#Like not all of them are bad but they have intense adverts for no reasons

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

Okay actually here's the greatest bits of acting from each of the F1 drivers:

Checo:

Danny Ric:

Max:

Charles:

Pierre (featuring the famous wink moment):

Carlos (featuring Charles and Fred):

Lando:

Fernando (There is literally a compilation clip out there, but this one w Hamilton is my fav):

Lewis (with Nico in the same machinery):

And my fave of all time, Valterri's Uber commercial:

[deltaengineering]

Fall Anime 2023: A Fallful of Fail

you will be shocked at what happens at the end

horse_ebooks S3

Umamusume S3 is bad. Not that that should be a surprise to anyone – the anime was never beyond decent and even then mostly just the price of admission to a galaxy of fanart. And looked at from the outside it is simply shaped liked itself: nothing more (or given the context, rather nothing less) than a fat and lazy gacha franchise advert.

The question is why S1 and S2 apparently were not when they were materially barely any different, and the answer to that is simple: S1 had the novelty and S2 apparently brought the best material Umamusume can realistically offer – which already wasn't that much. If you just want the quick take, S3 is very much like the boring first half of S2, and then just keeps rolling like that until episode 12. However, since it drops all the distractions and embellishments and just presents itself naked and at the most basic level, S3 works as exactly one thing: A case study why Umamusume was never good, will never be good, can never be good and is fundamentally just a bad idea.

It's a confluence of things that are each on their own questionable, but each of them boosts each other's shortcomings in such a profound way that it's hard to say what the "core issue" even is: It is obsessed with a "sport" that is so simple that all events are short and indistinguishable, and winning just comes down to whether you decide to go fast that day. It values gambling results from decades ago over having a structured story. It wants to pick protagonists that are popular, and horses are popular when they win. It needs to have a vast yet simplistic character roster where having two personality traits makes you Rice Shower, the deepest character in the franchise. It plays it so safe that there shall be no villains or even adversity – having injuries in S2 was apparently already too spicy so we just don't do that anymore. It despises continuity, which means that Gold Ship can get a random episode about ending her career and this making no difference whatsoever to her presence, which remains exactly the same as it has been since the first episode of season one. And yet, it thinks it can have all of these and tell a character-focused underdog sports story, because that's what you do when you hear "racing".

The end result of this is that we have a two-episode loop that is intensely centered on one unbelievably shallow protagonist with the personality of "everyone loves her", who constantly keeps winning unless she gets sad, and then people tell her she is popular to cheer her up, and then she wins again, and then we do this 5 times in a row, and this being framed as some epic triumph over adversity. And none of this is new, it's just really apparent when your protagonist is "Teio, but worse", your sidekick is "McQueen, but worse", and your supporting cast is "you liked these characters last season and they like Kita-chan, maybe you should too". Intellectually, it's astonishingly awful and yes, I'm mad.

But with high production values and a bunch of cute hors doing cute things, it's still nothing more (or given the context, rather nothing less) than a fat and lazy gacha franchise advert. Just don't ever consider turning on your brain while watching it because that shit hurts. 4/10

Tearmoon Empire

I'm probably only putting this one over Umamusume out of spite, because while Umamusume did pretty much everything wrong on a high level for interesting(?) reasons, Tearmoon is just a bottom-shelf product and that's the the long and short of it. To be fair, it starts out as a pretty good one of those, with a decent twist on the "I read the script" style of story that these always are, and watching trash princess Mia stumble around trying to save her head from getting lopped off with inexplicably positive results for everyone involved is a decent, if easy, laugh. This already doesn't ever reach its full potential, because it's ultimately bland and one-note and there's nothing else (apart from a very funny OP). Tearmoon was cursed by amateurish light novel writing from the start, but what really does it in is Volume One syndrome: That plot is resolved about two thirds in, and what follows is just staggeringly uninteresting political machinations in a thoroughly dull universe. The beginning was weak, yes, but it was followed up by stuff I could not possibly care any less about. In a way it's a positive that nothing comes together, because then the show's single biggest lategame misstep by far (guess what, nothing was Mia's fault after all!) would total the show's thematic core. If it had managed to establish it. Which it didn't. 4/10

Bullbuster

I'll give Bullbuster one thing: It at least feels like a show anyone wanted to make. And while "robots, but realistic and working class" is not a new angle, doing a mecha show through the lens of workplace laws and corporate policies instead of technology is a pretty good starting point. It's just that things went wrong when developing this into an actual story – something with this grounded a concept should not stumble around for weeks until it eventually ends up with the "twist" that the local Umbrella Corp experimental biotech plant is the source of these weird mutations, for example. The characters also just aren't strong enough to keep this weird mess of a plot together on their own either. It also notably has some of the worst monster CG in recent memory, and as an action show (something it isn't, to be clear) it would have been a laughable failure. This is not at all surprising coming from the Deca-Dence studio, but everyone somehow gave that show a pass while I don't think this one will be on anyone's hidden gem list in a hurry. In any case, "could have been good, but isn't" is all that really needs to be said about Bullbuster. Sometimes an anime isn't good for no other reason than simply lacking in quality. 5/10

16bit Sensation

I was always going to watch 16bit Sensation due to personal interest in the subject matter, and honestly the best I can say about it is that "it gets better". Not that that means much because it starts out badly, with just a bunch of uninspired 90s vndev references and anecdotes that the people who were there probably find very relatable. That said, the show notably improves once it starts going down some weirder parallel timelines & moefag aliens paths – but it has so far to go that that really isn't enough either. Unlike its simpatico Animegataris, 16bit Sensation doesn't go to really weird places and also completely lacks bite because eventually it just wants to be like, about the power of creativity, maaaan, which drives it more into "Eizouken without the production value" territory, and logically very little of it makes sense. Admittedly it doesn't strictly have to, but it's not very funny or insightful either. In any case, the real loadbearing part of this show is the character of Konoha anyway, and she's a mixed bag. Her goofiness is endearing, but it's also hard to deny that her character mostly consists of Aoi Koga's voice performance, and that is in turn mostly just consists of "the wacky bits from Kaguya-sama but extra hard and all the time". It's certainly something, but whether it's a selling point is a deeply personal decision for every viewer. Unlike the undisputably crappy opening song performance by Shokotan of all people, what the hell. 5/10

Under Ninja

Under Ninja has one thing going for it, and that is that it's unlike anything else (well, I hear that all the other mangas by this author are exactly like it, but in animated from at least). It's a weird mess of an absurd Metal Gear plot presented with all the ambiance of a 4chan greentext story, which gives it an unusually deadpan sense of humor similar to something like Burn After Reading. If nothing else, it's an experience... but I still don't like it very much. For starters, this show looks like absolute butt, and only half of that can be attributed to intentionally grimy stylistic suck. No-budget James Bond might be a joke, but at the end of the day you still have to watch it, and there is far too much action in the show for it to look this crappy. Characterwise, it starts with exploring the more sympathetic sides of unlikeable losers, towards the end it just keeps spamming more unlikeable losers because... funny? Also, the story is wilfully obtuse but appears to take itself increasingly seriously as it goes on, which makes it eventually cross over from "shaggy dog" to outright "just a prank bro". Now, I will say that this is more than just random nonsense. I think that it does try to say something about Japanese society – I'm just not sure what that actually is. Instead the intense cynicism gets the better of the the show and it just disappears up its own ass, and I don't think that is particularly hilarious. 5/10

Otona Precure

I can't hate Otona Precure. It's just exactly what it says on the tin, a basic-ass Precure show with mildly adult topics while everything else remains as generic as it it gets, production included. This was never going to be extraordinary or subversive (and if it attempted that, it would probably have gone badly), so I'll just take things like razor thin characters, baby-level takes on environmentalism and egregious reuse of 20 year old stock footage as a charming part of the package. In fact, if it was less rudimentary it would not be watchable for someone like me who doesn't care to explore the 100+ episodes of old assembly line magical girl anime that this ostensibly a sequel to – I get it just fine from context clues, thank you very much. It's very much a slim novelty, but enough of a novelty that it can just about sustain 12 episodes and that is it. 6/10

Overtake!

Overtake is, to put it simply, thoroughly competent, as expected from Ei Aoki – a small-scale, vaguely bromantic character drama with a moderately novel setting that can take full advantage of its traditional underdog sports story trappings. It certainly won't blow anyone's socks off but compared to all the questionable jank above it does feel like a breath of fresh air when something just works, and I really can't stress this enough – I did not particularly care about Overtake and its characters at first but godammit if it didn't put in the work and skill to make me care. The characters are fleshed out and fun, the plot is well paced and goes to some less predictable places, and it looks really appealing without coming across as living above its means. I had a genuinely good time all the way through but ultimately wasn't invested enough to consider it a classic, and that's fine. It's an "exceptional midcard" type of show, and I wish there was more of this tier between the cheap trash and the ultra-premium crowdpleaser.

And I cannot keep myself from saying this, but this tangentially-about-racing character drama just so happens to utterly clown on Umamusume in regards to making racing exciting, without even trying very hard (Redline it is not), via groundbreaking additions such as left turns and actual strategy. And that is before it's actually a good show with characters and a story worth caring about. Imagine that. 7/10

but consider the following:

In all honesty, this was a pretty good season and almost all the reasons for that are not on the above list. Yes, the premium material on top of the rankings did actually deliver hard this season, which is to say that both Frieren and Apothecary Diaries would be easy AOTY contenders had I not learned my lesson regarding continuing shows with Ranking of Kings. Both were great but face some rough road ahead – Frieren is heading into a Shounen Exam Arc™ while Apothecary Diaries is starting to show signs of classic shoujo romance pitfalls, so I'll hope for the best and give them their due once they end. And there's also Undead Unluck, which is simply the Fire Force that Weekly Jump has at home, and by that I mean that it's two thirds delightfully unhinged psychedelia and one third Jump brand "I should really drop this" pablum, a ratio that is highly unlikely to improve. Besides that, I'm quite a ways into Pluto but haven't finished it yet because it is indeed Naoki Urasawa's Award-Winning Masterpiece Pluto – expertly made and decently meaningful but also bloated with self-importance past the point of flatulence. We'll see.

