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#for now it lives in my head for safekeeping
onlyswan · 1 year
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summary: in which you give jungkook the silent treatment and he books a 5am flight to japan.
> fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 4.6k
> warnings: mention of c*m swallowing bc jk is a menace, oc overthinks bringing their new boots but jk wins the boyfriend of the year award <3 (these could be title candidates tbh)
note: hello friends! a late valentine’s day gift from me inspired by this ask <3 i almost cried writing this near the end lol. as always i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated ^__^
“ey, this stubborn- yah! what are you doing up there?” jungkook exclaims in panic, nimble feet rushing to the kitchen.
with your back facing him, you flinch at the sudden loud voice filling the empty silence encased by the four walls of the apartment. you feel his big hands firmly hold onto the curves of your naked waist, revealed by a loose crop top you opted to wear for comfort after your shower barely an hour ago. your heart almost jumps out of your chest because only then do you realize that your bare feet have gone closer to the edge of the counter, only two inches backwards and you would be on your way to the hospital.
you carefully face to the side and bend down on your knees, but he clicks his tongue and effortlessly swoops you up in his arms before you can step down on the wooden chair you used to climb on the counter.
a kiss is planted on your temple before your feet touches the warm floor. “haven’t we talked about being careful around here, baby? you were about to fall.”
you shrug off his touch with a huff, glaring at him with piercing eyes. “you know, they didn’t put a lot of thought into my name just so you can replace it with baby.”
and then you turn on your heel to walk away.
his jaw slacks open in shock. he’s left standing alone, a flabbergasted smile slowly forming on his face. “wow! what’s with this sudden attitude, huh?”
after returning the chair to the dining table, he follows you to the dimly-lit living room. you sit down on the couch, crossing your legs and placing a throw pillow over your lap. deciding to be petty tonight, you pretend to be highly engrossed in the performance taking place at the music show.
he plops down beside you as he pulls off the black hair tie holding up the upper half of his hair, wearing it on his wrist for safekeeping.
“aish- my hair is a mess.” he chuckles when the thick locks messily fall infront of his bangs, obstructing his vision. he patiently runs his fingers through the tangles before daintily tucking them behind his ears. after getting that out of the way, he rests his tattooed arm over the backrest of the couch, his tongue unconsciously playing with his lip ring as he figures out how to capture your attention.
he affectionately kisses your cheek and gently holds your forearm, drawing random shapes on your skin with the pad of his thumb.
“hi.” he says softly. “you don’t like me calling you baby anymore? then what should i call you?”
you remain unresponsive, vision stubbornly locked on the television screen. he inches closer to block your view, tilting his head to the side so you’re left with no other choice but to look at his face. and then he calls you by your name, as if he’s testing the waters, and he doesn’t miss the disgruntled frown you quickly hide.
“see? you sulk when i say your name!” he giggles as he gets flashbacks of the first month of your relationship, when you used to be shyly tell him that hearing him say ‘baby’ instead of your name felt weird.
oh, how the tables have turned. but still . . . he gets nothing.
he sighs at the suffocating silence, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face on your neck. “baaaby, what did i do? talk to me.”
he breathes you in, the smell of his milk body wash unmistakably embedded on your skin. this means you can’t be that upset with him, right? when it’s in regards of a serious matter, you usually call him out straight away instead of beating around the bush. but you’re not looking for a solution right now. you’re giving him a punishment. that much he knows.
“i’m so tired and hungry after boxing. you know how i haven’t trained in a while. my body hurts more than usual because of it- ah, i really regret putting it off.” he rests his cheek on your shoulder, squeezing your body delicately as he watches the on-going commercial. “should we order their chicken for dinner?”
you stay motionless, letting him do whatever he wants as if he’s a ghost and you’re ignorant to his faint presence. this makes him jut out his bottom lip somberly as he racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done today to deserve this silent treatment.
“is it something i did? or didn’t do?”
these questions are what eventually elicit a reaction from you. funny enough, the roll of your eyes puts a small smile on his face, because at least this conversation is finally going somewhere.
“okay, okay- i see. i’m supposed to know what it is, right?” he nods in understanding, sweet voice determined to unravel tonight’s mystery.
why is my baby upset with me?
“i’m still sweaty so i’ll reflect on myself in the shower.” he announces before stealing a quick kiss from your lips. this trick earns another glare from you as he walks away, which he reciprocates with a wink when he whips his head back.
“it’s alright if you don’t want to talk to me, just don’t go anywhere, okay?”
you sink down into the couch when he disappears into the bathroom, tightly hugging the pillow to your chest as you sarcastically roll your eyes.
“this is my house, too. why would i go anywhere else?”
jungkook heaves another sigh of frustration as he unplugs the hair dryer. despite retracing his footsteps from this morning to afternoon, he’s still as clueless as he was earlier. you were sharing stories when you ate brunch together, and you even kissed him sweet goodbye before he left for the studio. he thought that perhaps you asked him to buy something important and he didn’t read your texts, but he already checked his inbox twice and your last message was from two days ago. it was a sleepy voice memo sent at 4:01am. you were asking him to go back to bed because he was playing games in the living room again.
he taps the play button for the third time in a row, your weary and mellow voice spilling out from his phone’s speaker.
“…kook, love, don’t mind you playing in here. ermmm, but no yelling or i’ll kick you out… just go back to bed, please? i’m cold.”
“ah, shit.” the curse is accompanied by an airy laugh as he punches the bathroom countertop with as little strength as possible, tattooed knuckles turning a light shade of red. the fluttering of his heart doesn’t cease until your voice fades into silence, ticklish giddiness spreading from his stomach all the way to his fingertips.
to be brutally honest, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. there’s nobody else on earth who can love him, handle his difficultness, and keep him on his toes as effortlessly as you do.
“no but seriously, what am i missing?!”
“baby, i ordered the chicken! you’ll eat dinner with me, right?”
he walks into the living room with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, finding that you’re still sitting on the same spot where he left you.
“i got that limited flavor- the one you wanted to try last time. what is it again?” he raises an eyebrow as he taps his bare foot against the floor, his forehead creasing in deep thought.
you glance up at him when his knee knocks against yours, taking the final bite from the choco cookie pepero stick you’re holding. the plastic pouch on your lap makes a crinkling sound as you bring out another one.
”map- maple crunch? that’s the one, right?”
he waits for you to tell him whether he got it right or not, but to his dismay, the seal on your lips prevail. with a dramatic sigh and droopy shoulders, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. he fills a glass halfway with cold water from the fridge, and as he chugs, his doe eyes land on the top shelf. that’s where he caught you when he arrived from the gym, and so, with his curiosity piqued, he pulls the small door open.
it appears to be empty at first, but in the dark, innermost corner hides the snacks your friend, who visited japan recently, dropped off yesterday.
and that’s when it dawns on him, the reason why your expression turned sour when you saw his face an hour ago. he shuts the door with a lighthearted chuckle, leaving the empty glass in the sink before padding back to the living room.
he supports the back of your head with his wide palm to plant a kiss on your forehead, before squatting down infront of you with his folded arms weighing down the pillow. you grimace inside your head because you’re practically held down on the couch so you won’t be able to escape his sickeningly affectionate ministrations.
“pssst.” he whispers at you, eyes glimmering with hopes met by silent disappointment. his head drops lazily on your lap, low and husky voice sounding slightly muffled as he sullenly speaks. “baby, you’re killing me here. this is the worst punishment… please, punch me instead. that would hurt less.”
and he stays like that for a little while, almost falling asleep as the soreness of his muscles starts seeping deeper into his system. maybe, just maybe, he also put himself in this position with the intention of tempting you into playing with his pretty, as you like to call it, hair. he recently learned that the longer it grows, the more attention it earns from you.
true enough, setting himself up as bait works its charm, but unfortunately, his patience meets its demise just as you’re about to give up your petty little act. he looks up at you with a sad frown and twinkling eyes, expression identical to that famous pleading face emoji, only he’s thousand times more adorable in your eyes.
you hastily chew the chocolate-y snack to hide an endeared smile, teasingly quirking an eyebrow at him before reverting your attention on the television. at this point, he decides that he has had enough. his knees collapse on the floor as he abruptly holds your face steady, greedily biting at the other end of the pepero stick until his lips inevitably crashes against yours for a sweet kiss.
“hmmph-” your dominant hand weakly grasps his shoulder out of reflex, sticky thumb and index finger pointing out so the chocolate won’t stain his white t-shirt.
jungkook pulls away with a cocky grin, teeth sinking on his lower lip before his tongue darts out to lick it.
“ugh, i hate you! first, my strawberry mochi, and now, my pepero?!”
your furious outburst causes his animated giggles to echo throughout the apartment, his sore abdominal muscles aching and heart feeling significantly lighter. your wide, striking eyes fluttering close against their own accord when your face gets peppered with apologectic kisses.
“fuck, you’re so cute. i love you. i love you. that’s why you’re angry at me? i’ll buy you more…” he wipes away the scattered wet kisses on your cheeks with his thumb. “you only took one bite and left them in the fridge. i thought you didn’t want them anymore. i’m sorry.”
the story goes: he randomly woke up around 3am again. struggling to return to sleep, he started feeling peckish and decided to venture into the kitchen. that was when he saw the transparent container of five strawberry mochi, one on the corner not even half-eaten. in his defense, that’s how your unwanted leftovers usually look. and he thought those ones… particularly looked delicious. almost criminally so.
“that’s how yummy they were. i wanted to save them! and nothing would taste the same from here, so there’s no point.” you retort with a sigh of utter defeat. the doorbell rings a second after. “…that chicken better be crazy fucking good that i forget mochi exists.”
jungkook’s precarious fate completely lies in the hands of bb.q chicken’s kitchen people. wonderful.
“i’ll get it.” he softly squeezes your arm before standing up to answer the door.
“why do i like this so much? i’m about to finish everything…” you mumble to yourself after taking a peek at the box of those maple crunch chicken jungkook mentioned earlier.
“jungkook, aren’t you going to eat?!” you yell out for him before taking another bite from your fourth piece of chicken, ripping off the meat from the bone using your teeth. you continue entertaining yourself with a variety show while you wait for your boyfriend to join you.
“i will!” he shouts back from the bedroom, emerging from the door a moment later. he bites the nail of this thumb out of habit, highly absorbed in scrolling and tapping at his phone screen. he automatically sits on the edge of the couch to be as close to you as possible, who transferred to the floor to feast on your dinner, without giving away the website he’s current navigating. his leg bumps against your side, and you instinctively lay your head on his thick thigh.
“is that going to take long?” you question ingenuously, thinking that he might be preoccupied with something related to work. “i want to start watching the glory. i’m so curious!”
you made it a rule to put your phones aside when you watch a show or film together, not liking any distractions from the plot (and mostly the cuddles, really). it might not be anything special, but it is your quality time together after all. two hearts intertwined by love, beating in sync, with no intentions of ever letting go. and for a little while, it’s all that matters in the world.
“download the episodes on the tablet so we can watch it in the plane.”
“what? watch it where?” you abruptly lift up your head to look at him, a look of sheer confusion painted on your face.
“what?” he mimics your tone with faux innocence, round doe eyes meeting yours. “will you ask your friend? i need the address of the local bakery where she bought the mochi.”
“are you about to fly to japan just to buy them for me?” you snicker, nudging his knee in jest.
“not just me.” he boldly raises an eyebrow, showing you a plane ticket to your name displayed on his phone screen. “we have a flight to tokyo at 5am.”
“are you insane? babe, what the hell-” you hastily remove the gloves from your hands to grab the device, reading the details written on the screen to process what he just told you. “i was just joking!”
he almost curls in on himself when he hears a pet name slip out from your lips.
yes, that was the main reason why he took a long time in the bedroom. he needed your passport numbers to book the tickets and he struggled to find your passport. in the end, he found it beneath his in the cabinet drawer.
“this feels like the perfect opportunity to finally do something this spontaneous with you. it’s valentine’s day the day after tomorrow. let’s be dauntless and spend it at disneyland instead of camping, baby.”
he nervously taps his foot on the floor as he observes your reaction, feeling a little shy after revealing his surprise. he’s not entirely confident you’ll agree with his date idea— the first and last time you went to a theme park together, he ran into a bit of trouble the day after because he got recognized. he can’t read your mind at the moment, but he knows how you’ve always felt guilty about that.
however, those worries get washed away the second you excitedly climb on his lap to wrap your legs around his waist, engulfing him in the tightest hug.
“you’re so annoying, oh my god! why are you the best boyfriend in the whole wide world? you’re really going to pull this off?!”
your whiny voice makes him smile fondly, a surge of warmth spreading through his insides because that kind of praise coming from your mouth is music to his ears.
“that means you’re going with me, right? because there’s an extra fee if i cancel on them.”
you playfully squeeze his soft cheeks together to make his lips pout, sighing dreamily at the golden boy under you. “you spoil me too much, you know that?”
“i should. i want to. it’s for valentine’s day, the day of love! and you’re the personification of love for me.”
you shrug your shoulders with a lighthearted laugh.
“i don’t know. most guys buy flowers and call it a day.”
ouch. it seems that you already forgot that’s exactly what he did for your first valentine’s day. but to be fair, he couldn’t pull off anything special because he was overseas. and he will be again this year, except it’s different because you’ll be by his side.
“…i mean, i still think gifts like that are romantic. but i’m just happier when we create core memories together.”
“that’s why i’m the best boyfriend for you. because i know your love languages.” he responds proudly, nose scrunching and corners of his crinkling as he beams.
“that you are.” you squeeze his cheeks a second time. “then i’ll pay for the hotel.”
“took care of that already. six nights. it’s where me and jimin-hyung stayed before, but there was only a room with two single beds left. we can just sleep on one of them.” he cheeses at the thought of being squeezed into a small bed together with you, not even considering the option of pushing the two beds into one.
with how fast he managed to book the tickets and the hotel room, you can vividly see how much he wants, and maybe needs, this vacation to happen. his excitement is contagious — because this is slowly beginning to feel real and you’re already imagining how beautiful your lover would look like under the bursts of fireworks lighting up the night sky of disneyland.
“hmmmm,” you purse your lips as you hum. “then i’ll take care of the food and transpo.”
“sounds good.” he repeatedly nods in agreement, hair bouncing as he does so.
“except for the strawberry mochi.” you squint your eyes at him threateningly, and he cheekily smiles in return.
“except for the strawberry mochi. i’ll buy you the entire tray of those.”
you fix his bangs as you utter an almost inaudible ‘pretty’, worried about them poking his eyes. he instantaneously melt from your wholesome gentleness, guilty of becoming all mushy when he receives said compliment.
“give me a kiss.”
“later. i taste like chicken.”
“babe, come on.” he gives you a dirty ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “you think i care about that? just this morning i kissed you after you swallowed my cum-”
“oh my god, okay! okay! shut up! that’s different!” you cover his mouth with your hand, flustered by his obscene… choice of words outside the bedroom.
he presses a kiss to your palm before you finally reward his lips with a peck, a triumphant smile replacing his pout.
“we need to start packing!” you eagerly climb off his lap, heavy footsteps striking the floor as you skip to the bedroom.
“jeon jungkook! hurry!”
his full name?!
he hurriedly puts on a clean glove on his right hand. guess he has no choice but to eat dinner while packing, he did this to himself when he booked the 5am flight after all.
“coming!”
you know that jungkook likes using spacious luggages when he goes on trips. that doesn’t necessarily mean that he overpacks, he just wants the extra space because he tends to especially enjoy shopping when he goes on trips. that’s why when he enters the walk-in closet, one of his biggest suitcases is already laid out on the floor.
he sits beside it cross-legged, holding the box of chicken under his chin so the crumbs won’t fall on the floor as he eats.
“which one are you bringing?”
“this.” you emerge from behind the door, slumping your upper body over the light pink suitcase as its wheels roll towards the center of the room. it’s a size smaller than his, but then again, you can just mooch off his extra space if you need it.
“cute.” he chuckles in adoration of your youthful charm. “want more chicken?”
you abandon the suitcase to crawl towards him, allowing him to feed you until you finish another piece of chicken in record time.
“okay, that’s my last one. i know i’ll get hungry at the airport again.”
“i’ll finish the rest.” he hums, feet kicking in satisfaction as he continues eating.
“then i’ll start by packing our underwear. six nights and seven days, right?” you speak in a sing-song voice, which makes him giggle yet again.
for a few minutes, he only watches you neatly fold the two sets of underwear while moaning and commenting on the chicken he’s happily devouring. later on, he exits the closet and comes back with your butterfly hairclips decorating the sides of his hair.
“i love that you wear them on your own now.”
you only notice the splash of colors contrasting his black hair after catching a glimpse of him in the middle of picking out which jackets to bring. according to the weather app, it’s less colder in tokyo than seoul, so you think you should be fine for the most part.
“i forgot where i put my hairtie again.” he explains as he sheepishly scratches his head.
“is it not on your wrist?” you ask without looking, too busy going through all the clothes you own to complete the outfits you have in mind.
“oing?” he raises his wrist to his eye-level, enlightment escalating in his brain. “ahhh- you’re right?! i thought i took it off but i got it wet it in the shower!”
“dummy.” you shake your head in amusement. “how did you not feel that?”
“you were ignoring me.” he retaliates, chest puffing up in defense. “i’ve been distracted!”
“what’s taking you so long? it’s an hour drive to the airport!” jungkook reminds you as he barges into the closet, unzipping your bag to check your passports for the third time.
you’re almost ready to leave. bam will be prolonging his stay with his brothers, song and paeng. the appliances have been unplugged. the two of you are already fully-dressed against the negative temperature outside. your boyfriend replaced the butterfly hairclips with a headband. he’s wearing his prescription glasses to aid him in safe driving. his suitcase is zipped up, and his backpack is hanging on his shoulder.
on the other hand, you’re having a crisis, still sprawled out on the floor like your own suitcase.
“are you finally wearing them?”
you tilt up your chin to find jungkook’s face beaming with more excitement. he’s referring to the knee-high, five-inch white boots you gifted yourself for christmas. they’re lying right infront of you as you inspect them with anxious uncertainty. you eyed this pair for months before you clicked the checkout button at last, but seeing it in the flesh somewhat intimidates you because of how big and flashy it is.
“you look sexy in those boots, baby.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging through his black t-shirt. he tucks his index finger under his chin as he envisions his plans and goals for your week-long vacation. “i packed my camera for this. i’ll film for a video, but i want to take pictures of you that have the street style, insta vibe too.”
“i do want to wear them but…” you trail off, hugging your knees to your chest as you pucker your lips in deliberation. “i read that it’s either snowy or rainy there these days. what if i slip?”
“no, no. i’m sure it’ll be fine.” he waves off your worries. “just bring them and we can figure it out when we get there.”
your boyfriend sounding inexplicably enthusiastic about this more than you has thoroughly boosted your confidence.
“okay.” you rest your chin on top of your knees, chewing on your bottom lip to conceal a smile. “i need to make space for it then. or should i get a duffel bag?”
“ey, no need for that! i’ll go pack them in mine…” he wastes no time, immediately squatting down to put the boots back in its box. “finish up here and don’t forget to turn the lights off.”
“yes, sir.” you chirp, kneeling on the floor to zip up your suitcase while he goes out to the living room where he already wheeled out his.
you stand in the middle of the bedroom, looking around as you mentally list down and cross out the essentials for your travel. you turn off every lightbulb you pass by on your way to the front door, picking up your powerbank charging in the living room, until you eventually reach jungkook who is standing in the narrow hallway.
“there you are,” you are greeted with a loving kiss planted on your forehead. “time check, time check. it’s 12:55.” he reports in a dulcet tone, slotting the strap of your bag over your head and letting it drape across your torso.
this is when it undoubtedly sinks in. hours ago, you were just sulking over something so silly and now, you’re about to leave for the airport. god, you can’t remember the last time you felt this surge of thrill thrumming in your veins. this is so out of the blue. you plan on creating a rough itinerary during the car ride and you already have several spots in mind (cough, cough. your tiktok’s fyp has been filled with recommendations courtesy of your friend and curious google searches). plus, you’re 99% sure there are things you forgot to pack, yet for some reason, you look forward to realizing what those are and stressing over where to fucking buy them in tokyo. and you highly doubt that you would feel this alive if you were travelling with somebody else rather than your best friend and your lover.
“let’s go!” you squeal, dashing past your boyfriend to push the door open.
he follows suit, hauling his luggage outside. “let’s go!” he chuckles to himself after he teasingly mimics your high-pitched tone.
once again, your childish impulses take over. you slump over the light pink suitcase to ride it, pushing the soles of your shoes against the smooth tiles to gain momentum as you roll across the quiet hallways. it’s absurd how you almost feel like you’re sneaking out, but you’ve always been one to enjoy reckless abandon.
entering a serious relationship with jungkook was a gamble you invested all your faith into. you used to feel like you were both running out of time, holding hands beneath the thick sand trickling down the hourglass. you didn’t want to have high hopes about building a life together, but you sure as hell pictured it in your mind a thousand times. and granted by a wild miracle, the universe was kind enough to breathe life into that picture. nowadays, the butterflies in your stomach wake up in the morning fluttering with life instead of fear.
“i realized something.” you voice out your thoughts as you wait for the elevator to climb to your apartment floor, sat on your suitcase with your chin propped up by the handle. “our flight is at 5am, right?“
“yup.” jungkook confirms with a nod as he zips up his windbreaker.
“then that means we can watch the sunrise from the plane!”
the new piece of information makes the photographer and videographer in him perk up with burning interest, dimples on his cheeks popping out as he lightly slaps his forehead.
“fuck, i need to drink a liter of coffee to stay awake for that.”
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sinisterexaggerator · 3 months
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Got it Bad
Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader
Summary: You are a medic aboard the Anodyne, a Resistance frigate frequented by one Poe Dameron. He often comes to see you when he is injured; you assume this time to be no different, as he is reckless in the line of duty and could do with your healing touch. But you have underestimated him; he has to show you something. Will you entertain his request?
Warnings: Explicit / NSFW 18+ for: Heavy petting, cunnilingus, PiV sex, kissing, blood and injury, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, medical scenarios, and mention of death in wartime. Contains: fluff, a liiittle bit of angst, smut, humor, and “love” confessions.  
Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe Dameron! Dedicated to @allsystemsblue, because she was the one who told me to! Poe is all over the place in this, but always about consent!
Word Count: 8.1K
Divider and banner by me.
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“How many times has it been, then?”
Doe brown eyes blinked once, twice, spidery lashes that may as well have been made of gossamer, or silk, gracing tawny skin with a kiss. Poe Dameron stared blankly at you as you dressed his wound, this being one of the numerous occasions that you were tasked to do so.
