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no-droids · 4 years

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Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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modmad · 4 years

Note

mod can you please elaborate on the guy who ate his first mango in college. the thought of not eating a mango for all of childhood haunts me and now I need to know more about this dude for whom that was reality

okay so chaos ensued the day that my anonymous friend, let’s call him Phil, came back to the house he shared (which I was visiting for video games and pizza), brandishing a mango.

I was pleased, being a lover of mango, but the reaction of this man strongly implied that this was a novelty. This was enhanced by only ONE of his roomies knowing what the fuck it was. At this point I am dying to tell them how to properly prepare it but I decide that, for science, I was going to just watch this fascinating experiment and let it play out. Phil declares he is going to try eating the skin- I do step in at this point and say it’s really Bad to Do That, at which point he accuses me of knowing what a mango is. I am busted. I refuse to elaborate on how to ‘mango’, which they are now using as a verb in description of eating the said object. This verb will continue to be used in the future not for this, but as a verb of ‘doing something very, very unsuccessfully’. Example: “Just watch me totally mango this physics exam.”

Phil goes into the kitchen. There is now a crowd of 8 students, two of whom know what the fuck a mango is, one of whom is me, and of all the people in the room the one who has never HEARD of one let alone laid eyes on one before has got a knife from somewhere. Phil ‘opens’ the mango. I say this but really what I mean is Phil “ham-fistedly stabs the mango flesh which is, as those who are mango savvy will know, inherently slippery with a bloody enormous big stone inside”. This, understandably, causes the mango to skid away from Phil across the work surface like a rubber torpedo, taking out a collection of unwashed cups as it does so. I commend him for picking a mango that is the correct ripeness while he collects it from out of the sink. Bets are now being made on who will win the next round. The mango is the favourite.

The mango is returned to the operating table where Expert Surgeon Dr. Phil recommences his attack with more caution, and is again (note: AGAIN) confused when the knife doesn’t go all the way through it. In the interest of him keeping his fingers I suggest going slowly. He responds by skinning the entire mango by running the knife around the middle, and squeezing the contents out of the two halves like it’s a small pulpy obelisk wearing two swimming caps. At this point a lot of the edible part of the mango is, distressingly, squwozen (past tense of squeeze) all over the work surface and is beyond saving. I, and the other sane person, are leaning upon each other for support like two victorian women in a swoon, while the rest of the barbarians are chanting like a cult around this man who is holding this severed lump of rapidly disintegrating fruit juice and Rock in the air, heedless of the sticky residue raining upon him. He lowers it, and I say: “he’s not going to-?”. My friend replies; “he is”.

Phil bites down, incredibly hard, on the mango-

and that is how Phil cracked a tooth.

The End.

#:)#Anonymous #story time with mod #this is 100% true #and anyone who has ever met a college/university hoard of men will understand that

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cherriesradio · 3 years

Text

Class 1-A relationship headcanons

Part 2 - https://cherry-cake-pies.tumblr.com/post/640893672076001280/class-1-a-relationship-headcanons

Part 1 - https://cherry-cake-pies.tumblr.com/post/640877154337538048/mha-relationship-headcanons-class-1-a

Fluff

Mezou Shouji

Best hugs ever

I mean what else is he gonna do with all those arms? Fight villains?

Y/n is the only one who can call him by his first name

Shouji is super tall and y/n just calls him “Mezou McTallMan”

He has like 5 million IQ and plays chess with y/n and they just sit their feelin stupid cause they keep losing

Shouji and Tokoyami are best friends and then when him and y/n get together all three of them are best friends and it’s adorable

Y/n never really cared about the mask but was like “hey you don’t need to take it off if you don’t wanna”

And it melted Shouji’s heart that they were fine with it

Thier hair is always ruffled because of how much he messes with it

They just don’t bother anymore

He doesn’t like getting to much attention so for events they have little at home/ in the dorm party’s with just a few other kids

He 100% takes advantage of how scary he can look

If someone is trying to get at y/n he will look at them with the most haunting glare in the world

(*cough* Mineta *cough* *cough*)

Kyouka Jirou

Rockin out to rock but also crappy 2000’s pop music at three am

Jirou will just be sitting beside y/n as they mess with her lobes

Y/n is as much as a crackhead as the rest of the Bakusquad so they all get along great

Bakugo has almost stabbed both of them for kissing in public and being affectionate in public

Coming back to the dorms all sweaty from going to a concert and jumping around for four hours straight

Has the hardest time trying to teach y/n how to play everything because it hurt their ~delicate fingers~

Leaning on each other’s backs and listening to music sharing ear buds 😫

Getting records and hanging them on each other’s walls and painting them if they don’t like the songs 💜

She has a ton of vintage art/ band hoodies and they just share them at some point because they keep stealing them from each other

Going to the arcade with Denki and Kirishima and whoever else wants to come

Y/n always says Jirou has a “out shine the stars smile” and she becomes a blushing mess every time

She’s not very good at comforting :(

She tries tho

She’s great honestly

Hanta Sero

He asks y/n if he annoys them and y/n legit feels so bad like “I love u so much don’t you dare think that>:(“

He likes saving up for dates and going to fancy restaurants and stuff but he’s fine with small inexpensive dates

They’ve gone to sixflags at least ten times and they have definitely broke a whole ride from messing around with his tape

That couple where even before they were dating they were dating

Jokingly kissing each others hand/ cheeks, cuddling up to each other, always asking if the other was going somewhere too, that kinda stuff

Hammock cuddles

I think you understand

Prank war in the whole dorm and y/n and Sero are the kings (or queens) (or non-binary royalty) of it

Bakugo has declared war on them multiple times but never goes on it because of how hard they go

Everyone has said it, you know it

Spider man kisses

He has almost passes out from the blood rushing to his head before

if Mineta walks up to y/n from behind he will tape him up and they can’t have a normal conversation without Sero glaring at him

So many inside jokes

Once y/n put his hair in a bun or something and he was like :0 “oh my god there’s a world without hair in ur face”

Sometimes either of them will sneak in the others dorm in the morning before they wake up and put sunglass on them or draw on their face

“This reminds me of u” insert simp meme

This boy will make sure y/n is always holding his werid long lanky hands

They teach Todoroki what “Yeet” means and now they all use it all the time unironically

Fumikage Tokoyami

👏head 👏scratchys 👏

Y/n has to get him a nightlight so Dark Shadow doesn’t go wild in the middle of the night

Huge edge lord y/n is his only soft spot

Watch dumb vampire movies

They binged all the Twilight movies in one night and everyone makes fun of them for kinda unironiclly liking it

I know Halloween is only really a american thing but they 100% have Halloween party’s at the dorms

They’d set up the whole thing

Y/n gets him black nail polish and skull rings and edgy everything

He has a box that takes up like half his closet of just gifts from y/n

He doesn’t do gifts as much as just spending time with y/n

He does love the gifts tho

Give each other plenty of space

Just say “hey I wanna be alone for a bit” and he’ll be gone in a second

He’s always the little spoons cause he’s scared of peaking their eyes out accidentally

They didn’t keep the relationship a secret they just aren’t very physically affectionate to each other

So one day Shouji is like “oh are you crushing on y/n? Like you are really nice to them and they give you stuff”

And he sits there like “dude we’ve been together for months how do you not know”

And then they are like maybe we should announce it just to make sure? So they do that and the whole class is in shock that they were together for so long and no one noticed

Jokingly calls Tokoyami “Emo Peacock”

You can’t tell me they try to do the Waltz as a joke but get really into it and do it whenever they hear any music now

Jirou could literally be playing hard core rock or heavy metal and they’ll be doing the waltz to it

Dark Shadow low key feels like a third wheel sometimes but then y/n give him a tight hug and he feels appreciated

Shouto Todoroki

Feeding the simps

So ya know that thing in the notes app where you can share notes? Yeah they share one of those where they list things they hate about Endeavor and after a month they are already on a thousand

Just sit in the same room

Could be doing anything not even envolving the other but it’s nice just to have the other there

Protecting the girls from Mineta together ❤️👏👏

at first it honestly just seemed like they were really good friends because they kept it a secret (mostly cause if it got out to the public Endeavor would find out and probably try to break them up)

Even in private they would just kiss the others cheek or forehead and hold hands and that’s the only difference

He talks to his mother about y/n a lot and she is so excited to meet y/n

She has really high expectations just because of how good they sound but does take in that Shouto is literally in love with them, he’s gonna have slight rose tinted glasses

Yeah their just as good as Todoroki made them out to be

When he told y/n about his childhood (endeavor, his mom, his scar, Dabi…) y/n cried because they felt so bad and cuddled him all day trying to help any way they could

They totally made him go to therapy 😌

Has a written down list of thing they said they like so he can get them one if they feel down

He has literally bought them a cat when they were feeling really down and y/n had to explain that he can’t just go and buy a cat when their feeling bad

They keep it tho don’t worry

He’ll turn off the air conditioning when he wants y/n’s affection

They’ll just come running at him and tackle him so he can warm them up/ cool them down

Expect goodnight texts

Make custom memes about how bad of a parent Endearvor is

Legit the start of Todoroki crushing on them overhearing them tell a friend that they don’t think Endearvor is a good hero/ deserves to be number 1

Once asked All Might to adopt Todoroki (I mean he thought about it for a second before Aizawa told him no)

Todoroki let’s y/n cook stuff on his left side

Deku will just wake up in the morning smelling eggs and think someone’s cooking but find y/n cracking eggs onto Todoroki’s left side

#bnha #Todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha fluff #mha shouji #shouji x reader #jirou x reader #Sero #sero hanta #sero x reader #bnha tokoyami #tokoyami x reader #mha #my hero x reader

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hd-cluefest · 3 years

Text

H/D Clue Fest Masterlist

Cluefest Headquarters are finally unveiling the investigators of our cases. But before we do that, we want to thank each and every one of you that contributed to making this fest such a huge success, be it as a writer, podficcer, reader, listener, or reblogger and reccer. You wrote the most amazing fics, brought fics to life with your voice, and gave our creators lots of love with kudos, comments etc. Fair warning: This post will be very long because we couldn’t control ourselves and made reveal banners. We would say we’re sorry, but we must not tell lies.

