#i was getting into bed and the fire alarm went off so i’m now wide awake

[violetthekiller]

Welcome to an unwarranted, unprofessional and unofficial body language analysis of one of my fave TZ photos…The Ballon d’Or couples shot

The first thing about this photo is obviously the hand placement. Zs on his shoulder and lapel and Toms so effortlessly on her back

Then we’ve got their facial expressions and smiles. The definition of The Look of Love and about to risk it all for you

But the final thing, which gets me the most, Is Zs lean into him. Her entire body is pressed against T yet she’s leaning back slightly so they can still look at each other.

Everything about it screams were so in love and smitten with each other. I just love this picture, it’s so damn cute 🥰

#i was getting into bed and the fire alarm went off so i’m now wide awake #this is so uncalled for soz #and pls don’t take this seriously #sappy hours #tomdaya #tz essays

[tempobrucera]

Fire Alarms & Love Hearts

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas

Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.

Words: 10.1k

Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that

A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

._____.

It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.

"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”

You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"

He giggles.

"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.

Now you are the one laughing.

“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."

You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.

When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.

“Hello neighbour,

I would like to ask you out for dinner.

If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.

P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)

P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.

Thom"

You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.

It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.

"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.

He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.

"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”

“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”

His eyes go wide.

"Shit!"

He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.

He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.

"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."

You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.

“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“

You laugh.

"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."

He smiles back.

"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”

“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."

"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."

You start laughing.

"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”

“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."

You smile at him.

"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.

He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."

It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.

"We should do that again."

You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.

"Yes. Definitely."

"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."

*_____*

Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.

"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.

"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."

"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.

"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.

He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.

"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."

*_____*

Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.

"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."

You smile.

"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."

He blushes.

"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.

"I didn't say that."

He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.

"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.

"That sounds great," you say.

He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.

"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.

"What would that be?"

"A bet."

He raises an eyebrow.

"What would this bet involve?"

"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."

He laughs.

"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."

"Maybe, maybe not."

He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"We'll see," you say.

And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.

The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.

"Can I try yours?" You ask.

"Yes, if I can try yours."

You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.

"This is amazing," you say.

"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"

You're smiling, shaking your head.

"No, it's good."

"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"

"Don't make me answer that."

He chuckles.

"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."

"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."

"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.

He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.

"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"

He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.

"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.

"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"

"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."

"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."

"Adorable."

"Not."

You're shaking your head.

"Definitely."

He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.

"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.

"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"

"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.

When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.

"What?" You ask.

"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."

You chuckle.

"You can have another one if you like."

He nods and kisses you again.

*_____*

When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.

He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.

He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.

When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.

"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.

He blushes.

"Thanks," he whispers.

He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.

"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.

He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.

"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."

You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.

"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."

He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.

"Thank you."

"I hope we can do that again, soon."

"Me too."

You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.

He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.

"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.

*_____*

After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.

"Hi neighbour," he says.

"Hi," you grumble.

He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."

Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."

"They better be," you say.

You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.

"Is this your doing?"

He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."

"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."

"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.

You look at them both.

"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."

The firefighter sighs.

"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.

"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."

Thomas sighs, but he agrees.

"Fine."

"Good," you say.

It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.

"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.

You shrug.

"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."

"Good night," he says.

"Night."

He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.

*_____*

The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.

Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"What is it?"

"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”

"Still."

"It's fine."

He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.

"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.

He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.

He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.

"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.

He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”

"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.

"Yes, please."

He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Shit," he breathes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.

You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.

You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.

"It's fine."

"It's been a while."

"You can't control these things."

He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.

"I'll make it up to you," he says.

"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."

"Still," he says.

*_____*

Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.

Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.

Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.

"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.

"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.

"How's the birthday boy doing?"

"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Okay, boyfriend," you say.

He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.

"I like that," he says.

"Me too."

*_____*

He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.

He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.

You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.

"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”

"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.

"Close your eyes."

He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.

"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.

"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.

"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.

You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.

"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.

He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.

You raise an eyebrow.

"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"

He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," he admits.

You laugh.

"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."

"Fuck, yes," he breathes.

"Lie back and relax."

"I can do that," he says.

You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.

"Oh god, please," he gasps.

You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Please," he begs.

You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”

Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.

For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.

“You enjoy that?”

"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.

"You ready for me, birthday boy?"

"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.

You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.

“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.

You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.

"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.

He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.

You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.

"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.

"It was," you say, kissing his temple.

"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.

"Stay, I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.

"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”

"It was a pleasure."

"What about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”

"You did?"

"Yes."

He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.

"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.

"There's no need," you whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.

"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.

*_____*

A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.

Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.

"You're staring," she says.

"Yes," you answer.

She's grinning.

"Do you need help?" She asks.

"No."

"I know a lot about him."

"I don't doubt it."

"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.

“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”

She's grinning, and her eyes light up.

"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."

"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.

She looks at you confused.

"No, but why would you think that?"

"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."

"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”

“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."

"So, what do you have planned so far?"

"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."

"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”

“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"

"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"

"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”

“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”

._____.

Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.

His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.

"Fuck," you say again.

He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.

"Thomas, please," you beg.

He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.

"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.

Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.

He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.

You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.

"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.

He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you tired already?"

"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.

"You'll get one," he says.

He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.

He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.

"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.

"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.

"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.

"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.

You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.

"Thomas, look at me," you say.

He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.

"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.

"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.

"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.

“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.

He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.

He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.

"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.

"Please, what?"

"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.

"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”

He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.

"Shit, I'm close," he moans.

Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.

"Fuck," he groans.

"Yes, indeed," you breathe.

*_____*

“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.

“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”

“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”

“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”

She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

._____.

It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.

"I have a present for you," he says.

"So do I," you smile.

"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.

He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.

"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

You take the bracelet and put it on.

"It's so beautiful, thank you."

He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.

"And now your turn," he says.

You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.

"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”

“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.

._____.

When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.

At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.

"One day I want to see them with you," he says.

"Someday, maybe."

"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.

The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.

“What’s your favourite,” he asks.

"You're my favourite," you whisper back.

"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”

"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.

"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.

"So, which one is yours?"

"That would be the Orion nebula."

"Why that one?"

"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."

You look at him.

“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."

He's laughing and kisses you.

._____.

When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.

“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."

He laughs.

"That sounds wonderful."

You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.

"Oops, sorry," he laughs.

"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.

You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.

“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.

"Yes, that's right," he whispers.

He's smiling and kisses your nose.

"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.

You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.

"Do you need a hand?" He asks.

"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.

"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."

You smile and giggle.

"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."

"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."

You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.

"Yes, it is."

He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.

"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.

"I love you too."

He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.

“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"

You're giggling.

"Yes, I would like that," you say.

His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.

"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."

You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.

"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.

"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."

"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.

His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.

"God, you're so wet," he moans.

"Thomas," you gasp.

"Mhm?"

"The sauce, it's burning."

"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.

"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.

“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"

"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."

“Making out? Or just distracted.”

“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”

"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.

"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.

"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.

"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.

"That sounds like a good plan," he says.

"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..

You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.

“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.

He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.

"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.

"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.

"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."

You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.

“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"

"Maybe," you laugh.

"I love it," he says.

"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.

"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"

"Tell me," you say.

"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.

"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.

"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.

"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.

"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.

"Yes, very," you smile.

"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.

His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.

He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.

He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.

His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.

“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.

"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.

"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"

"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.

“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.

He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.

“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.

"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.

His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.

"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.

"Yes, please."

His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.

He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.

"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."

"Yes," you gasp.

"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."

"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.

"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.

"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."

"Yes, yes," you whimper.

"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.

"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."

"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.

He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.

“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."

He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.

"Yes, please, I would love that."

You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me," he says.

"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.

"Anywhere," he moans.

"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.

"Yes," he whimpers.

"And here?" You lick his abs.

"God, yes," he moans.

"What about here?" You circle his cock.

"Yes, please."

"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.

"Fuck, yes," he groans.

"Where else, should I touch you?"

"On my thighs," he breathes.

"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.

"There, please," he pants.

Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.

"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.

Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.

"There too," he whimpers.

You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.

"Yes, there," he moans.

Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.

"Can I?"

"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.

"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.

"Are you close?"

"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.

"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.

"So good," he whispers.

"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.

"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."

"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.

He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.

"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”

“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”

He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.

"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.

"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”

“Okay,” you say looking curious.

“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.

"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.

……

Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans

#thomas raggi x yn #thomas raggi x you #Thomas raggi imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #thomas raggi #måneskin #maneskin smut #maneskin fanfic #thomas raggi smut #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader

[stephstars08]

Monster ~ Chapter One

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Weapons, Threats, Mention of Death, Mention of Nudity, Violence, Angst, Some Fluff, Dark Themes, and Possible Grammar Errors.

Word Count: 2,501

Y/N was peacefully sleeping in her bed till she was awoken by tapping on her window of her bedroom. When she opened her eyes, she saw a familiar face standing on the fire escape that was connected to her window. She sat up and looked at her alarm clock on her nightstand that read two in the morning. She let out a sigh as she pulled off her soft and comfy blanket off her body and stood up.

She walked over to the window and opened it up. She did it as quietly as she could, so she didn’t wake up her parents that were sleeping in the room next to her. Let’s just say this window has been noisy ever since she was a baby. No matter how many times she told her parents it needed to be fixed it just went through one ear and out the other. They probably leave it like it is on purpose so they can hear when she is sneaking out. But jokes on them since she has learned if she opens the window as slow as she can, it won’t make any noise.

“Jason, what are you doing here?” Y/N whispered to her long-time best friend. “I was wondering if you were up to do one of our early morning strolls.” Jason whispered back to her in a curious tone. “I would but you know if my parents find out that I sneaked out with you they would have you arrested just like they did the last time.” Y/N whispered to him with a tired sigh. Let’s just say that Y/N’s parents aren’t very fond of Jason. “Don’t worry, I have a plan this time.” Jason whispered to her as he quietly climbed inside.

Y/N watched Jason grab all of her pillows that were sitting on her comfy chair and laid them out on her bed. He pulled her blanket over the top of the pillows, so it now looks like someone is laying in the bed. “I don’t know Jason, I’m still worried about getting caught.” Y/N whispered still very unsure. “Y/N don’t worry. We’ll just be out for a couple hours. I promise I’ll have you back in time when they come in here to wake you up for school.” Jason whispered to her in reassurance.

“Okay.” Y/N whispered finally giving in as she slipped on a pair of shoes. Jason’s lips curved into a smile as he grabbed one of her jackets and handed it over to her. She thanked him and slipped on her jacket as she followed him over to her open window. Jason was the first one to climb out of the window and onto the fire escape. As always, he helped her climb out of the window and safely onto the fire escape. She quietly closed her window and followed Jason down the fire escape.

“So, what are we stealing tonight?” Y/N asked him as she walked out of the alleyway with him and walked down the sidewalk with him. “Car tires.” Jason answered. “Car tires?” Y/N said in a confused tone. “Yeah, I can make good money selling them.” Jason told her as he walked into the next alley way from Y/N’s apartment building.

Their eyes went wide when they saw a nice-looking car parked in the alleyway. “Holy shit! Look at this baby!” Jason said walking over to the car and putting one of his hands on top of the hood. Y/N knew she’d seen this car before on the news. “Oh my gosh!” Y/N gasp remembering. “Jason, this is the bat mobile!” Y/N told him. “So, that means it will be double the price for the tires.” Jason said taking out a wrench from inside his jacket that has a pocket inside. “Go be the look out.” He told her getting down on his knees and started to take the screws out of the front tire.

Y/N turned around but before she could take even take two steps, she ran into someone. She looked up to see who she bumped into. “Oh, crap!” Y/N said when she noticed who she ran into as her heartrate sped up. “What is going on here?” Batman growled which made Jason freeze. Jason looked over and there he saw him, Batman standing right in front of Y/N. “Um, we were just leaving.” Jason said dropping the wrench. “Hold it!” Batman hissed it a warning tone before Y/N and Jason could run away. “First, you are going to fix my tire.” Batman told Jason in a stern tone. Jason let out a heavy sigh as he picked his wrench back up.

“When you are done fixing my tire, I am going to drive you two home since you two are way too young to be out here this late by yourselves.” Batman told them which made Jason roll his eyes. “You can take Y/N home. I don’t have a home.” Jason told him as he finished fixing the tire. “Do you have a parent or guardian?” Batman asked him which Jason shook his head no. “My mom died early this year and I don’t know where my dad is.” Jason said standing back up and putting his wrench back into his jacket. “I’m the only person he has. I’ve tried to have him live with my parents and I, but they don’t like him.” Y/N added.

“I know someone who can take you in.” Batman offered which made Jason let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, no thanks.” Jason snapped turning to walk away but got stopped by Y/N grabbing his arm. “Jason please take his offer.” Y/N said in a pleading tone. “I’m better on my own.” Jason told her in a stern tone. “No, you’re not!” Y/N said matching his tone. “Ever since your mom died you have been having trouble supporting yourself.” She told him. She knew he still wasn’t on board. “Please Jason! It’s not safe for you to be out on the streets!” Y/N begged him with a worried look in her eyes. She knows he hates when he worries about him, so he knew he had to take up the hero’s offer. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Jason said in a soft tone finally giving in.

********************

Two years have now passed since Jason has been adopted by the one and only Bruce Wayne. Jason had only been living with Bruce for one month when he was told that Bruce is Batman. Bruce has seen much potential in Jason, so he decided to train him into becoming the new Robin. Training only took one year. Ever since Jason became Robin, he hasn’t been able to visit Y/N. Ever since becoming the Boy Wonder he’s been busy. During the day he’s doing home schooling with Alfred and during the night he’s on patrol.

It was pasted midnight when Y/N was walking home to her apartment. It was a chilly night in Gotham, so she snuggled closer into her jacket. “Hey cutie!” She heard some whistle at her. Y/N just ignored the voice and kept on walking. “HEY!” The voice called out to her louder this time. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” She yelled out as she kept on walking.

Suddenly she was pulled down onto the cold sidewalk by her hair. “Don’t you ignore me you little bitch!” A man snapped at her standing over top of her now shaking body. Y/N was going to try and get back up but quickly halted when the man took out a gun and pointed it right in front of her face. “Give me your fucking money!” The man told her in a demanding tone. “I don’t have any money, I swear.” Y/N told him in a shaky tone. “Fine, I’ll just take your fucking life instead!” The man snapped with anger. Y/N closed her waiting to hear the gun go off but instead she heard the man groaning in pain.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a gloved hand offering to help her up. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that the hand belongs to Robin, Batman’s side kick. She put her hand in his and let him help her off the cold sidewalk. “Are you okay?” Robin asked her with concern in his voice. “Yes, thank you so much.” Y/N told him so thankful. “It’s no problem. That bastard is knocked out and tied up. He can’t hurt you.” Robin told her in reassurance.