You were one of the many medics aboard this particular Resistance vessel that patrolled the Outer Rim. Stationed not too far from D’Qar and the principal base of General Organa herself, this reckless, daredevil pilot had a tendency to bless you with his presence after what you would call less than routine missions.
Not desiring to arrive to his superior a bloodied mess more than necessary, Poe frequently docked his T-70 star fighter in your frigate’s docking bay for safekeeping, allowing his droid companion free rein of the halls.  Moments earlier, BB-8 had been offered a recharging station, Dameron left in your expert care as his ball droid rolled off and out of sight, following closely behind a member of the maintenance crew. The conversation between the two had been amusing to witness.
“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll be right here waiting for you. Maybe. Possibly.”
BB had issued a series of complaints and reprimands in Droidspeak, causing the pilot to wince as if being scolded by his mother, or the general herself.
“All right, fine! I’ll come and find you then. No sweat.”
Satisfied, the orange and white orb had swirled on its axis, wheeling fluidly across a duralloy floor, leaving its master alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Though Dameron did not seem to care, remaining somewhat unbothered by the gash across his forehead from where a piece of shrapnel had sent Black One into a spin. Before he could regain control, Poe’s head had crashed into the yolk of his X-wing, leaving a two-inch rent in his flesh.
No, he had not been wearing his helmet.
Despite his foolhardy nature, you thought it curious. With such a varied assortment of medical personnel living and working on the Anodyne - a modified Nebulon-C escort employed by the Resistance for the express purpose of being a mobile hospital - it was a wonder of yours why Poe always chose to search you out.
Not considering yourself to be anything in the way of special, at least the skills you possessed were adequate to put him on the mend. But, somehow, this visit seemed different, even if sticky crimson coated his handsome features.
You had come to notice that Poe was spending less time talking and more time staring, a thing you were not accustomed to as his gaze was unrelenting, the commander scrutinizing every facet of your appearance. He had seemed to limit himself to the surface area of your face, wandering, probing, exploring the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, and finally the warmth in your eyes.
“Y-you didn’t answer me,” you commented, applying bacta to the injured man with a dabble of your fingers, your voice having lost its normal confidence as Dameron uttered a single, muted question.
“Huh?” he asked, as if only now realizing he was indeed a person, and that he could be perceived by others. He sat up marginally in his chair, those unyielding, heavy-lidded eyes almost vacantly looking through you, or so you thought.
You were beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he might be mildly concussed. You were also becoming self-conscious, trying to keep the conversation on track despite Poe being so close to you with his blood staining your hands. “How many times has it been that you have come to see me these last few months? Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”
“No,” he answered without thought, leaning forward once more in the chair serving him for his examination. That sole syllable had been expressed in a dilatory fashion, soft and airy, only inches from your mouth.
You let out a breathy exhalation, surprised by this turn of events, yet nothing had happened.  The cocky pilot dared to bite down on a rather pouty bottom lip; he watched you intently, gauging your reaction as he dallied there, finally adding more in the way of a response. “That’s why I’m here. Again.”
“Yes, right, obviously,” you managed, trying to restore some semblance of equanimity over yourself after having been caught off guard.
“Obviously,” he echoed, the word a whisper in the all too quiet room. However, this would not last as more wounded boarded the ship at intervals, soon the medical bay filled with a bustle of activity.
Unwanted activity.
Poe glanced around, assessing the situation. You had just finished bandaging him up when his hand reached out for yours, gently clasping your wrist.
“Doc, I’ve gotta show you something. I’ve got it-- bad.”
“It?” you inquired incredulously, your own glance taking an appraisal of the room. His voice had lowered again, as if this topic of conversation was not meant to be overheard. His expression appeared serious, deep-set brows knitting together in a visual show of his concern. You mimicked him, a rather human way to show empathy in this case, though not entirely sure what for.
“It,” he confirmed, gently pulling you forward toward himself, as if you weren’t already close enough. Your breathing picked up as you posed a follow-up question, a simple one, and straight to the point.
“What?”
He did that thing again, the staring, as if you were a sheet of transparisteel and he was looking beyond it to the other side. You scanned his face, those ruggedly attractive bits of him that you had tended to time and time again.
“Um—” he paused, as if not knowing what to say, like his words had failed him, which was not out of the realm of possibility as you could confirm this uncommon pilot flew by the seat of his pants. You canted your head, expecting some sort of answer, your gaze trailing to Dameron’s fingers latched gingerly around your forearm.
You took note of their thickness, their length, his nails surprisingly trim and immaculate for being a fighter pilot, though you doubted he spent that much time on solid earth when he craved the sky; realspace; to soar among the stars. Catching yourself quickly, it had not gone unnoticed, Poe matching your tilt of the head with one of his own as he peered up at you with those unwavering, expressive eyes.
“Rash … Inya Prime … Think it might be serious,” he informed you, causing you to retract and sit up straight. You tugged yourself loose from his grasp and frowned, turning to wipe your hands off the best you could on an otherwise clean towel, wishing he would have told you this before you had gone and touched him.
“Well, let’s see it then,” you offered, swiveling back around to face him. The pilot pursed his lips before biting down again, his foot beginning to tap against the floor; the motion was almost sultry, like this whole charade was planned.
For some reason, you doubted that assumption.
“It’s … I can’t show you here,” he confessed, lowering his head as he turned it to the left and right, giving the medical bay another sweep with his eyes; it was as if he was suddenly your conspirator, Poe carrying and guarding an important secret.
“Where then?” You compelled an eyebrow to stay level, it wanting to raise of its own volition. It was your turn to stare, Poe taking up each of your hands again, regardless of the fact you had just tried to halfheartedly clean them. He placed them gently atop his knees; he held you there, and you dare not move. Then, the man bore directly into you with his hardened gaze, nudging his head toward the exit door.
“Exam room, down the hall. It’s, um – it’s private.”
You gave him a reproving look. “Why were you on Inya Prime in the first place?” you asked, your fingers twitching beneath his. You were caught between wanting to relax and to allow this to happen, or to jerk yourself away for fear of someone getting the wrong idea.
“Reconnaissance,” he replied without missing a beat.  You supposed that seemed logical enough, though Inya Prime was a small, boring, terrestrial planet of little to no interest to most.
That explained the civilian clothing, whereas most of the time Poe arrived to you in his bright orange flight suit, standing out like a ray of sunshine among the dark, depressing backdrop of space.
“And how did you get this rash?” you inquired curiously, wondering why it was he could not show you here instead, or just how bad it might be.
“You don’t wanna know,” he stated with a sense of finality, eyes searching yours, as if he was trying to penetrate your thoughts with a Jedi mind trick. You held his gaze a moment longer than expected before quickly standing to your feet; you felt the need to break physical contact, Dameron’s hands warm, rough, and—
“Fine, let’s hurry. There are others who need tending to.” It was the truth, yet you could feel your heartbeat betraying you by thumping loudly in your chest; you were sure that Poe could hear it.
“Right, let’s,” he said, standing. He walked a pace ahead of you then turned back around. He lingered, making sure you were going to follow him before he started out the door.
The man seemed nervous, slicking back a ringlet of dark hair that refused to stay in place. He ambulated somewhat awkwardly around the corner, then waited for you to unlock the examination room with a clearing of his throat. It then occurred to him he was standing in your way; he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, moving to one side as you gave him an inquisitive side-eye, using your badge to unlock the facilities.
He nodded, just a small movement of his head, eyes darting forward as if thinking hard on something before he entered the small space. It was fitted with a table for patients to lie on - equipped with a step stool and stirrups - a cabinet filled with various medical supplies, a curtain for dressing and undressing, a scale for taking a patient’s weight, and blood pressure detection equipment, among other things. It had all those items necessary and then some, though depending on your diagnosis, you imagined you might need to prescribe him an antifungal ointment of some kind.
“All right, we’re here,” you offered with a gesture. “Now, show me this rash.”
Poe gave a jittery laugh, answering you with a nervy “heh” as he ran his forefinger along the clean sheets of the table laid out before him as if he was checking it for dust.
“Yeah, about that,” he finally spoke up, walking full circle around the bed-like object before he arrived behind you.
“You see, doc—” he began; you craned your neck, looking over your shoulder at him, wanting to know why you now felt trapped, barred to the only way out as he had sandwiched himself between you and the door. “It’s right here,” he said, placing his open palm against his chest and giving it a tap.
This time you were the one to clear your throat, tossing back your hair as you straightened up to appear more professional, or perhaps dignified, forcing yourself to not think about how you were about to come into contact with, or at least see, Poe Dameron’s bare breast.
All things considered, he was an attractive man. You had thought that the moment you laid eyes on him; the time he had come to you battered and beaten with a black eye and a sprained ankle – he had taken a tumble down the side of a rather steep hill on some backwater, jungle-planet and only made it back to his X-wing thanks to members of Black Squadron. His foot was so badly swollen by the time he reached you, it was a miracle he could walk  - or hobble – at all.
A thought occurred to you. “I should wash my hands before we begin,” you declared, moving toward the small sink stationed with a cleaning solution that was meant for disinfection as much as it was for washing away dirt and grim.
Poe looked taken aback momentarily, words caught in his throat as he gave another nod, this one more exaggerated. “Yeah, right, OK,” he shot back, as if for some reason this had been a surprise to him.
You began your task, one hand over the other as you lathered yourself, peeking back at him. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?” you suggested, not able to help the way saying that made you feel, like this was anything more than a clinical procedure.
You could hear the rustle of fabric as Poe began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting the feeling that he was watching you, studying you, bent slightly over the basin in which you were cleansing yourself of his blood. It swirled around the drainage, leading to a reserve tank that purified and recycled what little water was aboard this frigate; you knew that every drop was precious.
Finishing quickly, you refaced him, Dameron’s broad, naked chest staring you straight in the face, though he had not bothered to remove his button up all the way; its two panels were parted and pushed off to opposing sides.
Firm pectorals were spattered with a thin sheen of dark curls, matching the scruff of a beard that had just recently begun to form on his perfectly sculpted cheeks, running its course down to a chiseled jawline. Beneath wisps of black was smooth, golden skin - as if kissed by a main sequence star that orbited some planetary paradise - the happiest of trails leading down and beyond the waistline of his trousers.
You watched, entranced, the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took, in and out, slow, and almost deliberately so. You swallowed to remedy the dry sensation in your mouth with what saliva you had available, wondering if your face appeared as red as you felt it must be.
“Right, OK. Rash,” you announced out loud, purposely making an effort to look up and back into his eyes.
Again, he put his hand up, over his heart. “Here,” he repeated, “Right here. You see—”
Poe stepped forward, and you stepped back, each move he made a calculated risk, but one worth taking. “— my … heart,” he said, voice lowering an octave, then promptly continuing, “it… burns, itches, when I can’t … see you,” he emphasized. “And. You. You’re the cure, you’re the—”
He walked another pace forward, looming above you as you found yourself pressing back against the wall of the exam room. “—the only one who can make it better,” he breathily muttered, so close now you could smell the scent of the shampoo he used; it was reminiscent of citrus, but not overpowering.
“W-what—?” You felt you couldn’t believe your ears, your neck lifting back and up as you analyzed his intense facial expression. “Poe, I—”
“Shhh,” he sibilated with a press of his index to your lips. Then, he changed the subject, however momentary. “I lied to you, by the way. There is no rash, I—”
“—Yes, I’ve figured that out,” you interrupted, though your words came out weak, quavering.
“Sometimes, I pretend to be sick or hurt just to come see you. That headache last week?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “More like … heartache,” he finished, encapsulating your chin between two fingers as his lips met yours.
Your body froze; you were immobile, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Granted, you may have imagined this moment once or twice – every guy, or girl aboard this vessel you assumed had done so at one point or another. There was more than one reason Dameron was referred to so aptly as “Flyboy,” though you tried not to let that tarnish the present moment.
The only thing you could articulate was a soft moan of acceptance, melting despite yourself against the durasteel partition behind you. Ruddy fingers traveled upward, this time tangling themselves in your hair, palm cupping the back of your head as he gently drew you into a deeper kiss.
“Poe,” you gasped against him, your own hand rising to lightly push against his rock-hard pecs; it was a mistake on your part, this simple act of touching his unclothed chest the catalyst from which your loins stirred. “What—”
“—It,” he murmured, bringing the conversation back around from when he had coaxed you to this place. “—the thing I’ve got it bad for. It’s you,” he conceded, Dameron’s tongue slithering past full lips to gently prod at yours that stood partially agape, ready to accept another kiss.
You easily allowed him entry, that warm, wet muscle dancing in a figure eight, the pattern slow and rhythmic as he lapped at your suddenly hungry mouth. But you would not let lust overtake you, you were a woman of scruples, principles, and a practitioner of medicine; there was a time and place for this sort of thing and now was not it.
“Dameron,” you began again, this time managing to put just enough space between you so that you might think straight, Poe’s eyes immediately overtaking yours with a primal, excitable energy that penetrated you to the depths of your soul. He was so eager, you thought, so attentive, the man hanging, waiting, willing, to hear anything you might have to say.
“I believe you’re concussed, I think it’s best that—”
“I’m fine. Better than fine. Everything’s perfect,” he interjected, pressing his mouth against yours once more.
“—Why?” you blurted out, the question having clawed its way out of your chest. It was common knowledge that the man before you got around, not able to imagine that this meant anything more than an attempt at a quick hook-up.
“Because. I can’t. Stop. Thinking. About you. You.” He spoke your name, a tickle in your ear that sent a tingle of excitement prickling down your spine, leaving goose pimples that were undeniable to the naked eye.
“I can’t explain it. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense; you, me…” he trailed off, the butt of his thumb running over the curvilinear shape of your ear. “I watch you. Sometimes. Not to… sound creepy,” he added quickly, giving a somewhat apologetic look. “… You’re incredible. Calm in the face of danger, in the face of uncertainty. And. You’re not afraid,” he emphasized.
“Besides—” Poe bent down low, brushing his lips across yours, featherlight, causing a feeble mewl to escape before you had the time or the wherewithal to rein it in. “— what if we die. What if this is the only chance I ever get to tell you?”
He was right. What was the use of pondering the future, what could or could not be, based on the assumption that you were going to live another day, or two, or three. With the First Order threatening to undo all the hard work of the New Republic, your lot was on the run, your fierce and beloved leader the only thing keeping this small resistance group together, albeit haphazardly organized.
You feared for the general every waking moment, taking your orders come what may, keeping your head down, the only thing breaking the monotony of your day besides the constant fear of attack or death being this charming, handsome man who now held your attention, and had done so on more than one occasion.
“Kiss me again, then,” you begged, any objection you may have dared to make fleeing irrevocably to leave you open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his affection sans your better judgement.
“Mn, yeah?” he coyly asked, the fingers of his hand, dormant for your short discussion, reactivating to knead the base of your skull as he gently pulled you forward, Dameron once more inserting his crafty tongue into your waiting mouth.
His movements were thoughtful, tongue writhing and contracting in a measured orchestration that seemed rehearsed, yet special to this instant. Each loop was intricate, never so much as to be distracting, Poe’s delicious kiss spurring you to action.
You lifted your hand, allowing your fingers to clutch tufts of his hair. You moaned against him, his arms instinctively tightening around you before he pulled away, gasping for breath.
“Can I touch you?” he bashfully asked, hands smoothing over your back to descend in a downward sweep across your waist and hips. “Please, baby, please say yes. Please, please,” he whined, ardent pecks of his velvet lips only a bonus; you had not planned to turn him away regardless.
“Yes,” you sighed out lasciviously, thinking this entire situation was too good to be true. But why not embrace it for what it was? You deserved admiration, affection, love.
“Thank you,” he expressed with gratitude, as if you had given him his greatest wish, Poe adjusting himself accordingly as he gifted you with another lush, sensual kiss; it was tender and languid, feeling the movement of Dameron’s hand shift from the edge of your hip to the drawstring of your pants.
You were adorned in scrubs, a stark reminder of your station and position, yet you could not help that you were human with needs and urges to be fulfilled. Hell, you hadn’t even known you wanted this until it was happening, though life was anything but predictable - it was sporadic. And if Poe was anything, it was that.
You admired that about him. He had an almost childlike whimsy, taking all things in stride, even his injuries when he acquired them. He cared about others so often and so much he frequently forgot about this own ails. It was a good quality to have in a leader, and although he was often rebuked by his superiors, Dameron was an honorable commander and an even better pilot.
“Keep going,” you implored as you felt your desire building upon itself, pooling in the seat of your belly. Desperately, you wanted him to touch you, Poe inclining his head to one side as he broke apart from your pleading lips.
He made heady eye contact, the way he looked at you both dizzying and intoxicating, the man licking his teeth as he quipped a hushed “Yeah?” alongside the act of his fingers trailing to just below the hem of your waistband. They slipped down, down, two braver than the others as Poe’s index and middle finger disappeared beneath the front of your pants and past the soft, cotton layer of your panties.
Dameron groaned a sound, as if performing a task that was somewhat arduous, yet it was meant to evince appreciation for the soft bed of fluff that greeted him, all prim and trim. His breathing picked up, his probing appendages creeping further inside your undergarments; he whimpered against your throat, feeling welcomed by the warm slick that saturated his thick digits as he parted those soft, pillowy lips that lived between your hips, aligning the underside of his forefinger against the protuberance of your clit.
“Mn, you want this just as much as I do,” he teased, his words husky and sensuous, yet not at all meant to be disrespectful. He was the playful sort; you were glad it translated into other areas of his life, namely intimate moments like these, as it eased the tension you were feeling; the thought you were doing something you should not be doing; something wrong.
“Mhm,” you muttered, the interjection a dulcet susurration upon your partway puckered lips. It quickly devolved into an immodest moan as his thumb joined in, aiding in spreading your folds to allow him ease of access to your shrouded pearl.
“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you, his tone coated in sugar sweetness as Poe continued to cheer you on, “you’re so soft, and warm, and— ohhh,” he cut himself short, feeling embarrassed for not only the sizeable boner he was jabbing into your leg, but the fact that if he did not control himself he might very well cum in his pants.
“I—mmn. Admiral Ackbar naked. Admiral Ackbar naked," he intoned at low volume; you proceeded to laugh, though Poe did not, a look of stern determination on his face. Still, that did not stop him from pleasuring you as he gingerly thumbed that little nub betwixt your thighs, concentric circles close-knit and diligently applied as you trembled enticingly in his arms.
“Is this OK?” he rumbled in your ear, his voice a throaty purr that made you pitch ever so slightly forward with the goal of kissing him again.
“Y-yes,” you managed, your body mildly spasming as you sought after his tongue, Dameron ever so subtly picking up speed in the way he massaged your swollen clit. It thrummed beneath his finger; he tested uncharted territory, gradually inserting his index inside you to the top of his second knuckle. You were already so wet there was barely any friction to speak of, Poe once more moaning aloud to impart his satisfaction to whoever was there to listen – you.
“Oh, you feel- you feel, so, so good,” he rattled off, priming that digit to curl just inside and against the anterior wall of your sex; you gasped, though you had known what was coming, you just didn’t know how amazing the sensation would feel until he was already pushing you toward an orgasm.
“Don’t stop,” you entreated anxiously, the pliant underside of his thumb continuing its mission as it stimulated your glandular bundle of nerves; they twitched faintly, pulsating under his proficient hands.
“OK, yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby,” he affirmed. You were quick to answer.
“Another kiss,” you adjured, Poe indulging you before the words could die on your lips. The passion he brought to your embrace, the delicate way in which he held you, the rhythmic pattern of his tongue inside your mouth – it drove you to a quick release, Dameron sucking the heavy breaths from your lungs as he attempted to engulf you, so zealous was his appetite for your quiet, though rapturous praise.
You briefly closed your eyes to regain your composure, breathing ragged, then gazed upon his face as you struggled to recover. He pulled away to stare at you, the feeling of his forefinger sliding out of your soaked cunt something not to be ignored.
You gasped again, a tiny sound. Poe admired you with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he gravitated forward, bending so close to your ear. “I can do better.”
“What?” you questioned, confused, trying to curtail your panting breaths. The twinkle in his eye was infectious, spreading to his mouth, Poe’s pretty lips outstretching into a broad, mischievous grin.
“Wait,” he stated.
You observed as he bent forward into a crouch, sneaking along the wall toward the automated entry. Staying to its right, he was careful not to trigger its motion sensor, using the nearby keypad to lock it from the inside. This time, you did quirk a brow, Poe lowering the lights manually to off, but not before making sure the shades were closed to the rectangular window that gave you a mundane view into the hall. However, you may as well be seven feet tall in order to see out of it, and there were species that tall aboard this ship.
Overall, you felt stupid for not having done this before, yet everything had occurred so quickly. What if you had been caught by a co-worker, or your boss? You had no idea how to explain being fingered by Poe Dameron in a room that could otherwise be utilized to someone else’s benefit.
Then, the man came forward, standing to his full stature as he joined you where he had left you, haggard and still somewhat discombobulated from what just happened – that’s when he picked you up, bending at the knees to wrap both arms around your waist as he carried you aloft, your entire body remaining upright and vertical.
“Poe! What are you—”
“Shh, shh,” he endeavored to keep you silent, walking around the corner of the examination table to place you gently upon it in a somewhat forced, seated position. He immediately got to work, as he had started with your footwear, taking it upon himself to remove one shoe at a time.
“Are you a screamer, or are you a whiner?” he asked with another cheesy smile etched across his face, “because I don’t mind either, but the screaming may draw attention, and I assume that’s something you don’t want.”
“I-I don’t—”
“-know?” He shook his head as if in disbelief, though somehow not surprised. “Ooh, we’ve gotta set you straight, doc!”
You meant to argue, but with your shoes gone, Poe began to roll down your socks; it was one of the most intimate things you had experienced, watching with rapt attention as he pushed the fabric down bit by bit, replacing it with moist kisses along the top of your foot and up toward your now bare ankle.
“You don’t mind, right?” he asked offhand, Poe repeating the process on the other side; this time he enveloped your big toe, intaking it into his mouth as he teasingly sucked, mimicking a poi fish who wanted to dine on what it perhaps thought was a worm.
You involuntarily squirmed, pushing against the tops of his shoulders. “That tickles!” you declared, Poe gazing up into your eyes as a “pop” resounded upon release.
Then, with that same unapologetically severe, impassioned stare, Dameron rose to half-stand on his knees as his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the loose band at your waist. He pulled, softly but with enthusiasm, hypnotizing, chestnut-colored eyes once more drilling a hole straight down into your core as he tugged one pant leg off, then the other, followed by a move that would rid you of your underwear.