[lunaekalenda]

daddy.

a/n: okay so this is my try to write something more spicy i guess :D i accept criticisms since i'm not really into this and i was just curious to write it :') sorry for your eyes my dears also big thankies to @prada-issues for reading it and give her opinion aaaa please minors do not interact with this post ! to be honest it is based on s4 kirstein what a surprise

your favorite character x fem!reader (warnings and one shot down the read more)

w: use of words like daddy, baby, good girl or bad girl; fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mention of adult videos, male m, oral (male receiving), thigh riding, unprotected sex, slapping

You don't like this tone of pink. Or even this laces. But, after all, he bought this for you. Thinking about you. What other way could you please him more than showing him how good it looked on you?

"Turn around." that were the only words said. He's sitting on his little couch, a glass full of liquor on his right hand. His hair is messy, as if he has run his fingers through it. His elbows are on his knees, his body slightly leaning to the front to have a better view. You turn around. "Slowly, princess, slowly." he asks again. Your feet obey before your brain. Actually, you don't dislike this. Being desired with this intensity. He stretches an arm towards you, taking the little pink skirt he bought, pulling softly to make you go closer to him. Then, his attractiveness shots.

He leans back again, a lazy hand unbuttoning his shirt's neck, long and bony fingers entering the fabric to take the button off. You can smell his liquor and see a couple sweat pearls running down his body, disappearing on his clavicle, still covered by the white shirt. He looks at you in the eyes, a dangerous smile appearing on his lips.

"Are you seeing somehing, baby?" he asks, his hands being even more provocative, how his fingers open a way to the inner part of his clothes to take the little plastic out. His tongue caresses his lips when he takes the last sip. He gets up. "I told you to turn around, but you stood still, looking at me. That isn't what I asked you to do, hm?" he says. You can feel his hands playing on your sides, reaching the skirt. "I guess you need a little punishment." he whispers. You find his eyes, lust and desire reflected on them. You don't want to be punished. You want his praises.

"But I like when you call me good g-" you get interrupted by his deep and lustful laugh.

"Good girls do what Daddy ask them to do, hm? They aren't disobeying girls. So..." he says. His hands sneak into your skirt, finding easily your panties. Just with a little touch, he smiles. "... I guess being a bad girl for me isn't that bad, since you keep disobeying me." he says.

When he asked you to start this type of relationship, you didn't know how turned on you could get just by hearing him call you 'Good Girl'. The dominance aura he has around, the way this fits him as if it was made for him. It makes your legs weak and your pretty cunt squelch around nothing.

He gives a little slap on your butt, still covered with that cute pastel pink skirt. He goes back to his couch, sitting. The way his hand unzip his pants, so lazy and unamused about the situation... You take a fast look to his legs. An important bulge is growing on his underwear. "Kneel here for me, hm?" he asks, showing a place between his legs. You kneel, on the cushion he put for you. He always thinks of those little details. He doesn't want to hurt his loved one.

His hand takes out that pretty cock he has. You lean towards it, but his hand stops you. "No, baby. This is a punishment. You're gonna kneel there and watch how Daddy gets off, okay?" He also takes his phone from his pocket, quickly tipping. You look curious at the back of the phone. Is he chatting?

No.

You recognize what he's watching a second before the first sound. Moans and skin slaps coming from his phone. His hand moves as lazy as all his previous movements, his mouth half open, letting some gasps and sighs escape through his teeth. You always loved his hands and, honestly, they look so good around his shift, giving it slow strokes. You also want to help him, but you find this scene so hot...

While your fingers find the end of the skirt, his eyes look at you from above the screen.

"Don't touch yourself, hm? Daddy din't give you permission to" he says. His voice has a raspy tone that makes your interior tingle and he lets the words out in a whisper, as if he was adverting you. He is adverting you. You don't want more punishments. You want to be his good girl again, the one that gets his praises and caresses and kisses. Your hand fastly goes up again, now resting on his knees. He smiles. "That's it." his sentence is followed by a deep moan he lets out, his hand going a little faster while his phone gets all his attention again. You don't like that. You're supposed to be what makes him hard, not that stupid video. He should be getting off with you. It looks so hot, all hard and gloomy. You don't want more punishments, but Daddy won't be angry if you help him a little, right?

You lean closer to him, his eyes covered by the screen when your tongue gives a little kitten lick to his dick. He lets out a groan. Taking his phone out of his vision, he looks at you.

"I thought you maybe needed some help, Daddy." the way that word leaves your mouth, so smoothly and innocent, turns him a hundred times more. He puts his phone near the glass, on the little crystal table near the couch. His hand leaves his dick, now guiding your head.

"Daddy is dissappointed since you disobeyed me again." he says. He makes the shape of your lips with his thumb, feeling the gloss cape on them.

"But I just wanted to help you." you pout. He takes your jaw quietly. His eyes looking directly at yours. His lips curve on a sweet smile.

"Hm, and you're a really good girl for that. Now, open your mouth and help Daddy, yeah? That's what you wanted to do." his words are a win for you. You get closer, his hand quietly guiding you. "That's right, just like that." his head tilted back and his hand rests on your hair, guiding your movements softly. Your tongue spins around his tip, making him gasp louder, his hips starting an unconscious movement against your mouth, not really hard. "Hm, you're making Daddy feel really good... As the god girl you are." You can help but smile, even with your mouth full. He caresses your cheek. "Come on, baby. I taught you how to make Daddy happy with that cute mouth of yours." You know it. He has taught you how he likes to be sucked, from tongue movements to pace changings. A little bulge appears on your cheek. He caresses it, his tip feeling his thumb outside of your mouth. He takes your head with both hands, softly thrusting into you. You can't help but let him use it. He isn't rude, he knows you only want to help him. He just lets his hips make lazy movements against your mouth. He makes you release it, some spit connecting both of you. He spreads it out of your mouth with his thumb.

"You look so pretty, baby..." he doesn't lie. Your blushed cheeks, teary eyes and plumped lips make you look really beautiful. And knowing that him is the reason makes his cock twitch.

Now you're sitting on his thigh, little movements accompanied by moans while you ride on top of his pants, leaving a little wet patch on them.

"Oh, you're that wet? You even passed from your pantie to my pant." he says. His hand is stroking his shift again, his eyes changing from your pleasure expression to your little hip movement. He groans. "So fucking beautiful." He sneaks his free hand between your underwear and your skin, one king and bony finger reaching your inner. You let out a moan.

"Mmh, it feels good..." you say, moving with more need, wanting to feel his finger deeper. He smiles for you, so attractive.

"Yeah? This feels good?" he asks. He puts a second finger inside. "Than think about how well my cock will feel." he says. You moan louder, feeling his hand stroking again while his fingers play inside you. He takes them both out, a hilo de fluids connecting them to you. "Now, ride Daddy." he says. You look at the wonderful sights you have. His sweating body, only his pants and boxers on, with his cock outside them, hard and ready for you. You stand up and, before getting your price, you wait for him to decide with clothes you should leave on your body. "Take off your panties." he says. You do so, anticipating in your stomach all the pleasure you're gonna feel when he gets buried into you. "Leave the skirt, take off the shirt." he asks. You do so, his lips smiling when he founds you don't use a bra, just how he told you to. "So obedient..." he whispers, attracting you to his lap and sitting you. That way, with his hands moving your hips, you can rub your now naked body against his. A deep moan escapes his mouth. You sigh with satisfaction.

"Can I put it in, Daddy?" the way you beg, the way you call him Daddy makes him want to let you do whatever you want with him. He gets so hard and so weak he could cum just hearing you calling him "Daddy" and moving those cute lashes. He nods, his hands guiding your hips up while you grind down on him slowly. You both let out a moan, your mouth open with pleasure. He puts a finger inside, and you suck it. You suck his finger how he taught you. A groan escapes his throath.

"You're so big, oh, godess." you say. He smiles, an smile full of lust, his hands tangling with yours when you start a slow movement against him.

"You're taking it so well, baby..." he says. "You like to feel Daddy's cock inside you, hm?" His hips go up involuntary, thrusts helping your pace. "You're so tight for me..." that made you squeeze him even more. His head went back, showing you his Adam apple and his neck, exhaling slowly. "Like that."

His hands are on both sides of your hips, some casual slaps whenever he wants you to be faster. Your legs hurt because of the impulse but you don't care. It feels so good. He knows it. That's why he takes you, turning you both around, his arms holding your legs while he accommodates your body on the couch, making easier for him to thrust into you. His hips make lascive noises when they hit you, your hands reaching his neck. You need to hold onto something. You feel dizzy from the pleasure.

"More." you beg. Your voice sounds broke, pure desire on it. He knows you're close, really close, that's why his thrusts take a slower pace, hitting the spots he knows you like, making your eyes roll. "More, more." it sound like an oration now, his body finding yours so slowly you think you're burning in slow burn. You can also hear his gasps, his groans, how he's also enjoying soemthing than only you can bring him.

"You're close, aren't you, baby?" he asks. His voice sounds so sexy like that. You're about to cry, you're feeling so well. Your legs start to tremble and your grip on his hair is stronger. His mouth covers yours on a sweet kiss, his tongue finding yours. He parts under your surprise gaze. "I want to hear every single sound you make when you come." he says. And you give it to him, so gladly.