The more Y/N stared at him the more he felt very familiar to her. “Have we met before?” She asked him which made his heart skip a beat. Jason wanted to take off his domino mask, but he knew he couldn’t. “No, sorry.” Robin said with a lie which killed him inside. This isn’t the first time he’s lied to his best friends face but he knew it was the right thing since it’s going to keep her safe.

“Why are you out here all by yourself?” Robin asked quickly changing the subject. “I snuck out to go to a party which started to get out of control, so I left by myself which was obviously a dumb decision.” Y/N explained with a sigh. “It’s okay, you just didn’t want to get into anything you would end up regretting.” Robin reassured her.

“Thanks again for saving me. I really should get back home.” Y/N said with sincere. She went to go walk away but he quickly stopped her. “Let me walk you home.” Robin offered to her. “But what about the robber.” Y/N asked in confusion. “Don’t worry, the cops are already on their way to get him, and he’ll be out for a while anyways.” Robin reassuring her with a smile as he offered his hand to her again. “Okay.” Y/N said with a smile as she put her hand into his again.

Ever since that night Jason has been visiting Y/N as Robin. Since he couldn’t find the time to see her as himself, why not visit her as his other identity. Of course, he never told Bruce about it since he knows he’ll chew him out for it. He wants to tell her the truth but every time he mentioned it to Bruce, he would immediately shut him down saying it’s too dangerous for Y/N to know. However, after two years the visits suddenly stopped which made Y/N confused till she finally found out why. The Joker had murdered him which broke her heart into a million pieces.

********************

*One Year Later*

Jason slowly opened his eyes from a deep slumber. He slowly sat up in the mattress he stole and took of the blanket he also stole off his body. He looked over in the corner of the small bedroom where his red helmet and suit just lying on the floor in a small pile. Flashbacks of last night started to flash through his mind.

Jason broke out of his flashbacks when he heard his phone ringing on the floor next to him. He picked the phone up and answered the call putting the phone up against his ear. “Hey Babs.” Jason said into the phone. “Hey Jason. I called to let you know that I tried everything but unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything on your childhood best friend.” He heard Barbara tell him in a sad tone. “Oh.” Jason said in disappointment trying to hide it but didn’t work. “I’m so sorry Jason.” He heard Barbara’s tell him still with a sad tone since she really did feel bad. “It’s fine.” Jason said into the phone with a heavy sigh as he used his other hand to run it through his messy raven colored hair. “I can try something else. There has to be something that can tell us if she’s still in Gotham or not.” He heard Barbara tell him which just made him shake is head. “No it’s fine. I’m sure Bruce is giving up a lot of shit to do anyways.” Jason said into the phone. “I’ll talk to you later.” He said and ended the call before she would say anything.

When Jason put his phone back down on the floor, he saw the framed picture of him and Bruce just lying there on the floor. The picture was from the days when he was Robin. He was in his suit and Bruce was in his Batman suit. The picture was taken in the bat cave by Alfred. Jason knew that the photo taken the day he wore his suit for the very first time. As he stared at the photo, he noticed the big smile he had on his face. He hasn’t smiled like that in a very long time.

He felt his blood start to boil in anger, so he quickly stood up and made his way to the bathroom so he could take a shower. After he turned on the water he stripped out of his dirty clothes and walked into the shower. He let the warm water come down onto his sore body. He washed his hair and body and then washed off the soap. Once he was done, he turned the water off and pulled away the shower curtain to grab his only towel. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back to his bedroom.

He got out a fresh pair of clothes and put them on after he dried himself off. He grabbed his black leather jacket and put it on slipping on an old pair of sneakers. He grabbed his phone and keys that were laying together on the floor. He didn’t even glance at the picture. Jason walked out of his tiny apartment, locking the door and then out the door of the apartment building into the chilly autumn weather.

Jason just stood at the top of the steps and took in his surroundings. As the autumn breeze passed through him people just walked down the sidewalks making their way to their destination wether it was work or school for the kids. Jason took a deep breath and walked down the steps. He started to walk down the sidewalk with both hands into the pockets of his jacket.

He wasn’t watching where he was going to, he accidentally ran into someone. “Oops, I’m so sorry.” He heard a sweet and familiar voice say to him. When he saw the person’s face his heart rate sped up.

“Y/N!” Jason said in a surprised tone. “Oh my gosh, Jason! Is it really you?” Y/N said in complete shock. She almost didn’t recognize him since he looked pretty much all grown up. Jason gave her a nod.

Y/N didn’t say anything, she just gave him a big hug. “I’ve missed you so much.” Y/N said as she rested her head onto his chest. “I missed you, too.” Jason said returning the hug that was bringing memories back to the both of them. It felt so good to be back into each other's arms.

🏷️ @calicocat45 @deimks @k0m0rixminttea @greeniegreengreen

#jason todd imagine #Jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #batfam #batfamily #jason todd series #red hood #red hood fanfiction #red hood x y/n #red hood series #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x you #batfamily x y/n #batfamily fanfic #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily series #dc comics #dc #dc comics imagines #dc comics series #comics #comic books #comic book character

[thatseventiesbitch]

Can you do little Leia and Donna making pancakes for Eric on Father’s Day and/or his birthday? But it’s as chaotic as it can be, and Leia keeps eating the raw ingredients. Thank you!

(I’m watching Laura’s pancake video, and I thought it’d be cute for Leia and Donna :))

Thanks for the ask! Sorry for the delay. I love Laura's videos, and I loved this prompt! 😁 Prompt Ask Game

"Okay Le-Le, pour this cup of flour into the bowl." Donna handed her 4 year old the measuring cup, packed tightly with flour. Some of it fluttered to the counter, like snow, as Leia dumped it in the large mixing bowl between them. "Good job."

Donna chuckled, glancing down at the mess they'd made. They had maybe gotten as much on the counter (and floor) as they'd gotten into the bowl.

"And now the sugar." Donna handed her the measuring utensil, this time packed with sugar, and turned around to grab a mixing spoon. When she turned back around, Leia had the handful of the crystal sugar in her mouth. "Leia - no!"

She yanked the measuring cup away and foisted the sugar from her hands, lifting her over to the sink to clean them with a wash cloth.

"What?" her daughter blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. The same expression her father used when he wanted to get out of trouble. Donna sighed.

"You can't eat that, Leia," she explained. "Plain sugar. It's not... good."

Fleetingly, she thought of Fez. This was a conversation she'd had with him a few times when they were teenagers. She smiled faintly at the memory.

"Okay mama."

They returned to the task at hand - making a Father's Day breakfast in bed - and Donna let Leia stir the dry ingredients together.

"Want to watch me crack the egg, babe?" she said a few moments later.

"Yeah!"

Leia leaned forward excitedly, her chin resting on her propped up arms. Donna cracked the egg into the mix of dry ingredients, and Leia ooh'ed and ahh'ed like it was the 4th of July. Afterwards she stretched her hand out for the gooey shell, and Donna handed it to her.

"Put it in the trash," she said. But Leia lifted the eggshell to her lips curiously instead.

"LEIA!" Donna yelled this time, startling the little girl. She froze. "Don't eat that!" She'd rushed forward and scooped it out of her hands, shaking her head. "God. Why are you trying to put everything in your mouth today?"

"I'm hungry," she pouted.

"Leia, we're making pancakes," Donna reminded her, exasperated as she cleaned her hands with the washcloth once again.

"For Daddy?" Leia brightened.

Donna's expression lightened too. "Yeah. For Daddy." She finished cleaning Leia's hands, and tossed the washcloth back in the sink. They went back the the counter and Donna resumed mixing the pancake ingredients. "You can give him your card, too," she reminded Leia.

"And I picked him a flower at Gramma's!"

"He's gonna love that. Go get it, Le-Le."

Donna finished mixing the pancakes and slowly added one to the pan. As it cooked, she assembled the serving tray they had. She put Leia's card and flower on it with a glass of orange juice, a cloth napkin, and some silverware.

When she turned around, Leia was seated across from the remaining pancake batter. She had a smear of something suspicious above her lip and her innocent expression from before - the one that meant she was guilty. Donna growled.

"Leia, I swear to god if you a- "

Donna's anger was interrupted by a high pitched shrieking noise. The fire alarm was going off. She rushed to the stove - her pancake was burning!

She turned off the heat and headed to the sink to rinse the whole charred mess down the garbage disposal. The fire alarm was still blaring, and she groaned. This wasn't the way Eric deserved to wake up on Father's Day. And he had to be awake now.

Sure enough, when Donna turned back around, Eric was there. And the blaring noise had stopped.

"Are you guys okay?" He held a broom. He'd used the handle to turn off the fire alarm.

Donna nodded. "S-sorry," she panted from the adrenaline. She clutched her chest. "Eric, I'm sorry."

He chuckled and crossed the room, and he hugged her. "For what, m'lady? I love pancakes," he smiled good-naturedly as they pulled apart, but he still held onto her forearms, steadying her. "And what's all this?" he gestured to the serving tray on the table.

"L-leia made you a card," Donna said, still catching her breath. "I was gonna make pancakes and bacon for breakfast. And I'll give you my present later." She smirked. "When we're alone."

"Hey, all my favorite things," Eric grinned.

Donna blushed and looked down. "Well I'm sorry your Father's Day breakfast was a bust - "

"What do you mean?" Eric interrupted, incredulous. He gestured around them at the pancake batter, the handmade card, and their daughter. "Donna - it's perfect." He drew her in and kissed the side of her head. "Absolutely perfect."

#thanks for the ask! #prompt ask game #fanfic #my fanfic #That 70s Show #That '70s Show #That 70's Show #That 90s Show #That '90s Show #That 90's Show #Eric and Donna #Eric x Donna #otp: mom and dad #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Donna Forman #Leia Forman #Donna as a mom #Laura Prepon #ask #answered #anon

[flowerlikelives]

lyrics

the MOON

I drove up to the city at night where the hills were filled with void, lack, houses and you grew up there and your gooey melted self that you hold strongly somehow ricocheted off your parents’ absence and you narrowly escaped and felt stronger and hotly radiated revenge towards us all today and you were spending the night nervously dialing for your true friends and strongly I got your call and lovingly was reeled in. I invested it all for some reason and found myself excited to see the warming city night sky through the cars and painful glass and gas and the beautiful location and soiled sand bore fruit before rotting and cutting down and sickly replacing for the wrong reasons. I was wholly excited to greet this waste. Pointless things like trimmed trees and radio towers became towering symbols and I noticed you in the cold standing simply right next to me and then we walked around until it got late, a triumphant blow to the fleeting fires that usually pull us both to bed when they go out early on, disappointingly early, you told long stories about your long upbringing while we passed mansions and leaf-blown heaps, rot, bricks and garages, we could probably both feel the ghost of a lighthouse of a tree they could see from out in boats and across the bay where everyone used to climb the hill, where now 3 red metal towers dominate, to congress and figure out what’s gong wrong, back before all the things in the city were so devastatingly wrong, someone’s house dumbly replaced such an important spot, the house dumb and serving so few because of its quick rise. But alas, in spite of all this spirit-breaking waste I felt intact, sturdy even, a soaring self looking around and noticing the minor things that importantly hung on, meekly insisting that the world is actually mysterious and unconquerable, even the weird beauties we have a tainted hand in: the glowing orange nighttime cloud cover, the echoing cross walk alarm, the din of the street, tires rotting, our weak castle being slowly demolished, these things can bring me slowness, calm power and cutting eyes in the right moments, and I felt it then looking up at the orange lights lighting unfortunate streets and reflecting back up and resonating through the thick cloud coating in an orange city glow, the black behind eerily reminding us not to forget what else, and I turned my cutting eyes your way and saw pools of brown just as wide as my holes of brown bearing honestly what we held inside for a second we were both looking brave and sharply seeing in. I ended up just spending the night up there next to you in the same room where you grew up and the sleep was so thick that when we woke up, when the sun was up miraculously again, it was a miracle to me that we were still sweetly there in your parents’ house, lying in bed together feeling strong and open and the light came in the expensive windows to light our out-of-place thighs like raised arms and cocked head screaming in rejoice, the feeling was deep and strong. Tides turned. I went back to feel alone there, to wipe the place clean, to see the towering symbols for what they were, to confront painful clues to a wholesome loving past and neutralize myself in a way where maybe I could be human again.

Flashback: and we went all the way up to the small town where I’m from and you had family there and a big wholesome idea about what I was because of the wholesome sense that this place puts off, and admittedly it’s a wholesome place, foggy blankets hold rocky peaks and fishing nets usually are getting untangled in the yard. We were there separately as kids when it was safe from the poor judgement that’s ruining it now. The wind blows strongly and whipped us into a wintry frenzy feeling rugged and warm about the closeness we calmly shared and we avoided thinking of the problematic plan you set out with that would bloom and hurt later on. We went to the top of the mountain and looked off the edge at the other islands and the rolling clouds, the cascading mountains and the eerie heights. It was high to look down from and still feel safe, we held each others’ hand and sadly couldn’t all the way feel each other, though the smooth wrinkles in your palm were hot and shocking enough to generate a sense of clear in me. I finally felt like I was breathing free to be at such a height and look across the globe and hold a loving limb that gripped lovingly and firmly in the whipping wind. Was I imagining this sense that you were also there with me? Was I putting you in a role I’d already put out and just believing what I wanted? I got a glimpse that replaced my doubts with a thick breath of clean air, the fog below parted and revealed lakes and trails through the mossy woods where we spent that night outside under mountainous blankets looking up at the swaying trees in a way that told an old story to me, the lyrical swaying of long black limbs was full of character, the character was so dark and long lasting into the night it crept into our heads and held us under its spell, we dreamt the same dream, and ended up dreaming creepily similar every night, our minds were obviously dreaming towards the same cloudy “place” for a sweet reason and I held tight to that fact, the shallow proof that we were on the right path and looking back this becomes a gloomy shameful clawing grasp: we were lonely people lying out in the yard struggling to feel each other, sleeping soft, to feel softness so nearby is a slippery reward, we got it in our grasp and held tight all night in a way that put our limbs asleep. There was the distant repetition of the lighthouse tone all night, the wooshy clacking of the trees’ chilly blow and more cloudy glowing lights from the refinery’s green glow in the sky, the night was long and sort of weird how chilly and sturdy it felt the whole thick night through. Another miraculous awake dawning, roosters and tramping baby goats bleating and discussing the common night, for animals in the barn who wake up cold every day there’s no refreshing feeling like ours to get hot slowly while the creeping sun composted our mountains of padding, waking up in the yard felt the same with soupy muscles as the day before being tilted by wind and clinging to rocks in a barren place, the warm slow chesty feeling was the same, the calm assurance of having a friend who can see with you, you know? but the cutting truth was made clear: I have an island home, my place is to be ferried not bridged, the dramatic sadness poured out and I went back and felt alone in those places, I went up the mountain again alone and tried to not hold any false power in my old feelings up there, I let myself feel awful and blow away.