0430, T, 8.7k

Author: daughter_of_nemesis/@daughter-of-nemesis

Harry disappears at exactly 04:30 in the morning. Hermione and Ron intend to figure out why. And Pansy's certain has something to do with Draco.

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A Hogwarts Detective Mystery, E, 19.3k

Author: ActorPotter/@actorpotter

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year with Ron and Hermione after defending Draco Malfoy at his trial over the summer. Malfoy has returned too...but he's acting incredibly suspicious. So, naturally, Harry decides to stalk-er-follow him when he leaves the Eighth Year Common Room after hours one evening. It turns out that Malfoy has noticed something is amiss at Hogwarts, and he and Harry must work together to solve a mystery of disappearing portraits, randomly changing house colours on uniforms, and the Gryffindor Common Room suddenly appearing in the dungeons. What is happening to the castle? Will self-appointed detectives Harry and Draco discover what secrets are lying within the walls of Hogwarts...and their hearts?

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A House on Fire, E, 8.4k

Author: p1013/@p1013

For the last five years, Auror Draco Malfoy has walked into his office with hardly a glance at the illusioned window taking up the back wall. It looks out over an imagined London, a perfectly bright and brilliant view of the city that hides the smog and rain and dirt that clings to the city like a patina of time that can never be worn away. It's always a perfect summer's day with soft, white clouds that float through the painfully bright blue sky like a dream. He likes to imagine the gentle breeze that ripples the surface of the Thames brushing across his skin, since he'll never be able to actually feel it. After all, his office is located on the second floor and is, therefore, underground.

Or at least that's what he did before the seventh of October, 2009.

-----

A Little Bird Told Me, M, 18.6k

Author: Cibee/@cibeewastaken

Harry and his partner are called to investigate a murder that occurred at an exclusive getaway hosted by Muggle patrician Robert Morton in his own house. The surviving six people are now both witnesses and suspects. There is just one problem for Harry: Draco Malfoy is one of them.

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a meeting of minds, M, 8.2k

Author: saltwatergarden

When Harry Potter starts hearing someone else's thoughts for several minutes a day, at first he chalks it up to his own bad luck and he tries to ignore it. But the longer it goes on, the less Harry can ignore it. Whoever it is, the person whose thoughts he's hearing needs help. Harry finds himself indignant at the mistreatment of the man taking up space in his head, and feels a sense of closeness to him that he cannot explain.

How can he find out whose thoughts he's hearing? And what exactly will he do when he finds him?

-----

Cruel River, T, 67.7k

Author: eleventy7/@tinyhistory

Draco inherits a castle deep in the Scottish highlands, and discovers it’s haunted by more than just ghosts.

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Dear Stranger, T, 22.7k

Author: iero0/@iero0

The one thing more pointless than falling in love with an anonymous wizard over a correspondence is falling in love with Harry Potter when you’re Draco Malfoy.

-----

Draco Malfoy and the Case of the Smuggled Gossip, T, 6.9k

Author: A_Professional_Protagonist/@aprofessionalprotagonist

It's eighth year and someone is selling gossip about Harry Potter and his friends to the new trashy wizarding tabloid. Can Draco discover how the gossip is getting smuggled out of the castle? Will he and Harry grow closer in the process? Will there be kissing? (Spoilers: yes.)

-----

For Now, 6.7k, T

Author: Samunderthelights/@samunderthelights

At first when Harry gets sent a mysterious notebook, he thinks it's a gift. But when he starts to write in it, he finds that someone can see what he writes, and the stranger is writing back to him.

Over time he finds himself opening up to the mysterious stranger, but how is he supposed to fully trust him if the stranger won't even tell him his name?

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He makes saints out of sinners, M, 32.8k

Author: miafancies/@miafancies

Harry grows with the turn of the tide. Draco contends with his ghosts.

This is a chronicle of inevitability.

-----

It might take an army, it might just be me, M, 15.5k

Author: slytherinnbitch/@slytherinnbitch

Five years after the war, Auror Potter goes out on a seemingly routine mission to check up on some pardoned criminals. He doesn’t come back. Immediate suspicions are cast on Draco Malfoy, one of the charges he was to be visiting. But unbeknownst to everyone, the two of them have been in a secret relationship for over six months, and Draco is beside himself with worry and so is Hermione and Ron. Together they try to get their best friend back. But there are surprises on their ways which none of them even expects of.

Can they get their best friend back or is he gone forever?

-----

Long story short, G, 4.6k

Author: time_streams/@time-streams

Someone's written about Harry's secret raspberry jam recipe. Also, they write fanfiction about him. Obviously, he using his investigative prowess to find them.

-----

Love's Sake, Evermore, E, 9.6k

Author: wanderingeyre

Someone is doing nice things for Draco and that someone seems to know an awful lot about his habits and favorite things. Draco can't imagine why anyone would do these things for him because he still thinks he has something to prove. Some days he thinks he’s going to spend his entire life spackling over the mistakes of his youth and the sins of his family.

-----

Memory Lane, T, 9.7k

Author: mortenavida/@mortenavida

Draco Malfoy has been happily living in the Muggle world for nearly a decade, far away from any Wizarding responsibilities they might try to enforce on him. He planned on leaving that world forever, save for making sure his son received a proper education, but things didn’t exactly go to plan. On his doorstep, one night, Harry Potter showed up. Except Harry Potter was supposed to be dead for the last seven years.

-----

Mine O'Clock, T, 1.2k

Author: PhenomenalAsterisk/@phenomenalasterisk

Harry Potter is missing and Ron and Hermione are going spare.

How can Draco enjoy his lazy weekend with their nonsense cluttering up his front steps?

-----

[podfic] Potterotica, E, 20min

Podficcer: EvAEleanor/@eva-eleanore

original fic: Potterotica by Elle Gray/@diligent-thunder

The first story, and you could barely call it that, had appeared in the communal bathroom overnight. It was stuck to the mirror, one above each sink, like it was expected people might casually read it while brushing their teeth.

Except, there was nothing casual about reading explicit erotica in a communal bathroom while shoving a lubricated brush in and out of your mouth.Blaise had been the first to find it, or rather, to gleefully admit that he had. He’d burst into the common room in his pants to declare, 'There’s fucking porn in the bathroom!' Someone's writing smut and signing it with Harry's name. Hermione isn't buying it, and she has a plan to expose the true author. She also has her hand in her pants in a wardrobe.

A (ridiculous) response to AO3s (valid) new co-creator rules.

-----

Repairing his world, M, 34.8k

Author: AhaMarimbas/@mars-bar81

15 years after his father was arrested, Scorpius uncovers his case file at work. Desperate for answers on why his family was torn apart all those years ago, Scorpius looks into what happened. But is he ready for how the new evidence will change his life all over again?

-----

Reverie in Green, T, 51.7k

Author: dynazty/@dynazty

Draco just wants to get away; Harry just wants his dog back.

There's a small wooden bridge in the middle, somewhere, curved over a stream that never stops flowing. All they have to do is cross it.

-----

Secret Admirer, E, 12.3k

Author: Cassiopeias_shadow

Fresh out of training, Harry discovers that life as an Auror isn’t at all what he’d imagined - it’s much better actually, and there are stickers. As he settles into the team, a case lands quite literally on his doorstep... who keeps sending the Knight Bus to his house?

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Sleight of Hand, E, 15k

Author: TheStarryKnight/@the-starryknight

It’s another one of these horrid Ministry affairs, and the only interesting thing is twinkling from Draco Malfoy’s finger. Can you really blame Harry for being fascinated by the gorgeous emerald ring and those long, elegant hands, especially when he’s certain Malfoy is up to something?

-----

[podfic] The Lion, The Dragon, and the Broom Cupboard, E, 1h45min

Podficcer: laughingd0g/@jovialobservationanchor

original fic: The Lion, The Dragon, and the Broom Cupboard by tasteofshapes/@tasteofshapes

Draco thinks he’s hallucinating the first time when he opens the door to the office pantry and finds Potter there instead, looming out of the shadows of what appears to be a cupboard like some deformed gargoyle. Things don’t go much better after that.

Or, three broom cupboards, two times they get it on, and one love story.

-----

The Mysterious Case of the Missing Yoghurt, E, 24.5k

Author: manixzen/@manixzen

Newly-hired Flying Professor Harry Potter is happy to return to Hogwarts for a fresh start after several failed careers, but nothing is going as planned. His classes are a mess, he has to find a way to work with Draco Malfoy (annoying git extraordinaire) and now, in an act of villainy and depravity, someone keeps stealing his yoghurt.

-----

Through the Blur, E, 27.7k

Author: anachronic_mai/@danbrokethesoundbarrier

Sleep doesn't come easy to Harry. Despite taking regular doses of Dreamless Sleep for years, he hasn't managed to get rid of the nightmares. Things can't get any worse for him when Potions Master Draco Malfoy comes to him for help after mysterious attacks to his apothecary.