A reward for making you feel that good.

little tag: @espritmuse <3

[thatwritingnerd]

3 for elliott/sebastian 🥺 @gendercraft

Summary: Sebastian has steadily fallen in love with the resident novelist from the moment he saves him but he would never dare confess such a thing as feelings. He wouldn't want to ruin their new relationship but he doesn't think he can silently pine for Elliott any longer.

Warnings: minor embarrassment, mentions of depression

For the prompt: I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

Word count: 2k

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It wasn’t as if Sebastian wanted to make more friends, he already had two and that was enough, right? He would curse his inability to stay away from the beach on the rainiest of days, legs tucked under himself as he sat at the end of the pier, the rain cool in the humid summer day giving some relief to the uncomfortable heat. Curse his incessant need to dwell in his own suffering and despair – and, no, he’s not dramatic, thank you. And, you know what, curse Elliott too.

Elliott and his worrisome nature, his concern and fretting if Sebastian is alright. He’s not. He wasn’t. Wet through, undoubtedly getting a cold, amid a depressive episode. And Elliott, soft, sweet Elliott, holding an umbrella over him, his own long hair dampening and coat soaking from where the wind blows the rain. And Sebastian couldn’t find it in him to deny the man his company, and that’s how he found himself in Elliott’s small and rustic yet homely, warm cabin. Then how he found his friendship starting with the older man.

He had somewhat awkwardly sat there, on the other’s bed, blanket around his bare shoulders, dressed in a pair of sweatpants that he would never have guessed that Elliott would have owned, a cup of green tea in his hands, listening to Elliott hum something whilst his clothing dried and the storm settled.

Maybe, Sebastian thinks, that was the moment he first started to fall in love with Elliott.

And he didn’t stop falling for some time.

Elliott had seemingly integrated himself into his life, at first it was the occasional ‘hello’ at the saloon on a Friday, which sparked questions from Sam and Abigail, or the brief passing conversation at a festival when they were both alone and drawn to the other. Then a meeting which turned into a conversation on the bridge to the beach on a late evening, around the side of the community centre, but the docks were still their favoured place for a chance meeting. Not that Sebastian would tell himself that he went there less to be alone now and more so for a chance at seeing the other man.

Sebastian could not lie to himself, Elliott is an attractive man, and he knows it, that is for sure, he has eyes. But he could not tell a soul. Elliott is refined, put together, well kept, gentlemanly, he is everything Sebastian is not – and Sebastian feels inadequate enough merely from their friendship alone. He is nothing, he’s a loner, a shut in, a fucking nerd who has depressive breakdowns in the rain and needs to be rescued like a damsel in distress.

Rationally, he knows that Elliott and himself couldn’t be like that. Elliott’s standards were probably too high, and for good reason, not to mention their age gap, in a town like this the gossip would spread quicker than wildfire. But that didn’t stop him, it could not stop him, falling in love with Elliott.

He fell in love with his passionate nature, his love for the sea and the sand, the way the side of his hand was always stained with ink, the way his eyes crinkled then shut when he laughed, the way he actually listened to Sebastian, or the way he did all the talking when it was clear that Sebastian did not want to talk, the way it took him almost an hour to get ready on a morning, the way he would always greet anyone with a pleasant smile, the way he made Sebastian feel like he mattered, like he actually mattered to the world, and to Elliott.

Sebastian did not just fall in love with him. Sebastian was in love with him.

The damage had been done. But that did not mean that Elliott had to know, or perhaps he had already figured it out. Sebastian hopes not, as intelligent as Elliott is he himself is more stubborn and emotionally cut-off. He is tempted to shut himself off from the world, from Elliott, physically, it would be so easy to just not leave his room ever again, never step foot on the beach.

He could have. Yet he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Even in the heat of summer, the sand scorching hot and blinding, the sun shining blinding off the turquoise sea, all too hot in his all black ensemble. Just to see him. Sebastian became familiar with the creaking floorboards, the wind against the old windows, the constant smell of sea salt and green tea, the scratch of pen against paper, the keys of the old piano, and the soft, gentleness of Elliott’s voice.

Although he didn’t feel quite at home, on Elliott’s bed with a borrowed, old book in his hands, he felt comfortable despite the nervous thrum of anxiety running through his veins constantly. Every time Elliott dared to look in his direction, to speak to him, to listen to him, it made him nervous, made him blush like a little schoolboy with a crush.

It wasn’t until he truly let Elliott in, pushed down his barriers, that his mind supplied that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one with these sorts of feelings. Maybe they weren’t one sided, and maybe he wasn’t confined to pathetic pining for the rest of his stupid days in this valley.

When he let Elliott talk to him, not merely at him, to him, about things that mattered, about Elliott’s past in the city, about Sebastian’s want to escape but maybe how he may be changing his mind as of late, about Elliott’s fear of failure, about Sebastian’s fear of humiliation. When he let, no, encouraged Elliott to touch him – not like that. But a passing touch on his arm that lingered, a hand on his shoulder as he caressed the keys of Elliott’s piano, the gentle rest of Elliott’s chin against his shoulder as they shared a book, and the friendly hugs that seemed only to lengthen in time over time until Sebastian had no second thoughts of cuddling with the other man.

It was then, once the sun was setting, soft glows of orange and red skimming through the windowpane’s and onto the older man, skin soft and hair aflame under the light. Elliott’s eyes closed, breathing shallow, and Sebastian is unsure if he is still awake, lying next to him, their legs intertwined together, Elliott’s latest literary recommendation laying open against Sebastian’s chest. He doesn’t even think, some innate part of him acting without his own attention, before he brushes smooth strands of hair out of Elliott’s face, fingers stroking over the softness of his cheek.

“You have no idea,” Sebastian whispers, barely a breath being released, “no idea how much you’ve come to mean to me, how much I like you.”

He sighs, letting his hand fall away, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, guilty about touching him, telling him something so… important? Private? Something he maybe should have said to a more conscious Elliott in truth?

“Sebastian?”

Well, fuck.

“I, uh, don’t- yeah.”

He dares to look back at Elliott, eyes bleary and unfocused, attempting to push himself to sit upright but settle for leaning back on an arm behind himself, clearly having been attempting at sleeping at least. And Sebastian, despite himself, thinks that Elliott looks even better like this, mussed and lax, prettier than when he is all dressed up and trying too hard.

“What did you just say?” Elliott asks, voice low and quiet, as if Sebastian will spook if he speaks any louder and, honestly, he might.

“Never mind, forget it.”

Elliott looks hurt, sad and frustrated all at once, and Sebastian feels guilty all over again, flushing out of embarrassment and humiliation, not only at his admission now but at hurting Elliott. Maybe he had been completely wrong, and maybe he had ruined this for himself, for the both of them.

“No, don’t, please,” Elliott mutters out, hesitant and slow in his movement but he reaches out to take the book from Sebastian’s chest, laying it down on his side table, before taking Sebastian’s cool hand in his own, “don’t shut down again, please, let me hear you, don’t get stuck in that head of yours, please, for me, Sebastian.”

And, fuck, if that doesn’t twist on Sebastian’s emotions like nothing else, it hurts and makes him feel sick but giddy at the same time. Who knew emotions were so confusing?

“I- I can’t, not-” he stutters, defensive in his attempts to at least recover what little friendship he may have left with Elliott, but looking at him now, eyes sad and expectant. He sighs, defeated.

“I like you, Elliott, maybe too much, and I didn’t think I could like someone like this, I’ve never… you’re special. You’re just as weird as me, you listen to me, you go out of your way to talk to me. And I like it when you go on your little rants, when you tell me something reminded you of me, every book you recommend I read but not because they’re particularly interesting but because it was you that told me to. You saved me that day on the docks, not just that day but every day, you made me open up more, and I like that, I like who I’m becoming because of you, because I like you.”

It seems to rush out of him mostly as nonsense to himself but by the way Elliott looks at him, intense and enraptured, he is sure he’s making some sort of sense to him. Maybe that’s a bad thing.

“Oh, Sebastian,” Elliott says, thumb running over the backs of his knuckles gently, “how long have you kept this inside of you?”

Sebastian adverts his gaze, glancing down at their hands now intertwined, and he pulls himself up more so to sit crossed legged opposite him.

“Too long.”

“You poor thing, if I had any inclination that you felt the same, I would have told you right away but I… I didn’t want to scare you away, not after I had earned your trust, I could not forgive myself if I lost you over something so silly as my own feelings,” Elliott explains, his own gaze now embarrassed and downward turned.

And Sebastian reminds himself to actively close his mouth from gaping, “wait, you…”

Elliott laughs, a soft, nervous thing.

“Yes, Sebastian, I like you a little too much too.”

Sebastian has half the mind to swat at his upper arm for that, reiterating his previous words.

“Since when?”

Elliott smiles at him, meeting his gaze finally, thumb never ceasing over the pale skin of Sebastian’s hand, “too long.”

Sebastian laughs this time, nervousness dissipating, and maybe it isn’t exactly a dreamy love confession that he thought about in the darkness of night alone, but it’s real and enough for him.

“I think it was that day, on the docks, you helped me, and I think I started to fall for you then.”

Elliott’s smile is nothing short of beautiful, ethereal.

“Then, when you were in my cabin for the first time, wrapped in my blankets, on my bed, you looked so at home. I couldn’t help but invite you back, keep you in my life, after I saw you there, vulnerable, something other than your rough exterior, I wanted more of you.”

And Sebastian can do nothing but smile back.