Partially naked, and on top of your own examination table no less, you instead tried to forget what repercussions might follow suit of your actions and leaned down to kiss the man again. He rose higher, forcing you to straighten your neck and back, Poe’s broad hands encasing the breadth of your face within them to hold you so, so carefully as he returned your gesture as naturally as if he was drinking water.
Come to find this was a tactic, the man releasing you after stealing your breath away a second or third time, hands sliding to lightly shove you back by the shoulders as he lay you down. At once he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you faced with a view of the ceiling directly above your head; you idly wondered if you were both getting too far ahead of yourselves.
“Poe, I don’t think we should be—” You exhaled noisily, words caught as you choked on a breath, your overactive imagination unable to be controlled as you envisioned the intense kiss you had experienced earlier being reenacted between your legs. The man had pinned you by your hips,  kissing once, twice,  - feverishly -  the inguinal groove that connected your abdominal wall to your thigh, not wasting a moment’s time in making your briefly held fantasy come true.
“Hm? Mmmn,” Dameron hummed, his response muffled by your flesh. Your body stiffened before relaxing as he licked your already soaked slit with the flat of his tongue; it effortlessly slipped between the folds of your labia, Poe toying with your clit, running circles until the whole thing delved inside your opening.
The man pulled you forward by your thighs, closer to the edge of the table; you could feel the paper bedsheet sliding beneath you as he lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth. He moaned into you, his breath hot on your skin, the scruff of his chin chaffing your legs, but you did not once complain.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” he whispered, the tip of that furled muscle retracting to glide upward along your delightfully slick vulva before it once more found the nub that was begging to be touched; it was already so sensitive.
Your chest heaved as a ripple of pleasure quaked through you, Poe beginning to suck the hard bit that was the recurrent object of his focus. At that moment, you felt blessed, belting out a sound that was a cross between elation and ecstasy, the final product being nothing more than a subdued pule from downy lips.
“Oh, fuck,” you crooned, your thighs progressively closing around either side of Poe’s head as you instinctively tried to brace yourself against your coming climax.
“That’s what I thought—ooh, hey,” the pilot protested, not liking one bit the sudden fettering of his movements. He dislodged himself, then pushed down with both his hands, parting your legs again to make sure he had unrestricted access to your cunt.
Then, he had an idea. “That’s not happening again,” he informed you with an impish smirk, Dameron lifting you up by the underside of your ass as he dragged you even closer, this time making use of the equipment made available to him, though this wasn’t exactly a gynecological exam. The scoundrel picked up both your feet, one after the other, making sure each one was secured in turn, having positioned you spread eagle with your shamelessly wet pussy put on full display.
“Ohh, this is beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.” The man had stopped to stare at the exquisite view before him, a hungry look overtaking his winsome visage; you had barely lifted your neck, perhaps meaning to address him, before you were forced to expel a mousy squeak following a show of near desperation on his part.
Poe had darted forward. Now hands-free and having situated you in stirrups, Dameron plunged his tongue back inside of you while clasping his fingers behind his back as he liked to imagine himself in binders. He tongue fucked you as your chest expanded and contracted with each euphoric breath, deep and slow, before he redirected all his energy back to your eager bud.
Then, his head joined in, bobbing back and forth as he enthusiastically ate you out like a man starved, consuming his first meal in weeks, months.
Wet sounds invaded your ears, Poe miming a hound lapping water; it only caused your clit to pulse, your right arm lowering for impatient fingers to latch onto his raven locks; you were careful not to disturb the dressings on his forehead even so, not wanting to let your hard work go to waste.
You held him steady; you pulled him closer, thighs trembling, though your legs still remained forced apart with knees jutting out to either side. It was the dirtiest, nastiest you had ever felt, yet at the same time Poe had made you feel alive. Alive, and not just waiting around to die.
You moaned lewdly as you gently bucked your hips, your body convulsing in rapture as his focus was laser sharp, the full expanse of his thick, skillful tongue caressing you softly from the cusp of your vagina to the vertex of your throbbing clit – over, and over, and over again.
The pattern he applied was slow and methodical, Poe’s cock beyond hard as he gently humped thin air. The man himself was groaning, speaking breathlessly against the soft flesh of your mound, even as he continued to dine.
“Baby, you taste so, so sweet. So, so, good. Mm, be a good girl, yeah? Nice and easy for me. Nice and easy…” The pilot’s words trailed off, that gentle lapping turning toward a precise, calculated stroke with just the tip, this being the very thing that drove to you the point of no return; you came again, one hand still buried in Poe’s hair as the other clasped at your breast.
“Mmmn, oh shit, oh fuck, Poe,” you cursed again, your entire being writhing in unbridled bliss as you rode out one of the most intense orgasms in recent history, this only encouraging the pilot to keep at it until you physically had to push his head away, albeit with caution.
Poe looked up at you with those emotive, gorgeous brown eyes, lips glossy with your excess; you panted heavily, looking down on what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. You took a few more moments to recuperate, then made a demand of him that even surprised yourself. “Fuck me, right now, please.”
That cocky smile faded, Dameron staring fixedly at your face. He searched each part of it, as if measuring the seriousness of your words, then sat up fully on his legs before standing completely to gaze down at you, chin glistening and damp, not noticing the red welts spattering the inside of your thighs from where his stubble had left its mark.
“Since you said please, and so, so nicely might I add,” he joked, undoing the holster at his waist with lightning speed as he let his Glie-44 blaster pistol fall to the floor at his feet.  You sat up on your elbows, enjoying the show, Poe unzipping and unbuckling his pants and belt with such wild, feral vigor, it was as if they were presently on fire.
“Mn, sweetheart, would you hate me if I said I’ve been dreaming of this?” Poe questioned, though you were unable to get a read on if he was being sincere or just full of hot air. You did not answer him, instead reveling in the desperate way the pilot kicked his boots off, witnessing his undressing between your parted legs.
They felt like jelly, still held up by the stirrups. You smiled salaciously, feeling oddly playful as you began to sway your knees back and forth to emulate the fluttering of butterfly wings; you amused yourself by fondling your overstimulated clit for his pleasure and your own, waiting ever so patiently for him to finish.
It only slowed him down; you almost laughed again, this man proving to be predictable as far as men go, spellbound by the fact you were touching yourself, and in front of him, no less.
Poe let out a laborious, rasping breath, as if his throat might be closing in on itself, pearly whites once more finding rose-colored lips as he chewed timidly on a plump bottom rung. At that same moment his pants fell down to his knees, leaving Dameron in his tight white underwear, his package so hard and compact it looked ready to burst free of its cotton prison.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he professed mostly to himself, yet loud enough for you to hear him. He stumbled forward, releasing himself of the pants that still clung to him with every step, wide, warm hands placing themselves upon your knees, one for one.
“Mn, baby, for me?” he asked in a diffident tone, Poe’s cheeks burning hot as he was drawn in by the sexy spectacle before him. After a moment or two of getting lost in his own thoughts, he scrambled for his aching prick; it felt like it was going to erupt any moment now. Already it had leaked droplets of precum, the tip wet and sticky as it sprang loose.
The pilot began to pump himself as he was glued to the rhythmic stroking of your fingers; you teased him by inserting one within yourself, Poe moaning almost instantly as he came up to you all the way by the edge of the bed, gently batting your hand away. He aligned his dick against your slit, eyes laser focused, then he abruptly stopped what he was doing to lift his head and stare at you.
“You sure? What if-”  he hesitated, wanting reassurance.
“I’m protected,” you whispered, at once your feet lifting so that you could wind your legs around Poe’s waist like a serpent coiling about its prey. You squeezed lightly, drawing him in, Poe helping on his end by gently nudging the head of his cock against the lubricious entrance to your vagina.
Dameron shook this time, his body tremulous against you as he sank deeper and deeper into your warm center, guiding it slowly, his girth spreading you open as you gasped, arms overtaking him in addition to your legs; you wanted his chest pressed against yours, beckoning the man to lower himself to the proper height so that you might kiss him, fingers once more gathering in his shaggy mane.
“You f-feel, ohhhh… Like, like. Like clouds,” Dameron stammered, commenting on your plush, tepid walls as he finally bottomed out. He was slow to retract his hips, then slow to press them forward again, “It’s like breaking atmo; that euphoric feeling you get when—”
Poe cut himself off, lips compressing against one another to form a concentrated line. He closed his eyes, his pace deathly drawn-out, tortuously so, each stroke of him inside you sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout your nerve-endings, both from without and within.
It was endearing. Not knowing of all the nuances comprising this pilot’s personality, this one surprised you. Poe had always seemed so high-strung, so exuberant; it was a change of pace to see him take his time on something -  you.
With a tilt of your neck, your mouth found his, your tongue slithering between his teeth to taste yourself on him. You sighed fervently, pulling him closer by the meat of your thighs, in turn interring him deeper within yourself.
“I won’t break,” you informed him softly, having pulled away to encourage Dameron to rise above his stupor and fuck you like he meant it. Poe gave a slow, deliberate nod of his head in return, as if trying to find his center and a place of calm before he would be able to continue.
“Right,” he finally said, intaking a sharp inhalation of oxygen as he rocked forward, pitching his hips so that they were flush against yours. He dipped back again, repeating these motions in a syncopated rhythm, and you finding it impossible to keep your mouth from hanging open as he hit his stride.
“Just like that,” you cooed silkily, your breath warm and wispy against his ear. This alone sent Poe to a higher plane, somewhere you were sure you could not reach him, causing Dameron to make a helpless, needy sound.
You felt a warm gush; a spurt of something that was unexpected this early in the game. Poe’s face contorted pleasantly into a look of ecstasy. You watched, fascinated, the pilot coming inside you after only a few pumps. Hell, you didn’t even mind; he had given you yours twice over. You felt a kind of privilege bestowed upon you; the knowledge that your pussy must be made of solid gold. That, or he really did like you.
“Oh fuck, ohh no, shit, I-I’m sorry,” Poe stuttered, his tone indicative of embarrassment. You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, dotting tiny kisses along the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quell his mounting anxiety.
“What was that about setting me straight?” you teased, Poe forced to laugh despite himself as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head, brawny biceps propping him up just above you, jet-black strands dangling down to brush against your nose as he sighed a dejected sigh.
“You’re just so pretty, and I was excited, you know? I- It’s- It’s been a while,” he clumsily explained, “haven’t had the time to actually masturbate, being in the middle of a war and all—”
You cut him off with a kiss, a forceful press of your lips to his. It was your way of shutting him up, aiming to put a stopper in all of his excuses; it did not matter to you.
“Poe, it’s fine,” you affirmed, cradling the antsy man’s refined jaw in the crook of your palm, “these things happen. I’m not upset. You already got me off twice; that’s more than most men for the entirety of a relationship.”
You had exaggerated that last part for a bit of dramatic flair, this particular white lie having no purpose other than to bolster Poe’s self-esteem and to make him feel better. He smiled at you, a genuine, honest-to-God smile, as if coming to terms with the fact he had no need to worry, and that he might just get a second chance one day, contrary to what he had at first believed.
“So, uh—” he started, lifting gently up and off of you; his cock incrementally eased its way out of you, the remnants of his seed thick and sticky as it flowed freely out and onto the exam table.
He scrunched an eye, as if still ashamed, Poe sucking on his bottom lip to alleviate the mental anguish he was suffering before he sheepishly asked you a question, “Now that we’ve gotten to third base, would you care to visit first?”
You propped yourself up on your forearms, quirking a brow as you rose to sit. He assumed correctly, thinking that you did not take his meaning, Poe following up to explain more succinctly. “Dinner, maybe? Or—”
Sirens began to blare, a red alert sounding all throughout the Anodyne. A voice rang out over the internal comm; Dameron and you were quickly put on edge.
“Attention, all personnel: report to stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”
Your face fell, as did Poe’s. He gazed at you a moment, ignoring the awful clamor in the background as people began to race throughout the halls just beyond the door. It was as if time stood still, and you were unable to break away from Dameron’s dark gaze. The man, who was so amiable and easygoing, now looked browbeaten and worn, knowing that any minute now he would have to find BB-8 and return to his X-wing when he had wanted nothing more than to relax in your company. Wishful thinking, he mused.
You were the first to move, rushing to get up. You found a towel and cleaned yourself up, collecting your clothes from off the floor; somehow, your tunic had remained intact, though you would hold out for a future time when Poe might touch those parts of you, too. It was hard not to want to imagine him with his soft lips puckered about your nipple as his stocky fingers massaged and revered your breasts.
“Attention: all pilots, return to hangar. Repeat: all capable pilots return to your ships.”
“It was just as well, huh?” he asked solemnly, referring to the abrupt end of your impromptu rendezvous.
“Go,” you commanded, Poe’s stare lingering, amber eyes piercing you with a look that was ironically impenetrable; resolute, yet somehow somber, wistful.
He broke away, finally, and with difficulty, scrambling to adjust his briefs before throwing back on his pants and buttoning his shirt. He hitched his holster around his hips, the boots made to go on last. You observed as he hopped around on one foot, once more finding him to be endearing as you turned to rush toward the refresher, steadfast in your desire to use the sonic, if only for a moment; you needed to rinse off before returning to the med bay, as was your duty.
Poe called out to you by name; you whirled to face him. The man’s fluffy eyebrows were stitched together as he could only stare at you again. Then, he seemed to finally come-to, stepping the few paces forward that separated you.
“I’ll comm you later?” he asked more than stated, the backs of his knuckles running the length of your cheek. You could only nod, leaning up to kiss him one last time.
“Come back in one piece, OK? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again; be careful,” you urged him. He smiled that charming, boyish smile that made your heart race, as radiant as ever; his mood could change so suddenly.
“No promises,” he replied, meaning it in jest, yet you knew there was some truth to it.
You parted ways with the best damn pilot in the galaxy, hope being the only thing left to you both now. Hope that he would never have to step foot back aboard this frigate, but that if he did, it would be for some better reason, and not because he had failed to heed your warning.
---
Reblogs / comments appreciated!
Masterlist
Ao3
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brewed-pangolin · 1 year
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Blue Steel
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Photo credit to @adlerboi
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader
There is literally no plot here. Just our Johnny boy living his best life between your thighs. Hope y'all enjoy it
18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, Fem Receiving, power play, maybe a bit rough around the edges. Just absolute filth.
Word Count: 3.3k
You honestly don't know how this always happened. Merely moments ago, you were having the most romantic candlelit dinner; glistening pinot grigio, creamy risotto with a savory salmon filet that all but melted in your mouth, and the man that, for lack of a better word, had all but swept you off your feet. Now, that same man had you sprawled across your luscious king-sized bed, half naked, open and soaking for him, the only way he ever wanted you to be. 
"Fuck, bonnie. Y'always this wet for me?"
The smugness in his tone sent a wave of shivers through your veins. He knew the effect he had on you, but he wanted to hear it. Needed it. Wouldn't continue until those words trickled down your lust ladened lips. 
"Yes, Johnny. Always for you."
Your words were wrapped in a desperate whisper, almost embarrassingly so. Johnny knew how to quell the quiver in your voice, make you sing like the erotic songbird waiting in the roost. 
"Atta girl. Gonnae be good ta y'now bonnie. Food'll never fill my need for tha' sweet pussy a'yers."
His words alone made your cunt squeeze around nothingness. Begging him, pleading him to fill you to the brim. Clenching the sheets into your fists, your body writhed in a neediness only Johnny could summon from within. You watched through hooded lids as he sank between your thighs, that smug grin permanently etched into the corner of his mouth. His blue eyes blazing, like the flame atop a towering steel mill furnace. This is where Johnny came alive, where he longed to be on those lonely nights with you a continent away. 
"Need you, Johnny. Please."
Your pleas were answered by the soft tips of his fingers caressing the flesh of your thighs. His touch was fire blazing, fueling the burn deep within your core. It was the blow of cool air on your soaked lips that had your eyes rolling back into your skull, back arching, fingers tearing into the sheets above your head. 
"So fuckin pretty, hen. Never gonnnae get enough a'this."
The warmth of his lips on you never seemed to not take your breath away. Johnny was intentionally soft, slow, and deliberate with his mouth when first tasting your cunt. Like he wanted to savor it, lock it away for safekeeping. You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you wanted was him and his talented tongue on your most sensitive parts, the pulsing bud nestled within your swollen folds. But Johnny was a patient man and longed to push you to your limits of pleasure. 
He started at a glacial pace; languid swipes of his tongue, flattened out to taste and mark the entirety of your cunt. He lapped through your folds as if he was famished, your essence the only substance able to quench his insatiable thirst. Johnny's hands moved in tandem with the workings of his tongue, fingers caressing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs in methodically slow circles. 
"Johnny, please..."
Your whispered mewl reverberated in Johnny's ears, eliciting a moan deep within his throat, his lips pressing deeper into the flesh around your soaking mound. His talented tongue followed suit focusing on your pulsing clit, hands meandering over the curves of your hips and splaying across the flesh of your exposed stomach. Your body reacted to him instantly, hips straining off the bed greedily wanting him to take more. You were met with a firm hold, and as your gaze moved to the valley between your legs, you were met with a maelstrom of dueling blue orbs. 
"Patience, bonnie. Wanna take my sweet time wit'ya."
You'll blame it on the wine, but as much as you loved Johnny when he was slow and methodical you wanted nothing of it tonight. Blood running fire hot, bottom lip pinned down by your teeth you thrusted your hips into him once more. 
"Teasing fucking bastard."
Johnny froze, his mouth still encasing the flesh of your cunt, hot air bellowing onto your wet folds as he let out lengthy huff, releasing with a sloppy wet pop. His brow was furrowed, eyes fire and brimstone delicately laced in flowing cerulean silk. 
"Bastard, eh? Keep it up lass, an I'll show ya how much'a fuckin tease I am."
You wanted to, needed to prod and poke the bear. Release the wild animal you knew was just under that taught skin of the controlled Scotsman. Your hand released the sheet above your head and traveled effortlessly down the curves of your body, dancing above your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The burning fire in his eyes dimmed as your fingers laced into the thick locks of his hawk atop his head, the softness of it always sent a shiver of pleasure trickling through your veins. With a firm clench, you fisted a clump near the back of his skull and reared his head enough to give his neck a tight strain. 
"Steamin bloody Jesus, lass." 
Frustration through gritted teeth, the languid movement of his Adam's apple protruding within his thick neck had your walls clenching. And the cocky smirk on his lips glistening with your juices gave you all the willpower you needed to let go and give yourself to him. 
“Fuck me with your mouth, Johnny.”
"Aye. Tha's what I'm tryn'a do, bonnie. Now lemme git back t'it, yeah?"
Your sultry coo flipped a switch within him. His mouth returned to your mound aggressive, determined, and intent on eating you whole. Johnny's fingers matched the ferocity of his molten maw, kneading and digging into the flesh of your thighs, leaving a burning trail within their wake that would undoubtedly smolder into an array of warm bruises.
"So good, hen. Y'always taste so good for me."
You knew he was lost within you. Eyes draped under heavy lids, mouth working in a sinful rotation from your walls to your clit. The low rumbling groans sending wave after wave of shivers up your spine.
"Open your eyes, Johnny."
Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet commanding enough to rile him up from his desperate feeding. The flash of sapphire between your thighs like an igniting flame, blazing and fighting against a shrouded, abysmal darkness.
"That's it. Gimme that blue steel, baby."
You couldn't see his mouth, but the evidence of the smirk buried within you legs was plastered on his visible face. That raging blue fire swirled into a darker hue, colored in mischievous and malcontent intention. His pace began to slow. Rapid and focused swipes on your clit were replaced by gentle prods into your swollen folds. Deliberately he avoided your pulsing bud, your body writhing beneath him, needy for his attention on your aching cunt.
"C'mon Johnny, please."
Denial is all you got in response. Your fingers gripped into the fabric of the sheets, desperately trying to relieve the tension as his mouth moved around your soaking folds. Soft puffs of warm air trailed his teasing rebuttals.
"Teasin bastard, right bonnie?"
Clearly, he was enjoying the torturous effect he was having on you.
"Johnny, pleasaaaah...."
Your plea morphing into a gasp from a forceful stroke of his broad tongue. Slowly he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves, each pass sending a bolt of pleasure tingling straight to your tightening core. It was only for a mere few seconds, but each swipe felt like an eternity. As though you were brought back to the beginning, surrounded by nothingness, the dark emptiness collapsing around you. Johnny's hot touch was the catalyst to your rebirth, ignition to a universe bathed in decadent pleasure. His mouth latching onto your mound brought you back to reality, his focused appendage making quick and precise circles around your throbbing nub. The burning cauldron within your core reignited, bellows of heat radiating across your flesh like swaths of a raging wildfire.
Johnny could sense your impending orgasm; feel it in your trembling hips, hear it in your shaky breaths accompanied by the pleading mewls trickling through your lips. You were close, so close.
“Don’t stop, Johnny. Please don’t stop.”
Your body nearing convulsion, teetering on the edge of oblivion with every movement of his mouth. White hot veils wrapped around your vision and just when you were about to fall, he halted. Dead stop. The heat from his mouth dousing your folds with puffs of hot air, the feeble excuse of a moan released from your lips eliciting a groaning chuckle that vibrated through your overly sensitive cunt.
“Tha’s a sound I could get used to, bonnie. Like hearin ya beg for me.”
Johnny’s verbal tease lifted the veil like a fog over a distant bay, leaving you awash in coveted desperation, body aching, pleading. As your vision began to clear you were met with a blue-eyed devil in the valley of your thighs, poised and ready to possess you, ensnare and bring you down into the depths of his pleasured hell. Your jab at him earlier almost working too well, the need to cum overwhelming your need to tease. Delicately your hands cradled the flesh of his stubbled jaw, fingers wrapping around the curves of his chin as your thumb traced along the snaking divot of his scar. 
“Soap MacTavish, you’re gonna regret that.”
Your threat dripped in molten nectar, a deadly sweetness beckoning to an unwavering participant. Gingerly you crept your top half off the bed, leaning on one arm as the fingers of the other danced across the skin of his neck. Finding their place at the base of his skull you let your nails gently dig into the flesh at the nape of his neck. Your commanding posture mimicked his dominant stance, even beneath you Johnny still had a towering aura about him. He welcomed this assertive side of you, willing to play this erotic tug-of-war you so haphazardly thrust upon him. 
“Eat your heart out, Sergeant.” 
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was a low rumble wrapped around his words, and the tone of his voice wavered from controlling to what you could only call passiveness. The balance had shifted, scales dipping into your favor. The blue-eyed Scotsman, tested soldier and skilled marksman, was at your disposal. 
