splinter nodded, rushing off with a flurry. Leaves rustling, and with no cation in his rushed movements. A branch broke.

“O’Neil? Is that you making that racket?”

“Yeah, yeah, just go back to sleep, thought I saw something but I was wrong.”

--

Annnnnnnd I’m ending it there! Mostly because this is getting longer then I planned it to be. However, I’m extremely happy with how it came out. The idea’s just came like BOOM! BOW! POP! and I had to do ‘em. I hope you like it! This was fun! I loved the concept, I’ve seen many takes on it so I wanted to change it up a bit!

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame X

Author’s Note: Ten chapters in! I haven’t written something this long in a while and there’s so much more to come yet, so thanks for your encouragement, patience, and kind words as always!

Song inspiration for this chapter: So I never do this, but inspiration in song came to me via Oceans by Puscifer

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 3268

Warnings: Canon divergent, Master/servant dynamic, language, hint of angst

When you first saw the great expanse of the blue ocean touching sky, you only had two thoughts; that it was more beautiful than all of the green hills of England, and that Ivar should have been at your side. He had broken his promise, though not intentionally you understood.

He had been there at the break of dawn as Ubbe helped you into the longboat. After you had parted in the slave's quarters, you hadn't been given the chance to be alone with him again. Standing at the edge of the water, his face had been as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment, and he was careful not to look in your direction. You never stopped looking at him though, even as the bow of the boat pierced the water and the current started to drag you away. Ivar soon became a black line in your vision, and when you lost sight of York, it set in that you were leaving behind your homeland. 

Hvitserk had pulled you aside days before you were to depart to give you an education on what to expect when travelling by sea. It wasn't uncommon to have an upset stomach or light head, but drinking enough water would help ease such discomforts. You were also told to keep close to Ubbe's side should the clouds sink low and drive squalls into the side of the boat. Hvitserk had laughed at the alarmed look on your face but had continued to reassure you that if you all ended up in the water, that Ubbe was a competent swimmer. Not very comforting.

The chill in the air was different in the open water than when on land. Taking a look around the longboat at your fellow traveller's, they did not appear to be as bothered by the cold. Their northern bones were built to withstand the wind it seemed. Ubbe had draped you in a fur pelt, but it might as well have been a silk curtain. The cold had seeped into your marrow, and you felt soaked from the spray of the salty sea. 

As you watched the waves roll by, you heard the thumping steps of boots on the wooden boards coming closer. Ubbe tossed you an unsure smile as you looked up, and he took the spot across from you. It was still odd sharing in your first tour of the ocean with someone who was mostly a stranger. When you had first spotted him on the night of the raid, you had only seen another blood soak barbarian who spoke in a foreign tongue. Your paths had intertwined since then, but you hadn't spoken until this morning. He had apologized for scaring you, and also explained he had only been trying to help you that night. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had you stayed at his side, but you chose not to ponder the 'what if' scenario.

"You travel the water well," He complimented, cutting through your thoughts. "Most throw up their first time."

"I've been following Hvitserk's advice," You said, holding up your waterskin. You were mindful to pace yourself and not chug it down all at once either. "It's also beautiful out here. I didn't want to miss anything."

Ubbe nodded as his gaze fixed on the knife in your other hand. You didn't know what to do with it, and you didn't have any other belongings in your name. Even if you didn't agree with the purpose of its gifting, you wanted to keep it close.

"Ivar gave you that?" Ubbe prodded lightly, but you could see he was curious. 

"Yes," You said, hoping to God you didn't give up a blush as you thought about Ivar.

"Thralls aren't supposed to have weapons, you know."

"I tried to tell that to your brother, but he insisted."

Ubbe smirked. "I wonder why he would do that?"

You frowned as you looked down at the aforementioned knife. "What do you mean?"

"Only that he was constantly badgering me about keeping you safe," Ubbe said and he laughed at your confounded expression. "I'm not sure what Saxon men gift to their women, but for us, a weapon is of some significance."

You considered Ubbe's words, and how adamant Ivar had been when placing it in your hand. You'd never had any man offering you gifts before. Maybe that was why you kept it so close.

"I told him I wouldn't know how to use it. That was a lie."

"You know how to wield a knife?" Ubbe asked incredulously. 

"Well, not with any real skill, but when Ivar gave it to me he said it can take a life if I had to. That doesn't require any technique, just courage and a fight to survive." You withdrew the knife from the sheath, focused on how the blade glinted from the sun.

"And have you...taken a life that is?"

You looked out over the side of the boat, but there was no escape out there. Seeing how far the water spread put into perspective how alone these ships were. The Northmen seemed to be the bravest people you had ever known, to venture out into an abyss and hope to come across land after travelling such a distance.

Your attention returned to Ubbe, and you had nearly forgotten his question or rather you had hoped he would. "I've never told anyone this before; only God. It has been my burden and shame, a part of my past I've been seeking absolution for."

"You mean you've killed before?" Ubbe stretched out his legs and moved closer. It suddenly felt as if you were the only two sharing the boat.

"In a different life, before I had taken my vows as a nun. I was alone on the streets after my mother died, still new to the idea of being an orphan. I knew little in the ways of fending for myself. Up until that time I had survived on what scraps my mother could beg or steal for us both." You felt your eyes close a moment, and you could see the crooked alleys of Rendlesham again. It had all the charm of a charnel house, and the scent of spoiled goat's milk was everywhere. 

"When my mother died, I didn't mourn her absence as much as I resented it. She left me alone. I was a vagrant, and my struggle came over a bit of leftover stale bread. Another poor boy wanted it, but I had found it first. He was as skinny as me, but I remember he seemed so strong. I knew I would never have wrestled the bread back from him, so I picked up a stone and hit him over the back of the head with it. He didn't even make a noise, he just laid there. At first, I thought he was unconscious, but he wasn't breathing. I took the bread, and I ran. I haven't stopped running since."