Things don’t change much. Sebastian makes his way to the docks as usual, rain spitting around him, and Elliott is there, waiting, with an umbrella. He meets him with a chaste, gentle kiss, earning him a warm arm wrapped around his waist and he leans into the touch eagerly.

“Good evening, dearest, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, fondly yet teasing.

He ducks his head to Elliott’s chest, he is warm and feels like home, “missed you, is all.”

Elliott kisses his forehead, “I missed you too, dear.”

[darkened-writer]

As You Wish- (A Knight! Bucky x Servant! Reader) Pt.1

    A Winter’s Night on a full moon beckoned the kingdom as the regal princess made her way to the main hall, her servant and hand-maiden, Y/N, trailing behind her. There was to be a war of great violence to befall the kingdom and The King needed his daughters support.

    “Why do I have to come? I don’t even have full  control over the kingdom and yet.. Father insists I attend.” The Young Princess groaned, her skin tight, blue gown flowing against the linoleum flooring.

Elegant.

 “Your Father insists, your highness, but I will be there with you if you so need anything at all.” 

 The Princess smiled as she stopped in front of the main hall’s doors, turning to look at Y/N. Her gaze was soft as lilies on a sunny afternoon, like the smell of orange peels and lemon.

 “Thank you.. I am glad I have you by my side, even as a servant and hand-maiden, you have been an amazing friend and an amazing companion..”

Y/N, smiling even with a dirty face covered in soot, curtseyed, her semi-clean dress in her hands.

“Thank you, Your Highness.. Let me get the door for you..”

Y/N, quickly but methodically, went up to the door and pushed it open, the door creaking and alerting The King of his daughters arrival. Y/N held the door open and The Princess walked in, taking a seat at the large table.

‘A War Table?’, Y/N thought, then closing the large door and taking her place next to The Princess.

“Today, we speak on our plans of war. The Three Kingdoms have started war and our allies need our help. However, many of my associates have told me to lay down my sword and leave it be. I do not want to break the oath I made years ago so I am to make plans of war. I need opinions and thoughts of best interest.”

Y/N examined everyone seated among the table, seeing their mannerisms and ways of carrying themselves. 

Natasha Of The ‘Zucan Empire’, was a mighty knight and the right hand of The King, Ser Steve of ‘Vaweth’, The Lead Knights of the battalion, his gaze was menacing but soft in an odd way. But, a strange knight caught Y/N’s eyes, his stature was tight and rigid and his face was hidden behind a metal helmet, the only visible feature being his nose, eyes, and a bit of his mouth. His eyes carried great pain, an intense and great pain that had caught the servant by the throat. 

But, she never expected to have him lock eyes with her. His eyes now giving her a feeling, almost of a thunderous storm in the great mountains, the smell of pine and metal and a intense feeling of safeness. 

Their eyes stayed locked only for a bit until The King called upon him to speak.

“Based on the battlefield in which the troops will be placed, I say we put our weaker in the front and our stronger in the back. The opposing won’t expect it, and we can hit them ten times harder than they may hit us.” His voice came out deep and gravelly, but smooth, his words articulate and well spoken.

“His name is ‘The White Wolf’, he is said to be the greatest knight in all the four kingdoms and he serves under my dad..” The Princess whispered to Y/N, Y/N’s eyes widening a bit at the odd name.

“He is known for slaying the dragon that had consumed our lands, I think the dragon was called, ‘Hydra’?”

Y/N nodded, looking back up at the table as they continued to speak.

“White Wolf, I need you to get recruitments for the knights guard, I need the strong and I need the weak, any man or woman will work. Natasha, you will set up our camping for the knights, and manage the rations. Steve, I will be needing you to stay with me until we have our battalion, I am afraid that a assasination attempt may come now that the other kingdoms know that I am joining the fight..”

They all nodded and the meeting was closed, The King coming towards his daughter and hugging her, “I’m glad you came, Daughter. I was afraid Y/N may have to tear you from your chambers.”

She laughed, “Well, you need as much support as you can get father..” 

Y/N however wasn’t listening, her gaze on the knight with the wolf pelts draped over his shoulders, and iron armor clad over his entire self. He was sharpening his blade with a tool, eyes trained on Y/N, she quickly adverted her gaze as The King now turned to her.

“You may talk to our knights, Y/N. You are the best servant we’ve had in this castle, you deserve to have a social life.” He chuckled.

She nodded, and bowed before walking over to ‘The White Wolf’, “You sure do like to stare, don’t you?”

She was taken aback by his words, rubbing her dirtied hands nervously together, “I do not stare, I simply analyze people based on how they behave, you are my object of interest..”

“Mm.” He grumbled, “And, Why’s that?”

“You are far more mysterious than anyone I have ever seen in this castle, and I have been working here since I was six years old..”

His gaze raised up to her, his eyes piercing through her. 

“I’d say, you mind your business before you get hurt, girl.” He got up and sheathed his blade, stomping his way out of the room.

“Well, you sure are a charmer, hm?” 

Natasha had made her way up to her and smiled, reaching a hand out to shake.

“Names Natasha but you can call me ‘Nat’ for short.” The two shook hands, Natasha’s leather glove feeling foreign on Y/N hand.

“Is he always so.. brooding?”

“Yeah, comes with the title and such. Once you’re known for being ruthless, you have to stay ruthless. Say, do you want to go on a walk? The whole battle talk gets me tired.”

With a giggle, Y/N led the mighty female knight to the garden’s, the roses and leaves overgrown over the archway. 

“So, you have been serving the kingdom since you were, SIX? How does one even serve at that age?”

“Well, my mother served under the queen and my father was a servant, once I was born, my parents knew I’d grow into a strong lady but a servant non the less. A month after my birth, the queen had given birth to the princess and died after, leaving the king to care for his child, but, once I was of age to care for myself and care for another, I was to be her handmaiden. And.. here we are.”

Natasha was frankly shocked, how could a girl of such beauty be a handmaiden? She should be out living life, being happy and in love, but she was cooped up in this castle, doomed to an eternity of taking care of someone who isn’t herself.

“I always wanted to be a knight though..”

That piqued her interest.

“I grew up watching the knights go out to fight and I always, always wanted to fight too.”

“You still can.”

“What..?”

Natasha sat down on the garden bench and beckoned the girl to sit, ready to explain.

“I could.. train you.. to be strong, skilled, a true warrior. You are weak now but after even a month of training with me, you’d be ready for battle.”

Y/N listened intently, weighing the consequences of being a warrior, to abandon her post as a servant and handmaiden to fight a war. Would her father and mother approve, would they pat her back and tell her to go for it? 

“I’d need the king and princesses permis-”

“I’ll do it.” She interrupted. 

“You’ll..?”

“I’ll fight, I’ll train, and I’ll become strong, as long as you help me.”

Natasha’s once serious face melted into a smirk, now wrapping her arm around Y/N.

“Well, Let’s go talk to them.”

“You want to take her under your wing to be a knight?”

“Yes, I feel she is capable of becoming great-”

I sat outside of the doors, listening to them talk about me becoming a knight, my eyes trained on the wall as I zoned out into my thoughts, until a tall figure loomed over me, the wolf pelts familiar as I looked up and locked eyes with him. 

“Come with me.”

“Why?” I protested.

“Just come on, girl. I don’t have all day..”

I got up, watching him as he made his way towards the ball room, I followed intently, curious of his reasoning for finding me. His boots clanged against the ground as he opened the door and went inside of the ball room, I cautiously followed.

He set his sword to the ground carefully, eyes trained on me as I entered.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing out a theory...”

He slid the helmet off and let it fall to the ground, then turning to me. And, my my, his eyes, his lips, his nose, the crinkle of skin just above his brows, all came together almost in a masterpiece, a crescendo. The seemingly bad feelings previously about him had flown away like the birds outside the ball room windows, the light perfectly cascading over his face, I knew then and there, he was beautiful.

“Put the armor on.”

“...What?”

He plucked the armor off of his body and pushed it towards me, face straight and devoid of any particular emotion.

“Okay..”

I began to put each piece of armor on, my body slumping slowly but surely due to the weight until all pieces were on and I looked up at him, noting the widened eyes and semi-slacked mouth.

“You...You are her.”

“W-Who...?”

“Athelesia The Fierce..”

“Athelesia was a woman of many traits, she was determined, strong, fearless, and not to mention bold. She had been seen as a savior to many villages, even before the kings arose to power. She protected them, helped them, served them, as a noble person may do. Her fighting skills too were even more powerful then then strongest men of the lands, however, as she was becoming more known, the men we know as the kings today had her killed. It took thirty men to keep her down and in her last breath, she made a promise, that she’d have a descendant that would hold her power, her essence, and her aura. That they would arise one day and slay the poisoned kings to restore true peace to the lands once again. The armor I wear is the one she made back in her time, it was gifted to me but now I know who it truly belongs to...”

Y/N soaked up all the information but still couldn’t grasp how she was to be the greatest warrior of all time. She’s never touched a sword or even fought anyone in her life. She just wanted to be a regular knight, not one of some prophecy. 

He brought the sword in it’s sheath to Y/N, placing it in her hands.

“This was her sword, use it, and train to fulfill the prophecy.”

“How do you know that I-”

“The pendant you wear.”

Y/N looked down at the silver pendant, turning the ruby over to see a name carved into the crystal.

‘Athelesia’

“I- What..”

His hand wrapped around her wrist, his eyes looking deep into hers as he spoke five words that would change her fate forever.

“You are Y/N The Fierce.”

[chim-chimchii]

Highway to Heaven (Yuta)

Genre: Fluff and Sauce! (It’s like eating something really spicy while being buried in a soft blanket)

Word Count: 1,920 

Note: I'm finally getting around to posting this. This Yuta drabble has been a WIP since summer, I believe? I want to thank Ashley for initially giving me this idea and for making the banner. Feedback is always appreciated! 