With measured tenderness you brought his mouth back to your moistened core, giving him the impression that he still had the upper hand, even if just barely. Once his mouth fully encased your mound and his tongue reclaimed your clit, your hips began to move. You started slow; a gradual sway of your pelvis, a light grinding motion that mirrored the undulating swaths of his lingual tip. Johnny’s arms wrapped around your legs in response, hands gripping and kneading into the curved flesh of your hips. He ate at you hungirly, every needy pass of his tongue deeper and more forceful than the one before. Johnny’s moans were barely audible now, but the message they held was easily detected by your fingers pressed to the back of his neck. Like the distant bellowing rumble on the plains he no longer wanted to be heard, he wanted to be felt. And feel it you did.
Gradually you added more pressure to the base of his skull, pushing him ever more into the walls of your swollen core. And every inaudible rumble reverberated into your cavernous hole, sending shockwaves of burning pleasure racing up to the recesses of your mind. 
“You like this, dontcha Soap? Like it when I ride your face, yeah?”
You locked eyes with him again, those bright cerulean orbs blazing with greedy intention. His audible groan all the permission you needed to continue on your sexual conquest. You were in complete control; assertive and composed, affirming your authoritativeness you pressed your hips down firmly onto his gaping maw, riding him faster, harder. You were reveling in it, basking in the glory you had over him. Your victorious mewls echoed through the curves and walls of your bedroom, ricocheting and molding with the animalistic sounds coming from between your thighs.
The sultry symphony only heightened with the constant barrage on your clit. Johnny may have been passive but it didn’t lessen his workings on your pulsing nub, a constant ebb and flow between your folds and delicate bundle of nerves. You were lost in your wallowing, riding the high of your impending orgasm as the coil began to tighten, constrict on itself again. So caught up in your own pleasure you failed to feel his adjustment, his movement beneath you. It wasn’t until his tongue delved deep into your swollen hole that you even knew he moved. The air in your lungs escaped through a choking mewl, hand gripped into the sheets and his skin simultaneously to regain some semblance to reality.
But your resistance to him was waning, breaking around him with every stroke. The faster you moved on him, the stronger his grip became, and the deeper he buried himself within your hole. It felt like time stopped. Seconds felt like hours, the universe pausing to let you enjoy the closest thing to nirvana either of you had ever felt. Your head lulled back, eyes clenching shut to escape the confines of your walls. It was the tap on your hip that brought you crashing back into reality.
“Steamin fuckin hell, bonnie. Gimme a chance t’breathe, yeah?”
He was breathless, and breathtaking. Every inch from his cheeks to his chin was doused in your wetness, glistening over his lips while his tongue swept over the swollen flesh. The sight of it turned you into nearly shattered glass, and Johnny was the last pebble hurtling towards your broken state. 
“C’mon, Soap. Keep it up, baby. And if you do I’ll gladly choke on that delicious cock a’yers.”
There was a shakiness to your voice, commanding with a soft mitigation. Johnny could sense the change in play again, the balance once again moving to his domain. And he aimed to use your slightened weakness to his advantage. 
“Carefull, lass. Ya may regret that.”
Not spoken, not whispered, not moaned, not even beckoned. Soap fucking growled. And with that, you broke. You willingly succumbed to him, sprawling out in defeat, letting him devour you whole. Johnny was ravenous, famished, wanted nothing more than to feast on your cunt. It was wet, sloppy, and beautifully disgusting. If it was anyone else, you would have been embarrassed. But for Johnny, this was his salvation.
His swollen lips like suction cups around the flesh of your hole, broad tongue pulsing into your needy cunt, strong muscular arms dangerously wrapped around the flesh of your thighs, and his rough hands fastening you to the fabric of your bed. It was so much, yet still not enough. Every fiber within you was tight, begging, and burning for the release that had been denied for so long. The sensation sending goosebumps stampeding over your taught flesh, combined with the bellowing fire radiating within your belly you all but  shattered around him.
“Don’t stop, Johnny. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Your mewl was desperate, pleading. And fortunately for you own sanity, Soap gave no indication to do so. He was gone, lost in the paradise of your soaking pussy, a stalking predator on the hunt for the most savory prey. 
Once more the white veil crept into the corners of your vision; its warm embrace beckoning, welcoming, wrapping tightly around into an all consuming hold. Like a chained-down prisoner you let it envelop you, white hot tendrils like lightning caressing the entirety of your taught, pebbled skin. The orgasm you had so desperately been waiting for now danced on the flesh of your belly, waiting for the cue from its elusive partner to join the stage. 
And that cue came when Johnny’s thumb pressed firmly into the flesh of your clit. Slow, concentric circles around the sensitive nub as his tongue continued to prod, tasting and devouring your cavernous hole. You wanted to meet his blue steel stare, craved it. But your body denied you. Every molecule, fiber, ounce of flesh was on the verge of combustion, and no amount of mindful wanting could put out that raging fire. 
Your hips raised off the bed in response to your body’s desperation, back arching and hands fisting into the twisted sheets surrounding you. Johnny tightened his grip into your flesh, groaning, continuing to pulse his tongue into your cunt. He could feel the tightness in your flesh, read the raised pebbling like braille. And its message was loud and clear.
You were close, teetering off the edge of the pleasured cliff that he so willingly pushed you to. His thumb relinquished your clit, and let his tongue take over once more. Using both hands he raised your hips higher off the bed, bringing you ever closer to that final, sweet release. And it came with the softest of pressure of his teeth, lightly encasing the overused flesh as his lips delicately wrapped and sucked around the tip of your cunt.
The sudden change in sensation had you crashing  through the floor. Your vision went blank, all sound and feeling seemed to disappear, and the only sensation your mind could focus on was the faint touch dancing around your tight bundle of nerves. An all-consuming wave of release flowed through your body, a tsunami of pleasure dousing out the bellowing flame that had been raging for what seemed like an eternity. 
Johnny’s grip on your flesh began to loosen, releasing your clit from his pearly enclosure and replacing it with light pecks of his swollen lips. He reveled in his victory against you, drank on your orgasm and watched as you writhed and mewled his name so quietly it was barely above a whisper. He was set in reality while you sank into an abyss of overused pleasure, flesh so sensitive even the slightest touch made you quiver in response.
“So good, bonnie. ‘Lways so good for me.”
His soft whisper flowed over your soaken folds, a welcome breeze on a hot summer's day as you continued to drift deeper into a plain of distant nothingness. 
Even in your state of post coital bliss you felt the shift in his position; a dip in the mattress to your side, gentle denim caressing the flesh of your thigh. But it was the ghosting of his lips up your belly that made your breath hitch within your throat. Slowly he traversed up your sweat silkened flesh, tasting and savoring the salty reward he so devilishly produced.
As he crossed through the valley between your breasts, your hands flew to the mane of his hawk, forcefully gripping it and bringing his lips crashing into yours. The taste of your release on him was intoxicating. The evidence of his endeavor pushed into your mouth, his tongue swollen and dripping in your savory essence. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you squeezed his body to the point of molding within your molten state. Johnny moaned in response, its sound echoing down your throat and traveled deep into the broken recesses of your mind.  You only released him when your lungs needed air, so desperate to feel him around you, your body had to intervene once more. 
“God dammit, Johnny. Your mouth is fucking sinful.”
Your exhaustive purr elicited a playful chuckle from his chest, even after being completely ravaged, you still pushed him for more.
“Sinful, eh. Gonnae take me ta church then, bonnie?”
His voice was somber, victorious with just a hint of devilish charm.
“Hell no. I’m quite content to sit here and burn.”
With your soft quip you regained his mouth, letting his flame engulf you once more. You were his solace, his rejuvenation, the blissful fountain to quench his unsatisfied thirst. And your sweet cunt was his only direct line to absolute salvation. 
This may not be very good, and yeah, it's all over the place. But I don't care. I had so much fun writing this. Soap may be the closest thing to myself I've ever written for, which is why I think I love him so much. Gonna take a few fics to get back into the swing of things, but it's nice to be back writing again. Much love, y'all 💛
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thelien-art · 8 months
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My current blorbo´s; Melkor, Ereinion (Gil-Galad), Caranthir, and Elrond.
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Explanation of some of their looks, as I've noticed that my designs for some characters are a bit unusual for many in the fandom
Melkor:
Oh boy, do I have thoughts on this creature!
So, he loses all his color when he pours himself into Arda (that takes a lot of years so I´m saying it only gets consequences right before he´s being sat in timeout in Mandos for 300 years) and now can only take a form with no color so yes he can still choose a form of his own wish, but it will be without pigment. Then later at the theft of the Silmarils, it´s said that he loses his ability to create a "fair form" talking about him being stuck in an "ugly" body, yet still, when he meets the Edain he´s described as taking a majestic and beautiful body, wich translates to me as it´s hard for him to change his body, he still can, but he has a preferred one, he can´t loose his scars, and he´s bound to a physical form as the first Ainur ever.
The hair is just him deciding to cut it at three in the morning and Mairon trying to save it the next day because he won't use energy to grow it out fast. It gets in his way you see. Sensory issues. He probably bites it off.
Ereinion:
I like to think of Ereinion as a child of Angband that got picked up by Maedhros and then given to Fingon for safekeeping. The pigment "flaws" are a turnout of being near Maiar who doesn´t try to make their effect on the world around them minimal, in a young age. (I also have a headcanon about that happening to some of the elves living in Valinor but much less since the Ainur residents there tries to keep it minimal)
I go a lot more on him in this post (also about pigment "flaws" in Valinor and Doriath) explaining both parentage and appearance.
Caranthir:
I think my Caranthir explains himself, red birthmark for his name and gold since he´s very ✨rich✨ 
Elrond:
Elrond is part Maia and I headcanon lesser Maiar to have some form of orb floating close to their head they can´t hide as it´s part of their fea, meaning it´s more or less how they would look without a body, so only stronger Maiar can hide their fea totally. He can shapeshift a little but not lose his body, but he can turn his teeth sharper and turn a bit taller, so small things like that.
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inpraizeof · 2 years
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I would love to read one when you’re Colin’s best friend since childhood you’re family lived right next to the Bridgertons and you’re mothers are good friends and as you and Colin are only one year apart you two became very close really fast one time when you where playing in the big garden when you’re 4 and he 5 he tells you that he will marry you one day. As you grew up you moved to France when you where 15 which broke Colin’s heart being only able too see you once in summer and once in winter when you visit you’re family when you come home when you’re 17 he can’t help but kiss you you tell him that as much as you want it you two can’t do that he tells you that he will marry you so it does no difference if you do it know or wait until you’re actually married you can’t help but smile that he really wants to live up too his promise he gave you all this years ago. When you’re 22 you’re mother thinks that you toyed around long enough traveling the world and it’s now Time for you to get married as a maid makes you ready for the ball she tells you that all man would be happy to be you’re husband you can only scoff everyone tells you that you’re the prettiest diamond this year but no man would be interested in you if they knew you aren’t a virgin anymore but nobody will ever find out and you really only want to marry one man either way. As you arrive at the ball all eyes are on you you simply smile Colin can’t help but rush over to you he hasn’t seen you In years and is so happy to have you back and this time he won’t let you go again. Penelope can’t help but be jealous as she watches you two dance talking with Daphne which unintentionally lets slip that you two had you’re wedding night years ago as she sees Penelope’s face expression she realizes that she said that out loud she isn’t even supposed to know Colin will kill her this could ruin his live long wish to marry you from coming true.❤️
it was always her
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colin bridgerton x reader
synopsis: it ends where it all began
a/n: i tried my best! sorry if some of the dialogue seems awkward lmao but i hope you enjoyed!!
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5 years
you ran as fast as your chubby legs could take you. colin ran after you, running through your mothers treasured rosebuds and into his family’s garden. he yelled your name and finally you stopped, sitting on the grass, your mother would be mad to see your dress ruined. you fidgeted with the fabric and colin slid into the spot next to you. you two were kids, and looking back it could’ve just been the expectations that made colin say that, but deep down, you wondered if he meant it.
“when we grow up,” colin opened his hand and revealed one of your mothers blooming rosebuds, he tucked it in your hair, albeit messily, and smiled a toothy grin, “im going to marry you.”
you didn’t know what the feeling was back then, but you’ve come to realize that it was the feeling of your heart swelling with love.
15 years
it had been almost ten years since colin’s promise. you were smart as a child, and ended up keeping the wilted rosebud that he had put in your hair, putting it in a box for safekeeping.
as you were preparing to head over to the bridgertons for tea, which was really just spending time with colin as he read to you, your mother had called you down to the drawing room. you were confused, your mother had never used the drawing room for anything. but that made you wonder if this was serious.
you went anyway, and your father was suprisingly there too. he smiled weakly and you sat down.
“darling,” your mother began, looking at your father for encouragement, “your father got a job in france. paris, to be exact. we’re moving next week.” as the words left her mouth you swore you could hear a pin drop. it was like your entire life had flashed before your eyes.
you didn’t react, you just got up, and immediately took off next door. you could hear your parents shouts as you left. the afternoon sun was beating down as you ran across your garden and to the bridgerton house.
you skipped all the formalities as you ran into the family room, and you looked at all the faces of colin’s family. colin was nowhere in sight and you were struggling to hold your own tears in. you struggled to get a deep breath in as you went outside and saw colin going up the steps. he saw your distressed face and immediately he ran up to you.
colin took you to a secluded area in his garden, knowing just the rumors that would be spread if anyone saw him holding you.
you cried for what seemed like hours. hours that colin just sat by your side and let you use his coat as your personal tissue.
finally, you stopped crying and you looked at colin. you explained what had happened and he scoffed, your beauty in this moment was absolute that he hardly listened to what you had said. even as your arms were wrapped around his waist, the blush on your teary face was enough to make him kiss you suddenly.
you kissed him for ages. the faint taste of strawberries on his mouth, and the soft sprinkles of touches of his fingers.
“i promise, that the minute you come back, when it’s time, you will be my wife.” he kissed you once more.
18 years
you had been back in london a handful of times since your family had moved to france. your home next to the bridgertons was still in your family’s name, just had a few caretakers in the rest of the year that you didn’t visit.
you had no real reason to come back to london, if it weren’t for colin bridgerton, of course.
you met with him for tea, and you caught up with him.
he smiled at you, pouring you another cup of tea, his eyes lingered on your lips, and as you reached, his eyes drifted to your breasts. he fought hard to keep himself composed, especially when you flickered your knowing gaze to his, and coyly sipped your tea.
“you’ll be the death of me.” he whispered, knowing his family was behind him. now as you were a grown woman, you couldn’t be unchaperoned with a man, anyone forbid just the thought.
but both you and colin had planned for his sneaking over to your manor later in the night. but for now, you tried to be civil.
“i wanted to tell you that uh..” you paused, setting the tea down. colin had asked about your family and why they didn’t come with you, especially when a girl like you should be preparing for her debut, and your parents were instrumental in that.
“the reason i’m not debuting in this years season is because,” you paused, and you fidgeted again, cheeks blushing red. colin reached over and put a hand on yours to stop you from fidgeting.
“tell me, my love.” he looked at you worriedly and you sighed, “i’m going to study abroad in brazil. and then most likely greece. until i’m twenty, which then my parents said i will debut.” the words left you so suddenly and colin looked at you, expression unreadable.
you gulped, watching colin pull his hand back. he nodded, “brazil? greece?” he knew his older brothers were just a few feet away but he couldn’t help the raise in his tone, “was france not enough for you? not enough that you have to leave me again, and again!”
you flinched slightly and as colin stood up, huffing as he walked away, you felt defeated, especially with the eyes of the elder bridgertons on you.
you hadn’t expected the knock on your bedroom door. in fact, you had totally forgotten about it.
you opened it, and colin stepped into your bedroom, which conveniently was on the first floor.
colin looked at you and held your face in his hands, “i’m so sorry.” he kissed your cheek and you nodded, holding onto his arm.
“i understand. i- it’s not ideal, but you know me..” you tried to give a smile and colin nodded, “you know the minute you finally come back after being,” he laughed, “worldly, im going to show you a whole new world.” he promised.
you kissed him deeply and your hands found the buttons of his coat, “why don’t you show me now?”
colin paused, pulling back, “i- are you sure?”
“are you sure that you’ll make me your wife?” you raised an eyebrow.
he nodded, “of course, my love.”
you pulled the buttons open with a swift move, “then i’m sure.”
it didn’t take long before colin had tore your clothes off, and he had slipped inside of you. the feeling was unmatched. for the first time, since those first teasing kisses and feels, colin could now finally truly, worship your body.
dawn broke when you had finally called it quits. you were exhausted, and colin was mildly snoring. you nudged him, reluctantly you sent him off, afraid the maids would see him on his way out.
he kissed your forehead as you snuggled into your bed, watching him leaves you would explain the mess to the maids later, but for now, you saw colin in your dreams.
20 years
your return to england permanently had been the talk of the ton. your family had moved back to your home next to the bridgertons and you were to finally take up your part as a wife. obviously to colin, your parents even assumed he’d be one of your callers.
presenting yourself to the queen was nerve wracking. even more so when she declared you her diamond of the season, and you suddenly had to step up your game.
when it came time to the first ball of the season, you were nervous. colin hadn’t called on you in the first week and now entering the second, you were beginning to get worried. to think, you actually hadn’t seen him at all.
you had gone over to the bridgertons on the second night of your arrival. they invited you and your family for dinner and there you didn’t see colin. you did chat with daphne and anthony, who both redirected your questions about colin.
was there something someone wasn’t telling you?
your arrival at lady danbury’s ball was highly anticipated. you were the diamond afterall. your dance card was filled not even ten minutes after you arrived. it made you smile, but still no sign of colin. it was difficult to say that you had a clue where he was. in the time you were in france, colin had written only a few times, and because you were so busy with the fast tracked life there, you hardly did too. you wondered if maybe this whole marriage thing was just a heat of the moment thing, and he had got what he wanted.
your suspicions of his whereabouts only grew when you met the colorful penelope featherington at lady danbury’s ball. you hadn’t met on your visits, but seeing her now, she seemed to be eloise’s best friend. you chatted with penelope and she seemed to ask a lot of questions.
“how long have you known the bridgertons?” you glanced slightly at her dance card and saw it was empty. you felt your heart sink for her, especially when she seemed so eager to dance.
“my family has lived next to them for years. it wasn’t until colin and i began spending time together that our families got closer.” you nodded and penelope smiled.
“spending time?” she bit her lip nervously and you nodded again, “i was four and he was five when he shoved me face first into my mamas rosebuds-“
“-and we spent the rest of the afternoon helping her gardener plant new ones.” the voice was like music to your ears. you resisted the urge to hug him right then and there but you turned around and found colin looking at you with eyes that practically left you naked.
you smiled, “only after you picked the thorns, quite literally, out of my side.” you had the brightest smile on your face and colin shared the same. a laugh sparked between the two of you, only broken by penelope.
“colin! you’re back from greece!” she had a look on her face that you knew all too well and you raised an eyebrow as you looked towards colin, “greece?”
colin looked at penelope and back at you, “will you excuse us, pen?”
colin looked at daphne and gave her a nod to follow the two of you outside. couldn’t be unchaperoned, like always.
“pen?” your voice finally broke as the three of you went outside. it was quiet, and no people were outside, so you let it all out.
colin began to speak but you raised a hand, “no. you listen to me, mr. bridgerton-“ your tone was surprising to colin who merely nodded and let you speak your piece.
“i’ve been back in town for nearly two weeks and there’s been no sight of you. your family has dodged my questions on your whereabouts,” you glanced at daphne who smiled sheepishly. she knew everything about your relationship with colin. you trusted her, even with the information that you had slept together. “and you come back here thinking all will be well when you cut into my cute story, which did work for a moment but that girl,” you huffed, face getting red, “she has the biggest crush on you, if you haven’t noticed, and you start out by calling her ‘pen’?! don’t you dare give other girls cute nicknames besides me, colin bridgerton!” you tried to compose yourself and colin was nodding, but you continued, “and greece! you practically crucified me for going to greece and you went?!” you practically screamed.
colin reached out suddenly, and held you steady as you broke down, “i- you had me so worried. i-“ you sniffled, “i thought after everything, after that night, that you didn’t want me anymore.” you cried.
colin pulled you into his arms suddenly, not caring of the scandal, “if you had let me explain- i would’ve told you that i was in greece buying your engagement ring.” he said it so casually you had to blink to make sure you heard him right.
you pulled away and looked at him, a smile on his face, “what?”
colin pulled out the ring and opened the box it was in, “now, i could either give it to you now, or we can have some extravagant event where i will propose to you in front of everyone and it’ll be this whole thing.” he seemed to ramble on and you shut him up with a kiss.
“i love you, colin bridgerton.” you whispered, and colin held your waist as he slid the ring on your finger, “i love you more, my love.”
the return to the ball after your hot and heavy kissing was bewildering. daphne had slipped away to give you some privacy but had come back just in the perfect nick of time to make it seem like she had never left.
you ran first to your parents and showed them the ring. your mother congratulated you, and your father nodded, “fine young man, that bridgerton.”
penelope stood off to the side with eloise. a broken expression was on her face as colin announced your engagement. a congratulations throughout the ballroom was met and penelope tried to seem happy.
“what’s wrong, pen?” eloise only turned her attention off of you and her brother to look at her friend.
“i- nothing. im really happy for colin.” she tried to hold an upbeat tone but eloise shook her head.
“i’ve tried to tell you for years but- my brother has always loved y/n. since he was a kid, he’s promised to marry her. it’s quite endearing actually, but after hearing the story over and over again, it gets annoying. he actually told all of us not to say anything to her as a surprise. he had gone to greece to get her that ring, actually.” eloise smiled, “she’s really perfect for him.”
penelope’s heart shattered as she nodded, walking away from her friend and she began to breathe heavily, frantically until she hit a corner. the hallway seemed to be empty until she heard daphne’s voice floating down from the library.
penelope could hear your laughter and colin’s murmurs.
“-and now you don’t have to worry about nerves on the first night! you already got that over with!” daphne laughed, you and colin laughing along with her.
penelope couldn’t even believe what she had heard. you and colin had sex already? before you were even engaged?
penelope smirked as she knew what she could do with this information, lady whistledown could destroy y/n’s reputation.
without noticing, penelope, who had her ear practically glued to the door, stumbled into the room as daphne opened it.
“penelope?” daphne looked at penelope who was on the floor.
“oh my god, are you alright?” you grabbed her hand and tried to help her up but she shrugged you off, “don’t touch me.”
you pulled back and colin went to help her up. unsurprisingly, she let him.