"You joined the church after that?" Ubbe guessed.

You nodded. "I was too young to make any real commitment to joining a nunnery, but the sisters' pity orphans and that meant a bed to sleep in. But I couldn't get over my guilt at what I'd done. It wasn't for me to decide if that boy died, but I had been selfish. I wanted to live, and he was in my way."

"Self-preservation isn't a bad thing. It takes courage to stand up when it is so much easier to lie down," said Ubbe, and he held out his hand, silently asking for the knife. You put it in his palm while hesitating, afraid he wouldn't give it back. "This can save you. It is an extension of that will to survive, and even a nun can become as fierce as a shieldmaiden if the situation calls for it."

You were quick in retrieving your knife back, and your eagerness caused Ubbe to laugh. You smiled in return a moment before growing serious. "I hope I never have to use it."

"I wish that for you, if only because it brings you peace. But your life is tied to my little brother's now, and death seems to follow him like a black cloud. I would get used to the idea all the same if I were you."

You had so many questions about Ivar, about his past, and what his intentions for you were. It wouldn't have been fair to try and pry the answers out of Ubbe though. Ivar's mind was as closed off to him as it was to you it seemed. Besides, you wanted to hear the truth from the man himself, whenever you were to meet again. A throb grew in your chest, but you refused to call it longing.

Ubbe stood up and brushed a hand on your shoulder. "You should rest. Our journey has only begun, and the ocean can turn you weary."

"I will try," You agreed if only to placate him. "And Ubbe, can you not tell Ivar about what we discussed?"

"Why not?" He asked, a genuine look of confusion falling on his face.

"I just...don't want him to think badly of me."

"I don't think he would. In fact, I think it would only bind him to you more," Ubbe said, but your pleading eyes didn't waver. "But if it's that important to you, I won't mention it."

"Thank you."

Ubbe nodded before leaving you to return to the men rowing the ship. You tried to do as he suggested, settling further into your fur in the intent to sleep, but your mind was awake and you were surrounded by water that never knew rest. Your thoughts dwelled on the murdered boy, his face you had since forgotten. All that remained was his blood on your hands. You wondered again if anyone had noticed his disappearance, a family waiting for a son who was never coming home, or maybe he had been like you. Left alone, and ignored by the unfriendly faces of strangers. 

What Ubbe had said about the truth binding Ivar to you made you curious. The Northmen had such different views on death and murder. Ubbe had not flinched at your story, so you knew Ivar wouldn't even bat an eye. It felt good to unburden yourself from the secret, and that in turn filled you with guilt. You didn't want to reflect on that moment so haphazardly. You had taken a life.

With a sigh you looked up at the sky, wondering which god was listening to you. Closing your eyes, you began to murmur your prayer.

"Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee…"

ooOOoo 

Ivar was miserable. He loved seeing the world and leading the army to conquer new lands, but it was a pity he had to travel by sea to accomplish all of that. There was no skipping over the inevitable part of sailing on a longboat and try as he could to refrain from feeling sick, he had already lost the contents of his stomach over the stern. He knew he was as pale as a baby seal, and his expression was screwed into one of discomfort and acrimony. Hvitserk was mindful to keep anyone from approaching him, even Freydis who thought she could use the opportunity to soothe his irritability with her false concerns.

Vestfold was a long journey from York and centered in inhospitable territory surrounded by floating ice. Ubbe and his boat would likely reach Kattegat before they were to arrive in King Harald's domain. Ivar considered how to approach the man. He was both wise and volatile and had led great legions of men when Ivar was still an infant. He respected the older King a great deal, but that wasn't any reason to let his guard down and play the situation with anything less than caution. 

Ivar looked around the ship and spotted Hvitserk laughing around with the men. He was grateful to have his brother with him, but it didn't ease the ache of your separation. He had never broken a promise before until he had said he would take you to see the ocean. You were off somewhere else with Ubbe, who he prayed to Odin would keep you safe. He wondered how you were travelling by boat, and whether or not you had thought of him in return.

He had gifted you with a knife, and in return, the only thing Ivar had of yours was your wooden cross pendant. It was from the first day you had met. He didn't know why he kept it then, only that it had nothing to do with the Christian symbol. It was something of yours, delicate and modest that had rested close to your heart. It fit so small and insignificant in his hand, and he traced it with his finger, hating everything it represented but unable to toss it aside.

"Are you considering converting?" Heahmund's voice chimed at his side. He was tied up at the back of the boat, and Ivar thought he had been asleep until now.

"I would rather die forgotten and nameless, belonging to no god than to ever believe in your powerless one," Ivar groused back as he hid the cross away.

"Where did you get that then? From an unfortunate soul whose path you crossed."

Ivar thought of your face, breathless and flushed after he had kissed you. "On the contrary. She has been very fortunate to have met me."

"I see," Heahmund said unconcerned. "It was (Y/N)'s then."

Ivar frowned, craning his head to engage with the Bishop head-on. "(Y/N)? Is that her true name?"

"Yes," Heahmund replied, and he lost the smarmy smirk. "She never told you that then."

Ivar wanted to toss the Bishop overboard, regardless of the usefulness he thought he could provide up until now. You had confessed your true name to this man, something Ivar had been trying to wrest from you for months. His stomach pulled tight from the hurt, and he thought he was going to be sick again.

"Ivar," The Bishop called for his attention. "I'm certain she only told me because she was confessing a private matter to me. I did not ask it of her."

"What matter?"

Heahmund shook his head. "I cannot say, for that would be a betrayal of her trust."