-----

[podfic] to heal a fracture (to bind a life), M, 33min

Podficcer: bluedreaming/@porcelainsalt

original fic: to heal a fracture (to bind a life) by glittering_git/ @glittering-git; meandminniemcg/@meandminniemcg

Who you gonna call? Harry has become one of the foremost Spiritual Exterminators in Britain. Draco has a spirit that needs extermination. But what seems like a simple problem ends up becoming far more complicated when the spirit is identified. The secrets that are exposed and the history that is uncovered leads both Harry and Draco into uncharted territory.

-----

To Live & Die in LA, E, 28.8k

Author: fwooshy/@fw00shy

Someone is blackmailing Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's father hires Harry Potter, P.I., to get to the bottom of the scam. But how is Harry's errant ex-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, involved? And why did Draco run to Los Angeles in the first place?

-----

Two Hearts Divided, T, 18.6k

Author: iero0/@iero0; Ladderofyears/@ladderofyears

Draco Malfoy, the celebrated Ghost Clearance Expert is in Germany, trying to solve the tricky little matter of a stubborn ghost called Clara von Kellern. Exasperated after trying every spell he knows, Draco sends an owl to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in London, requesting their urgent help.

Little does Draco know that the clerk who willingly grasps his letter is Harry Potter.

Injured in action, Harry enjoys a quiet, deskbound existence and sees Draco’s letters as a bit of excitement to brighten up his dull days. Harry has no idea that investigating Clara’s life, and that of her beau (and potential murderer) Ernst Wernet will lead to the beginnings of a love affair all of his own.

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Violent Delights, E, 20.4k

Author: primaveracerezos/@primavera-cerezos

Draco Malfoy's life should be going very well. He's engaged to a wonderful man and in line for the Head Auror job. He's been made lead investigator on a serial murder case, trying to figure out who is killing off the scum of the wizarding world, one by one. So what if he's kind of miserable? Things always get better.

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Who Put Bella in the Wych Elm?, E, 15.4k

Author: alittlewicked/@undersummerstars

As sad as it was for a family to come to this point: no one would put it past the others to be able to raise their hand and wand against a cousin, an aunt or even a son.

Merlin knows, it had been happening often enough in the House of Black.

So that left the attendees with one question.

Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?

Harry & Draco are Walburga Black's guests at Number 12 Grimmauld Place to find the one, true heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. What had the potential to go terribly wrong, went one step further and culminated in a dead body and twelve suspects.

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#hd cluefest #drarry #drarry fest #draco/harry #drarry fanfic #drarry podfic #hp fest #hp fanfic #hp podfic #masterlist

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kikilefangirl · 3 years

Text

Old Ties

Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader

(Word Count: 1629)

This was your first time back from school since Christmas, and you missed home. You had elected to stay in an apartment near campus for the summer and rarely went back.

This was your birthday weekend, and you had to see your family and old friends after going so long without. Sometimes your mom joked you were too slippery to answer the phone, let alone stay on for long. It was true, with one notable exception: your baby brother Jamal.

“Y/N!” He hollered excitedly. You laughed when you pulled up because he had a fake neck brace on as his injury of the month. And his friends were there, all grown up.

“‘Mal! It’s so good to see you.”

“What about me?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“You too, Ruby. Monsé, look at you!” You praised. Then you were one off your count.

“Where’s Cesar?”

He was the only one missing from the group. Each kid had different emotions flash across their faces. Oh. You knew the feeling.

“Well get in, we’re going to get him.” You declared. They let out a chorus of protests and excuses, but you had already started the car.

“A seat has some of my bags in it, so one of y’all sitting in the middle.” You added.

You hadn’t been home five minutes and were already on your way to him. Indirectly, of course. All three kids piled in, and you drove off after a moan from Ruby about sitting in the middle seat.

“How do you know the way there?” Jamal asked skeptically. You gave him some throwaway response and put on some lip gloss.

You knew damn well why you expertly made the short drive to Spooky’s house, but they didn’t need to know that. Sooner that you were prepared to, you pulled up and hopped out.

You never once broke your stride past Santos and hynas. You heard your car doors slam, so the others were behind you, but you pressed on without soaring them a glance.

The music blasted along with the roar of engines and laughs from partygoers and clinking bottles. Your breath caught in your throat as you headed farther back in the driveway.

There he was, sitting down smoking a blunt next to him was Cesar. Damn, the kids had gotten older.

“Never thought I’d see you here.” Oscar said, finally.

He exhaled, and stood up not two feet away from you. Plump lips, intense brown eyes, no. You were never able to turn away from him.

Oscar was still fine as hell and you were losing focus.

“I came here to get Cesar.”

Not you.

The unsaid words were heavy between the two of you. Everyone who wasn’t drunk or oblivious could see the battle of wills going on. Even Cesar looked confused, and it was technically about him.

“He goes.” Oscar started, bringing a hand to your cheek, “You stay.”

Closure, you decided, was some bullshit because after two years of heartbreak and your determination to stay away...You accepted his trade.

Jamal, of course had heart palpitations the second a yes flew out your mouth. Ruby paled at the idea, and Monsé was staring at Cesar.

As soon as they left, it gave you some peace watching the four of them go off like they used to. Oscar struggled with the worst hand he could’ve been dealt, but his brother didn’t have to go through the same. Cesar was a different kid; Cesar was still somewhat allowed to be a kid.

Oscar put out his blunt and brought you inside.

You filled your eyes at the hoots and whistles from outside as you shut the screen door and then the real one.

You and Oscar were truly alone, now.

“How long before you’re gone, again.” He lamented, pulling out two beers from the fridge.

You winced at his words.

“The weekend.” You admitted. Spooky scoffed at you as he popped the top off of either bottle. He slid one over to you as you tapped your nails on the counter.

“Got over your little cholo phase and dipped, huh.” He spat out. You slammed your hand on the counter. Your palm stung from the impact, but your anger was more pressing.

“You know good and goddamn well that wasn’t it. Do I look like some white girl who took the wrong bus and got lost!” You roared at him.

He made it seem like an easy choice for you. That it was easy leaving everyone and everything for a whole new world you’d never even really seen before.

You flared your nostrils at Oscar, mostly to keep the tears at bay.

“I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this shit, Osc. You gonna keep doing your Santo shit, and I’m supposed to what? Sit here popping out your babies so twenty years from now they supposed to do the same shit? You go down, and I don’t got nothing to stand on? No.”

You shook your head violently. No. No, no, no. You spied where he kept his good liquor and grabbed it. You guzzled as much as you could in one pass.

Oscar stood there watching you with a look you couldn’t care to decipher.

Modesty wasn’t exactly a priority between you two. You and Oscar dealt in the raw, honest truth. It was what cooled the two of you, and it was doing so now. You knew it and he knew it.

“You messing with anyone up there?” He asked. Oscar was steady in his slow, rolling voice. Never tentative, always patient.

“Nothing serious.” You admitted. There was a fling that lasted a couple weeks in May, a failed date or two, and a car hookup once. In short, no one was ever him.

“You?” You stared intently at him, searching his eyes for any hint he was holding back.

Oscar’s list of names was shorter than yours. And to your surprise, you let out a sigh of relief.

He smirked and put his hand over yours, squeezing it for reassurance.

“We’re okay.” He said and against all reason you believed him.

He leaned in closer, and pulled you into a hug.

But like the ass he was, Oscar chose a less romantic course. His breath fanned your neck, and you short circuited. You always went blank when Oscar was so close to you and he took full advantage.

You had the willpower of a goldfish.

You hopped up on the counter, the two of you exchanging hungry, passionate kisses, desperate to make up for lost time and old grievances.

...

You stayed at the house well into the night.

You sweated out your edges, smudged your makeup, and damn near limped back to your car. By the time you left, the party had gone somewhere else and the lot was quiet. Not even Cesar had returned.

You sat in your car and Oscar leaned into the window.

“Happy Birthday.” He said. You smiled and gave him a long kiss, savoring the memory of him. When you pulled away, you deflated.

“I’m going back to school on Monday.” You said softly. You drummed on the steering wheel.

“Then come back tomorrow.” He suggested. It wasn’t the same anymore. You two weren’t teenagers sneaking away during football games. His life was as real as yours, if not more. You held in the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m sorry, Osc. That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

The silence that came next was deafening. You stared straight ahead and let the tears stream down your face with no abandon. A gentle hand wiped them away.

“No crying. You gotta go see the world for the both of us, ‘kay.” He told you. There was no bitterness or sadness in his eyes. Just love. Love for you, for him, and for everything the two of you went through together.

You let your forehead rest on his.

“I promise.” You whispered to him. At that, Oscar stepped back and you saw him in full view.

He nodded one last time, and you pulled off into the night.

...

“Oh. My. God. Is that a hickey? That’s a hickey. You let Spooky give you that! You could be infected with all kinds of diseases that will haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Jamal’s freakout made you crack a smile. He had only seen Oscar as the Santo Spooky, Cesar’s scary ass older brother. But you had known him since you were twelve and had been with him since you were fifteen.

“We had history, it’s over now. Chill out.” You replied.

“Damn it, Y/N you know I can’t fight, why would you put me in this position!” He barked out. You smiled.

“Oh I know you can’t fight, you know being a D1 athlete and all.” You teased. You knew he’d eventually work up the nerve to tell your parents the truth, but it was fun messing with him in the meantime.