Set The Mood: Highway to Heaven by NCT127 (You can pick which version to listen to)

It was the day before spring break, and all your friends had decided to rent a van and drive to meet up with the others at a popular camping ground. Your bags were packed and stacked by the door for easy grabbing. You had just put the last bag down when your phone began to vibrate in your pocket.

"Bad news, Champ." Mark's voice sounded from the other end.

Without having him explain further, you already knew what he was going to say.

"The trip's canceled?" You tried not to sound too disappointed, but you were. The excitement was fading with each second that passed.

"Well, not technically. Everyone here had last minute things come up. Everyone, except you and Yuta."

You leaned against the wall and chewed on your bottom lip. Just hearing Mark say his name brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I only agreed to go because I wanted us all to be together. Plus, it's safer when there are more people." You clenched your phone a little tighter, silently praying that Mark would cancel his other plans to come along.

"It would just be you and Yuta until you get to the campgrounds. What could possibly happen on the drive there?" Before you could tell him of the possible outcomes that you came up with, he spoke again.

"Yuta really wants to go still, and I know you do too." You could imagine him smirking on the other line knowing that he was hinting at your crush on Yuta.

"Mark, I don't know." You were still trying to decide. The thought of you and Yuta being alone in a van for a couple of hours brought a blush to your cheeks.

"C'mon, Y/n." Mark was practically begging you to go even though he wasn't coming along.

"Okay, okay. Mark, you have to promise me that if you guys get the chance, you'll come and join us."

"I promise! You're going to have fun tomorrow!" . . . . . . You leaned against the van and watched as Mark and Yuta made small talk while loading your bags into the back. Yuta threw his head back and laughed at something Mark had said; undoubtedly, it was something weird and idiotic, but it made you chuckle too.

You were thankful for the dark sunglasses, for they hid the fact that you had been staring and admiring Yuta from where you were. As quickly as you could, you adverted your gaze when they both made their way over.

"You sure you're not forgetting anything?"  Yuta asked, he leaned his shoulder against the van and looked at you with a lopsided grin.

"I'm sure. I checked again before meeting you guys here."

Yuta nodded and stood upright.

"Good girl." He winked.

You immediately looked at Mark to see if he had heard Yuta, but, thankfully, his attention was on his phone.

"Well, Mark, I guess we'll see you next weekend."

Mark slipped his phone into his pocket. "Have a safe trip, and let me know when you both get there."

Yuta and Mark did a little handshake you didn't understand before Yuta rounded the van to enter the driver's side.

"I really wish you were coming with." You gave him a sad smile.

"Everything happens for a reason. Y/n, try to have fun." Mark wiggled his eyebrows before opening the passenger door for you. You eyed him suspiciously.

"You coming or what?" The engine roared, which made you break eye contact. Once seated and buckled in, Mark closed the door and waved.

"Have fun!"

Yuta honked twice, and the van lurched forward.

"It kind of sucks that the rest of them couldn't come." He quickly looked at you before returning his gaze to the road.

"Hopefully, they'll be able to join us later."

"Well, we'll have fun even if it's just the two of us, right?"

A blush rose to your cheeks.  

"Even if it's just the two of us." You agreed.

"That's right." He mumbled pleased with your answer.

. . . . . . . 

The music faded as Yuta turned it down. "Can I ask you a question?"

You turned your attention to him and nodded for him to go on.

"Why were you so hesitant on coming when you found out everyone else canceled?"

The question shouldn't have shocked you, but it did, and you were sure Yuta could tell that you were nervous. He was still waiting for an answer, and when you decided to be an adult about your feelings, the van began to sputter. You didn't know whether to be relieved that you wouldn't have to confess or be worried because the van was breaking down.

Yuta steered the vehicle off to the side of the road before putting it into park.

"Well, this can't be good." He opened the driver-side door and made his way to the hood. Once the hood was popped open, smoke billowed out. You followed his example and exited the vehicle.

"Should I try calling someone?" Your phone was already unlocked, and Mark's contact was showing on the screen.

Yuta nibbled on the bottom of his lip as he cautiously checked the oil and other fluids in search of the problem. "If you have service, try calling someone."

You pressed down on the small phone icon and listened to your phone as it rang and rang and went straight to voicemail.

"Of course, you wouldn't answer." You muttered under your breath as the monotone voice explained how to leave a voicemail.

It beeped, indicating for you to leave your message. "Remember when I said something could happen? Yeah, well, the van broke down. Please call me back as soon as you can."

As soon as you hung up, you threw your head back and gazed at the sky in annoyance. What good was a best friend if they never answered your phone calls?

The second person in your recents was Taeil. You expected him not to answer as the phone kept ringing, but on the fourth ring, he finally answered.

"Y/n, what's up?"

"I'm so glad you answered. Taeil, the van broke down, and we don't know what's wrong."

There was shuffling from his end. "Did you call Mark?"

You nodded as if he could see you. "Yeah, but he didn't answer."

Taeil tsked. "Sounds about right. I'll go find him, and hopefully, we can rescue you and Yuta."

"Thank you so much! I owe you big time." The tension in your shoulders began to relax.

"You're welcome. I don't know how long it will take to get there, but we'll try to hurry."

You said a quick goodbye and rounded to the front of the van to tell Yuta the excellent news. The hood had been closed, and he was now leaning against it, his arms folded over his chest. You couldn't tell if he was agitated or just thinking; you decided whichever one it was, you would cheer him up.

"Mark didn't answer, but Taeil did. He's going to find Mark, and they'll be on their way to get us." Copying his pose, you managed a smile and watched as the sun changed from a sunflower yellow to a strawberry sky.

"I'm sorry your spring break is starting so horribly." Yuta let out a disappointed puff of air. Whether he was disappointed in himself or the trip, you honestly didn't know.

"If could be stranded with someone worse, like Mark." You nudged his shoulder playfully with yours. He glanced down at you and let out a light chuckle.

"Can you help me up?" You placed your palms flat on the hood behind you to help push yourself to sit. Yuta moved quickly; his hands were gripping your hips as he lifted you.

Once you sat comfortably atop the van, you smiled. "At least the sunset is pretty, and the weather is nice."

Yuta nodded in agreement but stayed quiet. You could tell the situation was still bothering him. To distract him from the current predicament, you decided it was now or never; it was time to discuss the topic of your feelings and why you were so hesitant to come on this trip.

"Yuta."

You waited for him to look at you before continuing. 

"I'm not one for taking a whole lot of risks, and when things don't go as they were planned, I tend to be hesitant--"

He nodded and listened.

"--So when Mark told me everyone backed out, I panicked."

You adverted your eyes away from him. "I was also too nervous about being alone with you because I like you. It's easy to hide my feelings when there are other people around."

You stared down at your fidgeting fingers after confessing the feelings you held dear to your heart. The fear began to set in when Yuta didn't say anything right away. Was he thinking of ways to turn you down? You didn't have time to think of another horrible scenario because he finally spoke.

"You have feelings for me?" His voice was low and almost timid, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

You took this moment to sneak a peek at him. To your surprise, he was biting his bottom lip to hide that he was smiling like a child.

"Mark always told me that someone liked me, but I just thought it was just talking out of his ass."

The two of you shared a small laugh, and finally, your eyes connected with his. He was smiling not only with his mouth but with his eyes too; your heart did a small dance at the sight of him.

"I'm glad Mark wasn't talking about some random person. I'm glad he was talking about you." He turned his body, so he was now facing you, his arms resting on your lap as he leaned forward.

Yuta took your hands and held them carefully. "You make me nervous."

You let out a gentle laugh. Moments ago, he was smug and flirty; now, he was acting shy.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

Yuta blinked at you, deciding whether or not he should answer. You took that moment to slip your hands from his grasp to cup his face, and without thinking about it further, you brought your lips to his. His hands snaked to the underside of your thighs and pulled you close to him.

In the seconds that your lips connected, the kiss took an intense turn. You had never experienced anything like this, and honestly, you were so happy it was Yuta you were sharing it with. His hold on your thighs was firm, you were sure there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, and that wasn't a bad thing.

Yuta pulled back for a breath of air, his lips red and swollen from the deep kiss. No doubt, yours looked the same. He chuckled anxiously and bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry if that got a little too intense." 

Your hands found their way to his cheeks again. You couldn't help but give him another kiss.

"It was the best kiss I've ever had." You admitted.

"For not being a risk-taker, that kiss was very risky." He said with a wink.

You threw your head back, thoroughly shocked at how quick Yuta could switch from being shy to being coy, which Yuta took as an invitation. He started at your collarbone and peppered kisses up to your jaw.

 "I'm so glad it's you." He mumbled with a final kiss on your lips.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 4

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

The warm sun rising woke me up. My body felt sore, I have fallen asleep on the roof. My watch indicated that it was 4 a.m. I growled and get up. I needed a shower. My walk back to my apartment was silent, no one was up. I jumped into the bathroom and came out only an hour later. I needed to take care of myself. I dressed nicely in black shorts and a sleeveless top opened in the back, revealing my sports bra. I spent some time doing my hair so that my brown curls would bounce on my shoulders. When I look at my reflection in the glass, I felt fake. My appearance didn't match my inside.

I changed the broken string of my guitar and played for hours. Music kept my demons away. A knock at my door stopped my daydreaming. I put my guitar aside and look at the clock, it was already ten a.m. Time has passed by in a blur. I sighed and opened the door carefully. Harrison was on the other side. He seemed tense, his grey hair outlining his striking blue eyes as well as the dark rings under them.