Ivar forced himself to stand, even as he swayed from the motion of the boat. He clung to one crutch while thrusting the other into the center of the Bishop's chest, forcing out an exhale from the impact. 

"Tell me now, or you won't have any teeth left to chew with." Or to smile with for that matter.

Heahmund hesitated a moment as if to measure how true he felt the threat to be. He came around to the smart conclusion and began to talk. "She only said that she felt lost in regards to your intentions, and how she feels about you. I warned her not to fall in love with a heathen."

Love? Ivar frowned, not able to grasp how such a concept had been conjured up in a conversation between you. But the notion didn't repulse him. It was a delight. He had an entirely different reason for the fog in his head, none of which had to do with the shifting of the boat. Could it be possible that you felt the same?

"What did (Y/N) say?" He asked, getting familiar with the taste of your name on his tongue. 

"She said that she could never give her heart to a heathen and that she will remain with God. Alas, Sister Mary Catharine will never belong to you, Boneless."

Ivar didn't take you to be one for cruelty, and he was skeptical about what Heahmund was saying. Another part of his mind, a dark part that he had tried to shut out, believed the Bishop. Everything from the kiss to your attempt on your own life, and of the words you had shared occupied his thoughts into one loud boom of chaos. He loathed the distance that now separated you. If you were with him now, he could hear the truth pass from your lips rather than wanting to shake it free from Heahmund. 

Ivar went closer to him until his figure loomed and blocked the sun from his face. "You both belong to me, and if you think you can steal her back to England, then you'd best prepare yourself for the cross, Bishop. I hear your people crucify thieves." 

"Ivar," Hvitserk interrupted, wearing an unsure expression as he approached. "Everything alright?"

"Perfect. I was just clearing something up with our God-fearing Bishop. We understand each other much better now, I think."

Heahmund stared back blankly, and Ivar could sense his hatred. He revelled in it, knowing that he had taken all of the power away from the Bishop. 

"Great. Can I talk to you for a moment, now that everything's settled," Hvitserk said, already starting to walk away towards the side of the boat.

Ivar spared one last look at Heahmund, who had humbled himself in defeat. His head was bowed, and he uttered no prayer under his breath. Ivar smirked before leaving him.

Hvitserk's shoulders were tense, and he was gripping the ledge of the boat as Ivar came up behind him. He appeared annoyed, something Ivar wasn't used to seeing. Hvitserk was the calm type.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

Hvitserk shot a sour look over his shoulder in the direction of Heahmund. "I've had it with that lippy Christian, and I'm not the only one. Most of our warriors aren't keen on having a Bishop doing our fighting."

Ivar rolled his eyes. "He's nothing more than a pawn. No real power."

"Then you should tell them that. Most would rather have the nun back."

Ivar froze at the mention of you. "What do they know about (Y/N)?" 

"Who?" 

"That's her name, as I've found out," Ivar explained brusquely. "Anyway, most of them don't even know her."

"That's not true. A lot of them have seen or spoken with her since she aided Audhild."

It had slipped his mind accidentally that he wasn't always with you since he had given you away. Things had happened beyond his sight of you, like the bruise on your eye that he was never made privy to. "What do they say about her?"

"They think she is meek, like most Christians," Hvitserk said, shrugging. "But she isn't judgemental when it comes to our customs, and she has admirable patience. I told them she must have, to have put up with you this long." 

Ivar jostled to the side as Hvitserk nudged him in the shoulder. They both broke out into a laugh, and it helped remind Ivar he wasn't alone in whatever came next. Vestfold would be upon them soon enough, and there was no room to be careless. 

The brothers stood sharing in each other's silence. Ivar couldn't hazard a guess about Hvitserk's thoughts, too preoccupied with his own and the weight of the cross he had stashed away in his tunic. He stared out at the water, with visions of sea serpents and merfolk playing tricks on his mind. Leagues away in your longship, he hoped the first sight of the ocean had brought you some happiness. He would make it up to you with a promise of something else spectacular, and this time he would see it through at your side. 

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood

@siren-queen03

@peachyboneless

@didiintheblog

@soleil-dor

@zuxiezendler

@pieces-by-me

@xbellaxcarolinax

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@strangunddurm

@shannygoatgruff

@1950schick

@tgrrose

@castielsangelsx

@rose1729

@ladynightshade30

@mlchael-guerin

@dangerouspsychicgardenflower

@ritual-unions-gotme

@readsalot73

@lonewolf471

@poisonous00

@alytavzla

[remmushound]

Radio Hearts, chapter 2! @scentedcandlecryptid @digitl-art-monstr

Shelldon woke up.

Everything felt different. He knew who he was, and he knew who Donatello was standing in front of him. He recognized the lab, but it seemed different to the one he remembered. Once his scanners woke up properly, he confirmed that it was different. Some things new, some things moved, some things missing completely. It wasn’t much for concern. He just took a new scan of the area and updated his memory bank.

“Hey Shelldon.” Donatello gave a weak smile as he laid a hand on Shelldon’s head. “Good morning.”

Shelldon’s sensors searched down to explore the rest of his form. It felt new and strange to him, and he soon found out why. He actually had a body now— not just a head with a hover on top. He had a shell, just like his Master! And he had four legs and a tail, but he couldn’t move them though he tried. He still had his blades, but they were over his carapace now instead of his head. He looked almost like a turtle!

“New and improved!”

Donatello picked shelldon up around the bridges of his shell and held him high. Shelldon took the assistance gratefully and activated his blades, starting to hover just as well as he had in his previous form. The first thing Shelldon did with his newly achieved height was to look around at the rest of the lair that was visible from where he was flying.

“Heads up!” That was the Michelangelo’s voice. Shelldon’s scanners found him soon after. It was just in time to see him mid-flip, sending a soccer ball flying back in the opposite direction with a swift kick of the back of his foot.