“Okay seriously, are you and Spooky gonna keep--ew, I can’t say it.” He rambled. You put your hands on his shoulders.

“Jamal, listen. I love Oscar and I always will. But we’ve outgrown each other. We grew up here, this our home, but you and I have stability and a way out that Oscar never had. Neighborhood will drag you back in and I can’t afford to do that. Grown decisions, ‘Mal.”

You plopped down on your bed, and stared at nothing. It really was over.

Jamal hugged you tightly, and you hugged him back. You hoped Cesar wouldn’t share his brother’s path. You had given up hope a long time ago that Oscar would. He couldn’t.

And it was cruel of you to hold onto him any longer, so you didn’t.

#black!reader #poc!reader #on my block #Oscar Diaz #spooky #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz x reader #on my block fanfiction #julio macias #Oscar Diaz angst #sad ending sorry #spooky Diaz angst

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shyrose57 · 3 years

Note

It works very much like illusions. Ranbob can see him but can't touch him. While Dream can touch him (though it feel like more of a faint touch). The entire time Ranbob feels like he's dreaming but due to physical evidence, like notes left by Dream, he knows it isn't a dream. He's just kinda existing. But in actuality he's not completely "there", sometimes he is aware of what's going on (though he never remembers more often than not) but that's when Dream allows it, other than that he's either floating aimlessly in the void or dreaming. Not aware of what's happening.

Definitely, Enderman tend to be 7 ft+. Infact when traveling and Enderman spot Ranbob, they always voice their worry about him being so short. They know he's a hybrid so he was always going to be shorter than them, but he shouldn't have been this short. His growth is permanently stunted. Its a miracle he even got those 2 inches to be honest. Ran was definitely caught off guard seeing Ranbob so short. But quickly dismissed it in favor of attacking him. But later on as time passes, he can't dismiss the unease and concern he gets when he thinks about the difference so easily as he did eailer. The Gladiators notice right away but don't comment on it, the Fishermen think Ranbobs height is normal so when they meet Ran and learn Enderman hybrids typically grow that big and bigger their caught off guard, Cletus and Charles attempt to question Ran what its like to be so tall but Benjamin stops them.

He did, the Dream Mask has a small bit of it broken off due to it being dropped (Ranbob didn't break it. He suspects maybe when it was being transferred it got dropped in its holding box and thats what broke it). Ranbob picked it up because he meant to throw it away, but he forgot too. Giving Dream more time to get a hold on him. They talked about whatever came to mind at first since Benjamin didn't want to start off with the rough questions. But eventually the two did start to talk about what happened to Ranbob and who/what Dream was.

Dream does not consider it important enough because he thinks he's never going back there. So it falls into disrepair and gets all dusty with some mold even growing in the room.

Dreams petty and likes being in control of everything. But Dream would just kinda wander, making sure no ones alive. Every now and again he'll get bored and just destroy something. The fishermen explored and read about the history of Mizu while they were there, then after Ranbob attacked them spent most of the time arguing about what to do with him.

It just leads to Cletus being mean/rude to Ranbob and taking much longer than the others to be comfortable around him. If that's what you mean.

-------------------

Yes! When it was down to just 4 people left alive in Mizu, Ran stumbled upon the 4th person dead, then it all kind of clicks in his head, as the only other person currently alive is a Council Member, that it has to be his brother. So he rushes off to find the Council Member so they can stop Ranbob, only to find Ranbob standing over his dead corpse. Thats when the chase around Mizu ticks off that ends with Ran fleeing Mizu.

Cause while spiders are passive in daytime, creepers aren't, and don't burn in the light. Plus they are loud with their explodes (yet oddly quiet) which can give his position away.

Eh I'll say. Their not really super common because mixing them can cause serious side effects during and after mixture. But the healing, sleep aids, and infection mixtures are common as they've been figured out and can safely be made. Fun fact: Subbin actually has an entire community and an official place in the government for figuring out potion mixtures, making new ones, and making the mixing process as safe as possible.

The group doesn't really use the mixtures much, expect for Rans sleep aid and a every now and again healing mixture when a Pit match goes wrong. Cause Grievous used to intern in a potion shop and learned all about them then.

He really did.

Your right! Not many people traverse it. Because he was a Technoblade follower, and they typically get taught the bare basics of surviving in environments like the Nether, deserts, snow, caves, etc in their teachings. He got da book from his Idol teachers, everyone in his Idol group got a book as well.

You can ask! I welcome any and all questions.

There's gold coins (I forget the actual in-game name oop) ore deposits in the Nether, so he mines that. Not any specific ones, cause there is still a language barrier and a mostly gesture barrier (expect for the universal ones like wait, ok/good, no harm, etc).

They made a group decision to try to check the Nether on a whim. Though mostly cause one guy just wouldn't shut up about it. They found a broken portal and managed to repair it enough to enter.

The Fishermen and Ranbob where kinda confused (cause Ran hadn't fully told them about his time on the run.) But expressed sympathy at his house being burned down. Jackie and Grievous wanted to search it for anything usable, Ran didn't let em cause he thinks there's nothing left. Watson shoots Ran a sympathetic look and declared that he wants to keep moving to find shelter. Benjamin quickly agreeing and the group moves on.

---------Tip of The Iceberg-----------

He does not expect in all of their times he's still the God of the world.

Honestly, most of them were fine. Bad was the only one who was mad and wasn't ok with it. The Masquerade, The Pit, Sam, Sapnap, Quackity, Foolish, Ranboo, Skeppy, Tubbo, Tommy, and Karl all say the Egg wrote it because they all have had experience with the Egg. The Haunted Mansion, The Wild West, George, Fundy, Eret, Jack, Niki, and Puffy all say XD because they've either had no experience with the Egg or believe in XD's existence. Philza and Technoblade actually go both ways. (If I forgot someone, oops).

Technoblade, Phil, Niki, The Pit, The Wild West, Puffy, Sapnap, and Sam are all on the Frontline. While the others are all split between research into the egg (The Masquerade is in this one of course), and running tests. Fundy is a runner, delivering orders, requests, or new information. Foolish is on both the researching, testing, and frontlines, he is on the frontlines when needed but otherwise is researching and testing. Karl is typically somewhere with one of the many Traveler groups. Quackity, Eret, and Sam (when not on frontlines) are on planning duties.

The Egg is strong enough to propose a real and constant threat to the groups. Everyone is typically on the move to avoid the reaching of the Egg and its Eggpire.

Bad hasn't gotten what he wants, which is Skeppy. And as he has "opened his eyes" a bit he sees the hypocrisy, manipulation, and lies that surround the Egg and wants out.

----------------------

Ye ye Brothers AU sorry.

The fishermen get to their home, wake up the next day, and Ranbob is already making a field for wheat and potatoes. Benjamin fucking squawks and races out to make Ranbob stop. And Isaac eventually has to come out and help cause Ranbob is refusing to leave. Cletus laughs at Ranbob and makes fun of him but stops when he sees Charles sadly staring at him. A silent ask to stop.

He does but Porkius is chill and let's the Gladiators do whatever they want as long as they are still in fighting condition for matches and gives them money every week. Plus he's chill and is kinda friends with them. But sometimes Porkius has them go to extravagant parties with him. They all hate going, not just Ran. Mostly cause the rich people are snobs and either 1. Constantly insult them in conversation than act surprised when they get mad at them and report it to Porkius. 2. Talk with them but talk exclusively about themselves and are insensitive to the Gladiators. But sometimes there's actually people at the parties who are genuinely curious and kind and want to get to know the Gladiators. Those conversations are pleasant and the Gladiators, no matter who it is, actively enjoy the conversation.

Ran has always been mischievous. Even witnessing murder, being traumatized, hunted constantly, and fighting non-stop hasn't changed that. If anything he got more mischievous over time.

Something extra I wanted to share:

-There is music in world and the player the Gladiators share get brought on the trip so they can play music the entire time.

-Ran and Grievous fight over who gets to pick music often.

-Fun fact about why I did this: Every single part of this story and all others has been either created by or inspired by music. For example the Tip of The Iceberg AU was solely inspired by the song True North (by Vocal Line), while Brothers AU was made from Ruler of Everything (by Tally Hall) and partly Mind Electric (by Miracle Musical). So I wanted to include music somehow. (I actually have a entire playlist with music that I've used for certain parts of the Brothers AU.)

Brothers AU:

Interesting, interesting. What triggers these 'dreams'? Can Dream do it, or is it like just something that happens?

I'm assuming only the brothers would know what the Endermen are saying, but there's also body language, so how does everyone react to that behavior? Do one of the brothers ever tell them what's being said, or? What's everyone's thoughts on Ranbob's height, seeing as the Fishermen were surprised, and the Gladiators immediately noticed?

How does Benjamin feel about what he hears? Is he a bit skeptical at first, or fully believing Ranbob's words?

So the room's in disrepair, interesting. At some point, it's mentioned that they go back there, I think, so does that strike anyone as odd?

He destroyed stuff? Like just general items or artifacts? How did Ranbob feel, if/when he was aware?

------------------

Why didn't he assume it was the Council Member? What clues led him to his brother instead?

Understandable.

Oh, that's really interesting!

World building galore, fantastic!

Who was the one guy?

He thinks? Was there something left then?

-----------------

Tip Of The Iceberg AU:

Still the god? He didn't expect that? Was someone else supposed to be? If so, who? What's his reaction to learning such?

Bad seems to be straying from the egg, does he intend to leave it? Or does it have a way to keep him?