We went to the beach together, a detailed trip with larger vague warm feeling. It was cold and we only had the wool blanket from my bed, we used it as a shield from the sandy wind and the blinding light coming off the loud water, a tiny tent, a hidden birth, 2 bodies on the earth eating sand and lovingly rubbing it in all around and through our hair, taste, temperature, a fresh perspective of what seems really important, a triumphant statue in the face of a lonely world, we had a lofty feeling on the beach like pioneers while I pioneered the territory in your chest, the bloody frontier, my homestead was stocked with flesh and whispered stories, a bountiful stockpile for today’s long winter, my cured supplies have turned bitter, the warmth I hoped to reminisce about was a freezing illusion, there’s no storing away what’s so true and fleeting, the constant palette of lack is reliable, it’s slow and visible through a flimsy film of pride and poorly built false secure senses. It was intense. We were new, you were trying to stake your claim on me then and I swung my gate wide for your parade, gifts, jugglers, banners, fruitful hope and warm teamwork. You moved in upstairs from my room, you lowered down notes, you walked softly on my ceiling, your bath leaked on me. There on the beach in the wind we were 2 teams joining forces understandingly and streamlining to fierce wind, the roaring waves, the pounding surf, the foggy (something) that caught my eye stayed there and grew, my view got wide and I was a larger person, magnificently widened. Wide eyed under covers in a threatening place and feeling warmth from another’s breath. I got sharply cut in half and had to go back to the sea and wish I hadn’t opened my gates. I had to, in a way, renounce what I knew was true and the large ways that I’d grown I had to claim to not be, it was stupid. I went to the sandy expanse and felt sweeping regret, my woolly shield at home, and standing out there threatening to be blown down, to inflict a sobering blow on my cold head. I stared to sea in a violent way, a red gaze to the blue washy spray. I went back there to remember my small place and your insignificant role.

Continuously now every single night since I’ve been alive there’s been a white light from above, a sort of eerie bluish glow on the empty streets where we live. In the summer’s end we climbed out the window downtown and out onto the roof with more blankets again and stared knowing at it for what it was, a floating ball of rock lit up by another ball, an invisible ball of fire reflecting light and weird blue mooney thoughts ricocheted around our planet onto us on the roof staring silently up and feeling invincible, dangerous, and high, I had the exciting feeling of heft in my chest like I was carrying a baby, my baby looked exactly like me and looked me in the eye sharply knowing I was about to lose it but from up on the roof I looked out across the globe again with you: I felt the lava behind us coursing deeply and the other side, I felt the space above us and the other side of the moon and behind that, and off to the side I felt tiny lights off the glass, my sensitivity ran off, I could feel electricity through a wire from a mile away and I even felt the churning water turning turbines behind that and the fish upstream and smooth rocks beneath being slowly ground down by the polishing flow and the bubbling mountains glacially spilling stone, the smooth escape and reformation of pilgrims from one rotting body to another tiny growth to rot soon and expand. I felt a part of this all and I was content to have you feel it too, to have the blood in your hand holding mine be equally wet and warm, and I looked to my right and saw you riveted to the sky, riveted in an all encompassing way to feel it all, including me and my mountainous pride to your left, we were a pair of moist bodies again in the creepy bluish light. To be able to feel in an instant the size of your self and the distance to that elusive glowing ball and the long path it all takes to become what you’re a part of now: it’s like being transcendently dead for a second, to be able to breathe in and out and have that be a rapturous play, we were silently amazed and nobody said any words, we felt safe and we discovered that our skin is soft, we both are glowing in smooth flesh like blue mooney light and we found that out, you had your arm on my waist, I had my palm on your neck, air flowed in and slid out, cars drove by, the roaring sound of the planet’s spin, we were separately mighty and tiny universes and our main strength was being able to psychically discuss certain death, the only thing left. We were mighty. After getting terribly hurt by you I had to go back and cancel everything out that had any value, a helpful and depressing way of dealing with such a loss. I went out into the street by my house to try and look up at the moon blindly, to all of a sudden think it’s a white hole or some kind of stupid prop, to get in the car and drive pointlessly around, to try and forget that. I made the attempt to hang my mightiness up and to be painlessly dumb, peacefully numb, it seemed better to not have to know what’s really going on for some reason. I sacrificed my calm powerful way for a stupid attempt to avoid, I stood out in the street looking up and my eyes got wide. There’s no escape and the end’s not something I’d be able to wait out, I have to lucidly keep going along and feel the cut grow and get infected before it even maybe won’t heal, I looked up for a long time and my mouth got wide and chilly air filled my chest I saw the slow rustling in the bushes across the tracks and the orange lights up the street and the tunnelling feeling below them, my neck bent low as I surveyed my still dark home, I saw my feet firmly planted on the cement. They were tinted in blue and I looked past them through the crusty layers into the burning coil, I saw the smoke from my chimney and felt my stomach roar and in the blue light I held on to my lack.

[busterheadspace]

For the prompt, maybe slammed into a wall or doesn't realize they've been injured would be good for Reagan inflicted by Robo-Reagan 👀? (This is just my excuse to see more robo rae fics)

Congrats! You’re the first one to request here . This turned more into an Andre and Reagan friendship story but RR is still there. Thanks! I did doesn’t realize they’re injured because slam into the wall.. is hard. I’m open to the prompts so send an ask

Busted Back

—-

You don’t realize the pain at first when a robot replication of you is about to screw with your date. After regaining consciousness, from being slammed into the wall, Reagan was focused on something else. Her robot clone taunting her about her social skills and dating life. A rush of adrenaline went through her as she escaped and grabbed a gun and ran to the Colosseum.

The gun ended up being useless as it was crushed by Robo-Reagan. She had to fight using fake dinosaur bones and a shovel from the exhibits. Unfortunately those ended up being tossed away and the robot grabbed Reagan by the neck, holding her against the wall.

“You really think you could have stopped me?” It taunted her. 

“You’re unstable! I have to put you down!” Reagan replies with a glare. Robo-Reagan said nothing as she prepared one of her eyes to shoot out a laser. The scientist threw a punch but it ended up with her hand being hurt. The robot rolled her eyes, turning a round and slamming Reagan into the floor

Her back was hit hard, barely registering it as Reagan’s adrenaline kicked and she ran. Knowing the Colosseum, she ran into the mineral rooms and amplified the giant magnet. The robot was pulled into it, malfunctioning and saying her final words before dying.

That took place in the evening and Reagan was ready to relax. After being rejected and cleaning up Bryan-Bot, she just wanted to lay in bed and go through the dating options that Alpha-Beta had shown her. None of them had really piqued her interest the more she looked into it, so Reagan decided to sleep with a heavy sigh.

—-

Three hours later, her alarm went off and she sat up to find the stupid arm. An ache shoots through her back, making Reagan wince. Shit. Must have been sleeping in a horrible position because it hurts. Whatever it was, she can ignore it and get dressed.

Taking off her orange sweater was actually harder than she expected. Pain shoots from her lower back to her arms, making her stop and hold her breath and then pulling it off her body. The gray collar shirt she usually tucked into her pants, made it much worse and ended up just leaving it out. 

—-

Arriving at Cognito, Brett had immediately greeted her and noticed that she wasn’t wearing her lab coat. How did she forget that? Her clothes were getting more greasy and stained now. She waved off as they headed to the War Room. To their surprise, JR was the only one inside. He smiled widely as he handed Brett and Reagan clipboards with all the departments in the building. 

“Inspectaction day!” JR said brightly, snapping his finger. “We need to see if any department needs to lose their budget or we need to fire anyone!” 

Reagan groaned and rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to walk around while her back hurts. Not to mention usually these inspections end up with her having to fix whatever problem occurring. Brett took half of the department while she took the rest.

The first department is no other than the Biochemistry Department. She knocks on Andre’s office and the door opens quickly. He seemed a little out of it but nonetheless he let her in. 

“Well you took a while.. but let’s get this over with. You see those Chemtrails-“

Listening to Andre talking about the experiments and the employees working, Reagan tried to write it down on the clipboard. However his office was dimly lit so she moved under a ceiling lamp, her back facing Andre.

“You got all that. Get rid of Michael and we still need a bunch of those chemicals. Okay Reagan! Okay!” His arm hung over her shoulder to balance. She didn’t exactly like the touch but she could tolerate it for a bit.

“Yes Andre. I got it already. . Can you let go of m- AUGH FUCK.” Andre tripped forward and into her back. The clipboard drops out of her hands as she swung around, the doctor falling onto the floor. He looked at her, a little surprise. Eyes squinting as he got up with a wobble

“Maybe it was the drugs… but holy shit. Your back is all purple..” Andre mumbled. 

“What..? You saw my back?! How?” Reagan said with a glare. 

“Your shirt went up when you spun..What happened?”

“How bad can it be?” 

“Do you really want to see it?” Andre said, grabbing his phone. Before Reagan could even respond, the doctor was already behind and lifting her shirt and snapping a picture. At first she was about to yell at him for grabbing it without her consent but then the photo was shoved in front of her. 

Oh. He wasn’t wrong. A big bruise that spread from the top to the bottom of her back. She grimaced. It did not look good. As she stared at the injury, Andre put a hand on the bruise making her yelp a curse.

“How did you even get it?” Andre asked again.

‘My robot boyfriend made a robot clone of myself that caused an explosion and I hit the wall. Then said robot slammed me into the wall.’ That was the first thing that came into her mind but it sounded really stupid. 

“I just got attacked. Machine malfunctions ” Reagan answers after thinking, pulling away, her hand smacking Andre. A quiet hiss coming from the quick movement

“Typical. I got some medication that could help you.., and maybe some ice too.” 

“It’s fine. I can make it through the day with this.” 

Andre shakes his head as he opens a drawer and tosses a bottle to Reagan before opening his freezer. It had “Fentanyl” on the label. 

“The fuck? Why the strongest painkiller?” 

“You’d be surprised how much it’s going to hurt you the next few days. Then again., you probably don’t care. Just take them. We’re making more.” Andre answers, grabbing ice and putting it in a ziplock bag. Then he went behind her and lifted her shirt as Reagan took the pill. She didn’t protest knowing what he was doing now.

“Don’t scream” 

The ice was placed onto the bruise making her almost scream. It hurts like hell as he moves it to different areas of her back every few minutes. Eventually it ends and he tosses the half melted ice pack into the trash. It felt a little better 

“Alright. That wasn’t too bad actually.” Andre smirks leaning on the wall as Reagan tucked her shirt in . “Just take and the pills and then take it eas“

“Shit! I spent too much time here! I gotta check the other departments. Thanks Andre!” Reagan looked at her watch, rushing out, mumbling about the other department.. 

She wasn’t going to take it easy huh.

#inside job #inside job fanfic #bad things happen bingo #whump #reagan ridley #andre lee #hurt/comfort #robo reagan

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

#lotr x reader #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings x reader #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader #Tolkien x reader #middle earth x reader #Legolas x reader #Aragorn x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas imagine #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic

[navybrat817]

Monster

Pairing: Dark!Nomad Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: A nightly visitor spells trouble for you. Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: Rape/Non-Con (do NOT read if this upsets you!), breaking in, choking, unprotected sex, mean Steve Rogers (you have been warned!) 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own.

A gift for @dreamslikeaheartbeat​ who wanted mean, Nomad Steve Rogers. Enjoy, lovely!

You weren't a paranoid person by nature, but you were cautious. You looked over your shoulder before you went into your place each evening to make sure you weren’t followed. The locks were double checked to make sure no one could get in. And your curtains were always closed so no one could see you. 

Your neighbors were friendly enough, but you didn’t know them well. They had their lives and you had yours. It didn’t bother you in the least. It was quiet and uneventful, but it was enough.

You couldn't put your finger on it as you got ready for bed, but you felt like you were being watched. It was unsettling. You shook the feeling off as you shut your light off and settled down to sleep. Your mind was just playing tricks on you.

What amazed you was how often you slept through your cell phone alarm, but woke at the sound of the tiniest noise. It was the creak in the floorboard that made your eyes open, your body jolting from being yanked out of your slumber. You knew that sound well and it only occurred when you walked on it. But you were in bed...and you lived alone.

The dimly lit silhouette that stood beside your bed didn’t belong there. You blinked a few times, hoping you were dreaming, but it didn’t go away. You opened your mouth to scream before a gloved hand covered it. “Don’t you dare scream...Not yet at least.”

The voice was deep, masculine. It had an edge to it that terrified you and not just because he was a stranger in your home. Your eyes adjusted as the figure leaned down, widening in realization as you saw just who the man was. Even in the dark, you recognized him. Hero...fugitive...Steve Rogers.

“Be good and I won’t hurt you.”

You had no idea why he broke in. And, truly, you didn’t care. Should you cooperate? Fight? What did he want with you?

“Will you be good?” he asked as you nodded, slowly removing his hand. “You knew I was watching you, didn’t you?”

Why didn’t you listen to your instincts? Where would you have gone even if you had?

“Your place is quiet...discreet. I’m staying for the night and you-”

The sound of your palm meeting his cheek echoed in the small space. “Get out,” your voice trembled, unsure if it was adrenaline or fear. 

The slap didn’t seem to hurt him at all, but the fire in his eyes told you he was pissed. “All you had to do was be good.”

That was the only warning you got as his hand shot out, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes went wide as he lifted you by your neck, shoving your further onto the bed. You hit his arm in the hopes that he would release you. When you thought you’d pass out, he let go. You coughed as your own hand flew up, gently covering your throat. “I need you awake for this. Been too long,” he muttered, ripping your nightshirt down the middle and watching your breasts spill free. You couldn’t stop him as your panties were torn off a moment later. “Fuck…Knew I picked the right place.”

“Stop,” you croaked when he gripped your wrists, using the torn fabric to tie them above your head. The fear came back tenfold as you struggled, the action only making your body more enticing. “Please.”

His beard scratched along your skin as he leaned down, nipping and sucking along your skin. “You’ll be good for me now, won’t you?” he asked, swirling his tongue around one of your hardened nipples. You were close to hyperventilating when he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. He didn’t even bother to undress as he took his cock out. Had he done this to others before?

“I said stop!” you begged, gasping when his hand found your throat again. 

“I’m going to fuck you and you can’t stop me. I earned this,” he told you, his knee pushing your legs apart.

“You’re...a...hero…” you tried. Fugitive or not, he was a good man still...right?

“Then you should be thankful you’re going to get fucked by a hero,” he sneered, removing his hand again so you could properly breathe.

“I don’t...want this.”

“You will,” he chuckled, the sound making you shudder, before he drove his cock deep into you. It felt like he split you in two. Your thighs twitched as you tried to snap out of the shock, his hands keeping you in place as he thrust deep. So, so deep. 