"Hey, Chris," A small smile grazed his lips.

"Harri' come in," I ushered him, opening the door fully.

He stepped in and sat on the couch as he usually does. We had a sort of father-daughter relationship because of the age gap between us. He neared his fifties as I was going on my twenty-six. I tried to smile in a poor attempt to ease the atmosphere.

"Want something to drink?" I offered.

He declined silently, avoiding my eyes by staring into space. I knew what bothered him. I have kept my rape from him although he could have helped me. Harrison always had my back. Five years of working together had forged a strong bond. I have ruined it by confessing to another person, one of his fellow leaders.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to process the whole thing before letting anyone know." I apologized, it was no use to beat around the bush.

"Why Eric? I'm not jealous but I'm wondering how it happened to be him." He stated, sincere curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

"Eric cornered me. I had no choice but to tell him." I explained plainly.

"Interesting. I've never seen him so concern. I think taking care of children had rubbed on him after all. It's not a bad thing I guess." He remarked while laughing.

His joyful persona had returned, his bright smile adorning his face. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Eric becoming soft. I had witnessed this side of the young leader lately, just glimpses that confirmed that he was not as heartless as everyone depicted him.

"I hope he will not be watching me from now on," I replied dryly.

Memories of the night before rushed back to me. Eric's body against mine, his hands on my hips. Our bodies moving in sync to the blasting music. I swallowed thickly. I didn't know how to interact with Eric anymore. We were so close then I broke the spell by singing my feelings before disappearing. It sounded so cheesy although it had been intense.

"I heard you made a show last night. I wish I was here to hear from you." He confessed tenderly.

"Maybe you'll have some other occasion to hear me. I think I need this to get better." I said truthfully.

"You can count on me, you know that Chris. I'm here for you no matter what." He assured, his eyes plunging into mine.

"I know Harri. Thank you."

I sat on the couch next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. Harrison would never hurt me in any way. He was the only man I trusted most in the faction. He had proved more times than I can count that he was reliable on all levels.

"How is it going?" I asked finally.

"Well, we had a meeting early this morning to discuss the situation. The investigation is pretty much finished. All proofs are against Brent. He will be judged within a few days."

"Had Max told you anything about my suspension, yet?"

"No, he might extend it for a few more days to make a point. Don't worry, honey, your job is safe. You know we need you." He smiled down at me.

"You need me because you'll be lost in your papers in no time," I remarked, teasingly.

"Touché!" He exclaimed, putting a hand on his heart.

I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. My face dropped at the knock on my door. I hadn't expected any visitors and now I had two. I excused myself and get up to open the door to... Eric. My surprise was long-short as I heard Harrison coming behind my back.

"Hey, Eric! I was just on my way out." He said with an overly enthusiastic tone. "See you, Chris." He shot at me before making his way into the hallway.

I stood still a second, processing the situation. Eric was staring at me with an unreadable expression. I shifted to the side and made a sign to invite him in. He entered and shut the door behind him. I felt small and ridiculous. I should have known that he wanted an explanation about what happened last night. I didn't even know what to say to ease the awkward tension between us.

"Look, Chris, we danced that's all.  We had a good time that's what matters." He stated, his deep voice as cold as ice. "Max wants to see you, that's why I'm here."

I opened my mouth then shut it multiple times like a fish out of water. Stunned by his words. I didn't expect things to go so fast. I wasn't ready to share this horrible night with anyone. Let alone, Max. And I was oddly bothered by the way he acted. The leader's fa��ade returned, crushing my chances to guess what was going on in his mind.

"I'm not ready." I blurted out finally.

Eric turned deadly serious, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes fixated on my own. I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to.

"You have to Christine, that is an order." He said in a dark tone.

I shivered uncontrollably and adverted my eyes to the floor. I hated him for doing that.

"Don't do this ever again. My trust is limited." I huffed in irritation, taking my jacket from the counter kitchen.

"So is mine." He hissed in response, body tensing.

"What's your problem today?" I muttered under my breath while lacing my boots.

"Stop questioning and hurry up." He retorted with an annoyed sigh.

I kept quiet, even when we walked to Max's office. I didn't dare look at Eric. Dread crept upon me as we neared the door's office. I was ready to bolt away, but Eric caught my wrist before I could make a move.

"Don't even think about it." He growled. "You only have to do this once then it's over." His voice strained.

I gulped down the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. Eric opened the door and dragged me inside. I almost lose my footing as I stumbled into the chair in front of Max's messy desk. Mountains of papers and piles of folders covered the wooden furniture. Back straight, head held high, I fought against the urge to puke all over my shoes. I hated to be the center of attention.

"Christine, I'd say it's good to see you if it was under other circumstances." Greeted Max. "I know it's hard for you, but we need your testimony for the investigation. You can take all the time you need." His smooth voice could have eased my nerves if Eric wasn't standing in the corner of the room, gawking like a hawk.

"Hi Max, I agree. It would be better for other reasons." I answered, careful to not let my voice falter. "Hm, it was last Monday night. Brent found me in the Pit. He wanted my help for something, or so I thought at the moment, I don't really remember what it was about... I think he claimed that members were organizing fighting sessions there, making bets and exchanging points or something like that."

It was difficult to walk down memory lane. Images came rushing through my mind, poisoning my every thought. I took a deep breath, eyes fixated on the pen Max was holding. I couldn't look at him while I was picturing Brent right in front of me.

"Anyway, he dragged me in the old quarters to check it out. I didn't know something was off until he pushed me into a dark room. I..." I swallowed thickly. "I didn't have time to react because he hit me behind the head with his gun then he... He began to take my pants off... I... I was too knocked out to fight him. He... He took advantage of me and I couldn't..." My throat got tighter at every word. "I couldn't do anything while he... he raped me. Then, he threatened me, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone or he... He was going to make me factionless."

I didn't see their reactions, I didn't need to. The tension filling the room was enough to know what was crossing their minds. Before any of them could utter a word, I added:

"I don't want anyone to know about this aside from the people already involved. If that's even possible."

"I'm afraid that's not, my dear. Dauntless law demands a vote from all members to establish a punishment. But we can keep your name out of the victims' list if you want to."

I only nodded in response. My nails were digging in the armrest of the chair, my knuckles turning white under the pressure. My heart lumped in my chest when Eric took a step forward. I could see his black combat boots in my peripheral vision.

"Did he use a condom?"

Heat rose in my cheeks and my breath caught up in my throat. I didn't expect that question. I lowered my head a little more to avoid their pointed stares. Recollecting this night was harder than anything that I have ever done. I felt everything all over again. The pain coming from his bites on my skin, his fingers digging in my hips, his pantings in my ear, the pain between my legs as I was begging for him to stop. Brent overwhelmed all my senses. I wasn't in the office anymore but in that dark room with him.

"Chris? Christine?" Eric's voice forced me out of my memories. "Did he use a condom?" He repeated, his voice smoother than silk.

I closed my eyes for a brief second.  If he didn't use one, there was a possibility that I was pregnant. How didn't I think about it? When was my last period? Not a clue. My mouth felt dry.

"I honestly don't know," I whispered in disbelief.

"You should go see Marlene check this out, it's better to do it sooner than later." Advised Max. "We'll announce Brent's trial tonight, the vote will be held in five days from now on. You're suspended until the end of the week."

My head shot up instantly. Harrison told me that he would extend my suspension, but it still hurt. I loved my job because I felt useful, purposeful. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest to prevent both men from seeing them shaking.

"Look, I know this is about me beating the shit out of Brent. I won't apologize because he deserved it, but I'm sorry for breaking the rules of 'no fighting outside rings'. I get it, I messed up and it's not tolerable for someone close to leadership but give me some lack. I've never broken any rule before, I've been obedient and followed orders my whole life, you can't do this to me. I need my job, Max, please." My voice wavered at the end.

Max get up and walked around his desk, hands clasped behind his back. He spared a long look at Eric who nodded in response. Their silent conversation put me on edge. I should have shut it. I just proved that I was unstable. Great move, dumbass. Max stand right in front of me, careful to keep a decent distance between us. His sympathetic look gave me the urge to slap him across the face. I didn't need his pity, but I needed my job to keep me from going insane. If I didn't have anything to focus on, I might lose my mind and do something really stupid.

"It is not really a suspension as you understand it." His thin lips stretched into a comforting smile. "Think of it as vacations. You need to recover and take care of yourself first, Chris. My decision is not to be discussed."

I huffed in response but didn't push any further, Max was not someone to disagree with. I stole a glance at Eric. He nodded slightly his head as to ushered me to keep a low profile. Well, at least someone was on my side. One that I would not have imagined.

"So, what am I supposed to do until then a part of taking care of me?"

"I've heard that the Child Care Service needed someone from time to time to watch the kids."

"I'll think about it," I answered while looking at Eric, an eyebrow raised in question. "If that's all, am I free to go?" I asked, already out of the chair.

Max dismissed me by pointing the door with his head with a small smile. I turned on my heels before doing or saying something I might regret. One question lingered in my head, did Eric asked for me to work at the Child Care Service, or was it, Max?

[songtoyou]

Epiphany - Part One

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of a family member. 

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Updated: Cleaned up for grammar and punctuation errors.

An epiphany is when a sudden and intuitive perception of insight into reality. It can provide a great moment of revelation and present itself as symbolic insight. Some people experience it while others often search for it.

Life was not easy for Luke Crain or his siblings. After the recent events of Hill House, Luke was scared of a life without his twin sister, Nell. Despite Luke being ninety seconds older, he always felt that Nell was his big sister. She was his protector. The only person to believe in him when others constantly sowed doubt. Unfortunately, Hill House ended up taking Nell in the end, along with his father Hugh. Luke was scared. More scared than he had ever been now that Nell was gone.