Do we have any particular groups here? People who fight or work well together, and kind of drift to one another? What sort of dynamics do we get with all of this, especially since everyone's on the move constantly to avoid the Eggpire.

------------------

Brothers AU:

Benjamin: Whatcha got there?

Ranbob: Excessive labor when I should be resting.

Benjamin, gasping: NO!

What are the parties typically like? Do they behave or cause havoc? Switch it up? Anyone in particular they don't hate talking to there?

Always mischievous, just better at hiding it. Wait, that means Ranbob would have known he was like that, wouldn't he? He'd know exactly what to expect. Would anyone else? Either way, that should be amusing.

------

What kind of music do they have, and what does everyone prefer to listen to?

(Time to go on a song-spree!)

#dream smp #dream smp au #Brothers AU #Tip Of The Iceberg AU #tales from the smp

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puckinghell · 4 years

Text

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 6

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 6, the final part! Click here for part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

When you scoot into an empty seat in the back of the church, you suddenly feel very thankful that your sister invited Ellie because if you were alone, right now, you might just leave and go home.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you mutter under your breath.

Ellie hears you, and laughs. “Better not, I left the tag on this dress and I fully intend to return it after today.”

Then the crowd goes quiet and Noah appears.

He’s wearing a suit, and he looks objectively handsome, but it does nothing for you. It’s good to realize that, you think, as you watch him walk down the aisle.

The guy you thought you’d marry is getting married. And you really don’t care.

You think of Will, instead.

Betty appears too and she looks beautiful and really happy. Maybe they really were meant for each other; he still shouldn’t have cheated, of course, but if there’s one thing Noah had been right about it’s that it would’ve never worked out between the two of you.

You barely hear the vows they exchange; you’re there for show and you won’t pretend otherwise. Ellie is fucking around on Instagram on her phone and you look over her shoulder as she starts liking posts.

“Speak now or forever hold your silence,” a voice sounds loudly through the church, and you zone back in for a second.

Your mom is looking at you and you catch her eye. You don’t say anything, and she looks like she approves. Perhaps she believes that Noah belongs with someone like Betty, too.

You find yourself not really caring about that, either.

The priest speaks again: “If nobody has any objection to this marriage, I would now like to declare...”

A door slams.

Everyone turns to look at the person that just came in, and when you see him, your breath sticks in your throat.

It’s Will.

He looks around with his eyes squinted. He’s wearing a suit, but his hair is a mess, like he’s been raking his hands through it, and his tie isn’t tied properly.

He still looks like the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen.

“Sir?” the priest asks, a little confused. “Do you wish to object to this marriage?”

“Oh.” Willy’s eyes widen. “Oh, God, no. No, no objection here. Totally go for it!”

A somewhat hysterical giggle escapes your lips and Will’s eyes find yours, a careful smile appearing on his face when he does.

“Sorry,” he says out loud to the crowd, then bows down and hurries towards you, sinking down on the empty chair at your side. “Sorry,” he repeats, now in a whisper.

You have no idea what to say. There’s so much you want to say to him: I’m so sorry, I was wrong the first thing that comes up, the second being please don’t give up on this, I think I love you.

It hits you with how true it is. You don’t just like him anymore, you love him, everything about him, and being around him feels more natural than anything else, it feels right.

You don’t say anything, though, because the ceremony continues on. Will stays silent, too, stares straight ahead with a sullen look on his face.

But he came. That must mean something, right?

This, however, is not the time or the place to talk about it and after the ceremony you trail your family to the reception, both Ellie and Willy hot on your heels. The two of them are keeping up a steady amount of chitchat and you would worry about that, about how well they seem to fit together, except…

Well, some part of Willy must care about you, because he wouldn’t be here, otherwise.

“So,” your mom says, when you’ve entered the reception hall. “Who is this, then?”

You’ve not even got yourself a drink.

“This is Will,” you say. Willy shifts, his arm bumping against yours. “My, uhm…”

You really haven’t thought this through. The deal was that he’d pretend to be your boyfriend, but after everything...

“Her boyfriend.” Willy’s smile is nearly blinding. “Nice to meet you.”

“Boyfriend?” your mom repeats, sounding incredulous.

“Yep.” Will’s arm hooks around your waist and he pulls, so you stumble into his side. “We’ve been together a while, so.”

You haven’t, oh God, what is he doing? You know this was the plan, but surely after everything, the pact isn’t the pact anymore, you broke all the rules by falling in love with him.

And...

You wish, more than anything, that he wasn’t pretending.

“Oh, they’re adorable together,” Ellie pipes up. She’s obviously totally lying, but you could kiss her for it, because your mom’s eyes widen. “Always at each other’s sides. He’s so good to her, you know? Head over heels, really.”

Will smiles in the most bashful way, then swivels his head and presses his lips to your cheek.

You’re pretty sure your face is bright red, at this point.

“Want a drink, babe?” he mumbles.

This is torture.

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” You watch as Will disappears into the crowd.

“You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend,” your dad speaks. Your sister is still staring at Willy, her mouth slightly agape.

“He’s hot,” she says, and she sounds shocked, which makes you wonder if you want to punch her or want to laugh.

You don’t do either. After all, she did invite Ellie here, so some part of her must care for you.

“So hot,” Ellie nods. “When I didn’t know they were together I tried to flirt with him, but he had no eyes for me. Only wanted Y/N.” She smiles, and you think of her earlier words and can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth to that.

Fuck. You have to find Will.

“I’m going to go find Will,” you say, and before you can hear what your parents have to say about that, you turn around and leave, as fast as your high heels can carry you.

Your eyes search the crowd for a familiar head of blond hair, but when you see it, everything in you goes cold and rigid.

Oh no.

Next to Willy is Noah. Everything about Noah is relaxed, and everything about Will is tense; his muscles strung tight like a fiddle, his jaw clenched.

Oh, no. No no no.

You push through some people to get to them, but you can hear Noah’s voice before either of them have noticed you.

“I can’t believe William Nylander is at my wedding,” Noah laughs. “Dude, when you came in I nearly had a heart attack.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse. Will doesn’t like being recognized in general, and now this.

Then, Willy spots you.

“Y/N,” he says, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. Noah turns around with wide eyes.

“You know her?” He sounds even more shocked than your sister and this time, it pisses you off.

Well, Willy did show he was ready to perform the act, so.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, wrapping your arms around Willy’s waist and pressing yourself against his chest. His arms immediately come around you and you feel the slight press of his lips in your hair.

It’s an act, but God, you wish it wasn’t.

“Sorry your drink is taking a bit longer, sweetheart,” he says, a little too loud. “Something held me up.”

Noah has the decency to look sheepish. Willy looks a little murderous.

“You’re dating William Nylander?” Noah asks.

No, scrap that: Willy looks a lot murderous.

So, even though you might be enjoying this a little, you’ve gotta make sure nobody gets killed at this wedding. As a warning, you press your thumb in Willy’s side. The scowl disappears from his face, although he’s clearly still unhappy.

“Noah, congratulations to you and Betty,” you smile. It’s fake, but you don’t think Noah notices – or cares. “I’m going to dance with my boyfriend, now.”

You pull Will away before he can say anything, and he lets you guide him towards the dance floor.

“I hate that guy,” he growls. His arm is still around you.

“Try to be more obvious about it,” you quip, and it feels natural until it doesn’t, anymore.

Because now you actually have to dance, and you don’t think you still have the right to do that. Everything that happened between you fills the air with something heavy, so you stand still and awkwardly look at him.

“I won’t bite.” Will rolls his eyes and guides you into the correct position. He’s a good dancer, which is surprising because at Zach’s wedding, he definitely wasn’t.

At Zach’s wedding, Willy and Kappy had been diving into the wine coolers all day, though, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

His hands are heavy on your waist and he’s guided your arms to wrap around his neck. He smells like Willy and you realize that this might be the last time you get to touch him like this, maybe even the last time he’ll talk to you, so despite everything you let your head dip and rest your chin in the crook of his neck.

You feel, more than hear, him inhale deeply.

“You came.” The words are whispered into his suit but he hears you, anyway.

“We had a deal, and I don’t go back on a promise,” he says. It’s not what you want to hear, but he still came, and that still matters, so.

After a pause, he adds: “Besides, I wouldn’t let you deal with that jerk alone.”

That’s... something else, and a flicker of hope lights in your chest like a candle in the wind, dull and small, but there.

“Will,” you whisper, this time knowing that he’ll hear. “I love you.”

It’s not the right way to do it, probably, too much and too soon and too sudden, and when Willy inhales again it’s sharp and short.

“And I’m sorry…”

“Not here,” he cuts you off. It could come off as harsh, but it doesn’t, because he pulls you a bit closer and lets his head rest on yours.

Somewhere, people cheer for the married couple, but neither of you really notice.

“Come on.”

Willy’s hand is warm and rough tangled in yours, as he pulls you towards his car. You drove here with your family but you have to admit you’d much rather drive home with Will, even if it might be the most awkward car ride of your life.

It was easier to pretend everything was fine when you were in a room full of people laughing and smiling. Now, the night is quiet and dark and the wind is cold, and everything that hasn’t been talked about lays thick in the air.

You told him you loved him. Why the hell did you do that?? You’re lucky he didn’t punch you in the face. He’s too nice to do that, even if you might deserve it.

Neither of you speak, in the car. You because you already said too much, and Will seems to be thinking, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

It feels like the drive lasts forever. Finally, the car stops in front of an apartment.