“i-“ daphne looked alarmed as she thought back to the conversation and penelope looked at you, “i heard everything.” she muttered and you nearly fainted.
just anyone else knowing, even though you were engaged, it would destroy you.
colin stepped forward, “if you know what’s good for you, pen, you won’t say anything.” he tried to seem harsh, and it actually worked.
things were put into perspective that colin would also be destroyed, involved in a scandal like this was practically forever.
penelope balked, nodding, “i-“ she didn’t say anything as she looked at you briefly before fleeing.
daphne put a hand on her chest to steady her rhythm and you looked at colin who sighed, “i’m sorry, my love.” he kissed your forehead.
22 years
marriage was a blissful dream. you woke up everyday to seeing the love of your life next to you. not to mention the child that colin had given you, just recently.
you were heavily pregnant, any day now and you’d be parents. colin kissed your belly goodnight and goodmorning, and everyday you would go over to his family home and spend time with everyone there.
as a wedding gift, your parents had given you the manor, and it was perfect, being able to see his family just next door, and in a place you were raised in to raise your own child.
your daughter was born just after daphne’s wedding to the duke. she had been your little gift, born in the bliss and love, you realized something.
“colin..” you looked down at your daughter, who just a few hours old, still didn’t have a name.
“remember that rose bud you had given me?” colin nodded, he was snuggled closely to your side as you looked down at your daughter.
“what if..” you smiled, cooing at soft hair that was like colin’s, “we name her rose?”
colin smiled, “rose bridgerton?”
you nodded, “what began it all.”
“it’s beautiful, you brilliant woman.” he kissed you once before muttering something about the name bud for your son.
964 notes · View notes
bloompompom · 3 months
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a year in review
taking a moment to reflect on my personal favorite fics i’ve written in 2023 because we all deserve to pat ourselves on the back sometimes and i encourage my fellow writers to do the same!
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always the quiet ones
⟢ this was my first ever one shot and i can’t believe it’s almost a year old now. tbh i owe my whole blog to this fic because i wasn’t really active before and i never imagined i’d do more than post a fic every so often and disappear again. also i just think they’re cute 💕
extra benefits
⟢ i couldn’t tell you why but i still think about them to the extent that i want to expand on this au. but instead of fwb smut it’s fwb fluff because how cute
gossip!
⟢ technically it’s not finished yet but i wrote the entire plot and outline this year so i am counting it. this fic is only six chapters but it has been a journey for me. it started out as so little but once i actually started writing, it took on a life of its own—which i’m not sure i’ve experienced with any other fic
rebounding
⟢ i really enjoyed writing the dynamic here, and if i can say it, i am just very proud of this one c:
safekeeping
⟢ i think this was my first time extending a fic that i didn’t intend to. i typically don’t like making more parts just for the sake of it, but this came to me in a ~vision~
tits for tat
⟢ different than what i usually write but i had so much fun writing it and i like to think that shows! tattoo artist!eren lives in my head rent free
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most importantly, thank YOU for all the support this year. whether you are an avid commenter or a silent reader, i appreciate you so dearly, and i hope to share another year of smutty thoughts with you 🤍
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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months
Text
Heart Set on Amulets
Summary: Dalton meets shy, introverted reader and they become friends. Eventually, he finds out that she's a witch and tells her about his astral projecting. She creates an amulet to help him sleep, and Dalton discovers how nice dreams can be.
Requested Here!
Update (October 2023): Heart Set on Amulets Universe Masterlist
Warnings: canon-typical discussion of the Further, several vague references to Insidious: The Last Key (2018), in-depth discussions of magic and witchcraft (I did my homework for this one lol), Google Translate Latin, fluff. 3.4k+ words.
A/N: All of the witchcraft-related content is from my Supernatural knowledge and the Supernatural wiki page. This was a great request and super fun to write! Let me know what you think and I hope you like it! :)
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If you could get away with wearing a glamour amulet to look like someone else for your whole life, you would. Or better yet, an invisibility shield. For as long as you can remember, you’ve preferred to fade into the background and avoid everyone. Most people thought you were simply shy, but as you got older, you knew something else was happening inside you.
On your thirteenth birthday, you discovered you were a witch. Vowing never to tell anyone, you embraced what you believe to be your destiny. Wearing black, “witchy” clothes, keeping to yourself, and practicing the mystic arts in the dark allowed you to grow in ways you never imagined. The people closest to you thought you were in a goth or witch phase. When you walked across the stage at your high school graduation, casting spells under your breath, they accepted that it is who you are. Now it’s your turn.
Arriving at college, you continue to keep to yourself. Learning that you are a witch did nothing for your social skills, still preferring to be quiet and as invisible as possible. Managing to secure an on-campus apartment, you have space to practice and develop your powers in your free time and have a quiet place to think and get away from the busy, people-filled life you live beyond your door.
 “Cloaking flame,” you read, flipping through the spell book you have been building on for years. You run your finger along the page, reading the ingredients and effects of the spell. “Black candle, blood, a lit match… conceals caster and causes spontaneous combustion.”
Looking toward your pantry, you consider trying the spell until you hear people talking in the hall outside. You shake your head, thinking that spontaneous combustion probably isn’t the best idea in an apartment. Turning the page, you look at the first of many pages of research you’ve conducted on dreams over the years. Flicking your wrist, you conjure a cup of your favorite drink and take a sip before tapping the sigil and sending your spell book into a pocket dimension for safekeeping. The hallway is silent as you carry your drink to your bedroom, distantly wondering what it feels like to have company in your apartment.
“Dolphin, that’s stupid!” someone yells ahead of you on the sidewalk.
 “Why don’t you yell a little louder, Chris?” the boy you assume is ‘Dolphin’ responds.
“Hey!” The girl turns toward you and beckons someone closer. As you look over your shoulder, she adds, “Yeah, you. Please help me!”
Shaking your head and sending a small smile, you whisper, “Praesidium ab extraneis custodi me a periculo” (Protection from strangers keep me from danger).
You continue walking, fiddling with the amulet around your neck. Years ago, when you became a witch, you visited a psychic who gifted you the charm necklace, encouraging you to put whatever spell or enchantment you desired upon it. The amulet has remained unenchanted since then, waiting for the right moment. Your fingers grip the amulet tighter when someone falls into step beside you.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for Chris – my friend that harassed you on the sidewalk earlier… I’m Dalton.” He extends his hand for you to shake, then drops it quickly. “You don’t have to talk to me, I’m usually super introverted but Chris tends to rub people the wrong way at first, so I thought I should apologize. And now I’m rambling.”
“It’s fine,” you whisper, stopping at a split in the sidewalk. “I appreciate the apology, and not trying making me talk.”
“Anytime.” Dalton smiles, and you can’t stop the small smile you send him in return. “I’ll see you around.”
 “Maybe.”
 “Definitely,” Dalton concludes with a wink.
As you watch Dalton walk away, the idea of pathokinesis pops into your head. You shake your head to rid the thought. The last thing someone like you needs is a love spell. It’s not like you could talk to him even if you did manipulate him into thinking he loves you. And, most importantly, you would never mess with someone’s emotions, not with how much trouble you have with your own.
You try to push Dalton out of your mind in class, your mind eventually drifting to a dimensional manipulation spell you were working on the night before. The person beside you asks for a pencil, and you briefly wish you had learned the cloaking flame spell as you silently pass a pencil, letting your eyes watch the pencil to avoid any awkward eye contact.
The last thing you expect is to see Dalton waiting by the door when you exit class, yet here he is.
 “So, I was thinking,” he begins.
 “Scary thought,” you mumble.
Dalton laughs before continuing as he walks beside you, but not close enough to make you uncomfortable. “You’re super easy to talk to, like, I’ve never met someone that I could start a conversation with, but here you are. Granted, you don’t really say anything, so it’s more that I have a conversation with the idea of you? I don’t know. Does that make sense?”
 “Yeah.” You shrug as you look at his shoes. “I don’t talk to anyone though, really, so don’t feel too bad.”
 “You’re talking to me now. After a very long lecture from Chris, which means she yelled at me, I realized that maybe we could try to be friends. If it doesn’t work, we walk away, no harm done. What do you think?”
“Why? I’m the definition of introverted and I’m super weird.”
“Chris likes to say that everyone’s weird.”
Remaining silent, Dalton stops talking and looks straight ahead, allowing you to think for several minutes.
“Hey, where are we going?”
“I’m going to my apartment.”
“You got an apartment? Lucky.”
“Look.” You hold an arm up to stop Dalton, looking in his general direction but failing to make eye contact. “We can try. This is my building, apartment 7. If you need a quiet place to think or work, or just away from your eccentric friend, come over. I’ll try to talk, but I can’t guarantee anything. You’re nice, Dalton, and you deserve friends, but I’m too shy to ever talk this much again.” You rush past him and wait until you are in your apartment before taking a deep breath, sagging against the door. “I just talked to him,” you realize aloud.
After your last class on Friday, just two days after talking to Dalton, you hear a knock on your door. Clutching a black obsidian stone, you raise it behind the door as you open it. Your hand falls to your side as you make unintentional eye contact with Dalton.
“You scared me,” you accuse.
“You said I could come over?”
You nod and open the door, allowing him to come inside. As you close the door, you look around and thank the morning version of you for straightening up before you left.
“Nice place. Do you want me to leave?”
“No, Dalton, you’re good. I’m just jumpy, sorry.”
Dalton loosens his hold on his backpack strap, setting his bag in the corner before looking around. He steps closer to your bookshelf, looking at the books and shelf of black candles. Most of your witch-related belongings are in the cabinets in the kitchen, hidden from sight.
“What’s the stone for?” Dalton points to the obsidian in your hand.
“Oh, it was a gift,” you lie. “Just picked it up when you knocked. No one ever really visits.” The last part was the truth, at least.
“Well, they’re missing out.” Dalton smiles before turning back to the bookshelf.
“You can sit wherever. I assume you came for a reason?”
“I can’t just come to say hi?”
“You can. I don’t know why you would,” you admit with furrowed brows.
Dalton helps himself to your couch, spreading his arms across the back as he smiles at you. You finally realize how long you’ve maintained eye contact and look down, tapping your feet together.
“You’re better company than you think. Let’s break open each other’s shells.”
Dalton is serious, and for the first time in your life, you think that maybe having a friend wouldn’t be so bad. As you and Dalton take turns asking questions about each other, you nearly forget about the pocket dimension holding your spell book and the pantry. For a few minutes, you feel normal. But you have never been normal, and one friend won’t change that.
Hours after the sun has gone down, Dalton gathers his things and heads for your door. You whisper a warding spell as you open the door for him, protecting him from harm as he enters the world. After he leaves and the door is closed, your hand lifts to your amulet while your mind drifts to the cloaking flame and where you could possibly test it.
Saturday morning, you get a text from Dalton – whose name and number he must have put into your phone sometime last night. Warily, you accept his invitation to breakfast. When he knocks on the door, you see Chris at his side, and you realize where your apprehension came from. You’re learning to talk to Dalton, but when you see Chris, you shut down.
 “I’m going to meet you two there,” Chris says suddenly, looking between you and Dalton. She grabs Dalton by the shirt and whispers in his ear, unheard by you, “Don’t mess this up, Dolphin.”
Dalton offers his hand, and you take it slowly, interlacing your fingers with his as you walk. He looks tired, and while you’re not used to caring for the people around you, he makes it seem very easy.
“We don’t have to go to breakfast, Dalton,” you offer.
“I want to.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Why do you ask?” Dalton smiles and pulls your hand closer. “Because you kept me out so late last night?”
“No, I just...” you take a breath to stop stuttering and decide to shoot straight. “You look tired.”
“I am, but I’ll get over it. Now, what’s your favorite breakfast food?”
Dalton fills the rest of the walk with conversation, offering easy questions you can answer quickly. He never makes you feel forced to talk; more like he is inviting you to and hanging onto your every word. At the restaurant, Dalton is a buffer between you and Chris. However, you quickly realize that while Chris can be loud and comes across as abrasive, she is actually sweet, and you can see yourself becoming friends with her. Slowly, maybe, but eventually.
Over the next few weeks, you learn the appeal of having friends. Dalton is at your apartment more than his own dorm. Chris has come over several times, and you can talk to her without Dalton around now. While they haven’t said anything, you wonder if they’re curious about the ever-shifting candles or the arrangement of wax on your table. You want to tell them who you really are, but your fear that they’ll leave feels crippling. Losing the only friends you’ve ever had is frightening enough that you’d be willing to stop practicing witchcraft. If that were possible, that is.
Just before fall break, when the leaves are falling, every student is carrying a hot drink, and tickets to go home for Thanksgiving are being purchased, your relationship with Dalton changes forever. It’s nearly midnight when knocking on your door almost breaks your concentration during a spell. Ignoring it, you focus on the scrying spell arranged on your table. With your arms out over the arrangement and your eyes focused on the prism in the center, you repeat the name of the man you are looking for, alternating between the English and Latin versions of his name. The knocking comes again, and you can’t risk losing the progress you’ve made.
“Come in and shut up!” You yell quickly, keeping your eyes on the prism and the name in your mind.
You hear the door open, then very slowly close. As your chanting picks up speed, the prism lights up, drawing you in before everything goes dark. Dropping your arms to the chair in front of you, you lean your weight on it as you catch your breath.
From across the room, Dalton whispers your name. You look up at him, pulling the black shawl from your head to meet his eyes.
“What is going on?” he asks, wide-eyed.
You take a deep breath before standing to your full height. The lights flicker on, the energy you channeled into the prism returning to the wires. Dalton looks between you and the table.
“I can explain.”
Dalton remains silent, pressing his lips together and gesturing for you to continue.
 “Short answer is I’m a witch. The longer answer is that my entire life I’ve felt like I didn’t belong; I could never make friends or talk to people, and I just- something was missing. When I turned thirteen, I found out I was a witch.”
“How?” Dalton interrupts.
“An energy blast,” you admit, pulling on your fingers and hoping Dalton won’t leave. “Shot it straight through my bedroom wall. Covered it up with a story that something fell and hit the wall at a weird angle and that’s why it went all the way through.”
“People believed that?”
“I guess.” You shrug and try to look away from Dalton. “Never said anything else about it.”
“Okay. So, you’ve been a witch since you were thirteen, basically?”
“Yeah.”
Dalton nods, saying something to himself before asking, “What did I just walk in on?”
“A scrying spell. It’s a locator spell, used to find people.”
“And you told me to shut up because?”
“Distraction is one of the biggest weaknesses for witches. Losing one bit of concentration could be the difference between life and death, or it could alter a spell and cause something unexpected to happen. Sorry, though.”
“No, it’s fine.” Dalton walks to the table and stands beside you. “Which part is the most important?’
“All of it, but the prism is vital. It’s what shows me the location of the person I’m looking for.”
“And where are they?”
“Five Keys, New Mexico.”
You look over at Dalton as he examines each piece of your spell, waving in front of the mirrors and looking at the reflections of the crystals. He looks tired, even more so than usual.
“What’s going on, Dalton? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”
“I haven’t,” he admits with a humorless laugh. He looks over to you and clenches his jaw. “I guess you told your secret, I can tell mine.”
You nod and place your hand on his forearm, encouraging him.
“I can astral project. I’m pretty sure it started when I was younger and that the coma my parents told me about wasn’t a coma. It’s gotten really bad recently. The dimension where I go, the Further, is full of souls and demons that are trying to get out. Every time I try to sleep, I end up there and I- I don’t know what to do.”
“I can help.”
Dalton shakes his head. “How?”
“Promise not to freak out?”
Dalton’s eyes widen in anticipation rather than fear this time, and he smiles as he nods. You wave your hand in a circle, flourishing at the bottom to open the pocket dimension in which your spell book resides. Pulling the heavy book onto your table, Dalton watches in awe as you close the dimensional rift behind it. Finding a worn tab near the back, you open the book and begin reading.
“Feel free to share with the class, Professor,” Dalton teases, looking over your shoulder. “Is that Latin?”
“Some of it. Basically, this spell works as a sort of immobilization and a warding spell combination. It doesn’t actually immobilize you, but it keeps your astral body, soul, whichever you prefer, in this dimension. The warding aspect ensures that any portal opened by your gift isn’t usable from the other side.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning nothing in the Further can come through to this dimension.”
“So, it would close the door?” Dalton asks excitedly.
“Not exactly. My understanding of the Further is that there is a door within it, in addition to any route that can be opened to enter or exit it. Basically, the door you’re talking about is to a room within a house. This won’t keep things from using that door, but it stops them before they make it to this world.”
“And the spell helps me sleep?”
“The spell itself, no. I’ll have to enchant something with the spell, then you keep that object with you when you sleep, and it will provide a broader coverage of the spell. Imagine the object having the spell locked within it, on a never-ending loop. Enchanting an object repeats the spell over and over because the spell lives within it.”
“Okay. What kind of object?”
Your hands raise to the amulet on your neck. It has been awaiting its purpose for over half a decade, and it has finally come. You unhook the clasp, pulling the chain from your neck.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dalton asks, his hands grabbing yours.
“Enchanting this amulet. Then you can just wear it to sleep.”
“I’ve never seen you without this thing.”
“I haven’t taken it off since I was thirteen. I’ve been waiting for the right time to enchant it, its sole purpose.”
“But it’s yours.”
“And I want to give it to you. Dalton, you’re worth this. Let me do this for you. You are the only reason I feel like I belong here, you’re my only friend, and this is the least I can do for you.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
You nod, and Dalton slowly removes his hands, watching you open your ingredient cabinet and pull a few new candles and a letter opener.
“What’s everything for? Can you talk me through it until you have to concentrate?”
“So, I’ll light the candles as part of the spell, then – this part’s kind of gross – I have to add some blood to the melted wax, then heat the amulet over the flame while I project the spell into it.”
Dalton nods with your explanation, cringing slightly at the mention of blood. You tell him the names and general purposes of the items as you set everything up, then ask him to step back as you begin.
“Corpus, caro et anima, malum annulos, animus nolo depreadandum, maneo. Body, flesh and soul, evil tolls, the soul will not pray, stay,” you begin, chanting as the candle melts. When the black wax begins to pour over the edge, you lift the letter opener and prick your forefinger, ignoring Dalton’s gasp as a drop of blood mixes into the hot liquid. You continue the chant as you hold the amulet over the flame, gaining volume until the amulet is too hot to hold. When you drop the necklace on the table, the candle goes out, and the flame dances in the amulet briefly before everything returns to normal.
“That’s going to take a while to get used to,” Dalton mutters.
“You said that like you’re sticking around.” It’s not a question, but you say it as if it were.
“Where would I go? Find a better friend than the one who pricked her finger to keep me from having what are essentially bad dreams?”
“You and I both know they’re not bad dreams,” you point out as you motion for Dalton to sit down. You put the amulet on, stepping around him to see how it looks. “She told me I’d know when it was time.”
“Who?”
“The psychic who gave me the amulet. I went to see her after I found out I was a witch.”
Dalton nods. “Have you seen her again?”
“No, but I’m planning to visit someone who knew her well.”
“I just have more questions now.”
“I’m going to Five Keys, New Mexico, to talk to a guy called Specs.”
Dalton stands and takes your hands. “Thank you for the amulet, I’m going to go sleep for a very long time. Then I want to hear more about this trip because there is no way you are going by yourself.”
“Did you just invite yourself?” you ask as he picks up his bag and heads for the door.
“What was it you said? That I’m worth it? Well, so are you,” he calls as the door closes.
If Dalton's going to keep looking at you like that, you're going to have to learn the cloaking flame move.
That night, Dalton sleeps peacefully for the first time in years, dreaming of you while you wonder what kind of magic brought Dalton Lambert into your life.
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planetgutz · 2 years
Note
hi!! recently read your smut and loved then! Would you do one with somnophilia, where Jamil uses his hypno magic to fuck you as his routinely stress relief? And one night he decides to wake you up and bullies you
my first somno fic yay !
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✶ content: somnophilia, dubcon, groping, fingering, lowkey panty thief jamil, pain kink/impact play, slapping, creampie
✶ pairings: jamil x gn!reader
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"jamil i'm going to bed, don't stay up too late, okay?" you give him a gentle smile as you wave and leave the living room. you never stayed awake for very long during your weekly movie nights with jamil. he would usually wake you up and send you to bed once your head hits his shoulder and you start to drool.
he released the breath he was holding as he heard your bedroom door shut. it wouldn't take you long to fall asleep after your head hit the pillow. grabbing the remote, he turns off the tv and stands up from the couch. he stretches and makes his way toward your room.
jamil had a little secret that you'd probably hate him forever for if you did find out. he had come across a spell when he was studying. just a simple one that put people asleep and made them more susceptible to your commands. of course, he just had to see if it actually worked.
you were the perfect test subject.
the first time he used it, he poked at your body and shook you around to see if you were actually fully asleep. besides the occasional whimper and swatting his hand away, you were completely knocked out. the second time he decided to get bold. jamil had slipped his hand under your shirt, caressing your chest. quiet little whimpers left your mouth as your cute little nipples hardened under his touch. if he had slipped his hand into your underwear, he wouldn't have been surprised to find you wet.
over the next couple of weeks, jamil would find himself in your room after you had fallen asleep. you were just so cute when you came from him sticking his fingers inside you, sleeping face twisting into a blissful expression. it was even better when he finally decided to fuck you. you gripped at his arms and cried out so sweetly when he shoved his cock inside you. he wished he could have cum inside you, but that would have gotten him caught. he always opted to cum all over your cute tummy instead.
creaking open your bedroom door, jamil slipped inside as he had done so many nights before. he closed the door behind him and made his way over to your bed. you were sound asleep, face buried in your pillow. jamil quietly whispers the spell around his breath and removes the cover from over you.
"you're just so adorable, y/n, sorry about this" he begins to strip your bottom half, removing your pajama pants and underwear. he slips the underwear into his pocket for safekeeping. jamil experimentally shoves two of his fingers inside of your hole. no matter how many times he does this, it shocks him how tight you are. your face scrunched up and you whine. jamil strokes your face and shushes you, adding another finger.
concluding that he has stretched you enough, jamil pulls down his sweats, hard cock slapping his stomach. he jerks himself off a few times over your body, pre cum landing on your thighs. he lines himself up with your hole and slides into you with practiced ease. you cry out and bite down on your lip. jamil smiles as your moans get louder as he bottoms out inside of you. the look on your face puts a sick idea in his head. he undoes the spell and roughly shakes you awake. you open your eyes, still disoriented and sleepy.
you take in jamil above you and the odd feeling in the lower half of your body. "j-jamil what are you doing?" he laughs and thrusts up into you, causing you to shriek. you look down to see where you and jamil are connected.
you're fully awake now.
you start pushing against him and kicking your legs but to no avail. jamil holds you down and starts fucking you even harder. "you're such a slut, you like me using you like this." you shake your head and dig your nails into his forearms, causing him to wince. he catches you off guard when he smacks you across your face. it stuns both of you when you tighten around him. jamil's smile somehow gets even wider. "my my you like to get hit too, huh? just full of surprises" jamil smacks you again, hard enough to leave a bruise.
you don't even process that you've came from being used so roughly. jamil isn't far behind you, groaning as he empties his load inside of you. he decides to cast the spell once again, knocking you out instantly. he spreads your legs and watches his cum leak out of your hole and onto the bedsheets. he scoops some of it up and pushes it back inside. jamil pulls your covers back over you and makes his way out of your bedroom.
you two would be having a long discussion after you woke up again, he was sure of it.