However, Luke was determined to get clean. To remain clean. He had to do it, not only for Nell but for himself. Both Steve and Theo pitched in to help pay for a good rehab center for Luke to stay. At first, Luke told them, no, but it was Theo who adamantly expressed her desire to support him.

“Luke, you have made it to 90-days. I can tell you want to remain clean. We all see it. Nell still believes in you and so do we. I want to be supportive of you because you’re my little brother and I love you,” said Theo.

With the support and help of his siblings, Luke decided to stay in Massachusetts for treatment. He took up residence with Shirley in the guest house since Theo decided to move out to live on her own. Despite her worries, Shirley believed in her little brother and his determination to remain clean. One could say it was her way to make amends for the guilt she held by not allowing Luke to attend Nell’s wedding.

It was actually Shirley’s husband Kevin, who recommended Banyan Treatment Center in Wilmington, Massachusetts. “One of my sisters went there for her alcohol addiction. She responded well to the program and has continued to stay sober for two-years. Banyan has a good family counseling program, along with outpatient therapy. Pretty much will have everything you need to continue your path for sobriety,” said Kevin one night after dinner.

It did not take long for Steve and Theo to be on board with Luke deciding on Banyan. Both liked what they read of the place. The treatment center was not uber fancy, like the one Shirley paid for all those years ago but also was a tad upscale compared to the rehab center in Los Angeles Luke recently attended.

The therapists and case managers at Banyan were nice and friendly. Rob, Luke’s primary therapist, helped ease him into a routine. Even though Luke was now over 90 days sober, Rob recommended intensive outpatient therapy every day for an hour session. Luke admitted to Rob, along with his siblings, that he was worried about relapsing due to Nell and Hugh’s deaths. He did not want to fall back into old and dangerous habits.

For 30 days, Luke was committed to his intensive outpatient therapy. Talking over his childhood trauma at Hill House and the recent events helped, not only explain his phobias but also tackle his post-traumatic stress. Hill House had a long-lasting effect that damaged his entire family. So much so, that all he wanted to be was numb. To not have to deal with the images in his mind or how the loss of his mother disturbed him.

When Luke “graduated” from intensive outpatient therapy to regular outpatient therapy, Rob recommended a sponsor for him. The Center’s alumni recovery program allowed for past patients who have succeeded in their program to help mentor those currently in the early stages of detox, treatment, and recovery. Having a strong and influential network of sober peers can make all of the difference between an addict relapsing or staying strong through hard times.

That is how you came into Luke Crain’s life. Rob recommended you to Luke as a sponsor. You had just celebrated your third anniversary of recovery. It was not that you had a bad childhood as the reason you turned to drugs. You were not abused, both of your parents were still alive, nor had you experienced any other forms of childhood trauma. Similar to Luke, heroin was your choice of escapism; the way to ease the feeling of pain and suffering. Not your own, but other peoples’.

That was the downside of being an empath.

Of course, no one believed you about being an empath. Your mother had always referred to you as an overly sensitive child and that stress was not something you handled very well. When having to deal with the ability to sense what people are feeling, whether the emotions are happy, sad, scared, stressed, disturbed, or angry, can be a lot for a person to handle. There came a time when taking on the pain of others became too much. You no longer wanted that burden. You no longer wanted to feel anything.

It did not matter how many rehab facilities your parents sent you to or how many times they pleaded; you did not care. For once, you put yourself first. Heroin helped you stop feeling. Helped you feel numb and content. You were happy. Of course, when the high wore off, as it always does, you were back to reality. You hated reality.

The last hit you had made you end up in the hospital. The doctor explained how you overdosed but were able to resuscitate you in time. That was when you finally realized you needed to change. Needed to get clean once and for all. You knew it would take time and patience. That you would not magically become clean and sober overnight. It was a process. Setbacks were a possibility. However, there was always a little voice in the back of your head that helped pull you through the dark times, to motivate you to keep going.

Now here you were about to meet the new mentee that Rob assigned you to. He only gave a little backstory about Luke, but not many other details. You ended up texting Luke asking him to meet you on Sunday at your favorite coffee shop, the As Good As It Gets Café. He promptly replied that he would see you there around noon.

 When Sunday finally rolled around, you headed to the caf�� and waited. It was a quarter past twelve and Luke still had not shown up. You were starting to get nervous and wondering if he would ever appear. You were on the verge of texting him when the bell on the entry door chimed, indicating that someone was entering the café. You looked up and saw a very tall, scruffy, and attractive looking man standing by the door. The way he was looking around with a lost kind of look helped pinpoint that this was Luke. You got up from your booth and walked over to him.

“Luke?” you politely asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake, which he took. You immediately became overwhelmed with the emotions that permeated this man. There was a lot of pain and loss underneath. But there was also a sense of hope and happiness that felt nice.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked wondering why all of a sudden you had a weird look on your face.

“Hmm? I’m sorry. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…daze off for a second,” you laughed and pointed over to the booth you previously occupied. You walked over with Luke following.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I was finishing up some homework and didn’t track the time properly,” Luke shared.

“Oh, where do you go to school?”

“Uh…I take a creative writing course at Bunker Hill Community College,” he replied.

“Nice. How are you liking it so far?” you asked him.

Before Luke could respond, one of the waitresses came over asking if Luke wanted anything to drink. Indicating that he just wanted coffee, the two of you were soon left alone.

“I like it. The instructor is really nice. It is the only course I am taking, so it doesn’t take up too much of my time. My older brother, Steve, actually encouraged me to enroll after I shared some of my writing with him. He’s a writer himself. I don’t know if you ever heard of him, Steven Crain? He has written a lot of books, mostly ghost stories. His most famous one is, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Have you read that book?”

“I have not. I tend to stay away from horror genres,” you told Luke.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Luke was adverting his gaze to anywhere but you. It was easy to tell that he was nervous and unsure of himself.

“Luke,” you spoke up to get his attention and said, “You don’t have to be anxious or feel uneasy. Getting here, to this step, is a big freaking deal. I get it, trust me. I absolutely get it. I never thought I’d be here. To be completely frank, I always pictured myself dead somewhere in the streets. I’m sure you pictured the same for yourself. But it didn’t. You’re here today because you wanted more for yourself. That is something to be proud of.”

Letting out a sigh, Luke sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes he did not feel proud. He missed Nell. He missed her all of the time. She always believed in him no matter how many times he broke her heart. Nell always forgave him. She was always there when he needed someone to bail him out of trouble.

“You okay, Luke? If you would rather do this another time, that is okay. We can reschedule,” you offered. You could sense a feeling of grief underneath the surface of the man sitting before you.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I…uh…I was thinking about Nellie. My twin sister. She…she died recently. Well, not recent, two months ago. So, it’s still…very…it’s still a lot to handle.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him earnestly. “What was it like having a twin? I don’t have any siblings, so I always like to hear other people’s sibling stories.”

“Having siblings has its pros and cons,” Luke laughed, but continued, “They can be much at times, but I’m glad to have them. Especially now that Nellie is gone. They have been incredibly supportive, which makes all the difference in the world.”

“I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Luke. I know it can’t be easy. I am a stranger after all. You’re actually my second mentee from the alumni recovery program. My previous one …well her story didn’t have a happy ending,” you shared with Luke.

He could relate. When he left the clinic in Los Angeles to find Joey and bring her back to get her clean again. She was nine-months clean at the time but ended up using while being back on the streets. Luke would be lying to himself if he did not say he was rather disappointed in Joey. To him, Joey was someone who he could look up to while trying to get clean. He should have known something was off with her during what would be their last night at the clinic. Joey reminded him of Nell, so he could not stand by and do nothing. Joey helped him during his first week at the clinic. So, Luke felt that he owed it to her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, Joey did not want his help in the end. To this day, Luke still does not know what really happened to her after she swiped the drugs off him and headed towards that alley. But deep inside, Luke knew she did not make it. That her body would either be discovered or continue to rot in that alley. Theo would tell him that Joey was not his responsibility. That he had to put himself first when it came to recovery.

Luke pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned on the table. You were so focused on your own coffee cup that you did not notice him staring at you intently. He was taking you in and assessing you. So far, he could admit that he found you attractive. You had a nice built. Your clothing was not too flashy. He could tell that you were the type to choose comfortable clothing over fashionable attire. However, it was your eyes that stood out. There was a softness and warmness to them that he found quite soothing. There were no ulterior motives behind them or any sense of malice. Luke could see that your intentions with him were good and that you really wanted to help him in his recovery by being a supportive mentor.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

“I appreciate that, Luke,” you told him sincerely.

[theevangelion]

Keira: Dom Cat/Sub Kara Sneak Peek

For Kendrene: Mistress Cat/Sub Kara. Kara has some special duties as Cat's personal assistant, including being fucked by her boss in the office after hours. Bonus points for involving Cat's very steep heels in the process.

*OR*

Cat Grant gives her Bambi-legged personal assistant an intensive course on how to walk in high heels.

“Oh! Keira while you’re here!” Miss Grant halted the personal assistant escaping in search of her lunch hour. “I need you to run and grab coffee before you take your break.”

“It’s Kara.”

“Excuse me?” Miss Grant glanced over the top of her glasses from the photographs spread out on her desk.

“It’s Kara, not—”

“Did I ask for your name?” Miss Grant didn’t so much as blink. “Keira, I can only assume you got out of bed on the wrong side this morning—presumably in the dark too if those last season bargain basement shoes are anything to go by—which you wear with all the grace and elegance of a reversing garbage truck without any wheels on, by the way.” Miss Grant turned her attention back to the grainy photographs of a popular athlete kissing a woman who was not his wife. “I’ll take a danish too.” She shooed with her fingers.