But it’s not your apartment.

“Where…” you start, but Will doesn’t let you finish.

“At my place,” he says. “Wanna come up?” There’s a clear hint of vulnerability in the question and you’ve never been out of a car so fast.

You’ve never been at his apartment before, because he was always the one that came to pick you up, and when you follow him into the elevator you notice that he lives on the 8th floor.

It makes you smile despite everything. Hockey players and their superstitions.

The inside of his apartment is somehow exactly like you expected it to be. It’s pretty in a very clear interior-designer sorta way, but there’s little pieces of him scattered all around; pictures of his family everywhere, pictures of the team, hockey pucks with dates on them, a million sneakers lined up against the wall.

He flicks on some of the lights and motions towards the couch, where you take a seat.

In front of you, the city of Toronto glistens a million lights.

It could be really romantic, but, Willy is standing in the middle of the living room, his arms crossed and his face a carefully constructed form of indifferent. So it’s not.

“I, uhm,” he starts. Pauses. Sighs. Then: “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” you ask, softly. Because there’s a lot of things you’ve meant and a lot of things you didn’t, and it’s really important that Willy knows about every single one.

“That you, uh.” Willy is flushed a bright shade of scarlet. “That you love me, I guess.”

That one is easy to answer.

“Yes.”

Something shifts in Willy’s demeanor. His arms drop and with it, so does the shield around his heart; you can see it shatter and it causes something to shatter within you, too.

“I didn’t mean those other things I said, though,” you say. “The things I said right after Noah left. I guess his words threw me off guard and I just thought…” You try to smile, but you don’t think it reaches your eyes. “I just couldn’t believe I would get to have my happily ever after, I suppose.”

“I just don’t know what I could do differently,” Willy says. He sounds desperate, like the words have been swirling around in his brain for far too long, bursting to come out. “To make you believe that. Because I’ve tried, Y/N, I keep trying to…”

“I know.” Something is burning behind your eyes, but you’re not gonna cry now. “Will, I know, and I’m sorry for not trying harder to believe you, earlier.”

You stand up, carefully walk towards him. His hands are hanging limply by his side but you see his fingers twitch when you reach him. It gives you the courage to gather his hands into yours.

“I’m trying, now, though,” you say softly. “This is me trying. And I think I can believe it, if you just tell me one more time.”

The corners of Will’s mouth are curling up into a smile, hesitant and tentative but there, and your heart goes pitter patter.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’ve liked you since you rolled your eyes at me at Zach’s birthday party two years ago and I fell in love with you when you nearly destroyed my cousin’s gender reveal party. I want to be your automatic plus one to any event in the future, even if it somehow always ends up a disaster.”

You laugh. “Today was pretty okay, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Willy’s breath is warm against your cheek, and you feel the slightest press of his lips against the skin there. “Would be better if I got to kiss you now, though.”

Instead of answering, you press up on your toes and kiss him.

Three years later, you press up on your toes and kiss him in a grand mansion while all your friends and family surround you, wearing a white dress and a ring on your left hand.

You feel Willy smile against your lips.

“Thank you for inviting me to be your plus one today,” he mumbles.

“You’re getting better at it every time,” you smile. “No disasters today.”

“Day’s not over yet.” Willy grins and spins you around. You let yourself fall back into his arms and he catches you, like he’s been doing for years, and will do for years and years to come, too.

“So,” he continues, “now that we’ve made a new pact, is the Plus One Pact really over, then?”

“A new pact?” you repeat, a little confused.

Will’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Yes, mrs. Nylander. You just promised you’d take part in the Love Me Forever Pact.”

You can’t help but hide your laughter in his shoulder.

“I do love you, Will.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

#william nylander #william nylander fic #toronto maple leafs #nhl fic #here ya go folks some serotonin for you!!

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electronicdelusionstarlight · 3 years

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Ok, here's how I'd set up an actual BNHA Elder Scrolls crossover in case I ever get around to write it:

1) While he's, like, 4 years old in his living room watching TV, Izuku's Quirk activates. It will not get an actual official name but we can call it Planeswalker Spark ala MTG. Basically kid can tear a hole through reality and launch himself into a different plane of existence, which is what Izuku accidentally does here.

2) It's a slow process tho, which gives Inko plenty of time to rush in from where she was to tackle her son away from the sudden green glow brightly shining around him, a impulse decision based on her Instinct to protect him at all costs, which only ends up with both of them getting sent to Skyrim.

3) Izuku incidentally also happens to be a Shezzarine. His quirk is a mutation from her mom's side, whose Quirks usually affect space in some way, and is completely unrelated to this. Anyway, he and Inko are on the cart to Helgen now, usual shit, The plot of Modded Skyrim takes places, with Inko taking on the brunt of the adventure and trying to shelter Dragonborn Izuku from his destiny.

4) After many trials and tribulations, 2 DLCs, 4 guilds, 1 Dragon War, several adopted orphans as well as so many quest mods it's unreal, Lucien Flavius and several members of the College of Winterhold manages to reverse engineer Izuku's quirk, and gives him an enchanted ring to better control it. Kid can now safely use it without risking ending up somewhere completely different from his planned location. Izuku is now 14 years old. He also had to do terrible things no matter how much his mother tried to shelter him and take the brunt of the war crimes. This leads to PTSD obviously, but also to a now blue and orange morality system, chief among them his general disregard with killing or not killing someone.

5) Getting back to 10 years prior, Izuku's Quirk causes a ripple in the Tachion Field surrounding earth, which is felt on I-Island. David Shield spends the remaining 10 years monitoring and trying to better understand the phenomena, since it could be revolutionary in the till then hypothetical field of time and space travel. When Izuku activates his quirk back 10 years later, I-Island has by then built a teleportation device, hijacking Izuku's trip and sending him to I-Island.

6) Meanwhile on a familiar junkyard, Hatsume Mei's scrappy device built via salvaged parts, spit and lots of duct tape comes to life on her back, individuating a sudden tear in the now constantly decaying Tachion Field. It's happening in the middle of the ocean tho, so she can't really deal with it now.

7) Anyway, David Shield needs Izuku at hand for his Quirk, but Izuku and his mom came back to Japan trying to live a double life since by then most of their friends and family are in Tamriel. Except, both of them have been declared dead for years, and Hisashi, the bitch, ran away with the insurance money, so they don't have a life to return to. David Shield can't let them get back to Tamriel tho, again, he needs Izuku on planet for his new research, bit also realizes that if he actually wants to leave he can't really stop him, except Izuku, you know, still wants to become a hero, just like his mom is in Skyrim. So they reach a compromise, he will try to get into UA, and will take a new identity as Mikumo Akatani, usual excuses to have Izuku get into 1-A you know?

8) Izuku can't really make his Quirk public tho. So, after forging his and his mother identities as a foreign dignitary from the states and her son, and his Quirk is listed as "Cataclysm" (The last perk in the destruction skill tree for a Fire (and Earth) mage in the Ordinator Mod). He is after all a member of the college of Winterhold, trained under the Great and Powerful Destruction Magician Uncle J'Zargo the Magnificent himself, of course he knows plenty of spells. However, he can't really explain all of them as one Quirk, or better yet, he can, it would just get really complicated, so he just goes "My mom can move things with her mind, my... Father, ugh, can blow fire from his mouth, obviously my Quirk is being able to control flames with my mind, usually from my hands but some times also via vocalisation."

9) Which means Izuku has to really contain what shit he can do. It's a very superman like situation, since he needs to remain in control at all times and also not slip up and pull spells he couldn't explain as his "fire" quirk, least people start asking questions. Some people however notice.

10) Tsuyu and Todoroki start an unofficial conspiracy theorist fan club over it.

Tsuyu was there with him at the USJ, where in his sudden hyperfocused competence over the crisis situation made her realize A) This is not the first time this boy has almost died in his life and B) Back in the water at the USJ, she could swear she saw his hands shining as some strange light washed over him, and she could swear he could swim as fast as her back then, and for such long periods of time she could swear he could breath underwater. That makes it really suspicious.

Todoroki sees another kid with a powerful fire quirk but also the signs of a hard life and who seems to not like his father, and instantly goes "Oh... same hat." So his conspiracy is that Izuku is actually Endeavour Bastard Son he had after a premarital affair during a visit to the states 14 years prior, and he has a corkboard to prove it. He also realizes that he's trying to contain his power just like he is, which makes him believe he too must have done a pledge just like him.

11) Shinso beats Bakugou on the first match of the tournament. Doesn't really matter to the overall crossover I just wanted to point this out.

12) Anyway, this explodes during the Sports Festival. It's Todoroki Vs Midoriya, and 1) everyone is comparing the two due to similar Quirks, which Izuku finds really unfair to both of them, 2) Todoroki is being a stubborn ass with his quirk and 3) Izuku can't really talk now l, can't he? That would make him an hypocrite, and he might be a Mage, an Honorary member of the Explorer Guild, a Dragonborn and also a Bard College Student for some reason, but he's not a hypocrite, so he just up and SNAPS because hey, maybe Todoroki will actually unleash his full potential if someone else does it first too.

13) So, Izuku Midoriya, on national television, starts blasting. Armour Spells, Ice Spells, Lightning Spells, Mind Spells, Water, Wind, Air, Poison, turns himself invisible, summons a Dremora Champion, shouts with the power of the souls of the Dragons his mother slew, Todoroki actually has to start using his fire but is mostly out of sheer survival now ("There is always a bigger fish out there, and one day you deciding not to use your full power just because of a stupid pledge will get someone killed. Trust me, I know. You better start realizing that now Todoroki"), and is still a close match because Izukus spells all start from his hands or mouth after all, and Todoroki has now something to prove more than ever.