Shelldon beeped excitedly. He tucked the memory in his bank for safe keeping and went to fly out of the lab to get a better view of the game.

“Not so fast.”

Shelldon was jolted suddenly backward. He didn't know why at first, until he looked down at his belly and found the source of his restraint. A chain and weight were attached to a hook on his underside, and though he could lift the chain, the weight was too heavy to fly with. Shelldon looked back up at Donatello with sad, confused sensors and was met with a gentle pat on his head.

“I’m sorry, Shelldon.” Donatello said. “It’s for your own safety.”

With that, Donatello left Shelldon alone. That’s how Shelldon spent most of his days after that. Donatello was in his lab working with every spare chance he got, but with his work those chances were very few. At night, when they were most active, Shelldon wouldn’t see his master or his master's brothers at all. Slowly, Shelldon began to pick up a schedule. They’d leave at ten PM when the city was dark and shadows aplenty, and they’d return at four in the morning when the shadows were just starting to dwindle. They’d come home, but Shelldon wouldn’t see them until at least six. He’d hear them, of course; eating and laughing and playing games that he wasn’t included in. Around that time, Donatello would return to his lab and Shelldon would finally be able to interact with someone. He’d finally be addressed and be touched and be with someone, and it made him feel overheated in a good way. Then Donatello would go to sleep and Shelldon would be alone again. By four in the afternoon, the lair would be active again, but Shelldon wasn’t allowed to join them. He’d be alone until the next morning.

During those times of absence when Shelldon knew the brothers had left the lair to do whatever it is that they did during the night, Shelldon liked to dim his sensors and listen. Though he couldn’t see the source of the noises, during the silence there were always voices, always different. Always telling a story that Shelldon always grew to love. The music and the voices his sweet salvation until his master returned to bless him with his presence. Stories of grandeur and adventure and action that Shelldon could only hope to one day experience for himself. Hope. That was something new that he wasn’t quite used to yet, but it felt right.

“Please! Help!” Was what the voices said this time, “Please! Let me go!”

Shelldon gave a curious beep at the voices as he tucked them away in his hard drive with the rest of the stories. That night, right on schedule, Donatello returned home. Shelldon waited patiently for the time to come when Donatello would enter the lab, and the time came sooner than usual.

“Sorry for the early night Shelldon.” Donatello said as he situated himself, changing to his sleeping shell and pulling on his favorite purple robes. “Nardo was being extra annoying tonight.”

Donatello sat down at his desk and immediately set to work. Shelldon hovered over, the length of his chain just long enough to be able to reach the desk and rest on top of it. He watched his master with the utmost adoration. At first, Donatello didn't seem to notice, but after a few seconds of awkward staring, he finally turned to address Shelldon.

“Can I help you sir?”

Shelldon couldn't talk, so Donatello expected no response and immediately turned back to his work. Shelldon just continued to watch.

“Please! Let me go!”

Donatello froze. He was stiff as a statue as he turned around. “Did you say something?”

Shelldon gave a happy beep and hovered as high as he could reach, looking down at the ball and chain attached to him.

“Please! Let me go!”

Donatello eyes only grew wider and wider, until they reached their limits. His mouth fell open and the color drained from his face. When he could finally take a breath, it was shaky and terrified, and when he could finally move, it was to grab Shelldon almost roughly and yank him over to the workstation. Shelldon didn't know what was happening, but he trusted his master and didn't resist the action. Donatello always knew what he was doing. Shelldon felt a familiar pinch in his back. His vision tunneled. His mind slowed as he fought to stay awake…

Shelldon went to sleep.

[dulce-pjm]

“f” for effort

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff 

summary: this feud has gone on far too long. the study room is yours and you no longer care what namjoon has to say about it. 

You’re running for your life. 

At least, that’s really what it looks like. If you weren’t so goddamn fast, bystanders might have stopped to ask if you were safe or needed help. You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf’s elderly grandma as you tear across campus with only one destination in mind. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead and stains are threatening to form in the pits of your shirt but frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’ve got a place to be, and fast. 

Said place is your heaven. Your paradise. Your land of milk and honey. Or as a moron would call it, the corner library study room. 

It’s roomy, it’s quiet, almost no one knew it was there. When you had loads of coursework to catch up on (which was often and just so happened to be the case on this Friday night), you sought refuge in your precious study room. During the day, the lighting was beautiful. The windows were massive, letting all of the sun’s rays beam into the cozy room and make you feel warm, bright, awake. At night, when you became especially frustrated, you could always slide your rolling chair over to said big windows and gaze at the stars or stare off into the night. 

No one appreciated that room correctly, not like you did it. 

Which is why you had to stop that little fucker, Namjoon, from stealing it from right under your nose. 

The two of you were only freshmen, but your ongoing feud over the glorious study room was intense enough to have lasted generations. You both were willing to pull out all the stops if that’s what it took to keep the other from making it to the room. You used the cheapest of tricks, flat out sabotaging the other if you felt it necessary. 

You recall one particular time you planted a fake spider (one of his biggest fears, you’d learned) in his backpack before the end of your shared Calc II class, making him let loose a shrill shriek, much to the annoyance of the professor. And while Namjoon was getting lectured on disrupting class and not acting his age, you were waltzing off to the study room, internally flipping him off as you did. The memory makes you chuckle as you heave and sprint. 

It wasn’t that Namjoon had done anything particularly wrong to you. You figured in another context, you might have found him much more bearable, maybe even nice. But something about him just rubbed you the wrong way. 

For one, he was an applied mathematics major. Who the fuck majors in just math? People who want to flex how much smarter they are than you, that’s who. And what did the applied part even mean? You suspected someone just as unbearable as Namjoon had added the word in so that he (because of course it was a man) and all his other mathematician friends could be pretentious, annoying fucks together. 