"Fuck. Oh...fuck. Where have you and this cunt been hiding? Shit.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. He had no right to say that. He had no right to your body. “Fucking look at me,” he growled, thrusting deep as he used you mercilessly. “You called me a hero...so look at me like I’m a hero...like I’m the one ruining you.”

Power. Control. That was what some of this was about. You had no idea what happened to the man that used to be Steve Rogers, but he was tainted. Now he tainted you. The poison in him spread through your veins. You couldn’t let it corrupt you. “I would have been nice if you were good, but you had to slap me. Maybe you wanted it like this.”

The pain somehow began to fade as he took you, even as your mind screamed in agony. Your soft walls were brutalized, carving out an uninvited place for him. It felt good and you hated your reaction to him. 

“You’ll come for me. I’ll make you,” he swore. “And then I’ll come in you.”

“No!” you begged. You didn’t want the feel of his cock stretching you to begin with, but you couldn’t take that. “I’m your Captain!” he spat in your face. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to.”

His lips crashed against your so hard you thought they would bleed. He gripped your ass to lift you higher, the gloves scraping against your skin as he molded your body to his will. You did your best to fight off the unwanted pleasure. You wanted to beg for mercy, but there would be none of that tonight. It would only fall on deaf ears.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, kissing along your jaw as he hammered into you. “Beg for me to make you come.”

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “Please, make me come.” “Captain.”

Your frame shook as you gave in, accepting his brutal thrusts. The sooner you came, the sooner he’d finish. “Please...Captain.”

His lips worked their way over to your ear, his breathing harsh and heavy. “Come.”

Your climax hit hard, even as you tried to keep your cries down. Did your neighbors hear? Did they care? You wanted to curl in on yourself as pleasure wracked your body, but you were bound and trapped. Caught. “Fuck, that’s it. Squeeze my cock. Milk every fucking drop from me. Fuck!”

Your abused nerve endings felt like they were on fire again as he shoved as deep as he could, filling you up as he promised. You felt it seep around his cock as he stayed in you. How much was there? How defiled were you now?

You turned your head away, but you knew the sight of him coming would haunt your dreams. Tears clogged your throat as he came down from his high. Once he left, you’d scream. You’d cry. You’d find a way to heal from this shock.

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

Willing yourself to turn your head, you found yourself staring into darkness. The blue of his eyes did nothing to comfort you. Was there a good man in there at all?

“Thank me.”

You swallowed, the gentle tone more frightening than his growl. “Thank you, Captain.”

The tender kiss after made you shiver. He wasn’t your lover or a hero. He was a monster. 

“Our night is just beginning,” he whispered, still inside you.

“But…” 

“I said I needed a place to stay for the night. But this pussy…” he groaned as he rolled his hips. “I don’t think I can leave this behind. I’ll just have to take you with me.” Your nightmare had just begun.

#navybrat writes #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark nomad steve rogers x reader #nomad steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #tw rape #tw noncon

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

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[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.

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

[mercy-burning]

No Fun

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Everyone knows there’s no fun in friends without benefits. (Inspired by the song Friends Without Benefits by Chloe Collins) Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, drinking, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of male receiving oral sex, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie Word Count: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello! Sorry my scheduling has been all over the place lately, as I’m sure you’re probably tired of hearing about at this point 😅 But, No Fun is finally out!! (It was also a very good way for me to ease myself back into writing after recovering from my cold alsdjflsdkjf) Also, if you don’t follow Chloe on TikTok (or any social, really) you should! She’s super sweet and writes all her songs about Criminal Minds. This one’s my favorite, though! It’s such a vibe, I hope you’ll all give it a listen! 😊❤

***

Her eyes opened of their own accord. No alarm, no ring of the cellphone, no hand on her shoulder accompanied by the voice of one of her co-workers saying they'd finally landed... She liked it that way. Not only because it meant she had that rare peace and quiet first thing in the morning—though that was definitely a perk. It also meant that she was most likely at Spencer's apartment.

In his bed.

In his shirt.

As her eyes adjusted to the golden warmth that beamed through the curtains, she stretched out her arms and legs, knowing full well that he was in the kitchen; He was always in the kitchen, ever the early bird.

Speaking of, the smell of coffee started to permeate into the bedroom, and it comforted her further as she rose into a seated position. In a matter of minutes, the coffee would be ready, and Spencer would be waiting patiently, sipping from his own cup while hers sat untouched at the spot across from him.

Normally, she would get dressed and meet him out there, but upon remembering all the delicious things that happened in that kitchen the night before, she was feeling a little devious.

So she got out of bed and removed her underwear, leaving her in just his shirt, which barely covered her ass. She was going to leave them in the bedroom, but after a split second decision, she ended up striding out into the kitchen with the garment dangling from her fingers.

"Good morning," she sang, standing in front of the kitchen counter. It covered her lower half, so the only indication of her indecent exposure took form of the fabric in her hand.

Spencer was reading something, not bothering to look up as he spoke. "Good morning. Your coffee's how you like it. I thought we could stop at the gas station on the way in to get something to eat."

"Yeah, that's fine," she responded, setting the underwear on the counter and picking up her coffee. "But I was hoping you would eat me instead."

She nonchalantly lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip as he finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes glanced down at the counter as if to say, Look...

And he did.

The seductive sparkle in his eye at the sight in front of him sent a drip of excitement into her bloodstream that rippled throughout her whole body. It always had.

That's initially what drew her to him in the first place. Yeah, it was common knowledge to anyone that Spencer was intelligent, endearing, and handsome, but it was his flirty side that really got Y/N going. It didn't come out often, if at all— unless he was drunk or with the person of his affections.

Y/N found this out when the team threw him an impromptu birthday party last year. After discovering that he hadn't reminded anyone of his thirtieth birthday, Emily immediately called Penelope back home to start planning, and she looped everyone in before they landed later that night. Y/N herself was kind of disappointed with herself for even fathoming the idea of forgetting her friend's birthday, especially since she'd known him for years and celebrated his birthday with him and their friends before.

So before the party that night, she decided to go out and get him something. Only, she couldn't find anything, and it was on her way back when everyone was wondering where she was that Y/N started to question whether or not she really deserved to be considered his friend.

It didn't stop her from putting on a happy face and celebrating his birthday to the fullest, though— She showed up and hugged him immediately, holding onto him perhaps a little too long before offering to give him anything he wanted as compensation for forgetting his birthday, and his thirtieth at that. Of course, he insisted that she didn't really have to do anything for him, but she knew that was just him being himself.

Nonetheless, the party moved along, and with pretty much everyone out of his apartment after a long night of drinking and cake and celebration, Spencer and Y/N were the only two left, buzzed and sitting a little too close.

After convincing him to let loose and have a little fun on his 'special day', Y/N had managed to get him to help her finish an entire bottle of wine. And he'd been making his way through a few beers as the sun set and the stars came out.

And then he started looking at her weird.

That was the only way she could have described it in her drunken state, but it was certainly true, if only for the fact that it wasn't a look she'd ever seen from him before. His eyes were wide, pupils blown to almost full dilation, and his tongue kept dancing behind his lips like he was tracing out some sort of invisible pattern.

When she confronted him about it, drunkenly giggling and asking why he was looking at her like that, he laughed back and flat-out told her, "Have I ever told you how pretty y'are?" And she didn't even get a chance to respond before he continued. "Y/N, you're really pretty... Like, you're the prettiest woman I-ever seen."

"You're pretty, too, y'know, birthday boy," she laughed, smiling incredibly wide. Her whole body was practically on fire, and it only got hotter when he leaned in and kissed her, hard and sloppy, and with purpose.

They went on that night, stumbling around every square inch of his apartment while mumbling drunken compliments and haphazardly throwing aside their clothes until they woke up the next morning in his bed, naked, hungover, and absolutely shocked by what had happened.

Things at work were significantly more awkward, as to be expected, but as the days went on, the more they started to catch little stolen glances and shared recovered memories of what really happened.

More specifically, Y/N couldn't stop replaying these few sentences in her head, on a loop in between flashes of hands in hair and tongues on skin...

"You said you'd give me anything I wanted, right? What if I want you?"

"Then go ahead... Have me."

...Have me...

They met up in the parking lot one day after work and simultaneously blurted out in their own words how they couldn't stop thinking about what happened and how much they wanted to do it again...

And they did.

That seductive sparkle in his eye was there when he kissed her that first night on his birthday, it was there just before they started making out in the parking lot just a week later, and it was there now as he looked down at her panties on the table and then flitted his gaze up to meet hers.

Y/N's body buzzed with a thrill as Spencer made his way around the kitchen counter and dropped to his knees as she sat on the barstool and spread her legs for him.

***

They were late for work that morning.

To make it inconspicuous, Y/N showed up ten minutes after Spencer did— maybe a little exaggerated, but it didn't raise any suspicions. It might have sucked when as soon as she walked in everyone was on their way out to go to the airstrip, Hotch with his phone in hand and ready to dial her number, but nobody suspected a thing.

Spencer threw a little smirk at her as he passed, and she resisted the urge to smack his ass out of spite.

She would have done it, too, but there were two specific rules they'd set once they decided to regularly sleep together, and one of them was that nothing could happen at work or around their friends. And regardless of how badly they wanted to steal kisses or touches at work, their arrangement meant too much to compromise. Once either rule was broken, their little friends with benefits excursion would be immediately void.

Unfortunately, after a flight that was absolutely laced with their sexual tension and once they'd landed in Minnesota for this latest case, they both shared a look that practically set in stone the undeniable, inevitable truth.

They were obsessed.

The whole ordeal was incredibly exhilarating, already an inevitable outcome when it came to regularly sleeping with a co-worker, but what they weren't counting on was just how thrilling it was. Almost a year into their extracurricular activities and they were spending just about every free moment attached by mouths and hands and limbs. And as time progressed it became increasingly more difficult to keep to themselves, needing to be in proximity to one another constantly.

That's not to say they weren't excellent at handling it, though.

Sure, the burning in their veins at the sight of one another after knowing what it was like to be intimate was excruciating, and being paired together on cases knowing that they couldn't break any rules had them feeling like they were going to drown... But the pay-off after a long period of time with no physical contact was absolutely worth it.

All the secrecy and the holding back made it that much explosive when they finally got a decent moment alone.

Right now they were on their way back from a week-long case in Georgia.

And maybe it was fucked up, but once the team realized it was going to be rather grueling, the first thing Y/N thought was how better her stress relief was going to be when they finally finished. The second she thought it, she briefly glanced over at Spencer and saw that he had the same look on his face.

Even during the jet ride home, they were sitting on opposite sides while everyone slept around them, staring at each other and only breaking eye contact when someone rustled in their sleep.

Grueling images of the things they'd seen in the past week danced between them alongside flashes of all the things they wanted to do to each other as compensation. They heard faint screams and gunshots muffled by the high moans and shouts of each others' names, heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin...

The only word that sat between them as they clamored into Spencer's car and drove off was, "Drive."

It was late. They were exhausted and alert all at the same time. Their bodies were practically on fire. Y/N's leg bounced rapidly as Spencer's fingers tapped the steering wheel with fervor and impatience. And when he knew there would be no one around to pull them over for speeding, he stepped on the gas harder, and their heartbeats picked up right alongside their speed.

Even the walk up to his apartment was laced with impatience, Y/N's leg still bouncing as Spencer unlocked the door.

They rushed through it the second there was a tiny sliver of light from the dim nightlight she knew he kept in the entryway.

And then it was beautiful, heavenly chaos.

The door slammed loudly as Spencer leaned his whole body weight against Y/N, sending her flying towards it. They were drawn together like a magnet to a fridge, a moth to a flame, days of pent-up frustration and tension beginning its firework show right there in his entryway as their mouths clashed together.

No amount of contact was good enough it seemed, because it was just constant movement. Their hands wandered and their bodies pressed into each other continuously as they kissed the breath out of each other. Even still, they continued all the way to his bedroom, grunting while bumping into furniture and walls and doorways, but never daring to separate an inch all the same.

"God, I needed you," Spencer whispered once his bedroom door was shut. His hands tugged at her shirt and tried to get the buttons done as he continued. "All fucking week, you were just right there and I couldn't touch you..."

Y/N pressed her mouth to his and started hastily unbuttoning his shirt as well. After a few seconds, he pulled his mouth away and started to speak again, his fingers still trying to get her shirt undone. "I need it bad..."

With a frustrated grunt, Y/N pulled him in closer by the collar of his shirt and hissed into his mouth, "Then shut up and fucking take it..."

Her words kicked him in the ass and shot him forward, sending them flying towards the door once again. She yelped at the sharp pain that came and went as her back hit the wood, but with Spencer's hands finally tearing open her shirt and settling on her bare waist as he practically shoved his tongue down her throat, she couldn't complain.

Both of their shirts came off, and as soon as they hit the floor her hands went to his hair. She tugged on the wavy locks, a soft moan escaping her as he dipped his hands under the back of her bra and worked the clasp. It came off quickly, as it always did, and once it hit the floor he leaned down and gave her breasts all his attention. His tongue swirled around her nipples one my one, littering her skin with kisses in between and reveling in the way she kept tugging on his hair each time he gently tugged a nipple with his teeth.

Eventually, they both couldn't take any more, Y/N pushing his head down while tugging down her slacks and Spencer being glad she did, using his hands to assist her.

Having known for about a year now how heavenly his mouth was when it worked at her wasn't even a fair warning for the intensity of the shudders that soared through her body when his lips made contact with her clit just then. She let out a loud, broken cry of relaxation and relief and pure ecstasy as he practically devoured her.

His tongue was gliding through her with ease, ravening groans erupting from his throat and sending more sharp waves of excitement through Y/N's bloodstream with every passing second. His ministrations were quick and greedy, sloppy yet precise. And when he added his fingers to the mix, she gripped his hair tight and cried out his name, tensing at the sweet, burning stretch they provided.

That only drove him more wild, his tongue flicking over her clit faster while his fingers pumped, curled, and dragged languidly inside of her. He worked to pull every ounce of pleasure from her body, all while squeezing his eyes shut and losing himself in the taste of her, the way her thighs lightly trembled over his face and the desperate clutches of her fingers in his hair...

He wanted all of it. All of her.

He also wanted to hear that sound she made when he was helping her through the peak of her orgasm— a high, dreamy cry that boiled his insides and turned him into an animal.

And there it was, with just three more quick pumps of his fingers. It started off soft, though he knew the second he sucked on her clit and grazed her g-spot with his fingers it would careen higher and louder, right into that perfect pitch that he wished he could hear for eternity. Her thighs shook almost violently around his head, her fingers clawing at his scalp so tight that he felt little pinpricks of pleasure run down the back of his head and through his neck.

Y/N came down soon after, her voice resorting to small whimpers and pants as she tried to push his head away. But it wasn't until she actually tugged his hair up that Spencer finally retreated and got up off the floor.