14) Without his robes on tho, Izuku Magicka is depleted in the end, ending up in a tie as the two collapse from exhaustion. Rather than an arm wrestling match this time, Izuku is disqualified due to the sudden mutation of his Quirk. He's fine with it and probably expected it, bit this still bums Todoroki out, as well as all of his classmates and friends.

15) After the Festival there are 4 leading theories on Izuku now:

A) All Might, discovering via Tsukuachi that Izuku's identity is fake, as well that he looks a bit like a missing case kid from 10 years ago, AND knowing that AFO is back due to the USJ... Believes Izuku is a mole, and is working, willingly or unwillingly, for AFO after he was implanted with all those Quirks. He is now incredibly suspicious of him, and it kind of shows. Nighteye is on the same page despite not having talked to the man in years, and is subtly trying to have Mirio scout out the kid to see if he's a threat. Mirio is too much of a Golden Retriever to even realize what has been asked of him tho, and just think Nighteye wants him to befriend another kid with a promising Quirk.

B) Todoroki now knows the truth. Izuku is Monoma's long lost twin brother. His Quirk allows him to copy the Quirks of those around him (Iron Skin and Stone Skin would be Tetsu Tetsu and Kirishima Quirks after all, Invisibility is Hakagure, Fire and Ice are either his or Bakugou's, Lightning is Kirishima, and Tsuyu mentioned how he could swim and breath underwater while near her, meaning he was using her Quirk). He has connected the dots.

C) AFO still remembers his brother's lover, the stories she came up with, the long periods of times she was gone, only to return with a haunted look in her eyes... The powers she hid from him, thinking he wouldn't notice, the way she fled right after his brother lay lifeless on the ground, almost disappearing into thin air with his broken body... The family his brother hid so well from him, as if they were in another world all together... They never told him, but he knew, he knew she had some sort of Quirk, one that had been then inherited by this new Mikumo Akatani, so similar to HIM yet so different, back from the other world in revenge for his ancestor.

He has to capture that kid. He's family after all, and his quirk belongs to him, it's his by right as his brother's keeper. And with it, he will be able to extend his reach to worlds beyond his own.

D) the official version, the one David Shield puts out, is that Izuku's Quirk evolved unexpectedly due to the new environment he was in, mentioning it as a precursor of Quirk Singularity.

E) The only one who actually got it is Hatsume. She can tell Izuku is the source of the Tachion Spikes and subsequent decays as he "returns home" in Skyrim when leaving school, so she perfectly understands that he's a powerful warlock from across dimension who had come here with the power of science and unholy magic to infiltrate society posing as a hero. Obviously, she's going to help him do it becoming his evil vizier and grand artificer of course. Worst case scenario, she can now market the shit out of him as a hero using her babies, best one, he succeeds and she gets to rule Australia out of their "Deal." I say "Deal" because Izuku isn't even sure he got half of what she was saying, but she seems nice and if Skyrim taught him anything is that you should treasure everyone willing to be your friend, so they hang out together, scheming and plotting without even realising it.

Tsuyu however pretty much got the gist of what Hatsume was saying (it was a crowded lunch break after all) and while she does know Izuku doesn't seem the type of the interdimensional conqueror, she still decides to call dibs on North America in exchange of becoming his Grand Admiral.

And Who knows, maybe he'll end up starting an actual line of Dragonborn Emperors there too.

Anyway that's the rough draft.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #bnha au #skyrim #elder scrolls

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elenamegan14 · 4 years

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Twisted Wonderland: Headcanons for Dorm Haunted Houses Pt.5 - Octavinelle

MASTERLIST

Part 4

Probably the longest headcanon one I had so far. LOL.

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TW: Slight dubcon elements and submechanophobia.

THE ATTRACTION:

This dorm’s haunted house is quite unique because it’s a mish-mash between a cruise ship and the jazz lounge hall from the Roaring 1920s. For some reason, after thorough research, Azul wanted to include ‘submechanophobia’ (fear of animatronics submerged in water) into the haunted dorm concept himself.

Azul went crazy with all the merchandise - there were T-Shirts, posters, the most adorable set of acrylic keychains! And the piece of resistance is a two-song single that he and the twins have recorded. It has a physical and digital release, of which the latter had 1,300,000 downloads in just one day.

The promos are crazy too. The way the staff had shot the commercial for the dorm’s haunted house is so cinematically professional that many were taught it was a real movie itself. Luckily, Azul also recorded the dorm’s theme. PS: They also did Pomefiore’s promo video too for a cut share of 15%.

Azul wanted to increase his clients on Monstro Lounge, but he cannot go easy on the student participants as well. He wanted to hear BOTH screams - so the treatment for the students in the survival game and the guests is going to be very different from another.

Regular guests will be scared in a standard manner: jumpscares from animatronics, a bit of gas blowing on their necks - NO TOUCHING AT ALL.

As for the students… well, they’re most likely to get attacked ALL THE TIME. Your name it: physical touches, animatronics dragging them to their ‘doom’, etc. That’s why the dorm made a contract clause to the participants warning them that there will be physical touching and a safe word is provided. Most participants did not read this except for a few. Like MC and Jack. Unless they purchased his charms.

Yes, the octopus capitalist had created their own charms that worked only for this haunted house ONLY. It protects students from the monsters, well MOSTLY.

Perhaps because he was attached to the band he, Floyd, and Jade once made back in middle school, he wanted to include the entertainment aspect as well, perhaps for nostalgic sake. Plus, he did it because he knew people would pay money to see hot idol guys singing jazz songs. Of course, he did, why do you doubt him so?

“Do instruments of torture count?” Floyd asked during the first band meeting. Azul quickly dismissed it. And no, mayonnaise is definitely NOT a musical instrument.

When guests and student participants arrived in the dorm’s haunted house, they were lured into an abandoned pier. During the walk in the eerie, fog-infested docks, guests could see some posters of missing people, old posters of a cruise ship trip promotion, a poster featuring the Octavinelle band in old-timey fashion and old news articles about a tragic malfunctioning animatronic accident.

As they approached closer, they could hear several jazz songs, including electro swings coming from somewhere. Guests also noticed some abandoned, dilapidated animatronics that was missing some parts, giving it a frightening outlook. What really unsettles them most are writings on the wall that are written either in blood or blacks markers: “TURN BACK!” “WATCH OUT!” “STAY AWAY FROM THE CRUISE SHIP!”

They arrived at their destination: a large cruise ship was waiting on them. On the entrance, the dorm staff sold their merchandise and charms to the students themselves. Already traumatized by the two previous haunted houses, most students hurriedly buy the charm itself. Grimm wanted one because there is no way he would want to be “attacked” again, but Deuce managed to stop him from buying an ‘unnecessary’ object (“Unnecessary my foot! We’re talking about the benefit of humanity here!”).

Ace secretly buys one. “There’s not wrong with being prepared!” He whispered to himself.

Entering the den of the beast, they went inside a lavish foyer area that is reminiscent of a scene in titanic. Chandeliers, art deco furniture, and art, as well as posters of the animatronic bands, were shown in meticulous detail.

They were then seated at a wide, spacious restaurant theater area. The staff hyped the audience by asking them to sing a few lines from Azul’s song, before introducing Azul’s band like in a jazz concert.

They began the pre-show in a unique way. Azul is a showstopper mysterious owner and headline singer for “Monstro Lounge”, the cruise ship that is rumored to have a multitude of people missing. Floyd and Jade are his lackeys with the same headline as well.

Azul charms the audience with a siren-like voice, putting the audience into his trance. For some reason, the Octavinelle trio tends to direct their gazes, winks, and fanservice towards MC the most. It then evolved into a Broadway show-stopping number.

The way Azul plays his piano is started off slow, increasing his tempo and so does his seduction and flamboyance. He makes an expression that one could mistake as a man experienced in the bedroom.

Floyd goes crazy with his drums. Meanwhile, Jade plays his contrabass with grace and elegance, fingers touching it lightly but spicy.

Many female clientele almost had a nosebleed... or this close to fainting.

AZUL UNBUTTONED HIS SHIRT TEASINGLY DURING HIS NUMBER. They’re starting to lose it.

Oh, the fan’s screams actually racked up their scream counter. There’s no cheating here - who says that happy screams can’t count?

Yes, Azul does sing on top of the piano.

After they finished their show, Azul then unleashed one of his proudest creations, an animatronic of a lovely mermaid doll that began to sing like an angel. Then, with a snap of fingers, he unleashed a multitude of doll-like merpeople animatronics that looked strangely alive as her accompanying orchestra, playing a haunting, eerie song.

During the middle of the show, one of Octavinelle’s actors came to the stage, shouting about his “long-lost daughter”, followed by a couple more people. Despite the actor playing as security told him to go back to his seat, the father ignored him and embraced the mermaid doll animatronic - his daughter.

In his “rant”, he cursed the Octavinelle trio of deliberately hiding his daughter for three years and turned her into this “monstrosity”. He then declared that he will rescue his daughter from this “vile place‘, unaware that the Octavinelle trio had placed knowing smirks and grins on their face. Begging for his “daughter” to recognize him, the mermaid doll slowly gazed upon her “father”...

...and “tore” his neck apart. Fake blood spewing everywhere, his screams reverberated through the dance hall.