Secondly, despite being one of the top students in your class, he was a member of a fraternity. How he had time to both outperform everyone else in the STEM program and party it out with the frat brothers every night was beyond you. You’d heard from your senior friend (who also notified you that Namjoon was after your precious study room) that was also part of the brotherhood that Namjoon was on some kind of fraternity-specific scholarship and that was the only reason he joined. That you understood, tuition was no joke. Didn’t make him any less annoying, though. 

And third? Third... Well, you couldn’t think of a third point right now but you’re certain there is one, you know it. You probably couldn’t remember because you were running out of oxygen and dying under the beating sun. 

You’re almost crying tears of joy when you enter the library, head whipping around to search for a particular tall blonde. Luckily, he’s nowhere in sight. 

Your feet scream as they carry you to your safe haven but you can’t even be bothered until-

“Going somewhere?” He strides next to you, his effortless speed-walking easily overtaking your sloppy attempt at a run. Your books are threatening to slip from your arms and you’re fairly certain you lost the sunglasses on top of your head long ago when you came barreling down the bio building stairs. 

“Fuck you, Kim,” you spit harshly. “I came in here first so I get the room.” Your crudeness only makes him laugh maniacally. You curse the little dimples that crease into his cheeks, taking them as an insult to your misery.

“As far as I can see-” He takes advantage of your height difference and takes a massive step in front of you. “-I’m going to get there before you.” As if to tease you further, he spins to face you as he easily surpasses you, approaching the study room and its sign-up sheet with increasing speed. 

If you want to win this round- and you really, really do, not only to get your work done but to rub it in his smug face- you’ll need to play dirty. 

Moments later, Namjoon is picking up the pen, smirking at you as he moves to haphazardly scribble his name into the time slot. But you’re already formulating a plan. Your textbooks were pretty damn heavy, you bet it’d definitely throw him off if you managed to drop them on his toes. Actually, it definitely would, since the idiot was wearing sandals in late October. As you’re taking aim, however, Namjoon’s face falls. 

“The fuck is a board game club?” You freeze, mere steps away from dropping your books on his foot. 

“What?” When he doesn’t explain, you nudge him aside and peer at the sign-up sheet. Lo and behold, there it is. 

From eight p.m. to midnight, the room is booked. By a... board game club. And it’s seven forty-five now, which means you’re shit out of luck. 

“Well, looks like neither of us-”

“This is bullshit.” Namjoon chuckles at your disgusted expression. 

“It’s just a study room, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another free one.”

“Well, I don’t want just any study room, Kim. I want my study room.” He scoffs at your arrogance and (quite unfortunately) follows you as you spin on your heel and take off in the other direction. 

“Well, what are you gonna do about it? Tell off the game club?”

“I’m going to lodge a complaint and get my study room back.” 

“Mhmm.” He trails you incessantly as you march up to the nearest help desk and drop your books in front of the poor employee about to suffer from your wrath. 

“Can I help you?” the sheepish girl asks. She couldn’t be much older than you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. 

“Yes, can you please explain why a-” You raise your fingers for air quotes. “-‘board game club’ has booked a private study room, taking priority over student study time?” The girl is taken aback at your abruptness, clearly not used to being confronted in such a manner. But you weren’t here to waste time by avoiding hurt feelings. 

“I-” She hesitates, looking to the blonde beside you for help, of which he gives none. “I’m not sure what to tell you. The study rooms are first come, first serve.”

“For students,” you emphasize, pressing your palms into the desk and leaning forward. “Not unofficial club gatherings.” Something changes in the girl’s face and she turns away from you and faces her computer, typing something across the keyboard. In just a moment, her entire demeanor has flipped. It seems she’s not interested in entertaining your attitude anymore. 

“Well, looks like the ‘Board Game Club’ is an official, university-sponsored club. Which means they’re just as much entitled to study room time as you are. Actually, more-so, since you didn’t book your room in advance.” She spins her office chair backs towards you. “Sorry.” She shrugs, flashing you an all-too-fake smile. 

“Ugh, fine.” You pile your books back into your arms and roll your eyes, leaving the library altogether. 

And your trail follows you.

“What, you’re just gonna leave? There were other study rooms open!” You scoff, annoyed at his ignorance. 

“Well the other study rooms that are open at this time either smell like ass or have no air conditioning. So that’s a no-go.” Namjoon laughs quietly, agreeing with your sentiment. He’s been stuck in his fair share of poor study rooms before and knows it can ruin the experience. 

“So.... what are you going to do now?” 

You find yourself wondering why he’s still here, talking to you when he should be organizing his own study plan for the night. Further yet, you wonder why you’re entertaining his stupid questions at all. 

“I dunno. Camp out at the campus Starbucks?”

“What? But they close at ten!” You shoot an exasperated look in his direction. 

“And what’s it to you?” You pick up the pace in an effort to shake off your stalker, but much to your annoyance he jumps in front of you, thrusting out his hands before you can take a step further. You nearly collide with his chest. 

“Would you just wait a sec?” Your eyes glide up to meet his as you tap your foot, barely acknowledging you’re listening. “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” Your eyes narrow. 

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but-” His eyes widen and he begins frantically shaking his head. You almost smirk. It’s fun watching him squirm. 

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He sighs, wringing his hands. “Most of the fraternity is at this other party so the house will be empty tonight. And quiet. I know that’s why you like the study rooms and it’s the least I can do for you.”

You’re still suspicious. What’s in it for him? He certainly wasn’t just being nice to be nice. There was something else involved. 

“If you knew the house would be empty tonight then why did you try to take the study room?” Namjoon shrugs, grinning mischievously.

“You’re just too fun to tease.”