"I thought you wanted me to take it?" he panted, already missing the warmth of her legs over his face.

She reached down and started toying with his belt, pulling him closer by the leather and throwing him a smirk. "Yeah, but now I wanna take it."

Before she could sink to her knees, though, he stopped her, walking her towards the bed and sitting her down as he finished taking off his pants. "Another time... Right now I need to be inside of you."

The urgency dripping in his voice and through his movements made Y/N burn all over again, and really, who was she to argue? Yeah, maybe she wanted to suck the living soul out of him, but his eagerness to get to the main event gave her the opportunity to treat him tomorrow morning. Spencer was always hard in the morning (at least on the rare occasion that she'd wake up before he did), and the thought of his sleepy groans and whines as she slowly worked his cock with her mouth was more than enough to keep her satisfied until then.

It also made her incredibly wet and ready, which was convenient when he climbed over her and bent her legs back, leaning forward and sinking into her in no time at all.

The sounds that came out of their mouths right then were exceedingly pornographic. It had been too long since their last sexual encounter, and even though they'd been at it plenty of times before, it still felt as intense and fresh as the first few times.

As aforementioned, they were obsessed.

Their song and dance of skink on skin never got old. Time and time again, it was like they'd never touched before, every feeling so intense it was like they were on the top of a rollercoaster that just kept falling and falling with no end in sight.

Every time he snapped his hips forward and and stretched her wide, her insides crumbled apart and gave way to his storm. She embraced his using of her body for pleasure, and he gave her the best orgasms in turn.

As of right now, she was caught between wanting to look down between their bodies to watch him fuck her and laying back to let it happen— take it all in that way and lose herself in the moment.

Though, she settled on the former, just as she always did, because watching Spencer fuck her was always the more exciting option. Especially when he was as urgent as he was now.

She watched with her bottom lip out in a pout as he fucked her, taking notice of how his hands looked gripping her waist and how his stomach tensed with every movement. Her eyes wandered over the planes of his body, and then finally his face. Usually he'd be so focused on the task at hand that his eyes would barely be open, taking in every ounce of pleasure that he possibly could, and that was exactly the case here. Fluttering eyes, pouty lips, flushed face, hair damp and wild as ever...

It drove her half mad.

"Harder," she demanded, reaching out and pulling him closer by the ass.

Spencer was more than happy to comply, a satisfied huff of laughter coming from him as he leaned down and sharpened his movements. His hips were heavier, pinning Y/N down into the mattress with every thrust forward, consequently drawing a little whimper from her each time.

To take it a step further and complete her request, he leaned back a little and pushed her legs open and wide, spreading her further and pinning her down that way to give his hips more driving force.

Unsurprisingly, neither of them lasted long after that.

Y/N shouted his name into the air, leaning her head back as her body tensed and gave in to his force. And he fucked her through it, his grunts gradually getting louder until his hips pushed into hers one final time, at which point he leaned down and put more of his weight on top of her.

As he filled her with his release, she sighed out, clenching herself around him and reveling in his warmth. Whether it was the warmth inside of her or the warmth he provided by blanketing her body with his own, she was glad for its presence. There was nothing else she'd rather have felt after a hard week at work—or any hard feat, really—than Spencer.

He retracted his warmth once they'd settled, however, removing himself from the bed on shaky limbs to grab wipes on the other side of the room.

And of course, Y/N admired him the whole way, flashing him a devilish wink when he inevitably caught her staring.

***

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

[hereforhalstead]

Ambo 61

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader 

• Requested:  “I’ve missed being like this with you”

• Warnings: mention of fire/fatality/needles

• Summary: You’re instructed to contact Jay to assist with a fire you’ve been called to and he’s there to support you after dealing with your first faitality.

• Words: 3978

• A/N :  Thanks so much for this request! I’m not over struck with it and it’s quite short but wanted to get it posted - hope you enjoy xx

***

Tonight was your third night shift in a row at the firehouse, starting to take its toll as you slumped around looking for any excuse to take the weight off your feet just for a few moments.

You were grateful Severide had got you the job as paramedic alongside Brett but you were now feeling like you’d been hit by a truck with all of these night shifts.

The firehouse was a close unit, everyone had each other’s back and looked out for one another. This always helped with your down days but everyone hits their breaking points and sometimes the adrenaline rush was the only thing keeping you going.

What made it worse was seeing everyone else seeming to be having the time of their lives, throwing a ball around by the trucks but you slouched in Severide’s chair with your feet kicked up on the table in front of you.

Eyes just about coming to a close as you hear that dreaded alarm which sends everyone running ‘Truck 51. Squad 3. Ambo 61 fire reported on the corner of 8th street” no matter how drained you were it was always able to put that spring in your step and you were in the ambo and out the door in seconds.

You could hear the sirens following closely behind you, scanning your wing mirror to see the parade of flashing lights that tailed down the street and towards the fire.

“You good?” Sylvie asks, snapping you out of your thoughts “night shifts taking their toll, nothing unusual” you joked but she still mirrored the look of concern on her face with her furrowed brows and occasional glare at you as she drove.

“Really I’m fine. Just looking forward to being in my own bed” you gazed out in front of you as you continued on towards the scene “Not long girl, only a few hours to go” she gives you her doting smile as she slams her foot down on the peddle to speed through an intersection

“everything alright with you and Jay?” She asks and you shrug “only see him for a few hours these days and even then it’s mostly when he’s asleep and I’m sat on the sofa wide awake” you admit, letting the words fall out of your mouth before you can even think about it.

“He’s so proud of you though” her cheery voice changes the tone of conversation “I always hear him brag about you in Molly’s, you’ve got yourself a good’un there Y/N” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks and smile creep on your face “i just miss him” you huff and reach for the energy drink that was by your side.

“I thought Jay told you to not drink those anymore” she utters as the truck comes to a stop, making her way to your side after grabbing the medic bag from the back.

“He’s not here right now” you remind her “What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him” you add, causing her to cock her eyebrow at you and chuckle “You’re brave”.

You put Sylvies comment to the back of your mind as you head over to the scene in front of you, Casey already with his team positioning the engine by the fire hydrant across the street whist Severide and the squad were storming over to the building that was currently ablaze.

You had barely stepped over the threshold as a girl no older than 5 came sprinting towards you, wrapping herself round your legs as she clung to you with all of her might. Whilst your mind was now on the young girl, a woman who was presumably the mother quickly followed in running out of the building and towards you.

She gripped at your shoulder as Sylvie eased her off of you, stood in shock as you barely had a chance to familiarise and asses the situation before being presented with two victims.

After several rounds of tests, being confident that neither of the victims required rushing to med for urgent treatment you helped them wrap up and had the oxygen masks placed round their necks just in case they felt the need.

Whilst securing the young girls blanket you thought back to you sat in the chair an hour ago, nearly asleep and wishing to not hear that alarm but here you were.

Back with your head on the job and dedicating yourself to the people who needed you, proving to yourself that you were good enough and deserved your spot with the great team you had surrounding you.

You looked up to see the fire dwindling out and Casey rounding up his team, Severide was retracting the ladders back onto the truck as the rest of the squad shuffled out of the fragile building that barely stood in front of you. 

You were awaiting the go ahead from the Chief that you could leave, taking a swig from your energy drink and placing it back into the front of the ambo where you were earlier sat. Making your way round to the back of the truck to sit with the mother and daughter, still understandably shaken but doing well considering how bad things could have been.

“How long have you lived here?” You questioned, making small talk to pass the time and attempt to keep their minds preoccupied “Nearly 4 years, we moved in when I was pregnant and haven’t looked back since” the mother opens up, the young girl under her arm beside her.

You shifted your focus onto the girl, sat staring at the ground with her head hung low to lean on her elbows “How you doing sweetie?” You asked but didn’t get a response. The mother looked down on her daughter, you moved yourself so you could be in front of her and reach her eye level.

“You tell the lady if something hurts or you don’t feel well Claudia?” Still no response, you gently reach your hand to place on her shoulder but she flinches “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you” you whisper, leaning towards her for empathy “Will my daddy be okay?” Her voice cracks and you look to the mother who looks just as puzzled as you.

“Daddy’s at work, honey?” She asks with the same panic and confusion laced in her tone “I saw him come through the back door just before the fire started” she confesses “He was with another man who told him he was in trouble” she continues and you scan around to see if they pulled anyone else out of the fire but you had no such luck.

“And you’re sure your daddy was in the house before the fire?” You yet again ask to try and get the facts before you go off and panic to one of the others “I’m positive!” She raises her voice but you try to keep her calm.

“is he going to be okay?” She probes towards her Mother but you excuse yourself to go and talk to Severide who stood on the other side of the truck with Casey.

“You guys pull anyone else out of there?” You question but can tell by the looks on their faces and the happiness in their banter they thought it was a successful save with two victims being relatively unharmed, their faces fall as they realise what you’re asking

“Just the two” Severide answers before Casey nods in agreement “Only the mother and daughter, rest of the place was clear” he adds, sounding confident in his answer. “You mind going inside to do one more double check? She seems certain her dad was inside when the place went up but the mother doesn’t seem to have a clue” you quietly recount to the two lieutenants who waste no time in rounding up a few of their team and heading back inside.

You decide to wait by the rig to avoid more questions from the victims as you really had no answers and didn’t feel right speaking to them before you knew more.

Minutes go by and your eyes are pinned to the door that the men walked through just moments before, nervously biting on your fingernails and feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Silently hoping it was from the energy drink and not the nauseous feeling you had in the pit of your stomach that you knew something wasn’t going right.

Casey appears at the door and nods his head for you to go over, you follow his command and find yourself bounding over “you might wanna call your boy toy” he murmurs, aware of the close proximity of the mother and daughter that sat close by “Jay?” You question to which he nods “We got a body.”

You do as you’re told and call Jay who you can hear immediately gathers up the available Intelligence members and leaves the district. You head back to the ambo, trying to hurry yourself but also attempting to not raise suspicion as you’re being intently watched by both the mother and daughter who sat before you “what’s going on?”

The mother stands and makes her way over to you and the front of the truck “I’m just gonna need you to stay with your daughter ma’am” you try and be as aversive as possible whilst already knowing that wasn’t going to be enough for the distressed lady “Was my husband in there?” She asks, dread and fear laced through her voice as she stands with her arms crossed over her chest trying to hold herself together.

Before you have a chance to speak, you’re interrupted by the sound of sirens coming from down the street, you turn to see several trucks speeding down towards you. Jay and Voight in the first vehicle that screeches to a stop, closely followed by Adam, Hailey and Kevin who are soon to follow suit and begin to push back nosey neighbours.

“What’s going on?” Jay heads over to you with Voight hot on his heels “Hailey” you call out to catch her attention and of course she is quick to leave the bystanders to Kevin and Adam as she joins you with Voight and Jay.

“Can you just stay with the mother? Sylvie is keeping an eye on the daughter but I need you to keep her calm” you plead and she nods and turns to introduce herself to the mother “Why don’t we take a seat?” She suggests as she geustures towards the back of the ambo where Claudia is sat.

Surprisingly she obliges and follows her guide, stopping to do the occasional double take but soon being out of sight and back with her daughter.

“You gonna tell us what’s going on?” Voight wastes not time to question as you take them over to Casey who is still in the doorway waiting for them “she said she saw her dad in the house before the fire but the mother had no idea as she thought he was at work.

They went back into investigate and” you’re cut off by a body bag passing you, the vile smell hitting you as it goes by. You quickly turn your head to try and avoid it but it was inescapable.

Jay places his hand to the top of your back as he furrows his brows in concern “you good?” He probes, concentration now more on you as Voight speaks to Casey “Good” you reassure, smile flashing on your face but he remains stern as you feel his eyes bore into you as you turn your attention back onto Voight and Casey .

“We didn’t spot it at first, he was crouched in this room that we didn’t know existed behind one of the cabinets” Casey ushers the three of you into the building, still feeling the warmth coming from the torn apart walls and the smell of ash clogging your every thought.

“Any ID?” Voight let’s himself into the room Casey had just mentioned, Jay allows you to step in first before following. The room was tiny, shocked it could fit a grown man at all, looking more like a pantry that was never used or something they intended on expanding but never did as it laid empty for all these years.

“What am I gonna tell her?” You mumble, feeling the lump in your throat and the thought of explaining the situation to the already shaken up pair sat outside “we’ll do it” Jay is quick to answer, you’re relieved to see Voight nod in agreement and not rip into Jay for speaking before thinking.

A less than helpful tendency he had when it came to you but in this case he was right as it was up to them to break the news to the family and not on you. You still wanted to be there as they relaid the heartbreaking information to the mother, being a familiar face made all the difference in these situations and whether you liked it or not you had to put that to one side and be there for support.

You watched as Jay respectfully informed the mother, watching the blood drain from her face and the strength leave her body as she began to fall to the ground.

You and Jay both instinctively lunged forward to catch her, pulling her up to now being held in Jay’s arms as she sobbed into his chest “I can’t tell Claudia, they were so close” she uttered through your tears and your heart broke, you were fortunate enough to be on the job long enough to have your fair share of threatening injuries but so far no fatalities.

You were soon learning on the job what it was like to deal with it first hand. You scan over to Hailey and Sylvie who were now both with the young girl, oblivious to her mother’s sobs as she faces away in deep distraction “why don’t we get you both to med and we can go from there?” You suggest, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder to which she nods, still buried in Jay’s chest and clutching at his arms.

You do your best to slowly unwrap her tight grasp from Jay and pull her towards you, her tear stained face was now bright red and body temperature rocketing in stress.

“Go with Y/N and we will be in touch when we have some more news” Jay consoles, still with a quiet and calming voice to try and not add to the intense situation. You had never seen him like this at work, he’d been called to a number of your jobs but only to help with rough crowds or to arrest a suspect who was injured.

He helped you through this process whether he knew it or not, if it wasn’t for him staying so calm who knows how you would’ve handled it..

Sylvie peers her head round the side of the ambo and calls out to the mother “we’ve got a little girl back here who wants her mother” she tilts her heads towards the girl before noticing the state she was in.

You give a subtle shake of your head which she thankfully spots “on second thought, why don’t you ride in the back with me and my partner will take care of your mother” she speaks to young girl in an excited tone to try and deflect away from where you were stood with Jay and the devestated woman.

“Yeah!” Claudia exclaims before climbing into the back of the ambo and settling on the seat “I can do it, I need to be with her” you hear the timid voice from beside you crack with every word. She takes a deep inhale and wipes away the tears that had stained her cheeks.

“If you need anything, give me a call no matter what hour” Jay hands her his card with a comforting smile. He flicks his eyes over you as you guide the woman towards the back of the ambo “keep me updated” he points at you to which you nod before he heads back over to join Voight who was still in the house with the rest of the team.