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neverwasreddie · 2 years
Text
Bev is the first one to say anything about it, one night as she and Ben are leaving Richie’s house:
“Did you notice how fucking cold his house was tonight?”
Ben chuckles, draping an arm around Bev and running his other hand over shoulder as if to warm her. “Richie always complains about being cold. That must be an Eddie thing.”
“Can you imagine the thermostat wars they probably have?” She snorts. “Oh, God. I know they’re best friends, but it can’t be easy having a roommate in your forties like this.”
It comes up again when Mike and Bill, Bev and Ben are video chatting with Stan ahead of his visit to Los Angeles.
“Don’t forget to pack a sweater,” Mike jokes, while Bill snorts a laugh into his shoulder.
Stan’s frown deepens as Bev solemnly nods in agreement. “What, is LA in a cold front I didn’t hear about, or something?” he asks.
“Richie keeps his house like a fucking refrigerator now that Eddie’s living there,” Bill explains, lifting his head off of Mike’s arm to arch an eyebrow at the camera.
“It’s like an ice skating rink!” Bev confirms. “My money is on this being one of the concessions Richie makes to stay alive. He lets Eddie pick the house temperature, and Eddie doesn’t murder him for not sorting the laundry by color.”
“It’s like college living, but with old people problems,” Mike jokes.
Ben shakes his head gently while the others laugh. “Stan, you’re the first one to get the inside view of what they’re like as roommates. None of us have ever stayed over at their place, so you gotta be the one to report back to us.”
“Yeah,” Bill adds, “like, how long do they fight in the morning about almond milk versus cream and sugar in their coffee?”
Stan smirks as the other Losers continue their howling laughter and speculation through the screens. “I’ll keep you folks updated,” he responds.
It turns out Richie does keep his house pretty cold, but he compensates by wearing a hoodie even though LA is blazing outside. Stan adores the two of them so much that he can’t be too bothered by the temperature; Richie and Eddie bicker and play-fight and joke so much that Stan feels like a kid again, and he just soaks up every second of their first day together. At the end of the night, his heart is full as they all say good night, Richie heading off to his bedroom, Eddie to the guest room he’d claimed as his own, and Stan to the final remaining guest room.
(If he’d spent all night catching the glimmer in Richie’s eye whenever he looked at Eddie, if he noticed how Richie wore the same expression around Eddie that he’d worn as a lovesick twelve year old, that was Stan’s business to keep to himself.)
The next morning, when Stan wakes up, he sees that the door to Eddie’s room is open, the bed neatly made and Eddie himself gone.
If Eddie and I are up, Trashmouth can get up now, too, he thinks to himself, listening for just a moment outside Richie’s door for any incriminating jerk-off noises before he quietly steps inside.
Immediately Stan freezes, everything clicking into place. Richie is bundled up in his hoodie under a thick comforter and luxurious-looking throw blanket. One arm grips the pillow, smushing it to his face, which is relaxed and vulnerable-looking. He snores softly, just quiet snuffling noises, burrowed into the blanket like a sleeping child.
Behind him, Eddie is dressed in an equally cozy-looking sweater, his face pressed to Richie’s back. He’s spooning Richie, holding onto him so tightly, one hand pressed to the center of Richie’s chest like he wants to keep watch over Richie’s heart for safekeeping.
Stan melts a little, wondering why they’re still keeping it a secret from their friends but also feeling an immense sense of peace wash over him, like finally, like this feels right, like you fucking deserve this, Trashmouth.
From the bed, Stan hears a sleep-scratchy “Don’t tell the others yet” from Eddie, whose arms squeeze Richie tighter as the movement of the blankets suggests he’s looping a leg over top of Richie’s.
Octopus, Stan thinks fondly, throwing a little salute toward Eddie though he knows he can’t see him with his eyes closed. He backs out of the room and shuts the door carefully, heading downstairs to fetch some coffee and start his day.
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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months
Text
Snippet - Regrets - Mal de Mer
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Not his first choice.
Certainly not hers.
Mal de Mer on AO3
Snippet:
"Bastard," she hisses under her breath.
He doesn't flinch. "So many have said."
"I will never forgive you."
"Many have said that, too." A beat. "I wonder how many times I'll have to listen to you say it."
"Not much longer, the rate you're going." Her rage has calcified into a core of gold: reactive to nothing, and solid to the worst blow. The Medarda rage, Ambessa used to say. It's why our women are the fiercest.  "I'm beginning to see why Sevika warned me to steer clear."
A crease—instantly flattened—passes beneath his forehead.
"Sevika?"
"Before the engagement was publicized. She pulled me aside. Told me I was taking a huge gamble. That she didn't think you and I would suit." Mel, sensing the chink, presses her attack. "She never told you, did she?"
Silco, motionless, says nothing.
"Now I see why. Truth has no appeal to you. Only games." A glance at the guests, a straggling cluster in the rear cart. The poor things are terrified: the women shaking, the men pale. Only Garlen, the bullheaded brute, looks ready for a fight.  "She warned me of that, too. She said, if this was a passing fancy, I should keep an escape route open. But if it was a permanent fixation, you'd make my life a living hell."
The crease appears again. And holds.
"What," he says, "did you tell her?"
"I advised her to save her breath. I said I wasn't afraid. I was a Medarda. And Medardas, come hell or high water, always get what they want."
"A bloodline of unparalleled ambition."
"I believe the word Sevika used was 'blind hubris.' I could tell she didn't think much of my pedigree—or my choice. When she left, I thought she was simply bitter. All her years of loyal service, and her beloved leader had bypassed her. Worse, he'd chosen a Topsider." Mel smiles without humor. "Blind hubris is right. I didn't understand at all. Her warning was less about me, and more about you."
 There is no change in Silco's expression. Yet the opacity is deceptive: more a veil than wall.
"Sevika," he says, low, "has only ever had Zaun's interests at heart."
"Does she know the full extent of your plans?"
"Yes. She is loyal to the cause."
"Then perhaps it's her you should've chosen."
She'd meant to hit below the belt. But his answer, flat in its simplicity, leaves her reeling.
"I nearly did."
The cart's wheels shriek. Sparks leap. They round a corner, and the corridor narrows. The walls, composed of industrial metal, are streaked with rust.
Or blood.
Mel's throat closes. "You two—"
"She was my comrade. When necessary, my sounding board." The timbre is even. "Sometimes more."
 The veil is drawn. Behind, Silco is unknowable. But no longer, Mel thinks, untouchable.
"Did you—" she begins.
"Did I what? Trust her? A damn sight more than I do you. Did I fuck her? Yes, and often. Love her?" He doesn't bother hiding the derision. "Sevika never angled for my love. She knew where she stood. In my bed, and at my side. That's what made her a good lieutenant. She understood loyalty." A shrug, careless, but weighted with intent. "Unlike some."
Mel lowers her head. There is a tiny taste of blood where she's bitten her underlip. It fades fast beneath the sourness of rage.
She thinks of Sevika: all hard lines, and cold dark eyes. Of her body—scarred, sinewy and so unlike her own—that Silco must've taken pleasure in. The thought of them together is an ugly blemish on her mind's eye.  And yet, she thinks of the rapport between them: a seamless coordination of word and deed. The implicit understanding of each other's motivations. The tacit safekeeping of the other's secrets. The fierce devotion, born from a shared purpose.
He says Sevika, and his surface stays deceptively slick. But if she dives deeper, the waters are bloodstained.
"You," she says, "loved her."
"That's not what I—"
The rebuff is too sharp. Like the crease in his brow.  His facade: cracked.
And Mel, a lifetime's study of her mother, sees her opening.
"You loved her," she says, "but you had to let her go."
She has him. She knows, by the flicker of his eyes.
"Yes," he admits, finally. "I did."
"Why?"
"Because, in Sevika's words, I'd already committed myself. Because the crisis between you and I was too fraught to sidestep. Because if I'd kept her around, I'd have done something... rash. Selfish." Another shrug. "She told me, in simple terms, to get on with it. Even if, by the end, my cold feet had morphed into fins." He offers a thin smile. "Mal de Matrimonium. It takes a certain woman to inspire it."
"Like me."
"Yes."  The smile fades. "I'm sure of many odds, Mel. Sure of Zaun. Sure of Sevika. Even Jinx, my wildcard, works in ways I can predict. But you? You're the one variable I cannot account for. And that makes matters... complicated."
"You regret our marriage.
"I never said that." A long, awful silence. “I detest the waste."
Mel, stunned, stares.
"I've lived long enough to know, when the dice are cast, the result is a tossup. It's the nature of the beast. With you, it was always a question of whether it was desire—or a desire to make a difference. Whether I could live with the first. And whether I could afford the second."  His stare, unerring, holds hers. "With Sevika, the scales were simpler. She understood my means. She understood my ends. Our desires didn't hold us hostage. They were simply a natural consequence. I've no doubt, had I chosen her, she'd have my bollocks on a platter. But, at the end of the day, Zaun would be the stronger for it." A beat. "And my life, safer."
Safer.
The word slashes through Mel's fugue. In her mind, she sees a pair of warm tawny eyes. A smile, pure and true. Arms enfolding her, and soft lips kissing her forehead, her nose, her mouth. A different man, a better man—his embrace a refuge rather than a tightrope. To the last, he'd cradled her close, and whispered, with all his heart: 
Don't go.
I'll take care of us. We'll be okay.
If she could've chosen her Happy Ending, it would've been Jayce.
But there is no such thing as Happy Endings. Or, if there are, her mother made sure she'd lost hers the moment she was born.
A Medarda, Ambessa always said, languishes in safety.
It is in danger that she shines.
The cart shudders, its speed decelerating. Mel's anger—that golden core—has gone brittle. His confession is an axe. Each sentence, a blow.
But her spine does not bend.
"It's too late," she says flatly. "You’ve chosen me."
"I have."
"I'll oblige you, if you wish. Your bollocks on a platter." Her smile barely wavers. "Your heart, I've yet to find."
Now the crease deepens. Barely perceptible: a cut of shadow.
“Mel,” he says, warningly. "Let's be grown-ups about this."
"Oh, indeed!"
"We entered this union with our eyes open. Our motives were never altruistic, much less romantic. You sought to stabilize your Council seat. I, a means to leverage my city's independence. It was a bargain struck with a single clause. To both our benefit." He shakes his head. "The rest is noise."
"I've seen how well you deal with noise."
"And I've seen how you manage the same. But this is not noise." A grim chuckle. "This is our future."
"Don't presume to speak for me."
"I'm not presuming. I'm stating facts." He leans forward. "If you had no intention of seeing this through, you would've cut your losses. Hell, you had the perfect chance. Back on the ship, you could've sided against me. Could've claimed ignorance, or trickery, or betrayal. Instead, you chose to stand by me. Why?"
"Because—"
Because I've failed one relationship already.
Because I’m tired of losing what’s mine.
Because, gods help me, I—
The words stick in her throat. The truth, too deep, refuses to dislodge without bleeding.
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thewarinourstarwars · 8 months
Text
Like Different Stars
Fandom: Genshin Impact
Pairing: Tartaglia/Lumine (Chilumi)
Summary: “It’s because I trust you the most that I have a favor to ask.”
Her head swiveled. He had grown more serious now, the tired warrior having returned.
“What’s the favor?” A part of her knew she should dismiss it immediately, as she wanted no part in Fatui schemes.
And yet she knew that she would be yanked around on the strings of the Tsaritsa like a puppet no matter what road she took here. Somehow, no matter what she did, it had a way of playing out well for the Fatui in the endgame.
And a part of her could not deny Ajax what he wanted, could not betray the fondness and trust exchanged now in the night, in this secret reunion.
“I need to you to hang onto this for me.” He removed his Vision from his belt. “I can’t explain why, but I can’t have it right now and I need someone to keep it safe.”
OR
Childe trusts Lumine with his Vision for safekeeping.
“Ah, it’s great to see you again.” Childe sighed and looked up to the night sky above them.
The lights were so bright here, that Lumine could only see pinpricks from the brightest stars, far from the swirling galaxies that she was used to seeing over even the most advanced cities of Teyvat. 
Seeing only faintly-twinkling pinpricks made her feel uneasy, as weak as she had felt when she’d first awoken on that beach in Mondstadt. For so long, voyaging across the sea of infinite stars between realms had been her only constant, the last comfort and security after her forgotten homeworld had been destroyed. 
There was something else about Fontaine that set Lumine on edge, made her skin prickle and all her hair stand on end. She could see it in the eyes of the smiling people, always darting to the mechanical guards and the shadow of the islands looming overhead. She could hear it in the mumbles and whispers of an old prophecy, of a day of judgement coming. 
She could close her eyes and ears and pretend not to see it, pretend not to notice it. How many worlds had she done that in, never to question their fates again? That is, until now. 
She looked to Childe, and thought of how the thin white streak in his hair had grown wider, stark against the lively copper. His eyes were brighter than usual, the way they only were around Teucer or in the heat of battle. He was always more alive when he looked at her, when he was by her side. 
He was her enemy, allied with the Tsaritsa who had hurt her friends, who was threatening the world that had become as much of a home as that first one had been to her. And yet, like Teyvat, against her will she had become fonder of him than she’d ever confess. 
“It’s good to see you too.” The words came out, barely above a whisper. Maybe she even hoped that he wouldn’t have heard it, forgotten it over the silence of her reverie. 
But no such hope was honored. 
He looked back to her, ocean eyes shining like the waves in the moonlight of the canal outside of the grand hotel. 
“I had no idea I meant so much to you, Traveler.” There was a teasing edge to his voice, but beneath it was something much more genuine. “I thought you still hated me, even after our adventures in Inazuma together.”
Lumine shrugged. “I’m still not going to be a friend to the Fatui.”
“But to a Harbinger?” He raised an eyebrow.
Lumine looked back to the waters. “I’m willing to be Ajax’s friend.”
“Oh.”
She looked back in time to see him genuinely caught off-guard. He blinked at her, once, twice, a tinge of pink filling his cheeks. It was such a soft look, for someone like him. 
He coughed into his fist and the two of them looked away at anything, at anywhere else but the connection that was becoming palpable between them. 
It was a long time before Childe spoke again. “I’m glad to have you as my comrade, Lumine. I’d trust you over anyone else to fight by my side.”
She could feel that he’d turned back to her, but she could not, would not return that gaze because she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. 
“It’s because I trust you the most that I have a favor to ask.”
Her head swiveled. He had grown more serious now, the tired warrior having returned. 
“What’s the favor?” A part of her knew she should dismiss it immediately, as she wanted no part in Fatui schemes. 
And yet she knew that she would be yanked around on the strings of the Tsaritsa like a puppet no matter what road she took here. Somehow, no matter what she did, it had a way of playing out well for the Fatui in the endgame. 
And a part of her could not deny Ajax what he wanted, could not betray the fondness and trust exchanged now in the night, in this secret reunion. 
“I need to you to hang onto this for me.” He removed his Vision from his belt. “I can’t explain why, but I can’t have it right now and I need someone to keep it safe.”
He pressed the Vision into her cupped hands. The light of the Vision danced in front of her, like sunlight on the waves of the shoals of Liyue. She stared at it before her eyes moved up to its owner. 
“What are you planning?”
He looked down at the Vision with a sense of longing. “Whatever I can to keep my colleagues from razing this city. I didn’t want things to go that way in Liyue, but my colleagues don’t share the same sense of honor. I’ll do what’s necessary for the Tsaritsa. . . But the Knave’s plan is completely unnecessary.”
“Childe, what is the Knave planning?” That general sense of unease exploded into full-blown panic. If her methods were something that even he disagreed with. . . 
“I know I have no right to ask this.” His fingers lingered under her own, cupped around that Vision. He looked so tired, so resigned to fate, so deflated. Like he had after the Ruin Guard factory. “Please, comrade. Trust me one more time?”
Their eyes met, and all Lumine could see was sincerity. In an instant, she understood him as a fellow traveling warrior, a fellow vagabond who had lost their home a long time ago with their innocence. In him, she saw the rainfall, the attempt to make things right. 
“I will.” She placed the Vision in the pocket of her dress. “I’ll keep it safe.”
He smiled, more out of relief than anything else. “Thank you. I trust you will.”
He then sighed and turned. “I just wish things could have been different.”
“Teucer once told me that you’d have joined me, if I’d asked.” Lumine realized she sounded unbearably sad. “But it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”
He turned back to her, a reflection of her own unacknowledged sorrow. “It always was, comrade.”
Lumine reached for his hand. Before she knew it, she was pulling him in closer, until they were face to face, eye to eye. . . 
That was when he leaned in for the kiss and she didn’t dare push him away. Their embrace was a desperate plea to stay, although Lumine had no idea who was doing the pleading. Maybe it was both of them. 
Their kiss tasted bittersweet, like the fall of rain.
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spreadssheets · 3 months
Text
My 2023 Fanfiction Wrapped
Hi everyone! It's ya boi spreadsheets back with another fanfiction wrapped! This time I actually took the time to make it look really pretty (see: I half assed this in Google Slides for my discord server's swampmas wrapped event lmao).
Without further ado, here's what I read this year.
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2023 Fanfiction Mini Guide
These are fics I rated 7/7 stars on my guide that I would FULLY recommend everyone read if you're into these fandoms or ships.
Stranger Things
Gen (Steve & Robin)
As He Sinks Just Like A Stone by saintmares | Rated T | 5k
The words "Steve Harrington is sooo strong" had always made Robin Buckley roll her eyes. After all, what did it matter if some stupid jock just so happened to use his muscles a bit more than other people? But when her life comes crashing down inside a secret underground Russian elevator, Robin finds a new appreciation for the strengths of Steve Harrington... at least until she has a startling realization about her best friend and his fleeting mortality as the Party patches up his demo-bat bites.
Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)
Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) by OonionChiver | Rated E | 140k (background Ronance)
‘I think,’ Steve says slowly, reaches for Eddie’s abandoned, untouched beers. ‘You don’t know me very well.’
‘I don’t know you at all, man. I don’t really want to.’
Steve’s throat works. It’s subtle, but Eddie sees it. He hides it with a swig of beer, but when he sets it down, his smile isn’t quite so bright. Twice as sharp, though.
‘The self-centred asshole who can only be decent to a single human being, I get it. It works for you.’ Then he takes a thick, heavy breath. The alcohol is hitting him, Eddie can tell. ‘And I am being civil. I’m here, aren’t I? You have any idea how hard it is for me to be here?’
‘In a bar?’
Steve doesn’t answer.
Star vs. the Forces of Evil
Stomco (Star/Tom/Marco)
Monster Carvers by Raikim4Never | Not Rated | 70k (unfinished, but I think about it every day of my fucking life)
Fourteen years after Princess Star Butterfly is kidnapped from her cradle, a terrorist attack on The Underworld results in Prince Tom Lucitor being sent to stay on Earth. Meanwhile, the Monster Carvers plot to bring an end to all non-Mewmans, and Ludo learns of rumors that Tom was given the Butterfly wand for safekeeping…
High School Musical
Chyan (Chad/Ryan)
I Still Don't Dance by Rozavie | Rated G | 20k
Chad Danforth never thought that he would find himself here—washed up, past thirty, teaching at a high school, and divorced. Basically, everything in his life has gone up in flames. No longer being able to play his favorite sport, and coming off of an exhausting (although amicable) separation, Chad decides that it's time to focus on what he can control. Primarily, raising his daughter. As long as she's happy and healthy, Chad thinks that he can manage to be as well.
But when an old friend from high school stumbles back into his life, Chad's world gets just a little more interesting.
Boy Meets World
Cory/Shawn/Topanga
For a good time, call by feyrelay | Rated M | 3k
This headcanon lives rent-free in my head, constantly, and I was so disappointed in how GMW handled a lot of the adult relationships and stickier topics, that I just had to write this. It just might rot your teeth.
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Zukka (Sokka/Zuko)
like the sun inside you by ofherlionheart | Rated M | 200k (Unfinished)
Sokka's expression is caught somewhere between determined and pissed off when he says, “I know you think this is your responsibility. But you’re not going to be alone in this. This is why we’re building you a council.”
“I know,” Zuko says.
“And the only way you’re going to die having done nothing but sit in meetings is if you let yourself do that. You’re not a bad leader if you take a break now and then.”
Zuko scowls. “What, so people can then say at least my father wasn’t lazy?”
Sokka tilts his head. “Don’t you think there’s a difference between laziness and, I don’t know, choosing life and happiness in spite of a terrible dad who tried to take both from you?”
----------
Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this.
(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade | Rated T | 55k
Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.
The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.
The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.
Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.
Will We Last the Night by CSHfic | Rated T | 144k
Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole.
[An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].
War Crimes by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 90k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING FOR SA, CHILD SA, TORTURE, MURDER, AND VIOLENCE - PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND CONTENT WARNINGS)
Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously) 
Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect. 
And they argue. 
A lot. 
War games by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 428k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING, TORTURE, VIOLENCE, MURDER - Unfinished)
After the events of War Crimes, Sokka and Zuko have escaped Zhao’s warship and are fleeing across the Earth Kingdom. As well as unfamiliar terrain, they have to navigate their shared trauma, work out where they fit into the war, and their place in each others lives.
Sokka is aware that being friends with the enemy is going to bring complications, but he probably should have guessed that being friends with Zuko in particular, was going to be a bit like dunking your head repeatedly into a bucket of angry Fire Ferrets.
Katara is also grappling with the confusion of befriending an enemy, something that doesn’t prove as difficult as she had expected with the bond of shared, furious grief bridging old wounds. (Learning a new way to look at her bending doesn't hurt either)
Azula, struggling with the Fire Lord’s mistrust, encounters a few nasty surprises and has to make some difficult decisions. Luckily, she is a great deal better at making sensible choices than her brother.
Her father may have made a slight tactical error.
In the Soft Light by CHSfic | Rated T | 84k
As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.
or
Moon Spirit Sokka AU
These Things Written by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 222k
The letter was never supposed to be read, least of all by Sokka. But then, things happen every day that aren’t supposed to, in war.