That remark has you scoffing and brushing past him, not even dignifying him with a response. 

“Wait! Just slow down, would you?” A heavy hand settles on your shoulder and Namjoon is beside you again. You’re about to scream with frustration. 

“What, Namjoon? What could you possibly tell me that will convince me to come study with you?”

He grins sheepishly. 

“I’ll buy you pizza?”

Okay, yeah, you’re a tad ashamed you let your morals slide in exchange for greasy pizza that will wreck your stomach in the morning. But you’re hungry, okay? And the dining hall was already closed and your wallet was empty and it just happened.

And now you were plopped on Namjoon’s bed typing away furiously at your laptop. He’d made a few efforts at light conversation, but he quickly gave up trying to push that boulder when you barely grunted in response to his questions. 

His room was surprisingly nice and organized. The bedsheets were barely wrinkled and the room smelled pleasant despite it being apart of a literal frat house. Though his desk was a mess, littered with math theory books and philosophy papers and historical fiction novels. The books appeared well-loved and cared for, not like they were simply written as required on a syllabus.

He appeared pretty organized, too. The oak-colored round glasses he’d donned after arriving made him look older, more scholarly. And definitely more pretentious. 

You were glad the two of you weren’t doing this at your dorm. Your room was an actual nightmare. Your life might be organized and planned down to the minute, but your bedroom was an entirely different story. 

“So...” Namjoon chews on the end of his pen as he reworks old calculus problems. “Psychology major?” 

Really, trying at the small talk again? Good luck with that. 

You’re about to completely ignore him when it occurs to you that if you don’t talk about your major he will most certainly talk about his. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard him rant and preach about math and its many uses in modern society. So before you end up stuck in that situation, you entertain his question. If it could even be called that. 

“Mhmm.” You bite the bottom of your lip as you contemplate the next line of your essay. You don’t notice Namjoon staring. “I plan to graduate a year early and go straight to med school. Probably open a family practice one day.” Namjoon leans back into his bed frame, nodding in something close to awe. 

“Wow, you really got it that planned out?” 

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Since I was fifteen. I only majored in psychology because I think it’s interesting and I’ll look well-rounded when I start applying to med school. I’ll definitely just be a family doctor.”

“Well, you are a great people person...” You finally crack the next line of your paper and type it away, completely missing the joke and subtle jab. 

Ding dong. 

“That the pizza?” It’s the first thing you’ve said to him unprompted since you got here. 

“Think so. I’ll be back.” He heaves himself up from the bed and trots out of the room, right as your phone buzzes. You only spare the screen a passing glance, but upon seeing the notification is a text from your roommate, you immediately open it.

9:18 pm. Yeji: where are you? ive looked for you everywhere >:( 9:22 pm. Yeji: Y/N? pls respond or ill be worried 9:23 pm. Y/N: I thought you were using the room for yourself tonight. Why are you at the library? 9:23 pm. Yeji: suho cancelled :( i came to find you at the library but you aren’t here ? 9:24 pm. Y/N: The study rooms were all taken. Me and Namjoon are studying at his place. 9:24 pm. Yeji: wait, really?!?! 9:24 pm. Yeji: oh my god, FINALLY 9:25 pm. Y/N: ??? 9:27 pm. Y/N: Yeji?? 9:28 pm. Yeji: im just relieved you two are finally owning up to the obvious sexual tension in this stupid feud and banging it out ;)

You choke. Is that what people thought about you? The idea made you want to gag. 

9:29 pm. Y/N: What ?? 9:29 pm. Y/N: NO 9:29 pm. Y/N: That is most definitely NOT what is happening.  9:29 pm. Y/N: That’s disgusting.  9:30 pm. Yeji: aww booooooo 9:30 pm. Yeji: and to think, i was getting my hopes up for you 9:30 pm. Yeji: but seriously tho 9:31 pm. Yeji: whatever dance you two are playing isn’t gonna last long 9:31 pm. Yeji: its obvious you two like each other

With that, you shut the phone off completely and set it face down, suddenly feeling very, very hot. 

Yeji was an idiot. She didn’t know what she was talking about. 

Right?

This argument, this feud, this competition, it was fueled by anger and annoyance and, as much as you hate to say it, pettiness. You couldn’t stand Kim. And he didn’t particularly like you either. There was nothing else going on here. 

Your arguments weren’t flirting. They were arguments. Simple as that. 

But then again, you were sitting in his room. Studying together. Letting him buy you dinner. 

Well, fuck. 

“Pizza delivery!” You scream in fright as he enters the room, making him nearly drop the box full of your precious dinner. 

“Oh my god, fuck, are you okay?” You quickly fan at your cheeks to combat the furnace burning underneath them. 

“Yep! I’m fine! Just don’t scare me like that, for god’s sake.” 

When you meet his eyes, Namjoon looks genuinely apologetic. 

Your heart flutters. This little shit. 

“Well, uh, here’s your pizza.” He slides the box next to your laptop and settles on the opposite side of the bed, returning to his work. 

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“Nah, I ate earlier. And your stomach is growling. I can hear it from over here.” Your eyes bulge. 

Had he cared like this all along? Had you just been too blind to notice it? You were freaking out, your heart rate climaxing and your hands quickly becoming lightly coated in sweat. 

The weight of the past few months hits you like a freight train. 

It’s much too overwhelming. 

You’re suddenly aware of your close proximity. The smell of the room, of him, is overpowering and suffocating. The air is thick and you think you might choke. When did that dimpled grin become so attractive? Just before it immediately pissed you off but now...

You eye his blonde locks, imagining what it’d be like to run your fingers through them before you can stop yourself. The glasses you’d found pretentious somehow make him cute, maybe even endearing. Did you always feel like this?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or like you might throw up. Please don’t puke on my floor, I’m begging.”