**

A few hours go by and you’re on your way from med, truly drained and ready to crash in your bed at the station. What started as luckily, a less than intense fire soon took a turn and had you put through your paces when you were least expecting it.

You and Sylvie both sat in silence, finishing the last of your energy drink as you toss the empty can by your feet “you still drinking that? It’s like 10pm” Sylvie chuckles as you keep your eyes staring out of the window at the darkness, her hands clinging to the steering wheel as you sat back in your seat and huffed.

“you remember the first time you see a dead body?” You question, avoiding her comments about the energy drink as you really weren’t in the mood.

“Yep. Turned up to a house call, man said his wife had been quiet and had locked herself in the bedroom, we got in and there she was laid on the floor with a needle sticking out of her arm” she woefully speaks, eyes still firmly on the road

“as much as I try and forget it, it will never leave me” she adds but you remain silent “Did you see him?” She asks to break the silence that had fallen in the ambo, the only noise being the humming of the engine and equipment clanging in the back.

“Not even, just a body bag” you admit “that shook me up enough, who knows what I’m gonna be like with an actual body” you slump further into your chair, crossing your legs in the footwell.

“maybe I’m not cut out for this” you confess and feel her eyes snap to you “are you crazy? You’ve just experienced your first fatality and you still managed to keep calm and I most importantly keep the others calm” slight strain in her voice as she continues to speak

“If you’re not doubting your job after a rough call, you didn’t do it right”.

Her words play in your mind for the rest of the journey, resting your head on the window as you pull into the station. You open the door to jump out when she tugs on your hand to stop you.

“You did good Y/N. Don’t let anyone tell you different” you give her a half hearted smile before stepping down out of the vehicle. Slamming the door behind you with a deep exhale “oh, her day has just got a whole lot better” you hear her chime, your head hanging low as you make your way over to the other side to join her.

You turn the corner to see Jay stood besides Severide, signature mischievous grin and arms outstretched towards you “you really think I wouldn’t be here waiting for you?” He questions as you stroll over to him, wanting to bound into his arms but knowing how you’d never hear the end of it from the surrounding team which now all had their eyes on you.

“come on” Sylvie grabs at Kelly’s arm “let’s give them a moment” she ushers him away from the pair of you as you stand engulfed in Jay’s arms.

“You still working?” You question, leaning into Jay’s chest as he runs his fingertips up and down your back “Finished hours ago, been waiting here for you” he mumbles into the top of your head as he places a kiss to your temple.

“Thought I could stay here tonight? Can’t sleep alone in that bed for another night, I’ll go insane” you pull back to see his toothy grin beaming down onto you as you feel your heart pull

“you’re gonna stay here? With me?” You question, still latched onto his chest as he gently pushes your hair back from your face “that alright?”.

You nod into him but still want to stay wrapped up in his presence as you feel everything wash away and all of the stress dissolve in your body when he holds you. “Come on, let’s get you to your bed” he gently taps at your lower back, signalling for you to unattach yourself from him.

You resist your urges and escape his grasp but he soon slings his arm round your shoulders to pull you back into him as you walk towards the station bunks.

“I haven’t heard great things about these from you so if I get a bad back we know why” he chuckles into your hair as he places a kiss to the side of your head as you continue to walk.

“That isn’t an energy drink I smell is it?” He pulls you under his arm and closer into him. You clear your throat as he does his best to remain stern “uh, no. Just fumes” you try to slightly pull away to reduce the smell but he had you in his hold and you both knew you weren’t getting out “ah those classic fumes, always forget about those”.

You and Jay laid in silence on your station bed, luckily in the corner to stay away from prying eyes which you know your nosey team would have.

Laying content as you find your natural position with your head on him and his arm wrapped around you, hand splayed on your hip as the other absentmindedly fiddles with your fingers resting on chest.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable and awkward, feeling the need to start small talk in efforts to make some form of conversation. Instead it’s a comfortable silence, filled with happiness and content with being back where you belong.

Jay let’s out a deep exhale as he rubs light circles into your skin but keeps his eyes on the ceiling above “you know you can always talk to me” he whispers, aware of other people in the room behind asleep.

You angle your head to look up at him, catching his attention as he glances down at you “I’ll get over it, just another day at the office” you try and make light of the situation but he wasn’t having it.

“I’m serious” he scowls but not out of anger, more of concern “I don’t want you bottling this up” he runs his thumb over your temple in a comforting motion “I won’t, I promise” you return your head back to his chest as he intertwines your fingers with his.

“I’ve missed being like this with you” he confesses, seemingly out of the blue as you return to your comfortable silence. You place a kiss to the exposed skin through the neckline of his T-shirt and nuzzle further into the crook of his neck “I missed you too”.

He lets out a content hum as he tightens his grip on your side and closing the near enough already nonexsistant gap between the pair of you “my life isn’t the same without you in it” he whispers but by this point you’ve closed your eyes and we’re dozing in and out of sleep, soothed by the soft rhythm within his chest “sleep tight baby”.

***

Inbox and requests always open🥰

#jay halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead smut #one chicago x reader #jay halstead x you

[rheawritessometimes]

A Little Treat

{ Drunk!Diluc x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } After Kaeya and Venti get Diluc drunk, you're left with the cleanup.

{ Warnings } Alcohol, Intoxication.

{ Notes } Diluc and Reader are in that weird space of not being in a romantic relationship but not being just friends. My interpretation of how Diluc might be when drunk. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 1,092

Kaeya was well known for his silver tongue and Venti had a talent for beguiling others, so it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise that they were able to cajole Diluc into sampling some Snezhnayan Fire-Water with them. You could hardly blame the redhead, with the dynamic duo working together it was hard not to fall into one of their traps. The finer details of the exchange were still a mystery to you, but the outcome of it all was you being left to take care of an intoxicated winery owner after having scolded two clowns for getting him into that state.

“Diluc, it won’t be very comfortable to sleep on the bar like that. Why don’t we find a better place for you to rest?” you suggested gently, frowning at the way he slouched over the bar. Even if the position didn’t leave him sore in the morning, falling off the barstool in his sleep probably would.

“I can’t walk,” the intoxicated man groaned in response, not even lifting his head. He sounded saddened by this and you were thinking Kaeya and Venti deserved a bit worse than the scolding you had given them earlier. Make them kneel in the fountain with their hands over their heads for an hour.

“If I help you walk do you think you can make it to my house? We don’t have to go all the way to the winery.” You dreaded the thought of having to get all the way to Dawn Winery with a drunken Diluc. He was a rather large man and supporting even some of his weight over such a long distance would likely prove difficult.

Lifting his head, the uncrowned prince of Mondstadt spent a few long moments rolling your question around in his head. Being the patient person you were, you allowed him time to think. It would be impossible to get him anywhere without his cooperation, so souring his mood by hurrying him along wouldn’t be in your favor.

“You promise not to let me fall?” Diluc finally asked, lifting his head to look up at you with bright crimson eyes. His expression reminded you of an innocent, hopeful child and your heart fluttered.

“I promise,” you confirmed, offering him your hand to help him up. It appeared as though he was hesitant to take it, but in reality, his brain was just a bit sluggish in processing the world in its current state of intoxication. Gently placing his gloved hand in your own, he allowed you to help him up.

For claiming he was unable to walk, Diluc was very steady as you guided him out of the tavern and into the streets of Mondstadt. You were expecting to have to support him in some way, but he seemed to manage just fine on his own. With that in mind, you released your grip on his hand.

Much to your surprise, Diluc tightened his hold on your hand, looking at you with an alarmed expression.

“You said you’d help me, promised you wouldn’t let me fall!” he shouted, undoubtedly being much louder than he intended. Looking at him with wide eyes, you realized that holding your hand probably gave him some form of comfort, even if it wasn’t actually doing anything to keep him upright.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t let go,” you soothed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. He only hummed in response, seemingly satisfied with this as he let you continue to lead him back to your home.

Luckily the walk wasn’t very far and you were inside your home before you knew it. Fortunately, it didn’t seem anyone had taken note of you and Diluc making your way through Mondstadt, you worried about his reputation. Not that he was doing anything particularly embarrassing, besides following you like a lost puppy the whole way home.

“I like when you call me Di,” the redhead blurts as soon as the door closes. You let out a surprised laugh at his honesty, storing that information in your mind for a later time.

“Oh? I’ll be sure to remember that,” you tell him, a smile on your face. While you liked sober Diluc, this version of him was nice to see.

“Good.”

“How about I get you some water and then you can go to sleep?” you suggested, trying not to laugh at his short response. After a few moments spent processing your words, the redhead nodded in agreement.

You went to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water, not expecting him to follow closely behind you. There was probably only a few inches between the two of you and you couldn’t help but pause, thankful he was able to stop before bumping into you.

“Di, you don’t have to follow me. I can bring the water back to you.”

“Yeah.”

As soon as you were walking again, so too was Diluc. Since it wasn’t much of a nuisance, you decided not to mention it again. You simply got a glass to fill with water before offering him the glass. He took it from your hands, taking a few sips while staring at you. It seemed like he was looking for affirmation, so you gave it to him.

“Good job. You want to go to sleep now?” you asked, taking the glass when he handed it back to you and setting it on the counter. After receiving a nod from him, you began to guide him to your room.

“You can sleep on the bed, I’ll take the couch tonight,” you said after he seated himself on the edge of the bed, removing his coat, boots, and gloves. To you, it seemed like that was the polite and logical thing to do, but Diluc looked up to you with confusion.

“You’re not staying with me?”

The sad puppy dog look the man gave you with those words had you wondering if he knew how much power he held over you. Sighing softly, you knew you weren’t strong enough to refuse him.

“Alright, I’ll stay. So stop looking at me like that.”

After turning off the lights and climbing into bed with him, you couldn’t help but think he looked a little smug. Maybe it was your imagination, but you couldn’t quite tell. But, it’s not as though you could be upset about it, especially when he laid his head on your chest and let you play with his hair.

You decided drunk Diluc was okay every once in a while. As a treat.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact diluc #diluc #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #intoxication #alcohol #venti #kaeya #can you tell #i have a thing #for falling asleep cuddling #with genshin characters #also #a little funfact #i tend to write scenes with sleeping #when i'm tired #it's uh a little past midnight #yeet #NO ONE SAW ME UPLOAD THIS WITH THE TITLE STILL BEING 'Working Title' #shhh

[guardianofrivendell]

Broken Promises

Fíli x OC Tullaina

A/N: So I said I was in an angsty mood and unfortunately Tullaina is the victim of that mood. 

Warnings: OOC Fíli under the influence of dragon sickness, angst, angst, angst (I’M not SORRY), Kíli being a good friend 

Complete and utter silence. Only the soft sound of paper sliding over paper could be heard when she turned a page every few minutes. 

Tullaina savoured these rare moments where she could spend some time alone, curled up with a book in one of her many secret hiding spots. 

When they finally settled down in Erebor, she had spent her first few months exploring the mountain, in search of quiet little nooks and corners like this one. 

Her quiet time alone was short-lived however. Hurried footsteps could be heard in the distance, coming closer at an alarming pace.

“Tullaina?” A familiar voice called out.

Tullaina sighed. One less secret hiding spot, so it seemed. 

She spotted Kíli standing beneath the high window sill she was resting on, his eyes wide with worry.

“Tulls! Come down from there,” he shouted, waving at her to spur her on. “Come on, hurry up!”

“What is it?” she asked him, and she jumped down with practised ease. If he was trying to persuade her into pranking Thorin again, by Durin’s beard, she was definitely going to give him a piece of her mind. A very pointy piece. In the form of an arrow in his butt.

“It’s Fíli,” he breathed.

Her blood ran ice cold and she was certain the color had vanished from her face. There were so many reasons why Kíli could be distraught about his brother's well-being and each and every single one of them was bad. 

She followed her best friend through the corridors of the mountain, all the way to the Royal wing. The guards stationed there nodded at her when they passed, they knew her well, she was courting the crown prince after all. Tullaina had refused a room in the Royal Wing, feeling as if she didn’t deserve it, and instead settled for a chamber with the rest of the Company, a few hallways further down. Once Fíli and her were married, she was going to relocate to the royal chambers, but for now, she felt more at peace where she was.

Kíli halted in front of Fíli’s chambers. 

“Will you finally tell me what’s wrong?” Tullaina asked him. “Is he hurt?”

He was completely fine this morning, he would spend the entire day doing his royal duties. That could hardly be considered dangerous, but you never know. He was a Durin after all. 

“It came true…” he said, his voice low, as if he was telling her a secret. “He wanted to try it, even though Uncle said it wasn’t a good idea. But you know him Tulls, he always wants to prove himself. A-and it went well, he didn’t feel anything at all the first few times he went there but now… You have to get him out of it, Tulls! He’ll listen to you!”

“Kíli, what are you talking about?” she questioned him. Why couldn’t he get to the point for once in his life? 

“It’s the dragon sickness…”

She didn’t wait another moment, her hands flew to the doorknobs and she pushed the heavy double doors open. It could not be true. He couldn’t… he promised.

Fíli stood leaning over his desk, in full regalia, something he normally hated. When he had to wear it to formal events, he never stopped complaining. How it was too heavy, how it made him stand out, he didn’t like being the center of attention, ... Now he seemed to wear it with pride.

He was studying the documents in front of him as if his life depended on it. His facial expression was stoic, but his eyes were full of fire. 

“Fíli?”

His head snapped up and his eyes darkened as soon as he saw who dared to disturb him. Tullaina had to fight the urge to take a step back. This wasn’t her Fíli. Kíli was right...

“You!” he hissed. “What are you doing in my chambers? How dare you come in here!”

“Fíli, I’m your friend,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I’ve been here plenty of times. On your invitation. We’re-we’re courting, remember?”

“It’s Prince Fili to you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve heard me.”

“Fíli- prince Fíli,” she corrected herself, making a small curtsy, even though she didn’t like how he was talking to her. It was best not to antagonize him when he was like this. Kíli was right, she might be the only one to snap him out of it. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me for a walk? Some fresh air will do us both some good.”

He snorted, but it sounded off. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, pointing at her while he rounded his desk. “While we’re away, my brother has the chance to snatch the documents and gather information. He’s setting you up to this, didn’t he? He is jealous, he always has been. But I’m not letting him take my crown,” he mumbled the last words to himself, before he crossed his arms behind his back and started pacing back and forth.

“You don’t mean that!” Tullaina gasped. She never heard Fíli say one bad word about his brother before. Well, that was a lie, but it was always in jest, he never meant it. 

He strode towards her until he was standing right in front of her. She balled her fists to keep her composure. This was Fíli. He would never hurt her, even if he was under the influence of the gold. He would not hurt her.

“You’re working with him, aren’t you! You conspire against me!”

“I would never do that, Fíli. I love you!”

He swirled around at her words. His voice changed, it deepened but instead of being warm like honey, it felt as if the room turned colder with every spoken word. 