All of the animatronics came alive and started to gruesomely murdered the intruders as well.

“Well, this escalated quickly.” Ace muttered at the disturbing sight.

A guest suddenly screamed - the area is suddenly filled with water, causing the guests and student participants to hurriedly run to the prepared exit.

The students have enchanted some parts of the aquarium walls where merpeople students could appear in and out of the aquarium water on the wall without spilling the water everywhere. So guests and students participants were often surprised by sudden appearances of the tweels, Azul, animatronics, and staff splashing out of the wall from nowhere. There had been many who claimed to have a heart attack from these encounters.

As they run through the aquarium walls, the guests and students are spooked with various animatronics of mutated sea creatures, merpeople, and even a FREAKING shark animatronic that chases them around persistently. They appear at random times, and their designs would surely put submechanophobia (fear of underwater animatronics) into their very souls.

As they moved on further, they entered Azul’s office and workshop - where gory remains of the missing people experimented into animatronics were seen. Horrid screams and desperate shrieks rang all the way - some were even trapped halfway into the animatronic itself.

Azul had two forms for this haunted house dorm: the first is his regular jazz-lounge entertainer animatronic suit with art deco and aquatic elements. The next form is almost the same except his animatronic parts are more revealed, some parts of his clothes tattered and his tentacles are fully shown. Some guests and students secretly yearned to be trapped inside his “tentacles”.

“Fu, fu, fu… come. Let me squeeze you, let me touch your flesh...” “Yes, please.” A guest squeaked, face flushing red.

The tweels have the same elements as Azul did in their costume, except they’re identical and much more muted than Azul did. Their second forms are their merforms, but with faded mechanical parts and some fresh BLOOD on their teeth and torso...

The final stage and centerpiece of their haunted house is what Azul is most proud of. Thrown again into a twisted version of the animatronic warehouse with aquatic background, the now revealed “animatronic” Azul hypnotized the whole audience with his siren-like singing on a small stage, beckoning several guests into the sweet embrace of his tentacles. Fun fact: most students and guests could not resist the temptation and got ‘squished to death’ instead. Yep, no subcontext here at all.

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THE MISSION:

The students and the guests are separated into different groups, with a glass aquarium wall to divide them.

The guide relayed the charm mission to them: this cruise ship is infamous for having animatronics and automatons to serve and entertain their guests. But many years ago, there was an incident where an animatronic, fed up with being abused by a spoiled heiress on her sweet sixteen birthday, mauled her and nearly drowned her in the aquarium.

Their mission is quite simple: get the charm inside Azul’s office then get out of cruise ship “ALIVE”. They were told that they have three chances to find it inside the office itself, or else they would be “eliminated” and had to start all over again.

But first, they must survive his “show” to get to his office. The students were a bit confused at this part until later.

During the show, they soon learn why they were separated from the guests with a glass wall.

While the guest audience’s part is flooded with a small bit of water, the student's parts were unleashed with a torrential burst of water that they have to run to. Everyone (who is on the student side) by the end of this segment is wet from head to toe.

“Damn you, Azul! Once I get out of here, I’ll fry your tentacles!” Grimm growled, drying his soppy fur using his fire magic.

Octavinelle’s challenge is 90% of Patrick Star’s “WEE WOO WEE WOO” moments. 10% of it is just trying to survive.

The animatronics hissed, jumped, and even grabbed them at random times, which puts the NRC students into a looooot of stress since it attacked them more than once!

Oh, yes, and the mechanical shark will burst out of the “wall” when you least expect it.

“WHAT THE HECK IS WITH THIS HAUNTED HOUSE?! THIS IS VERY UNREASONABLE!” Cried one student before a mechanical shark got him.

But the ones who purchased Octavinelle’s charm walked in smoothly - the animatronics did not attack them directly, the staff stayed out of their way - all is good and right in the world...

Spoiler alert: Did they say that the charm protects them? Of course, it did… EXCEPT AGAINST AZUL AND THE TWEELS.

Yup, Ace learned the hard way when Jade came out of nowhere and tried to drag him inside the aquarium water. The screams that Ace had bellowed does not do justice to how fast he runs.

“YOU SAID THIS CHARM WOULD PROTECT US!”

Epel read the terms and agreement again, “Oh, whoops. It also says here, that the charm doesn’t guarantee to protect you against Azul, Floyd, and Jade. Should have read it thoroughly.”

“I can’t read while I’m getting chased!”

FLOYD DOES MOST OF THE DAMAGES. Physically and emotionally.

He first started by licking Ace’s face. Who knew that eel’s tongue is long.(“Nooooo! I feel so physically violated!” Ace ran to the corner and sobbed.)

Epel had a heart attack when he felt someone smacked his ass. As does Deuce. Then Jack (his tail got roughly grabbed as well).

Jack screamed out all the safe words. Deuce and Epel shouted all kinds of colorful swear words they could ever know, even the foreign ones.

MC’s ass received the same treatment, but they also received an additional playful grope. And then Floyd licked them. MC was screaming and flustered at the same time.

“Shrimp-chan is cute when startled!” He cooed before he splashed back to the water.

There were a LOT of complaints after this event this over, particularly threats of suing Azul for inappropriate sexual harassment. But then the staff asked if they all read the terms and agreements. They all went silent and got on with the next haunted house challenge.

MC’s group tried to murder Floyd by chasing him down underwater, but they realized that getting inside the water would actually disqualify them. They all promised DEATH upon the Octavinelle trio for putting them into this mess and extorting them out of their money.

Now there was one this brutal and competitive student who wanted to get the charms himself. So he kinda lures MC using the infamous “Wounded Gazelle Gambit” trick. In MC’s defense, the act was kinda convincing for a student.

They were not prepared to be chained up and kicked outside to the water, leaving them to drown after they got frisked by that said student for the charms. “In this world, only the mighty wins!”

For a while, MC is left trying to hold their breath while desperately trying to free themselves from the heavy chains. Just as their oxygen almost ran out, Jade managed to see MC struggling underwater. He managed to get Houdini MC out of the water, asking if they’re okay and who actually did this to them. While MC struggled to answer, refusing special treatment, MC decided to get back into the game and get the charms back.

Jade also decided to deal with the violent troublemaker as well, and he just knew what to do with the mechanical shark that he controlled.

To get to the office, the students went to another path, carrying them to a room filled with water and several large pieces of ice. They had to carefully cross through the thin layers of ice amongst the water. There was a mechanical shark circling around, sniffing for its late-night snack.

Already five students fell victim to it.

The ice is slippery, MC’s group is struggling to stay afloat and they do not see MC anywhere.

Epel does spot a student cackling as he carries two familiar charms.

“What have you done to them?!” Ace growled.

“Oh, I guess I made them sleep with the fishes.”

Deuce’s inner delinquent is awakened. He roared and attacked that said student, attempting to avenge poor MC. There was pulling, tugging and pinching.

Just as that competitive student got the upper-hand to Deuce… well, surprise, surprise, guess who’s back, back again.

“HISASHIBURI-DANNA, BITCH. BET YOU’D THOUGHT YOU’VE SEEN THE LAST OF ME.” MC, wet from head to toe, raised their fist, punching that said student and causing that student to release the charms. Deuce quickly grabbed them both before they lost it again, then gave an additional uppercut to that said student. The competitive student staggered backward...

...and then the mechanical shark jumped out of nowhere from the water and dragged the student into their watery doom (kidding: that jerk student got thrown out of the cruise instead. INTO THE TRASH BIN).

The remaining students reached the front of the office, but they could not open the door. Turns out, Azul had enchanted the door so that it can only be opened by using one, particular, embarrassing pose. Oh, and they have to cry out the written words as well.

“The complete flame in our chests shall not be extinguished by anyone! We are… THE PHOENIX!” They all pose like a phoenix. Once it’s done, there isn't any student that collapses out of sheer humiliation.

The Octavinelle Trio secretly recorded it. Either for blackmail or marketing purposes, take your pick.

Once they were inside the office, they were given a riddle and three chances to find it: I am violet, I sing in a limited voice and I am trapped. Find the key inside me.

At first, they thought it was a musical instrument - but there aren’t any musical instruments that colored purple - unless someone dyes it. Also, they cannot find anything remotely similar to a musical instrument. They finally narrowed down to a purple scorebook, a purple-colored radio and… a music box.

They decided to select a music box... and voila! The charm is found! It’s a good thing they got enough to share on their brain cells, eh?

The last challenge after getting the charm is to escape from the cruise itself - but they have to go through Azul to do exactly that! Yup, they have to resist Azul’s hypnotic singing, struggling to escape straight to the exit. Because of Jack’s sensitive ears, he had repeatedly tried to walk straight to Azul, only for Epel to knock him out for a good measure and carried Jack around like he was nothing but a potato sack.

MC nearly succumbed to hypnotism but Grimm managed to snap them out of it by slapping them repeatedly.

Azul sighed, “And here I was thinking I could get a chance to get close to you than Floyd did.”

Yep, they definitely did not waste any chances of getting out of here before Azul starts singing again.

The Octavinelle Dorm staff is considerate enough to give the students wet towels and a warm drink to keep the students from getting cold. Meanwhile, Ace, Epel, and Deuce joined in the protest about the inappropriate misconduct before they unleashed their rage on the nearby prepared dummies after being told that their contract’s terms and conditions had warned them that there will be touching and the staff is not responsible for it.

Perhaps getting wet is a good thing because the fiery presence of Scarabia’s haunted house might be able to keep the cold away...

Part 6

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