“Fine!” you squeak, whipping your face back to the laptop screen, unwilling to let your eyes move even an inch in his direction. 

Even still, it’s like you can feel his body heat from across the bed, calling you in, taunting you for being the biggest moron you knew. 

You gotta get out of here. 

You finish your essay in record time, just as the clock strikes eleven. You’ve already instructed Yeji to pick you up at eleven-fifteen, and she’s always early. Now all you had to do was ignore the way your heart was beating in your throat and slip away to forget this ever happened. 

After a few days used to succumb to logic, you’d realize this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. An unnecessary emotional reaction. 

“Well-” You stand, gathering your books in your arms. “I’m off. Thanks for buying me dinner and letting me intrude.” He looks up from his work to you, eyes bleary and exhausted. You hate the way you enjoy how he gives you his full attention and concern. 

“It’s really no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

Goddamn, Namjoon. Stop being such a gentleman, would you?

“No. It’s fine. My roommate is picking me up.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, appearing slightly disappointed. No, he wasn’t disappointed. You’re just crazy and emotionally unstable at the moment. 

You bid him an awkward wave and slowly back out of the room when he calls out for you. 

“Y/N!” You freeze in the hallway as he approaches, noticing how his hair has fallen out of its styled position and hangs loosely rumpled in his face. 

“Yes?” He probably was gonna ask for you to pay for the pizza since he didn’t eat it. Yeah, that seems like a Namjoon thing to do. 

He pauses and grins awkwardly, making your eyes fly to those dimples. He wrings his hands. 

“I- uh-” He breathes out sharply through his nose. “I had a nice time.” You nod, allowing no change in your blank expression. 

“I appreciated the quiet. Thanks.” He sighs, looking as tired as you feel. 

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m interested in you for a few months now.” Your heart stops and you’re unable to offer a response. “I may have got a bit carried away teasing but, well…’

“What do I need to do to secure another study date with you?”

You’re shocked. Flattered, even. But more than anything, you feel your pride inflating in your chest. You quickly forget that just moments before, you were the one drooling over him and instead bask in the fact that he’s been pining for you this whole time. You feel emboldened.

You give him a half-hearted shrug. Namjoon’s face falls.

“If you want a second date with me, you’ll have to do better than trashy pizza and textbooks.” A smile spreads across the boy’s face as he lets out a laugh that he’s desperately trying to contain. 

You love seeing him flustered. You’re a bit more comfortable admitting that now. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll work on that.” 

You give him a curt nod as the two of you walk towards the front door. 

“Find me in the corner study room when you come up with something.” You give him a glance over your shoulder as you step out into the night. 

“Yes ma’am,” he shouts back, playfully saluting you. You’re already missing his annoying presence as he closes the door. 

When you collapse into the passenger seat of Yeji’s car, you aren’t listening to her chatter at all. Not that you normally would, but this time there’s not even a chance you don’t tune everything out. 

You know, you think you could make room for Namjoon in your life plan. He was a little shit, sure. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. And something tells you that you won’t be getting rid of him so easily anymore. 

[imagineaworlds]

Rules & Roses

“tripping over my own feet”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2022

With the slight promotion I earned in January came the perk of making my own schedule. Since people worked for me, I got to “sleep in” until about nine or ten in the morning— and by “sleep in”, I mean that it gave me a chance to roll out of bed and go for a run every morning with enough time to shower and still get breakfast. But I liked it. I liked that I wasn’t having to rush to work at five anymore. It was all at my own pace. My later schedule also meant that I could afford to go to a better park with a nicer trail to run on. At seven in the morning, it was a fairly popular place with everyone running around each other while trying to dodge the dogs and kids running around. The trail itself was longer, but it circled around a gorgeous garden, then led to a great view of the city so that I could see the Capitol building. I loved it, and it seemed that everyone else did, too. It was hard to run around the hikers and the families that were taking up the width of the path, yet it was always worth it.

Fridays were the busiest. Since the weekend was approaching, tourism normally spiked, and there were some people who were already off of work, or their bosses were being lenient with the hours. So, the already busy path was… full. It was ridiculous. Still, that didn’t deter me from finding a parking spot, lacing up my running shoes, filling up my water bottle at the fountain between the public bathrooms, pushing my earbuds into my ears, then heading onto the path.

Immediately, I almost ran into a little kid that was running straight across the path to catch the frisbee his dad threw a little too far. I stopped, rolled my eyes, then, when he was out of the way, I continued on. How were kids awake at 7AM? I hated summer. When I was a kid, I spent all day in bed when I wasn’t in school— which I thought was a timeless tradition. For the most part, I was sure most kids would prefer that to be the case, anyhow, which was probably why I was so shocked when I saw so many kids at that park every morning. His dad apologized with a wave as I ran by. I hardly acknowledged him. America was so different compared to the rest of the world. Americans liked to keep to themselves, however, there were some that were a little too nice, hence my hesitancy to wave back.

Near the end of the path, where there was a huge U-turn to keep the flow of traffic on the path moving, I found myself slowing down slightly to make sure I didn’t run into any of the tourists that were stopping to smell the roses in the garden. My eyes were up, trying to gauge if anyone was going to run into me. It seemed safe. The awkward part about this U-turn, however, was that everyone who had been ahead of me on my run was now turning around to run the opposite way. The backs of heads I recognized were now gaining faces to attach to them. And the eye contact… Don’t get me started. I practically had to keep my eyes up, but that meant that everyone running my way now had an instinctual urge to look at me, which meant that I had to look at them. It was horrible.