“You don’t love me! What a fool I was! Oh, you tricked me into believing you loved me, while in reality you’re in love with the crown! With Prince Fíli!” he shouted, opening his arms to show himself in all his royal glory. “Not with Fíli, son of Dís!”

“Please, Fíli! This isn’t you, it’s the dragon sickness. Please, you have to wake up! Open your eyes!” Tullaina pleaded. In her head she kept repeating that it wasn’t the real him, he didn’t mean what he was saying. 

“Oh but my dearest Tullaina, my eyes are finally open! Isn’t it odd that you never told me you loved me until after we reclaimed Erebor? Not before I officially earned my title?” He tilted his head. “You want the gold, don’t you?”

“No!” she cried, now fighting back the tears. She wanted to leave, before Fíli could say something that really hurt her but Kíli was counting on her to fix this. She had to stay, she had to try and get him back. 

She looked at him and smiled, trying to put him at ease. He always said how he loved her smile. 

“Remember when you told me you loved me for the first time? How nervous you were? And the kiss we shared? It was definitely not our first kiss,” Tullaina chuckled. She pleaded with her eyes for him to remember that moment, to remember how he felt. His feelings for her should be strong enough to bring him back. 

Fíli was struggling. She saw it and her heart filled with hope. He was coming back to her. 

“Do you remember our first real kiss?” she tried. “You wanted to show everyone I was yours.”

The corners of his lips twitched and the wrinkles around his eyes scrunched a little. He remembered. Just as Tullaina thought he was back to his own self, he shook his head and the darkness in his eyes returned. 

“Our courtship? You can forget about that! Who would want you,” he mocked her. “You don’t even look like a proper Dwarf! You’re lucky we’re allowing you to stay here. You know you don’t belong!”

“Fíli, that’s enough!” Kíli’s voice boomed from the doorway. 

He had seen how Tullaina slowly lost her composure, the tears silently rolling over her cheeks, her lower lip trembling and he could no longer stand there and do nothing. 

He watched her bow to Fíli, straighten her back and although her voice was shaking, she spoke with enough confidence to get her message across. “I have loved you since Ered Luin. I’ve always been there for you, every step of the way, like you were there for me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if your Highness wants me gone, out of his halls and his bed, I would not dare go against his wishes.”

Tullaina turned around and dashed out of the room. When she passed Kíli in the doorway, he saw how devastated she was. It broke his heart and he couldn’t help feeling responsible for it. It was him who pushed her to do this, he knew it could go horribly wrong and still he thought it was a good idea to involve Tullaina. He really thought she would be the key to break the spell. 

He turned to his brother, who was still standing in the exact same spot, his expression emotionless. Kíli felt rage burning in his chest. Fíli promised he would never hurt her. When he confessed his feelings for Tullaina to him, that was Kíli’s only condition. Don’t hurt her. At least now he could keep his promise to him.

“Dragon sickness or not, I swore to you that if you’d ever hurt Tullaina, you would have to deal with me,” he roared while making his way to Fíli. “And I always keep my promises!”

He swung his right arm and his fist collided with Fíli’s cheekbone before the Heir of Erebor had the chance to react. 

Kíli expected him to blow up after that, but to his surprise Fíli stood frozen in place. After a few seconds he slowly lifted his hand and touched his cheek, wincing when his fingers made contact with the skin beneath his eye.

Fíli stared at his younger brother in disbelief. Kíli noticed how his kind blue eyes had returned. The darkness was gone. His brother was back. 

Then something happened that Kíli never witnessed before. Thick, wet tears formed in Fíli’s eyes before he closed them, causing the tears to fall. It didn’t take long before Fíli was sobbing. Kíli didn’t hesitate and hugged his brother in an attempt to comfort him. 

After a few minutes Fíli seemed to calm down and finally opened his bloodshot eyes. 

“What have I done?”

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#Fili x OC #Fili x Tullaina #Fili x reader #Fili #Tullaina #Kili #Dragon Sickness #Angst #Fili imagine #Fili oneshot #The Hobbit #The Hobbit x OC #The Hobbit x reader #The Hobbit fanfiction

[warmblanketwhump]

Hello, can we do ⬤ and ⌘?

⌘: being picked up

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

“Can we please turn up the heat? I'm frozen.”

“B. You just got done shoveling snow. Give your body a chance to do its thing. Or wrap up in a blanket. It’s cheaper that way. ”

B slumps, dejected, and shuffles over to the couch, throwing a thick knit blanket around their shoulders and rubbing their arms. A feels a twinge of guilt at how miserable B looks, but there just isn’t money to pay a sky-high utility bill this month – especially when they'd barely feel a difference. Hopefully misery would pay off with a better place for them this time next year.

“C’mon. I’ll make you tea.” B glares at A, but A can see the hope that leaps into their eyes. A few minutes later, A brings a steaming mug of honey ginger tea over to B, who’s curled up on the floor next to their toaster-sized space heater as it puffs out a few breaths of warm air. B sits up and gratefully wraps their cold fingers around the warm ceramic, pulling it close to their chest.

“It’s so warm,” B sighs, taking a sip. A shiver rattles through them, and A leans in to steady the mug.

“Drink up. It’ll heat you from the inside out.”

“Hope so,” B says softly. “I’ve been chilled since yesterday.”

Alarm bells flash in A’s mind. “Wait - you were cold before you went outside?”

B bites their lip, like they’ve said more than they meant to. “I mean….I've just been kinda shivery and can't keep warm. But it’s fine, really. I’ll just give it a minute, like you said.”

A places a tentative hand on B’s shoulder. “Honey, why didn't you say something?”

B shrugged. “I'm always cold during the winter. And it’s always me who’s whining about it, but it was my turn to clear the walk. Just figured I’d shiver through it and suck it up.” They give a halfhearted smile and hug themselves, hunching their shoulders. “Could you get me another blanket?”

A’s brow furrows in concern, but they go and snatch a soft throw off B’s neatly made bed and come back to the living room. They stop for a moment and look at the sparse bedroom - they had no idea B had been so miserable - and it killed them that they didn’t feel like they could be honest about it.

B’s back laying down, nearly on top of the heater. A drapes the blanket over B and sneaks their hand to the back of their neck. It’s warm, too warm for someone who’s complaining about the cold, the unnatural heat in stark contrast to A’s icy fingers. “Love, you’ve got a fever.”

B shivers and pulls their knees up. “Wish I felt like it. I’ve got chills all over. My throat hurts now, too.” A rubs B’s shoulders, feeling the small puffs of air from the heater evaporate into the cold room.

“Why don’t we get you into bed, under the covers? You'll be more comfortable there.” B nods and A pulls them to their feet, but B sways so far forward that A has to catch them. B grasps A's waist weakly, and A keeps a hand between B’s shoulders as they shuffle to the bedroom. B immediately collapses onto the bed, and A unwraps them and smooths the covers over their feverish body.

“Sheets are cold,” B whimpers.

“Just give it a minute - you’ll warm them up soon enough,” A reassures, calm voice betraying the rising panic in their gut as they rub B’s arms and legs through the covers. A wracks their brain - they know you aren’t supposed to overheat a fevered person, but B was already so cold - so which should they choose? Call C, their brain screams, but they push the thought over to the side. They weren't that desperate.

Eventually, they settle on warmth - bringing up the minuscule space heater and tucking a hot water bottle under the covers, which B promptly snatches and wraps their arms around. They pitch between waking and unconsciousness, finally settling into a thin sleep in the evening. A curls up beside them and wraps an arm around their shivering form, and finds sleep soon after.

Just before midnight, A wakes with a cold nose and the sound of sharp, short breathing next to them. It's B, weeping softly.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I....I can't sleep. I'm so cold and....and my throat hurts really bad and....I just want to sleep, I’m so tired…but I can't warm up....I can't..." A can catch the delirious, panicked edge to their voice. When they press closer, A can feel the fevered heat rolling off in waves as B's shoulders shake with sobs. “A, please. Help me.”

It's then that A knows what they have to do. "We're going to C's." It's said as a statement, not a question. B's too out of it to take in the enormity of it. But it's decided. C can help. If C will have them.

The buses won't be running for hours yet, but C's house is only about a mile away. So they bundle a half-conscious B into every blanket and piece of warm clothing they own, pulling a hat down over their ears, and swaddling them in a blanket before scooping them up out of bed.

It's cold outside, with the faintest glitter of snowflakes in the dim streetlights. A has to stop halfway to catch their breath and hoist B back up in their arms, but B barely flutters an eyelid. All the while, they're praying to every deity they can think of, begging them to not let C turn them away.

When they get to C's, they have a moment of panic. What if they say no? I should've called. I should've found another way, should've –

"Okay, it's midnight. This better be–" C's on their stoop, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Their face freezes at sight of A and B – two people they haven't seen in over a year.

"Please. B's really, really sick." A's voice breaks, and C stares forward, mouth agape, eyes unblinking, but A can't stop.

"And I know you probably hate me, but you don't hate them. You can't hate them. And it's so damn cold in that stupid hole in the wall we live in, and they're just so tired, and so am I–" A's crying now "–and I just...I need help. We need help. Please."

C's face is soft, and their eyes are wet with tears. "A, all you had to do was ask. Come on in."

They stumble across the threshold into the gloriously warm house. C kneels down and gets a fire going in the hearth, and A deposits a bundled B on the couch and begins adjusting their blankets. B blinks awake once more, their fevered eyes reflecting the glint of the firelight.

"Warm now?" they ask, the fever giving them a wide-eyed innocence.

A pushes the hair back off their forehead, and their eyes meet C's. "Yes, sweetheart. We're gonna be warm now."

#the!!! last!!! prompt!!!! #thanks to everyone who sent one in - they were SO fun to write! #now i need to sleep for a year #fever whump #whump prompt #sickfic #sickfic whump #cold whump #blankets #fever #chills #sorry this took FOREVER #and that they all turned into the same thing toward the end #lol #my writing

[obiwhat]

Very sick and feverish levi with Erwin trying his best to take care of his boyfriend/husband?

hiii hiii thank u so so much for requesting this <33 i went down a bit of a sad route for this one sooo~~ buckle up ;))

Crimson Lips

warnings: blood

“Erwin… S’hard to breathe…” Levi swallowed dryly, the effort only creating a tighter lump in his throat. His cough tore through his frail lungs, making them raw, as though they might just tear apart any moment now. His eyes raced to find his lover in the midst of his feverish haze. “Erwin… Please…” 

“I’m right here, Levi. I’m here with you.” He responded desperately, his hands shaking as he replaced the towel on Levi’s forehead again. “I’ve sent for a doctor, I'm sure they’ll arrive any moment now.”

With the rain hitting like rocks against the window adjacent to him, Erwin was beginning to doubt that entirely. The thunderstorm had been raging on and off for days now, making their usual supplies and medicines run low. Since the first night of the massive storm blowing through the woodland, Levi’s fever suddenly burned like wildfire in juxtaposition to the impending freeze gathering in the air. 

Erwin recalled just a few days ago as if it were months… They'd been sitting quietly by the fire, as they did on most calm damp nights in their remote cottage. Fresh jasmine tea filled the air while a calm fire warmed their exteriors. Erwin had been thumbing through a light read while Levi had been fixing a hole in Erwin’s coat in preparation for a long icy winter. 

It was not uncommon for Levi to cough every now and then, an interruption to their still ritual by the fire before bed. At first it had been triggered by a light cold he picked up when the weather changed, nothing too serious, but concerningly the cough did not subside with his other symptoms. It was persistent, a dry and nagging tickle in his chest echoing throughout the house nearly every day since. 

Erwin had tried to urge him to come with him to town to have the doctor take a look, but Levi preferred the quiet life, far away from civilization. He enjoyed working in the garden and tending to the animals in the small barn across from their humble cottage. He had said it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t go away with time. At the end of the day, Erwin was sure that worries over money was the main reason he didn’t want to take a trip into town.

As the night progressed, the cough had suddenly become more frequent. He had stood, his tea long since depleted, and carried himself towards the kitchen with a shawl from the couch slung over his shoulders to bite back the chill in the rest of the cottage. Erwin closed his book for a moment and offered to make the tea instead but Levi quickly brushed him off as he continued on his way towards the kitchenette.

“Storm’s almost here.” Levi had mused softly, stopping by the living room’s wide window to stare into the rainy night. Erwin’s eyes had returned to the words in his book but he answered with a low hum of agreement. The rain was only getting louder against the window pane. Thunder echoed through the wood, drawing nearer to their tiny cottage.

“Erwin…” Levi had breathed through the word as though it were slipping from his grasp. “Something’s… I don’t feel…”

Erwin had turned quickly, suddenly alarmed by his husband’s panicked tone. It was unfamiliar. And deeply unsettling. 

“Erwin.” Levi’s hand was grasping at the window pane, in panicked desperation, his knuckles a pale white and sweat accumulating fast on his forehead. A crack of lightning lit up the room as Levi’s teacup suddenly met the floor with a sharp shatter, his frail form quickly collapsing after it.

Tumbling over the side of the couch, Erwin had sent himself sprawling onto the floor to reach Levi. He hadn't managed to catch him. It haunted him that he’d been so close but too late to stop the crack of his forehead against the wooden floor.

A split above his eyebrow leaked blood onto the floorboards and onto Erwin’s hands as he turned his husband’s pale face with his palm. Searing heat had rushed like a spreading forest fire from Levi’s skin onto his hand as he tried desperately to pick up the pieces. 

Erwin hadn’t had a chance to leave his side since his collapse.

For nearly three days now, he’d only managed to go back and forth from the kitchen to bring food and drink, not that Levi was able to stomach much anyway. Even the tea was going cold on most occasions. The only time Erwin had left the house was to mail the urgent letter to the doctor in the next town over. Nearly a three hour ride on horseback. 

With the storm still raging days later, he wasn’t even sure if the mailman had even managed to deliver the letter at all. It was… defeating to say the least. Especially whenever he caught a glimpse of Levi’s cloudy, glazed over eyes. 

What were usually a steadfast smokey blue were now a dull and lifeless gray that Erwin found hauntingly unrecognizable as he stared back at them, caressing his thumb softly near the bandage on Levi’s forehead. 

“No, no… No doctors… Erwin—” A cough sputtered from Levi’s dry lips as the desperation inside grew fearsome. He latched onto Erwin’s shirt, roughly tugging his sleeve to keep him by his side, as he had many times before. “Don’t—”

Erwin tried his best to disregard his husband’s protests, taking up the glass of water he’d retrieved for him earlier, along with the basin of cool water and towel for Levi’s fever. Not that a cooling rag was doing much anymore. It grew hot within mere minutes of being placed on Levi’s forehead. 

Useless, as Erwin felt.