Or,
On a particularly hopeless night, Zuko sends out a messenger hawk to nowhere. He didn’t realize that his messenger hawk is deeply committed to completing the job. And that Sokka happens to be traveling straight through nowhere, at the time.
These Things Known by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 400k (Third in series! There is a second one between These Things Written and These Things Known)
[Aang cuts him a quick, guilty look. “I didn’t mean to imply that you…”
Sokka raises his eyebrows. “That I…Focus on the present to the point of blindly committing to enormously questionable courses of action with significant long-term ramifications because they’re gratifying in the immediate moment, which is particularly concerning as our chief Maker of Plans?”
“Uh—That’s basically…Yeah.”]
Surrounded by danger and doubts, separated by war and one irrevocable decision—after the world of just-Sokka-and-Zuko crashes into the world of everything else, what comes next?
Or,
What happens when trusting someone suddenly means something far different out in the world than it did in the space of a Ba Sing Se teashop?
I'll Share the Moon, if You'll Share the Sun by anarchycox | Rated M | 400k
An alternate world where Iroh leads a coup against Ozai on the eclipse and wins the throne for Zuko. The southern water tribe hadn't sent men to fight in thirty years, instead protecting their home, laying traps, using guerilla tactics so the fire nation gave up fighting them.
Sokka and Katara found Aang, but being frozen in ice for a hundred years has ramifications and for almost four years the tribe focuses on healing the avatar.
Zuko is advised for continued peace to have an arranged marriage outside the fire nation. The best option is a the child of the chief of the southern tribe. Katara is in love with Aang and is heartbroken, but will do her duty for her people. Sokka finds a loophole that they can carefully and craftily exploit.
Aka they lie. They lie so hard and Sokka becomes the one betrothed to Fire Lord Zuko. He is sure there will be no consequences to the plan. Certainly not going to fall in love with the man he is lying to. At all. Nope indeedy, no love on the menu. Dang it.
Everything That I Am Not by Benedick | Rated T | 85k (Unfinished)
Sokka isn’t stupid. Not that his sister is, mind you (at least, he’d never call her that to her face now that she’s honed her waterbending), or any of the rest of Team Avatar, although sometimes it feels like he’s living in a different world from the rest of them — a world where running out of food means starving, and walking into a town full of firebenders with the Avatar in tow will get you killed, rather than help you free a beaten-down Earthbender colony.
Anyways.
Sokka isn’t stupid, which is why he laughs directly in Aunt Wu’s face when she tells him that he will marry the Fire Lord.
As always, if you're curious how I get my data or how to do this yourself, shoot me a DM or come bother me in my Discord Server (It's called The Swamp, we're all queer and neurodiverse with various interests and are currently having a pokemon themed Swampmas)
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milkytheholy1 · 2 years
Text
Everything Ends: Part 3
Part 1. Part 2. Ultimate masterlist.
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One portal jump later...
When the turtles arrived home there was tension in the air, you tried to talk to Leo but he just shrugged his shoulders and said he was fine, "As cool as ice" was how he phrased it. But something was gnawing at you that said otherwise, his brothers were giving him glares from across the room and Raph's casam was at an all-time low.
Mikey assisted April in tying the teen to a chair, now you could get a proper good look at him. With all the armour you could only suppose he was into cosplay or one of those battle reenactments you see in the park. Leo and Raph stood the closest, watching him with their faces only inches from his.
"-And that's when I found him with this picture, so I brought him right here." April spoke, holding the criminating photo in her hands. Splinter took it from her, you, Donnie and Mikey were peering over his shoulder to get a better glimpse. It was a group photo, everyone was in frame while you and April were smushed into the middle. 
"H-how did he get that?" you stuttered out, suddenly feeling uneased, was this guy a stalker or something?
"Ugh" the kid mumbled, shaking his head slowly. Though once he looked up a beam came to his face, "Sensei!" he shrieked. Leo flinched back, waving his arms around and landing on one leg, you held back your laughter and would remember to mock him later.
Once the teen tore his gaze from Leo, he set his sights on the rest of you, "It's you! It's all of you, together!" wa-was he crying right now? The boy shook and rattled in the chair, "I never thought I'd see you again! I-I'm so happy I could hug you!" he cheered out. However, he was a little too excited and the chair toppled over with him on it; once again landing him in a face full of concrete. 
Raph grabbed the back of the chair and shoved it until the teen's back was against the wall, "Who are you? And how'd you get this picture?" Raph's teeth were bared, his left eye occasionally twitching out of anger, something that rarely happened. The teen gulped, eyes steadily following the snapping turtle before scanning the rest of the room. His eyes landed on Leo but slowly shifted to land on you, another tear fell. 
"I-I'm a friend, let me explain." he hurried out, "My name is Casey Jones, and the reason I have that picture is because I'm from...the future!" he hushed out, his tone wavering for dramatic effect. The room was silent for a brief moment before you all burst out laughing, even Splinter couldn't contain the outburst. 
You wiped a tear from your eye, "Yeah right, and Jupiter Jim 16 is the best movie in the franchise." you joked. Casey frowned, brows scrunched together, "This isn't a joke-"
"Please, if time travel was real then future Donnie would have told me the lottery numbers by now, like we planned~" The tech genius tapped his forehead, his knowing plan stored away for safekeeping. Casey turned to face Leo, he was pleading at this point, "It's true! You need to believe me, all of humanity depends on it."
"Keep talkin'." Raph grumbled out, suddenly interested. Casey looked down towards his feet, steadying himself, "In the future, our planet was decimated by an alien race. We were hunted, we lived in caves, and we ate leaves and rats. I know this sounds insane, but Master Leonardo gave me a mission."
"Master?" you whispered, of course, Leo took this straight to his ego. He sent a wink your way, his nonexistent brows jumping up and down, "I do like how he calls me 'master'."
"Of course I do," Casey spoke with wonder, "You were the greatest ninja warrior the world had ever seen! You told me to find the key and stop the Kraang."
"Pfft, aliens?" April mocked, hands braced on her hips. You noticed Splinter hadn't said anything in a while, taking a look at him he appeared stunned, "Splints? You ok?"
"T-the Kraang?" he bellowed out, "I have heard of that name. Powerful, barbaric creatures worshipped by the Foot Clan. Legend says they came from the stars. Ruthless, merciful and with one desire...to enslave our world like many others before us. All seemed lost until four mystic warriors forged a mighty weapon, a key that was used to lock them in a prison dimension beyond this world."
You couldn't believe this, I mean after goat men and haunted armour it was definitely in the realm of possibility...but aliens? You bit your lip, mind racing with worrying thoughts, "What happened to the key?"
Splinter stroked his beard, "Over the centuries, the key remained hidden to protect mankind and prevent the return of the Kraang."
"Sooo, future boy is really from the future?" April huffed out. 
"Someone finds the key! Today! They steal it and use it to open the doorway and free the Kraang. That's why I came back, to find it first." He nudged his head towards the family photo in Raph's clenched fist, "Master Leonardo drew the key on the back of that photo. So to stop the Kraang, all we have to do is find that key before it's stolen."
The three turtle brothers stared at Leo, unamused. Leo began sweating, his body going rigid, "What's going on?" you questioned, arms folded across your stomach. Leo pointed his fingers together, looking anywhere but at his family, "Ah ha, yeah so did future, handsome, amazing me tell you what to do if that already happened?" he cringed out.
"WHAT!" You, April, Casey and Splinter shouted out, "You had the key with you and you lost it?" you groaned, tugging on your hair. Leo swivelled to face you, his face was full of guilt, "We're boned!" you stared at the ceiling in defeat.
"No, we're not." Raph said after a moment of silence passed, "Cause we know who has it, the Foot Clan. Okay, we gotta find them before they can use it, and this time, we do it together!" he glared at Leo. They all walked off to grab their gear, you followed Leo to his room, not even a joke fell from his lips. This must have been bad.
"Hey, you good?" you asked, you were leaning against the room's entrance, the bright neon lights illuminating your form. Leo huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands covering his eyes, "I screwed up! We had the key and I messed up and now the world's gonna end. All because of me."
You sat by him, you couldn't really disagree, he was right...in a way. You shoved his side lightly with your own, a small smile gracing your lips, "Hey, the world's not over yet. Besides, you promised me last week a pizza date. And I can promise you right now, I will not be giving up on free pizza."
Leo chuckled, it was small but still noticeable, "Yeah, yeah." He looked up at you, his eyes shining with all the reflections of light, "W-what if this is the end?"
"If it is? Well, we go out the way we always do. We keep fighting for what's right and think about the consequences later."
"That doesn't fill me with much hope, y'know." he teased, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, "Wasn't trying to, Blue. But hey, sometimes hope is the only thing we have."
"Hmmm," he hummed out, rubbing his snout into your hair, he did it a lot when he was stressed. But soon his name was called and the moment between you both was gone. Pulling away, you pressed a small kiss to Leo's cheek, "Go knock 'em dead, tiger." Leo nodded and quickly left with the others. 
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no-where-new-hero · 5 months
Text
Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Day 24 (Part 4, Ch. 5) 
…in which Polly learns some family history.
This is the big countdown to the finale, and always the part where a melancholy falls over me, for some reason. Part of it is sadness that the book is going to end—part of it is the unique quietude of this novel’s arc. The urgency of the moment is that of preparing for a fight or facing off in a battle of wits (which I guess is what will happen) as Polly hurries back to Middleton, but at the moment, the biggest thing you feel is—will Polly be able to save her own childhood? Because, in effect, that’s what’s happening. She’s saving Tom, but she’s also validating the experiences of her own life and the choices she took to bring her here in order to close that chapter and open the next one.
But that will come later. At the outset, we get a bit of narration on the Thomas the Rhymer/Tam Lin ballads. We’ve been hearing echoes of them, of course, with the epigraphs, but now DWJ explicitly ties the characters and happenings to Laurel. We learn that Tom was indeed gifted by Laurel, like True Thomas, so that the things he invented came true, and that would have been connected to the sad pictures Laurel intended to give him. Polly changed the course of both happenings by involving herself in the make-believe and by changing the pictures, both of which will end up helping Tom, though currently all seems lost.
Polly has enough of her own problems, though, because as soon as she returns to Granny’s house, she learns that her own family has been caught up in Laurel’s schemes because her grandfather—Granny’s husband and Reg’s father—was also one of Laurel’s. Granny’s involvement in everything comes into the open here—not that it was necessarily any big secret—but it again shows DWJ working on both a magical and a very human level. On the everyday level, we see that she has been looking out for Polly in terms of Tom the way she had been looking after her with regards to Ivy and Reg. What’s mildly redemptive for Tom is how Granny confirms that he didn’t seem to be aware of using Polly to the extent that we know he was, and he seems to have regretted it—thus leading to his decision to push her away at the Middleton Fair. Shame had entered the picture for him, too.
On the magical level, though, Granny acts as a keeper of memory, like Tan Audel in her powers: “It’s laid on them not to say, nor me to remember, but I keep what I can in my head by living where I do.” As long as Granny can remember, then she can exert some kind of moral balance to get back at Laurel for taking her husband away. There almost becomes something fated or hereditary about Polly’s involvement with Tom and Laurel after this information—she’s taking final revenge for an act that tore into her family, probably helped to contribute to her parents’ divorce, and the own state of her life.
We also learn that the Obah Crypt was the Fire and Hemlock picture, with a lock of Tom’s hair inside. It’s only vaguely explained, but I take this as a kind of protective charm on Tom’s life, which he gave into Polly’s safekeeping? There’s a very fairy tale irony in the fact that she uses this to hurt him.
Finally, Polly has her vigil at the Miles Cross Station—taking on the role of the waiting knight/trainee hero from one of the Hunsdon House pictures, which Tom called soppy. It is certainly very wet outside. But at last everyone gathers, including a lot of nameless and faceless people who I only realized later are supposed to represent Laurel’s fairy court, ready to take a train to Nowhere. 
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allthoughts-headgay · 9 months
Text
ok ok ok gl!ranboo and cabinet man by lemon demon this is gonna be long so its under the cut
"Electric desires had unraveled all my wires" - !!!!! WANTING TO ESCAPE THE MASK W THE WIRE THINGS
"Now I'm in the box for safekeeping "-!!!!!!!!!!!! THE BOX AROUND THEIR HEAD (which also looked like a tv 👀)
"The news reporters reported that I died" - HE GOT TAKEN FROM HIS LIFE AND SHIT
"But all my organs were living on inside" - EVEN THO THEY WERE BEING CONTROLLED BY SHOWFALL AND SHIT HE WAS STILL ALIVE SOMEWHERE IN THERE
"Circuit board to brain" - WHEN HE WENT ALL NPC
"With two lungs collecting change" - HE AND THEIR LITERAL BODY WERE BEING USED FOR PROFIT
"One big human heart gently beeping" - AGAIN, HE IS HUMAN SOMEWHERE IN THERE BUT EVEN THAT IS BEING BENT AND USED FOR ENTERTAINMENT
this next part could work like a duet between showfall and gl!ranboo
showfall:
"You can't win me, I can't be beat" - showfall is inescapable, they are doomed to just repeat the cycle forever
"I won't hurt you unless you cheat" - the streamers will be safe as long as they do not resist (hetch?? hello??) and just go along with the cycle, they will just keep reviving
gl!ranboo:
"You can't see me behind the screen" - he still keeps some of their humanity hidded from showfall and the viewers, no matter how much they are used for entertainment
"I'm half human and half machine" - he has given up so much of himself and their identity for views, plus the mask controlling him and shit
this next bit is just gl!ranboo again
"Thank God for business, they let me take the floor" - showfall had determined that ranboo would provide them with profit, so they took him
"I stood so proudly, like I was going to war" - they were stuck in this situation, but did not give up. he stayed strong and faught back against showfall
"Players soon appeared and I quickly was revered" - players = viewers, controlling ranboo's actions yet rooting for his escape
"This must be what love would have felt like" - they were robbed of the chance at real love, and instead only received the sort of fake "love" given by the viewers. one who's entire identity is turned into a character for entertainment cannot be truly loved within that character
"Such dedication, they came from miles away" - the viewers were relentless, coming in from all over the world to control him. some wanted them to escape, some seeing them as just a character
"With eyes so piercing, they'd wait their turn to play" - the viewers were observing and analyzing everything he did, seeing the situation as little more than a game for the viewers to win
this next bit is showfall
"Perfect patient lines because I was in their minds" - the viewers waited patiently for their turn to affect the situation, accepting everything they saw at face value. in a way, showfall was controlling them just like they were controlling ranboo (squiggles, the funny situations distracting the viewers, etc)
"I could do whatever I felt like (whatever I felt like)" - because the viewers did not question what was going on or try to break free from showfall's control over them, showfall could present whatever it wanted and the viewers would go along with it
this bit is gl!ranboo again but with the idea that he had gone through many cycles before (or perhaps in the future if they had not died?) before he dies so not totally canon but who knows
"I'm happy for years and years" - ranboo is complacent in showfall's control, deciding that it was better/safer to play along and not resist (like when he went npc?)
"And, only eating the occasional maintenance man" - he rarely rebelled (until the end), oblivious to what was really going on
"Only driving a few kids to madness" - at least in ranboo's perspective, most of the viewers did not care about them. to the viewers he was nothing more than a character. most of the viewers would not go mad spending their days worrying or theorizing or trying to get them out, they would simply move on. (key word in this line is "few" lol)
"Maybe they were predisposed to madness, who knows?" - maybe those viewers were like that for every fictional character, maybe that's just the way they are, they still don't see that he is actually a person
"I only want to have fun" - they just want to be able to live their life, even though he's accepted that his life is now just being used as entertainment. at least they have some sort of purpose
"But now they're telling me my days here are done" - the viewers inevitably get bored of ranboo, and he no longer provides showfall profit. he has no purpose, there is no reason to keep them around.
"'Cause there's a tiny little box that they make in Japan and pretty soon it's gonna fit in your hand" - as soon as ranboo becomes obsolete, there will be another form of entertainment pushed in front of the viewers' eyes to keep them engaged. it's a never ending cycle.
this bit is gl!ranboo, a while after they are replaced
"It's getting lonely, it's getting hard to breathe" - he has been turned into a character, their sole purpose was to entertain. once the viewers move on, there is nothing left for him, and nothing left of them to turn back into a person
"The arcade's empty, I think it's Christmas Eve" - the viewers are off having fun somewhere else, trapped in the cycle of fake characters and fake situations to keep them distracted, to make them forget
"Someone's broken in, now they're painting on my skin" - some viewers inevitably remember ranboo, coming back to them even after he's been discarded, expecting to find the same exact character that they knew.
"Breaking me and taking my quarters" - he's suddenly being used as entertainment, drained for money, just as they thought he'd found peace.
"Bashing in my face with a crowbar, kicking me and pushing me over" - ranboo is suddenly forced to create more entertaining content, contort themself back into the character, in order to keep the remaining viewers constantly happy
"Now they see my blood on their sneakers" - inevitably, some of his humanity comes out, shocking and driving away any remaining viewers, leaving them lonely, but finally at peace, yet still unable to find themself again.
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asvterias · 8 months
Text
𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟦: 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖸𝗈𝗎
Series Masterlist || The Cast || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
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chapter warnings: some jealousy and minor cursing
chapter pairings: lynn loud x black!fem!reader, platonic!bailey family x platonic!lynn, platonic!loud family x platonic!reader
word count: 5.9k+
tag list: @sheluvv-jen
author’s note: there’s finally some romance going on!
also send me a private message, an ask, or leave a comment if you want to be apart of the taglist!
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The next morning over at the Louds’ house was productive, to say the least. You changed into a sleeveless mini red plaid dress that dangled over mid-knees with a pair of black converses to match. After getting dressed, Lynn wasn’t upstairs so you assumed that she was downstairs, but to your surprise when you checked, she wasn’t there either.
Lori had informed you that Lynn was out and wouldn’t be back till later. That was how you found yourself conversing with the teen rockstar, Luna Loud. For half of your Sunday morning, you spent with Luna, just discussing each other’s interests. You and Luna settled for breakfast next to each other. You ate some pancakes with orange juice while Luna just ate cereal.
Lunch has rolled around and Lynn arrives back at home, but not empty-handed. You walked up to her, curious to see what she had brought but she gave it to her mom for safekeeping. Luckily for you, the design logo on the mini bag gave it all away; Birmingham Jewelry. You felt completely clueless being fully aware that Lynn wasn’t the type to wear any fancy jewelry at all, mostly sporting tiny earrings.
Although seeing the frown form upon your face after the encounter with her mom, she shrugged it off. She didn’t trust herself with priceless items, especially if she was planning to give them to you. It was safer in her mom’s hand anyways. Better to be safe than sorry, right?
You ventured upstairs, making your way into Lynn’s and Lucy’s room. Lynn was not that far behind, catching up to you rather quickly, her speed becoming an instinct at this point.
“Where were you all morning?” You interrogated, crossing your arms.
“I was out…” The athletic girl trails off.
“Out where?” You pushed her further.
“Look, [name], that doesn’t matter, but I’m here now. So can we just drop it?” She sighs loudly and sits on her bed.
You scoff unconvincingly at her trying to change the topic of your conversation but allowing it with the rolling of your eyes.
“Fine,” You flop your body next to her, looking at her iPad’s screen, noticing that she was on an online shopping website. “So…what are you shopping for?”
“I’m trying to get these new cleats but they’re so expensive…” She groans, gently shoving the tablet in your hands and flinging herself on the bed. “Or the ones that are at a decent price, they don’t have it in my shoe size. It totally sucks!”
“Well, what happened to your current cleats?” You scrolled through the viable options of baseball cleats.
“They’re all worn out and I desperately need one for the new season.” She explains with a tone of annoyance, feeling defeated. You looked at her with sympathy in your eyes, remaining silent, unsure of what to say. “It’s nothing for you to worry about anyways, let’s go get lunch.” She hastily cut you off, not wanting any more non-verbal pity from you.
“Yeah, let me use the bathroom, first.” She nodded you off and you headed towards the bathroom.
When you finished using the bathroom, you were in the hallway and stopped by Luna. “Hey, [name]!” Luna smiles, popping up from her doorway. “Mind if I steal you for a sec? Lynn’s not gonna mind.”
“Sure, don’t see any harm in that.” You complied, walking into Luna’s room.
She grabbed her guitar and sat down on her purple DI box. “Thanks, I just need a second opinion on this tone that I’m working on for my new song.”
“Go right ahead.”
She fiddled with the guitar strings, piecing together an upbeat melody. The lively tune was very hypnotic, almost placing you in a trance but it wavered away when she stopped.
“It’s great, I like it!”
“Thanks, you’re the best, [name].” You nodded in agreement, leaving the bedroom, searching for Lynn, thinking that she’d be where you left her.
“I swear this girl…has a habit of running off whenever I leave.” You mumble to yourself, looking into the empty room in which you last left Lynn.
Her voice seemed near. “So, I brought her this bracelet from this crazy-ass expensive jewelry store and I was planning to give it to her when she has her tennis tournament.” Following Lynn’s voice, you stopped at the twins’ bedroom, finally finding the source of the sound.
Lola’s and Lana’s bedroom door was slightly cracked open, sufficient for unintentional eavesdropping. Neither of the girls noticed you by the door and resumed their conversation.
“Since you’re one of the only people in this family, who has good jewelry taste. I mean, I would ask Leni but then she’d probably tell.”
“Say no more and show me the bracelet,” Lola demands, pausing for a few minutes before sighing, “It’s gorgeous. Is that her birthstone beside her initials, that’s so thoughtful.”
“Really, you think? Cause I spent all weekend having it customized by the jewelers.” Guess that also explained why she was being so secretive whenever she held her tablet around you.
“Oh, I don’t think, I know. Trust me, she’s gonna love it.”
It sparked her confidence. “Thanks, sis.”
“No problem! Now let’s get back to business.”
“Are you sure that she’ll like it, Lola?” Lynn asks with a hesitant look on her face.
“I’m 100% positive!! Now, put some more glitter on there.”
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You were already downstairs with your packed bag, sitting on the couch watching television with Lincoln and Clyde while Lynn packs her overnight bag and hauls it downstairs. After spending the weekend with Lynn, your mother only saw it fair to have Lynn spend the weekend at your house. Neither of you has disagreed on the matter, rather enjoying spending more time together.
“Ok, do guys want me to drop you?” Mrs. Loud offers. Lynn joins you on the couch with her overnight bag parked by her feet.
“Oh, no thanks. Mrs. Loud, I’m getting picked up.” You answered.