As I made my way around the U-turn, barely jumping out of the way before a grandma’s cane could stab my foot. When I looked up from my foot to the path, I saw someone who had just been behind me pass me, so now she was giving me a judging look as she started running in my direction to make her way back to the parking lot. Her hair was black, bangs cut to just barely touch her lashes, the length of it pulled back into a ponytail in the middle of the back of her head. Her brown eyes met my gaze for the briefest moment, but when we made that uncomfortable eye contact, she quickly looked away and sped up from a jog to a sprint. I looked down at the concrete. Making awkward eye contact with strangers was the worst… but staring at someone because they were gorgeous and you couldn’t pull your eyes away was even worse—

Wait.

“Lauren?” I questioned under my breath as I came to a sudden halt, nearly tripping on my own feet.

That woman— the one in the distance— she looked exactly like Lauren. Not like they could be sisters, but like they could be doppelgangers. I was so confused. But as I watched her continue her peaceful jog on the path, my gaze followed her while I tried to figure out if it was really her or if my mind was playing tricks on me. There were plenty of times when I thought I saw Lauren over the past thirteen years, but it never turned out to be her, but this time… I would have put money on it being Lauren.

And then someone crashed right into me.

I gasped and stumbled forward before I felt their hands grab my hips lightly in order to keep me steady. I pulled my headphones out so that I could apologize. As I caught my footing and turned around, I was met by a tall man with brown hair that was all sweaty and stuck to his forehead, a small, apologetic smile took over his face, but his hands didn’t move from my hips until he was sure that I wasn’t going to waver. I made an attempt to say sorry, but he beat me to it.

“I didn’t see that you had stopped. My apologies.”

“No worries,” I insisted while looking over my shoulder to see if I could spot that woman again. She had disappeared. As always, the ghost of Lauren Reynolds had vanished without a trace, and I was left to think that I was completely insane. Not only had I seen someone who was long long, but I had embarrassed myself by crashing into this man, and now I wasn’t even being polite by apologizing back because I was too preoccupied with looking over my shoulder. I sighed. “Sorry,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I thought I saw someone—” I shook my head. “Never mind. Sorry.” I waved shortly to him before jumping back onto my toes so that I could keep running on the path. “Sorry…” I mumbled again. “Sorry…”

He laughed at me as I reached to put my headphone back in my ear. “It’s not your fault.”

I smiled. This was… weird. He seemed nice enough, but we had been standing there while pointlessly apologizing for too long. Neither of us were required to stick around, and I definitely didn’t want to now. Every time I “saw” Lauren, it took a toll on me. Having that hope build in my chest that I would get to see her again, to hold her in my arms, to kiss her lips, and to tell her “I love you, Lauren”, only to have it crushed entirely was… draining. I couldn’t keep doing it. This was my torture, and I knew that wasn’t how she had intended for it to happen, but that was the depressing truth of loving someone who would never come back. She tried warning me that she might disappear, and at the time, I was naive enough to think that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but now that I was living in a world where I didn’t have Lauren Reynolds around anymore, it was like I was stuck in place. I traveled, right. I moved on, I thought. But every fucking time this happened, I would find myself drawn back to the memories of how happy we were together. I would never be that happy again in my life. Lauren was the real deal, and there was nothing I could do to mend my broken heart. I thought time would do it naturally… but, nope. There I was, thirteen years later, and there was this six foot Nordic God standing in front of me, yet all of my attention was on that woman who reminded me of Lauren.

I didn’t see him or Lauren’s doppelganger again for the rest of my run. Honestly, that was a relief. The less I saw of her, the faster I could forget about her. As I thought about it, my running pace sped up until my feet were pounding on the pavement and my calves started to burn. I didn’t stop, though. It took extreme diligence to make sure I didn’t run into anyone, but it felt nice to go as fast as I could, to run off every thought of Lauren Reynolds. The ghosting soft touch of her lips felt as vivid as the day she first kissed me. We were standing in a garden similar to this one, the sun beating down on us, a cool breeze passing by, the sound of birds the only thing that could possibly disrupt us for miles. We were in Romania. Lauren knew someone that had a house out in the middle of nowhere, and they offered to rent it to us for a few weeks so that we could have some time alone. On our way out there, I begged Lauren to stop the car so that I could jump out and go see all of the roses out there. The field seemed endless. The flowers were already in full bloom. It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was everything Lauren Reynolds was to me. And then she joined me in the fields, giggling at how fascinated I was with the sea of flowers. That was when she tugged at my hand, pulled me close so that our chests were touching, and for the longest moment, we stayed so close to each other that I could feel her breath on my nose. I wanted her to kiss me. I could feel myself shaking with anticipation.She was so close I could practically taste her lemon chapstick already. But neither of us moved. Finally, as I shuddered when the wind passed by, Lauren pressed her palms to my cheeks, and she made me lean into her kiss. My eyes fell shut as I gave in. My heart was skipping in my chest, butterflies swirling in my stomach until I thought I was going to pass out, and my knees weakened. If it weren’t for her hold on my face, I would have fallen over.

Lauren Reynolds.

She did that.

Even the memories alone of kissing her made me swoon. I could get lost in her chocolate brown eyes all day and no one would hear a single protest from me because that was how head over heels I was for her. I dealt with missing her for weeks on end and not knowing anything about her life simply because I couldn't imagine my life without her. I preferred having some of her than none of her. But, in the end, it wasn’t my choice. In the end, someone or something took her away from me, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. Seeing women who looked like her, like I did on that trail that morning, was going to be the death of me. It didn’t matter how similar they looked to her, they were never Lauren, and they never would be. I was going to be alone forever because I would never be able to find anyone else like her. Lauren Reynolds was everything and more to me. She was perfection. She was the whole universe bundled into one human that brought so much joy to me. All I would have until my dying breath was the ghost of Lauren following me around and the memories of loving her.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​  @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​ @bshelley322​