With a steady and firm hand on Levi’s back, Erwin raised him to sit up a bit. His husband winced from the aches shooting through him, mumbling aimlessly about the pain. It seemed that every slight contact against Levi’s skin was like torture.

“Just try to drink a couple of sips for me, alright love?” Erwin offered the glass to Levi’s cracked lips and waited patiently for him to swallow. As he tipped the water up to his mouth, Levi did manage a few sips before squirming away from the glass in another bout of coughs. Erwin held him as the coughs tore through his lungs so recklessly. 

“You did good, Levi.” Erwin felt his brows pressing together as he brushed back a few loose damp hairs from Levi’s forehead. “You did good.”

“Erwin…” Levi seemed to emerge from his coughing fit with even more confusion than previously. “Erwin, s’cold… but also not… not cold. Erwin, you…”

“What? What do you need, Levi? What can I do?” 

He shook his head shakingly and turned with a grimace. “Something’s… something’s not… right… I think… I think I’m sick…”

“You are sick, my love.” Erwin felt like bursting into tears, desolation had taken hold of his heart as he heard his husband’s faint raspy whispers. The days of his illness had dragged on. His coherent mind slipped further and further away with each pressing hour of the fever’s deadly grip. “But it’ll be okay. You’ll have medicine soon, I promise. You’ll be alright, Levi.”

He was trying to assure himself more than Levi at this point. There was little way Levi could even understand him now. 

Erwin flipped over the cool towel as Levi’s fever burned through it again. This isn’t working. Nothing is working anymore. There had to be something else he could do, if he had better supplies, if they didn’t live so far away from civilization… maybe he could try to ride into town… but Levi would be left here for… hours. Alone and… afraid.

Erwin couldn’t leave him like that. Especially when he hardly knew where he was anymore.

Maybe… a sponge bath? Something to cool off this fever. Erwin brushed the quickly warming towel from Levi’s forehead to his cheeks and down his thin neckline. Even the slight touch of the fabric against his tinder skin made Levi shivered and recoil with a tightly wound wince in between his brows. Erwin would hate to move him to the bath with the pain that every small movement seemed to do to him. He’d need a bit more water for the sponge bath, as the basin’s supply was running low.

Erwin stood, dipping the towel one more time before quickly replacing it on Levi’s brow. His husband winced and blinked heavily. Levi’s red rimmed eyes locked to his suddenly, like an infallible magnet. There was an alarming flash of alertness to them.

Then… despair.

Levi looked sad… Like a broken man… with the eyes of a haunted child.

Maybe he was back there, in his mind at least. Transported, just for a fleeting moment, to the days of his childhood. He had called for his mother several times during the last few nights of pyrexia. Would he utter her name again? Confused as to where she was, or positive that Erwin was she.

Erwin was sure that his heart would crack in two if Levi forgot yet again who he was. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was tearing him apart.

But as quickly as the look had appeared, it was gone. Levi’s expression went slack once more as restless sleep took hold of him and his head fell limply to one side. 

Erwin exhaled, discovering the breath that he’d unconsciously held in his lungs as he’d stared into his husband’s desperate eyes. Attempting to recover his composure, for the both of them, Erwin gathered the basin in his hands and retreated down the stairs. Each step against the oak staircase carried creaks aloud that made him wince in sympathy. He hoped for Levi’s rest to remain at least somewhat undisturbed, but he knew this to be unlikely. Despite his time spent in bed for days now, Levi had hardly slept a wink. His time had been spent tossing and turning, unable to find any form of comfort in the peak of his remorseless illness. 

Of course, Erwin had not slept much at all either, only managing a few hours in that chair by the bedside. As he crossed the hearth, into the small kitchen, he ran his fingers across the base of his neck, feeling the rough formation of stubble. If Levi were well he’d be absolutely aggravated by the sight of it, insisting on Erwin shaving immediately, lest he do it himself. 

Erwin placed the kettle on the old stove in the corner of the kitchen, the fire lit up slowly and began warming the water inside. He placed his hands against the wooden counters and took a deep breath in, finding little comfort in releasing it into the air again. 

He imagined the cool sensation of shaving cream being smeared with care against his cheeks and upper lip and the feeling of a blade against his face, but never breaking skin. Levi worked with care, in that way. Quiet, careful, and calculated. Although he’d surely complain about the stumble throughout, Levi had always seemed to enjoy that intimate moment shared between the two. A quiet and loving act of service. 

Would they share moments like that again? 

Erwin had a difficult time discerning if he was practicing denial in immediately shutting that thought away. Levi was not getting better. In fact, tonight it seemed as though the fever was only climbing higher by the minute, incessant in it’s pace. If Levi were any other man, he’d probably be dead already. 

In their time as young soldiers, Erwin had often foolishly assumed Levi was unkillable. The things they’d seen in their fight against the titans had solidified his resilience to any force trying to steal his life. Now, years after their service had ended, it was illness that had quite literally taken his breath from him and left him clinging to his life.

The kettle began to steam, a sharp hissing shot out from the spout in response. Erwin shut off the stove quickly, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose as he willed away his sleepiness and poured out two cups of tea in their signature mugs. The twin mugs were rimmed with a faint umber color from being filled over and over again throughout the past few days. In the midst of pouring out a second cup, steam filling the cool air, a soft bout of raspy coughs interrupted his train of thought. Erwin nearly overfilled the mug as he twisted around and spotted Levi clinging to the railing of the staircase with a white knuckled grip. 

Glazed-over eyes gazed back at him. Levi’s face, almost entirely hidden behind his palm, was pale as the snow that would soon blanket the forest floor. 

“Levi.” In a single breath he’d uttered his name and crossed the room. Hands flew out to cradle his husband in his arms and hold him upright. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I think I’m… I’m feeling a little better now.” Levi nodded into Erwin’s chest, with damp dark hair falling against Erwin’s thick wool cardigan. He was breathing heavily, letting Erwin take the majority of his weight, but his words sounded surprisingly coherent. More coherent than they had been in days. Is this some sort of repose from the delirium? “I needed… I needed some air.”

For a moment, Levi’s steel blue eyes lingered on the window behind Erwin, watching the rain beat down as he shivered in his husband’s grip.

“You want to go outside?” Erwin cupped his burning cheek, feeling trembles already coursing through his bones. He was sweating through his thin white nightshirt, the short trip down the stairs had obviously taken its toll. “Levi, it’s freezing out.”

Levi coughed into Erwin’s chest, struggling to squirm away and cough into his fist instead. “It’s too… stuffy in here. I can’t stop… coughing.”

“I’m not sure going outside will do you any more favors, darling.” Erwin stroked the back of Levi’s head, brushing through those tangled hairs with care. The skin beneath his silky hair was practically steaming over with the heat of his fever. 

“Just for a few minutes… Please…”

Pleading didn’t suit Levi. There was something in his look as he lifted his head up that was alien to Erwin. Something in his eyes that he’d never seen there before and couldn’t even attempt to place a name to.

But maybe the cool, rainy air would do something good for his lungs. At this point Erwin was practically as desperate as Levi looked.

“Alright. We can sit outside. But only for a few minutes.” Erwin didn’t miss the sigh of relief Levi exhaled before coughing once more. “We’ll need to bundle you up first or you’ll catch a chill.”

“I’m already… chilled.” 

“You know what I mean.” A weak smirk found its way to Erwin cheeks, as he brushed back Levi’s messy hair once more. His husband was standing, walking again, it felt like a small victory, even if it had been short lived. Erwin cupped his arms below Levi’s legs and lifted him into his chest. The movement seemed to trigger another coughing fit, causing Erwin’s fragile smile to break immediately. 

With Levi against his chest now, as he carried him to the hearth, Erwin could hear the sounds of his breath in his lungs. It was as if the air itself was dragging like a hot knife against his frail lungs with each dry and raspy coughing bout. The sound alone was nearly unbearable to perceive. 

As they approached the hearth, Levi’s shivering seemed to subside, at least to a lesser degree. He went quiet as Erwin wrapped him up, layering him not only in his own thick wool shawl but the winter coat he’d been sewing as well. Draped over their fireplace was a warming green scarf, Erwin’s originally, but he wrapped the oversized garment around Levi’s neck. Tucking the soft fabric up to Levi’s flushed red cheeks, he unconsciously brushed Levi’s unruly hair behind his ear. It was silky even in it’s hectic form, smooth and soothing to Erwin’s touch.

Levi gave no complaints to the overdressing and motherhening, but Erwin could feel his eyes on him. Just watching in silence. 

Erwin wanted him to make a dry comment about it like he usually would. He wanted Levi to tell him he was fussing. His silence was worse than any lies he might make about the reality of his well being.

With Levi fully dressed for freezing weather and then some, Erwin took him up again in his arms and held him tightly as they exited through the front door to the wrap-around porch. The lingering scent of rain and damp grassy plains drifted in the icy air. Unconsciously, Erwin held Levi tighter to him as thunder bellowed through the dark oak trees surrounding their small remote cottage. He lowered them both into their swinging bench, his arms still wrapped with care around his ailing husband. They both looked on, into the rain pouring down in droves over the quiet woodland.

These woods… this cabin… it was their little slice of forever. A place for them to finally live the years they’d always promised to each other. 

And they had. 

They had broken away from everything and retreated to the hillside where they’d never be found. A place they were free to love one another for years of sweet, treasured peace. 

They had raised their own garden of all the fruits and vegetables they could desire, as well as pigs, chickens and one unruly dairy cow. Over the years, they’d shared birthdays, holidays, and beautiful quiet moments to their fullest extent. It was a peace that neither of them truly felt that they deserved.

“Erwin.” Levi suddenly croaked, clearing his throat with a raspy cough. 

“Yes, my love?”

 “Earlier… I felt like I… c-came out of a long dream… I felt…” Levi was cut off by a sharp crackling cough once more, wincing briefly at the intensity of it. “Like I was finally back… in my body...”

Erwin felt the cold winds of rainfall pick up, taking Levi’s hair up into the air with it. He stared down at him, seeing only coherent clarity in his icy blue eyes.

“I was in bed and… and I saw you...”

Levi huffed a short chuckle, but it didn’t reassemble happiness at all.

“After all those years of… fighting. Slaying beasts… struggling just to stay alive for another damnable day…  I just never thought I’d die in a b-bed.”

Erwin felt his breath leave his lungs with a sharp wrench.

“You’re not going to die, Levi.” He said it as if he had control over the man’s very heartbeat, willing it to beat on until he’d be prepared for it to fade. As if he could have that sort of power over fate itself.

Levi ignored him, cleared his raspy throat and continued.

“One of my first memories… was of my mother… Or… I guess s-she was more of a corpse by then… but…” He turned away, another sputtering cough tearing through him as he shuttered from the pain it caused. He was shaking harshly in Erwin’s hands now. “I remember staring at the bed… where her body laid… I felt s-so cold… And small…”

“I don’t…” A breath sucked tightly into Levi’s damaged lungs. “I can’t leave you like that… To stare at me in that bed...”

“You’re not going to leave me at all, Levi. So stop talking like that right now.”

“It’s okay, Erwin.” In all truthfulness he was not afraid, not for himself at least. Levi had woken up every day of his life with the knowledge that he might die, he’d been ready for decades now. It was leaving Erwin that was the most terrifying piece of all of this. “It’ll be okay.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Erwin felt nearly every emotion possible bubbling up inside. For once in his life, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe… not without Levi by his side. “You’re just delirious, Levi. You’re not dying. You won’t die. You won’t.”

“I’m not delirious, Erwin.” Levi’s words broke off suddenly, a harsh cough tearing through him and quaking his whole body in fierce waves of breathless rasps. His thin, pale hands trembled to his mouth, covering his lips as the coughs continued to wracked his entire weak form.

“We need to get you inside. This was a foolish idea. I don’t know why I agreed to it in the first place. You’re just getting worse out here and I—”

“Erwin.”

Levi's voice was calm. 

Quiet, but as calm as when he used to stare down monstrous beasts. A stillness in the wake of horrors.

Like the unbeatable and irresistible pull of gravity itself, Erwin’s eyes were drawn to his husband’s form once more. 

There was blood on Levi’s lips. 

Blood on the hands that lingered in shaky trembles over his mouth.

Red, red, red, red. 

Erwin felt the color rush from his face as he stared helplessly at the splatter of crimson against his husband’s cracked and dry lips.

No… This isn’t…

Blood on those soft lips he’d kissed so tenderly time and time again. Blood dripping down his chin and onto Erwin’s thick green scarf.

Desolation. 

The greatest and deepest despair he’d ever felt in his tragic life spread over Erwin’s entire body. Heart wrenching agony was all he could feel as his eyes trailed the blood dripping slow across pale skin. Levi’s skin.

He’s… going to leave me…

Erwin felt his mind slipping away. His very sanity, lost to him as he quickly tugged Levi into his chest, holding him as if his grasp could stop his lover from disappearing from this world. 

“Shh… It’s okay, Er…win. D-Don’t cry…”

He had not realized he was crying. When was the last time he’d cried?

“It’s… okay…”

Levi wouldn’t stop repeating the words. A mantra to pull Erwin from the brink of madness.

For after all of these years, it was only Levi that could do so.

Even with blood on his lips, Levi was comforting him. 

“It’s not, it’s not, it’s not…” Tears were flooding his cheeks, he was sure he’d never cried harder in all of his life. It wouldn’t stop. The pain in his heart would not cease. “Please hold on a little longer… I’m begging you… Not you…”

“You’ll… b-be okay…” Levi rasped, his breaths getting impossibly shallow. It was obvious that even hardly murmuring into Erwin’s cardigan was the extent of his strength at the moment. “Have… Y’have… t-to… p-promise… me…”

“I can’t--” Erwin sobbed, feeling Levi’s head falling heavier against his chest through the trembling. “Please, don’t Levi… Not like this… Please, just--”

Over the horrid pounding of his own heart, even over the pouring rain, a sound rang out in contrast to it all. Erwin recognized immediately the familiar sound of hooves crunching against leaves and rocks. 

Levi let out a weak rasp in response, his head lulling against Erwin’s body. His breathing was so labored now, his breaths running low. In a desperate attempt to ground himself, Erwin pressed a cool two fingers to Levi’s burning hot neck, feeling for a pulse. Erwin’s eyes lit up, cherishing that slow and uncertain beating against his skin. He’s still here. He hasn’t left me yet. Levi’s heart was beating in tune with the hooves against leaves. 

Still as he was, with lips red with caking blood, Levi was still alive. 

And there were horses coming through the treeline to meet them.

—

#this got sad REAL quick #+ ambiguous ending wa ha ha😈😈 #thanks again 4 the req!! #i really adore them :))) #my fic #進撃の巨人 #エルリ #req #eruri #levi ackerman #erwin smith #fic request #fanfic #levi #erwin #fanfiction #fic #snk #levi whump #captain levi #whump #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eruri fanfic #eruri fic #erwin x levi #aot #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #whump fic