“By one of your parents?”
“No, by my driver.”
A car honks outside, signifying that your ride is here. “Oh, that’s him. See you guys later.” You barged out the door with Lynn right behind you. You discarded your bags into the limo’s trunk as Lynn did the same and got into the car.
“His name is Mike and he’s my family chauffeur,” You introduce Lynn to him.
“So how rich are you?”
“What? Want me to give you a number?” You playfully ask, taking it as a joke.
It was very surprising when she nodded. “Oh! Well, I would say $5 million rich.”
“$5 million!!” She exclaimed, “Do you know what I could do with 5 million dollars?” You giggled at her outburst, finding it adorable.
“You can do a lot, Lynn.”
An idea came to your head at that moment. An idea that would solve Lynn’s sports problem. You knocked on the small glass barrier that separated you and the driver as he rolled it down. Whispering something inaudible to Mike and he nods at your instructions.
“What are you up to, gorgeous?” She detects that mischievous smirk plastered on your lips.
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,”
That was all you said, wanting Lynn to play the guessing game for your delight. The car drive to your house was deterred and rerouted to the nearest shoe store.
Lynn noticed the difference in the passing houses that she’d grown familiar with. “Hey, this isn’t the way to your house.” Her eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.
“I know, baseball girl.” You shrug, “But a certain someone said that they needed new cleats and we’re getting them for her.”
“You don’t have to do that for me, [name].“
You rested your hand on top of hers, and gazed into her eyes, “Well too bad because I want to.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” She folds her arms in a joking manner.
“Then I’m going against your wishes.” You concluded.
The car stops, indicating your arrival at the shoe store, and you two step out of the car. The perplexed look on Lynn’s face was so priceless which had you feeling extremely giddy on the inside.
“Are we gonna stay standing outside all day or are we going inside?”
She grabs your hand, tugging you along with her to the entrance of the shoe store. After two hours of shopping through sports equipment, Lynn is finally done and you’ve never been so bored in your entire life, but there was something about the familiar gleam in her eyes that made you change your mind. Your sentiment towards Lynn’s favorite sport changed just because you knew that she admired it so much.
You, Lynn, and Mike had to carry all of the items to the counter due to there being so many sports items.
Lynn had doubled up on everything. New socks, new cleats, new baseball bats, duffle bags, and batting helmets, and all because you told her to get anything she wanted. Well, she did fulfill her heart’s desire and you were content that you made that happen.
“Is this your dad’s credit card?” She asked.
“No,” You scoff, flashing her the name of the card. “It’s my credit card. We all have our own credit card and bank account, it’s better this way.”
She nodded in acknowledgment with a tint of blush on her face. You paid for Lynn’s items and you all headed back to the car, putting them in the limousine’s back trunk.
“Come on, let’s get food, whatever you want, it’s my treat.”
“Chick-fil-A is the best!”
“Chick-fil-A it is.”
Mike drove down to the nearest Chick-fil-A and you all ate inside, tired of lounging around in the car for the last few hours.
“Why did you pay for all those things for me?”
“I just wanted to spoil you today.”
Since your eavesdropping incident, you wanted to repay her kindness without letting her know that. What? She was already giving you something, so it was all in good time.
During the car ride back home, Lynn slept like a baby in the comfort of your arms. Apparently being a consistent athlete meant that she slept very easily.
Eventually, Mike was granted access to your security gate and he parked close by the front door. You wrapped an arm around her waist so most of her body weight would depend on you. Surprisingly, Lynn was very lightweight, making it easy to carry her outside of the car. While assisting Lynn, Mike had brought all the baggage out of the car and left them in your care.
“I’m not tired.” She mumbles, trying to fight her tiredness. You made it to your bedroom door as you opened it and walked inside.
“Yes, you are.”
You placed the brunette girl on your bed, tugging her into the fresh sheets, watching her slightly stir trying to find a comfortable position.
You left the bedroom for your bathroom to change into your practice outfit, abandoning a sleeping Lynn, and heading into the backyard to practice.
You had set up your tennis trainer, putting it on a medium pace. Your tennis trainer helped launch the balls to you without the help of another person, so it was money well spent.
Within a few hours of your practice, Lynn was finally awake and caught you practicing tennis. She sits down on the singular black bench by the far corner to your right, watching you train freely.
“I thought that you ditched me, and was almost worried for a sec.”
“Oh please, I would never do that to my baseball girl.” You grinned, swinging your racket to hit the flying balls.
“You know, I like it when you’re looking at me.” She emphasized.
“And I like it when I’m winning so hold off for a bit.” Too focused on the practice, you didn’t realize Lynn walking over to your tennis trainer, and turning it off.
“What the hell Lynn?” You shout, now distracted from your tennis rehearsal.
“I told you in advance that I’d rather you look at me.”
“Okay,” You nod before pointing to the bucket of tennis rackets, “Grab a racket and help me practice.”
“W-what? That’s not what I meant.”
“You wanted my full attention during practice and now you got it. Get a tennis racket.”
She sighed and retrieved a tennis racket, walking over to the court.
“Ok, we’ll do a simple round.” You said, flinging the ball in the air before whacking it over to Lynn.
She swung but missed it by a few meters. Not too shabby for a first-timer.
“That was a love for you.”
During the middle of your game, you became more driven with each swing and hit. Lynn felt inclined to pry into your peculiar behavior, “Ok, you’re training harder than I’ve ever seen you do.”
“This is your first time seeing me play.”
“Exactly and I can tell that you’ve been adding unnecessary pressure when hitting the ball. What’s going on with you?”
You fiddled with the green ball in your hands, deciding that practice was finished for today. You threw the ball on the ground, and walked over to her, close enough to the net.
“I have this upcoming tournament and my opponent Emma Campbell is highly known for being the teen best tennis player and I just feel like I might lose to her.”
“What didn’t you tell me?” She gently squeezed your hands, trying to coax an answer out of you.
“Because…you said that tennis wasn’t exactly a real sport.”
“You know [name], tennis isn’t really my forte unlike you. But for you, I’ll try to understand and enjoy it. Tell me when your next game is, and I guarantee that my family and I will be the first ones there.” You giggled at her heart-warming gesture. “And don’t worry about Emma Campbell, I’m pretty sure that half the time that she’s cheating.”
“Really, you think?”
She hums, nodding her head, “Now, I think that you should practice a bit more, but without the force, can you do that for me, beautiful?”
“Of course, I can.”
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The next morning was nerve-racking for you as you got dressed. You tied your hair in a ponytail and dressed in a black tennis outfit with a black sports visor and white tennis shoes. On the other hand, the car ride over to the country club eased up your anxiety alongside your family’s reassuring words.
As soon as your car stopped in front of the country club, you grabbed your racket bag and sprinted out in search of a particular brunette. You spotted Lynn and her family in the shaded stands with a giant poster, encouraging your future win. Natalie was there for your support system as well.
Right now, you were in the stands talking with Lynn. To be honest, you did most of the talking or rather rambling while Lynn did her best to alleviate your continuous panicking.
It took Lynn a little while to calm you down. “[Name], I wanted to give you something before you go.” Lynn stops you.
“What is it, Lynn?” You inquire with a confused gleam in your eyes. At first, she didn’t answer as if she was contemplating whether to continue. Your eyes caught sight of a baby blue box in her hands that she horribly hid behind her back. “Is that for me?”
Her eyes widened at your question. “Yeah, it is!” She handed you the box and grinned when you took it from her hands. Lifting the top cover of the box, opening it to reveal a stunning bracelet. It was a beaded bracelet that had your first name initials next to your birthstone.
“It was kinda hard to find your birthstone on such short notice.”
“It’s beautiful, Lynn, thank you.” You cooed, taking the jewelry out of the box and putting it on your right hand. This generous gift certainly felt like a good luck charm bracelet. For a while, you admired the stunning bracelet on your wrist before looking up and noticing the giant poster that her parents held. “Is that why you were in Lola’s room? To make me that poster?”
“How did you know that I was in Lola’s room?”
“Your frustrations were very easy to spot.”
She laughs boisterously, earning a few annoyed looks from strangers but she ignores them. If they weren’t you then she wouldn’t give them the time of day.
“Oh, umm…your sisters wanted me to give you this.” She showed you a dainty gold necklace with a crescent moon lingering at the bottom. You recognized it when you were shopping with your sisters for the first time in Royal Woods. Cassandra had the sun, Madison had the star and you with the moon.
“Can you put it on me?” You ask, giving her the necklace and turning around.
“Of course, anything for you, beautiful.” You felt flush under those words. Those simple words shouldn’t have such a major effect on you but it did.
She brushes your hair to the left and clips the necklace around your neck, securing it. Turning back around to face her, you smile at her, gazing into each other’s eyes lovingly.
Just then, the loudspeaker announces with a booming voice, simultaneously breaking the shared eye contact “May all tennis players make their way to the tennis court. The game is about to start in 5 minutes.”
“You’re gonna crush it!” She bids you off with a cheek kiss, watching you scurry off down to the tennis court, warming up for the last time. Lynn joins her family back at the bleachers and sat down, ready to enjoy the competition.
“So, are you two dating?” Lori asks, leaning into Lynn subtly whose eyes were trained on your figure.
“What!” Incredulously, she turned to look at her eldest sister, breaking her sight away from you, “No, we’re not dating.”
“Are you sure?” Leni chimed in, now seemingly interested. “You two seem pretty close.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” The brunette girl deadpanned.
“Really?” Luna invites herself into the conversation. “Then how come you can afford brand new cleats that are very expensive…and all new sports equipment?”
“[Name] offered to buy me new cleats and other items as well.” She explains with a shrug of her shoulder, “How could I have said no?”
“Really?” Lori persisted with a raise of her eyebrows, “And did [name] offer to buy you lunch as well?”
Lynn nods. “Yeah, so?”
“And it was also Lynn’s idea to create this giant poster.” Lola and Lana walk over.
“Wait, is that why you were gone Sunday morning to buy [name] a bracelet?” Luna questions.
“Yeah, what was the store where you got it from?” Leni rambles, tilting her head to the side, trying to remember. “It was Birmingham Jewelry. Woah, sis, that place is like crazy expensive, those pair of necklaces that I brought from them took me 6 months’ allowance.”
“That jewelry store is the most expensive in town, Lynn. Wow, you really must like this girl.” Lori expresses with a grin.
“Guys, I’m just trying to be supportive.” Lynn finalizes, trying to stop her sister’s meddling in her love life. “There’s nothing wrong with being supportive.”
“As her friend or as her girlfriend?” Luna questions with a skeptical look, folding her arms. Lynn stays silent, avoiding eye contact with any of her sisters, unable to decipher a proper answer. Were they right? Did Lynn hope that you wanted to explore past the bounds of friendship with her? Of course, she did. She fell in love with you the moment that she laid her eyes on you which eventually turned her into a stuttering mess whenever you were with her. However, with the possibility of embarrassing rejection lingering in her mind, she kept her feelings hidden, buried deep down until she was certain that you would reciprocate those feelings back.
“Yeah, because nothing says supportive like a $300 bracelet,” Lori mumbles to Luna and Leni.
Luna drags Lynn away from the huge crowd, despite her protests. The two sisters are by the bottom of the bleaches, not straying too far away.
“Look, Lynn.” The rockstar starts with a deep exhale. “It’s okay to have feelings for [name]—“
“For the last time, I don’t have a crush on her!” She exclaims, momentarily shocking her older sister. “Why does everyone keep thinking that?”
Luna wasn’t convinced by her sister’s outburst, aware that she was in denial. Whether it was her developing feelings for you or the fact that you were a girl seemed to throw her off track.
“You can deny all you want, but we both know that you’re falling in love with [name]. It’s cute to see you all lovesick whenever she’s around.” She smiles, observing the coat of red appearing on her sister’s face by the mention of your name. “Now I’m not saying that you should rush your confession but at least wait it out to see if she’s at least reciprocating those feelings in return. That saves you less pain, regret, and embarrassment.”
“I’ve never had romantic feelings for someone and now when I realize it, I’m scared. I’m still exploring my sexuality.”
“It’s okay to stay unlabeled for now, you’ll know when the time is right. I’m your big sister and I’m not gonna judge you for being you. You’re still my annoying sporty and loving younger sister, Lynn and I love you for it.’
“But what if…” She looks down and sheepishly kicks her feet, “I do confess and she doesn’t like me back, and it ends up all weird between us two.…”
“Then it’s her loss.” She slides a comforting arm around Lynn’s shoulder, “She missed out on someone really awesome.”
“Thanks, Luna.”
“Anytime sis.”
“And besides, if you two lovebirds get together, we can go on double dates.”
“Hard pass.” Lynn laughs, getting a playful shove from Luna, who just laughs as well. Luna was happy that she was able to brighten Lynn’s spirits regarding her possible love life.
The two girls rejoin their family in the crowd. Just then, your family finds their seats next to the Loud family and greets them with a wave of their hands.
Alongside the help of Luna, Lynn confidently holds up the poster with a matching smile etched on her face. “You got this, [name]!” She enthusiastically cheered. Both of your families made noises of encouragement as well.
Down at the tennis court, you heard her voice very faintly but smiled nonetheless.
“Oh, that’s so cute!” Your current competition, Emma Campbell sneers with fake sympathy, “Your little girlfriend cheering for you in the stands, so cliche.” The blonde rolls her eyes. To be honest, you’ve never liked the Campbell girl, whether it was her snobbish attitude or her inconsideration of other people. “Too bad that she’s gonna be cheering for a loser in a few minutes and maybe I’ll steal her away from you.”
“Oh, shut up!” You defended Lynn. “We both know that Lynn could do so much better than you.”
“Why are you so worried about Lynn? Aren’t you two just friends?”
“I never said that!”
“Yeah, whatever!” Emma drags on, “You should know that me and Lynn are kinda an item.”
“What type of drugs are you on?” You boisterously exclaimed. To say that you were shocked would be the understatement of the year. Surely, Lynn would have told you if she was talking to someone else. The athletic girl didn’t seem like the two-timing type, and she wasn’t…she couldn’t be…right?
‘No! Don’t overthink, Emma’s just trying to get under your skin! Besides, Lynn is a great girl, she’s not conniving, she’s generous. She gifted you that specialized bracelet.’ You think. ‘The gesture was sweet and so is she.’
“And how long have you been pining over Lynn for?”
“Doesn’t matter!”
“It does if it concerns Lynn.”
“Fine! I’ve had a crush on her since we were ten!”
You didn’t mean to have a bitchy attitude, you swear. But it just happened, and you couldn’t stop it and you weren’t planning on stopping it either.
“How about this…” She suggested, “Whoever wins this game gets to ask Lynn out on a date. The loser can’t interfere with their relationship.”
You scoff at her desperate attempts of being in a relationship. “Lynn’s not an object! She’s a human girl, like the rest of us, who has feelings. Let her ask out whoever she wants, even if it isn’t any of us.”
“You’re only saying this because you know that Lynn’s gonna choose me.”
“What makes you think that? Is it the lack of communication that you have with Lynn or is it the heavy delusion that lingers in your mind all day? She barely acknowledged you before and when I moved to town, we became instantly captivated with one another.” You say, “So I’m certain that I have a better chance with her than you’ll ever do.”
“You’re just saying that to throw me off my game.”
“Oh, please, throwing you off your game will require you to have any game, and you’re lacking that.”
“What? Scared that you’re gonna lose!”
She was losing this argument and you could tell that she was choking up.
“To you? You’re not even real competition!”
Your bold comment earned a petty eye roll from the other teen as she began the first serve. The first match commenced and the scores were being rallied up.
You were at complete ease throughout the entire game, finding your inner peace with your love for tennis. On the other hand with Emma about Lynn, your jealousy had gained immediate control of your hand performance but you managed to restrain yourself, not needing overkill to happen and cost you the game.
The intensity that you radiated during the game only strengthened when you closely observed your opponent’s strategy to keep herself on point. Although you were in the lead, Emma was sneakily rising slowly. However, your fierce movements didn’t stagger, not even once, highly determined to win.
The medium-sized green ball was constantly tossed, bouncing between the two sides of the court. The sun was blazing, urging you to forfeit the match right then and there in the middle of the intense game. Might as well get used to the scorching heat because this was the first out of three matches to complete.
This tournament was going to be in the bag, and the trophy will be just another memento in your awards case.
The next game passed with ease, putting the crowd in anticipation when the scores were beginning to even up. It was a heavy tie for the second round, bringing up your anxiety.
This was it. The third and final round of your match. It was the final round that would determine your success and prove your ability to maintain a winning streak. You were gonna crush it! And certainly, destroy Emma Campbell’s athletic self-esteem, partially for Lynn, loathing those words that Emma spoke of her.
The judges called for a mini-break, letting you and Emma relax and recharge your energies. You headed over to the table that supplied the refreshments and grabbed a cold bottle of water.
The two families made their way over there as fast as they could, no longer containing their excitement as they bombarded you with chaotic noises.
“That was amazing!” Lynn cheers.
Natalie exclaims with a radiant smile. “Yeah, you were so terrific out there!”
“You crushed it out there!” Everyone else voiced their agreement with your future victory.
“I would totally hug you right now if you weren’t so sweaty.” Leni complies with an innocent grin, “Oh what the hell!” She pulled you in for a short hug, earning laughs as she did so.
You both pulled away from the hug. “Well, I haven’t won yet.” You drink your cold bottled water as it refreshes your dry throat. “So, let’s not jinx it.”
Everyone chuckles and Lynn pulls you away for a private conversation.
“You know what I mean, beautiful, this game is yours,” She bit her lip.
“Thanks for the encouragement, loud.” You tease, shoving her playfully watching the smile emerge on her lips. “I’m feeling more confident by the second.”
“It’s not encouraging if we both know that it’s true. That other girl has nothing on you.”
She handed you three orange slices, making sure that you ate all of them, keeping you well-nourished. Sometimes when you’re too focused on something, you tend to forget about the basic needs such as eating and drinking. Luckily, Lynn had noticed the tiny flaw and she wanted to end that bad habit of yours. “Gotta keep my superstar properly fed.”
Heading back to the rest of the group as you started to talk with Luna and Lori. Emma skips over with a sneaky grin on her face. God, you wished that you could have wiped that stupid smile off of her face.
“Hey, Lynn.” She greets, already managing to get into the brunette’s personal space. Talk about having boundaries.
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion but her smile welcomes the blonde. “Uh, hey…Emma is it?”
“Yep, you guessed right.” She giggles annoyingly, making you roll your eyes.
“So, what do you want?”
As she speaks to Lynn, you notice how Emma advanced to arm touching, sometimes leaning in slightly whenever she found one of Lynn’s statements amusing. In your opinion, she was too much of a try-hard, and that irked you to your soul. You could see that Lynn was uncomfortable, and it made you furious at the sight. You glared at the blonde girl with hatred in your eyes and decided that two can play that game.
All of a sudden. you felt your hidden anger transport to your plastic water bottle that was held in your hand. With every touch that Emma gave Lynn, the pressure on the bottle intensified until it didn’t…well it couldn’t anymore. The water emerges from out of the bottle, aiming directly at Emma’s face.
She shrieked, flinching at the contact as she tried to shield herself from the attack, coming up to no avail. Stuck in a trance state, you didn’t let go of the bottle and rather squeezed it tighter so your sister Madison didn’t grab the bottle out of your hands until it was empty. Turns out, no one stepped in to cease Emma’s embarrassment, seemingly taking amusement in it as well. It ultimately messed up her rich-girl look, drenching her face and ruining her semi-makeup.
“It’s just water! It’s not gonna harm you.” Cassandra taunts the girl.
Madison shrugs. “You’ll be fine! Just dab some concealer on and you’re good to go.”
Her gaze planted on you was lethal, barely touching the surface of making you tremble. Her supposedly dangerous stares at you made her look like a terrible joke.
To make sure that you rubbed salt directly on the wound, you walked over, wrapped your arm around hers, and kissed Lynn on the cheek before pulling away with a cheery smile. “I’ll see you at my house later,” You wink at her, enjoying the thrill of her flustered state.
You watch as Lynn and both of your families leave and head back to the bleachers with a faux smile plastered on your face.
Once you turned around, facing your arch-nemesis, your smile immediately dropped as you ventured closer to her.
“Listen here, you bitch.” You scowled, with fury rising in your voice. Her eyes stared into yours, trying to intimidate you, desperately failing while doing so.
“If you ever come around Lynn, uncomfortably touch her, or even look at her wrong like that again, you will be done for. I will bash your fucking head in so much that you’ll be completely unrecognizable that even your own mirror won’t remember you.”
“Woah, don’t tell me that you’re overprotective of Lynn.” She was teasing you relentlessly at this point. Practically urging you to fight her with that ugly little smirk on her face. But you weren’t gonna play her stupid mind games like she intended.
Catching her by surprise, you roughly grab ahold of her arm, pulling her in closer by force. So to the bystanders, it looked like you were whispering in her ear, engaged in a friendly banter. Right now, you were feeling anything but friendly towards her.
“I don’t tread lightly with the people that I care deeply about and now that you’re highly aware that Lynn is one of them, I’m letting you off with a simple warning.” Your tone was menacing, slowly seething your words out. “If you’re smart enough, don’t wait around to find out.” She felt herself inaudibly gulp and tremble as you kept speaking. “Or do you, I haven’t fought a rich bitch in so long and need a little deja-vu.”
And with that, you roughly released her arm from your grip and walked over to the court. Emma watched you leave, uneasiness forming in the pit of her stomach at your threatening words.
Stomping her feet like a big baby, she ran off, searching for her parents to assist in fixing up her appearance again.
You felt like you were on top of the world. Now, you just have to win this competition and your success will reign. It was close that you smelt the victory from here.
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You won the game! Fuck, it feels good to relive the moments leading up to your fantastic victory. When the triumphant photo was taken to be put in the country’s club headline for this week, you all had crammed in, wanting to be included. The huge trophy that you held righteously in your hand while being in the middle, sure did you justice.
Your family had hosted a celebratory dinner at the finest restaurant in town. Of course, you were seated beside your beloved Lynn and your best friend Natalie.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie.” She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer for comfort as she kissed your cheek.
You blushed, feeling yourself heat up on the spot, ignoring the knowing looks from Lori and Luna.
The dinner was an absolute blast so Lynn and her family crashed the night at your house. Your parents showed the Loud family the guest rooms, allowing them the comfort of beds. Somehow, you showered all of the sweat from earlier games, changing into warm pajamas. Tiredly, Lynn had followed you up to your bedroom, seeking your cuddles, in hopes of a good night’s sleep.
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© asvterias, 2023. please do not plagiarize any of my works.
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