Taken aback, Kara realised that she now simply had a new name until Cat Grant decided otherwise. There was nothing to say—nothing she could say—other than blither foolish apologies for misspeaking. Kara had been warned about Cat’s quick, no survivors taken attitude. The several ex-personal assistants in the Facebook support group had made it abundantly clear.

But, Kara hadn’t found the advertisement for this role on Indeed or LinkedIn. She found it through quite a different website altogether.

“Coffee, Keira.” Miss Grant pointed a manicured finger to the door. “Why are you still here?”

“Sorry! Yes! Coffee, Miss Grant. Almond milk?” Kara became determined to get it right for fear of the alternative.

“Of course I want almond milk, Keira,” the petite woman scoffed, “I’m not a fucking barefoot savage.”

***

“She’s looking to finish strong but the ankles are weak. Her coach and team will be disappointed with her performance today. Wibble wobble, will she make it?” Miss Grant chided behind Kara all the way through the office as though walking in these particular heels were an Olympic gymnastics floor final. “Oh! She nearly tripped but she stuck the landing!” Miss Grant burst enthusiastically as they made it through the door into her executive office. “Goodness, Keira. It’s like watching a horse try to gallop in roller skates inside a pressurised vacuum chamber.”

“I can wear flats instead of heels if you prefer, Miss Grant?” Kara suggested with blushing cheeks, leaning over slightly as she placed the coffee and rival daily newspapers on Cat’s desk for morning appraisal.

“Keira.” Slender hips pressed against Kara’s bent bottom, then lips craned and pressed against the back of her reddened ear. It made Kara’s heartbeat stop and her brain empty outward. “I’m offended you would suggest such a thing. Firstly, I’m offended on behalf of high heels. Secondly, I’m offended you would think about stripping me of the small joy that comes with mercilessly mocking you.” Kara swallowed hard and felt her boss gently tuck her wavy hair behind her ear. “You don’t want to offend me, do you Kara?” Cat whispered.

“You said my name.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” Kara stopped and inhaled, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “Nothing, sorry. Of course I don’t want to offend you, Miss Grant. I… I like working here. I just want you to make sure you like me working here as much as I like working here.”

“You sound like bad Roald Dahl fanfiction when you speak off the tongue. I don’t like it.” Cat pulled back, but she gently slipped her slender fingers along Kara’s shoulder as she moved away—almost taking the venom out of her own statement. “Still, a woman without confidence is like a bisexual person without a Harry Potter inspired tattoo, Keira. Incomprehensible,” Cat snided, stepping around her desk with clasped hands at her waist. “I’ll teach you how to appreciate heels. Be here at six this evening.”

“After work?” Kara gulped and fiddled with her glasses.

“Will that be a problem?”

“No Ma’am.” She shook her head.

***

Kara was a pretty thing. Annoying, but pretty. There were few things that Cat enjoyed less than a young woman falling all over herself like a wounded deer in the wake of a cutting word from her quick tongue. But, Kara had seemingly made herself immune to the humiliation in recent weeks.

Cat would try, of course, nasty little remarks here and there to make the girl wither crimson. But Kara would just smile the most radiant smile and say a blushing thank you, apparently grateful for the attention and constructive feedback.

Truth be told, it warmed Cat.

But that didn’t stop it being any less infuriating.

Cat had placed the job advertisement on the fetish website for two reasons: to draw in the type of submissive natured assistant who would prove long standing—because having to re-explain the basics of how she wanted things done around the office every few months after the latest one quit was more headache than it was worth. Cat also placed the advert on the fetish website because it was a very, very fun and convenient way to bring her most private fantasies to life.

Cat enjoyed the thought of humiliating a girl to tears, parading her naked, spanking her over her knee, doing all sorts of rude and cruel things to her. There were the overtly sexual things too—the thought of taking her personal assistant to business dinners with electrified toys in all sorts of sensitive places. A tear-stained porcelain face buried underneath her hiked skirt licking her stresses away—waiting for the chief’s permission to gasp for a much needed breath.

Why keep it a filthy, private fantasy when she could find someone as equally perverted as herself? Better yet, why keep it a filthy perverted fantasy when she could find a little fool who would do these things without the good business acumen to demand a premium salary rate.

Kara made above market average of course, if only from the benevolence of Cat’s tender heart. The girl didn’t have enough between her ears to think to demand it, though Cat supposed that was rather a good thing for longevity's sake.

Cat never abided demanding types very well.

“Panties off too.” Cat didn’t glance away from her laptop screen despite wanting to stare. “I don’t care if you cry yourself blue in the face. Take them off or put the rest of your clothes on and march yourself down to the unemployment line.”

“I’m not crying,” Kara whispered softly as though confused by the statement. “I wasn’t wearing panties to begin with, Miss Grant.”

At that Cat snapped her stare across with witheringly cold precision. Kara stood there completely bare with her hands clasped behind her spine. From stood beneath the lighting directly above her, her skin was a gorgeous shade of bone white, her muscles taut and slender, which gave her the impression of being much taller than she actually was. Cat thought she looked beautiful, and she wanted to give the compliment where it was due, though she would never miss the opportunity for a quip.

“What happens when you assume, Keira?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Grant.” Wrong footed, Kara startled like a wide-eyed deer.

Much better, Cat thought.

Kara continued, “I just. I just like to be prepared for you, Miss Grant. I like to anticipate what might be required of me—”

“And what were you anticipating when you decided to forgo panties this morning?” Cat rose from her chair with a cool, indiscernible expression. “What? You had some infantile, school girl fantasy that perhaps I might use your dripping little hole as balm?” Cat blinked and pushed the smallest of smirks. “Of course, I suppose today wasn’t the first day the air from the subway vents tickled you in private places?” She clipped around her desk with poise.

YOU CAN READ ALL FOUR CHAPTERS OF THE COMPLETE STORY HERE!

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 21

Prompt: time travel (alternate 7)

Warnings: brief description of minor PTSD episode

Read on AO3! (this one is long so I didn’t spend as much time on reformatting when copying it here) 

Not Much Has Changed, Except for Everything

Anakin is angry. He knows he isn't supposed to be angry because "anger leads to the dark side" and whatnot, but he can't help that he is seething. He should head straight into a meditation room and deal with his anger the way he is trained. Or even lock himself in a training sala and work out his emotions constructively.

Instead, he barges through the door of his apartment, and when his master isn't in the living room or kitchen he barges into his bedroom.

Obi-Wan sits on the bed in a lotus position, a datapad balanced on his knee and a cup of tea in the other hand. He looks up with a raised eyebrow like he expected him to end up here eventually.

"Hello, padawan... what--"

"Don't," Anakin says sharply, so worked up he's bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You recommended passing me over for trials again."

Obi-Wan's shoulders drop and he rests the mug on his thigh. "Anakin we have talked about--"

"You know I'm ready! I have the highest marks in combat and control of the Force. I even got my grades up in philosophy. How could you do this to me?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer him a moment, just does the endlessly annoying thing where he ever so carefully and calmly puts away whatever he was doing to give him his full attention. And to make sure I don't throw his hot tea across the room... again.

"Are you going to let me speak a full sentence, or are you just here to yell at me?" Anakin crosses his arms over his chest. It's enough of a response. The Jedi knight sighs. "Anakin, we've talked about this. You are a fine senior padawan and very close to being ready for your trials but as you are very relevantly demonstrating, you still have some work to do on managing your emotions."

"I'm only mad because you went behind my back!"

"Went behind-- " he shakes his head. "I never told you I was going to recommend you for your trials this cycle, I only said you were getting close, and the council agreed with my assessment."

The idea of his master and the council discussing him and how unready he is for the knight trials only pours salt in the wound.

"I basically command my own battalion like a Jedi general at this point. I have done everything you say, and you still treat me like I'm a kid."

"Need I remind you that if you were knighted at your current age, you would be one of the youngest human Jedi knights?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"I don't mean--I am just saying, you talk as though I'm holding you back from your peers when many of your age-mates are years from being considered for knighthood."

"I don't care about my age-mates?" Anakin huffs.

"You just need more time to mature--" Anakin rolls his eyes. He's heard this exact lecture a billion times from Obi-Wan.

"More time to mature. Much more to learn. Master, just because I don't have a lightsaber up my ass and recite the Jedi Code in my sleep, doesn't mean I'm not ready!"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's calm demeanor turns colder. A warning tone.

"Where did being the perfect padawan get you anyway? Qui-Gon didn't even try to knight you until you were what, twenty-five?"

"Anakin--"

"And you didn't even do the trials, it was basically just a pity--"

"Enough," Obi-Wan stands from the bed, his tone severe. Immediate regret trickles in at the sight of Obi-Wan's intense stare. He's gone too far. "You're lashing out and certainly not acting like a Jedi Knight. This is not me asking you to be perfect this is me asking you to be reasonable. Think about it in any other way besides The Galaxy vs. Anakin and you'll see you are acting like the child you so desperately don't want to be!"

Anakin doesn't quite know where to go from here because usually Obi-Wan sits there and lets him go on until he runs out of steam or makes a fool of himself. But this time... Anakin has never seen him snap into action and actually fire back so hard. He didn't want to hurt his feelings he was... just frustrated.

"Obi-Wan I--"

"Anakin can we talk about this tomorrow?" he massages his temple with his pointer finger. "My headache is becoming a migraine and you have some meditating to do."

He sighs. Not really wanting to leave things that way, but when Obi-Wan gets his migraines there isn't much talking that can actually happen. He walks over to his dresser and grabs a pill bottle.

"Yeah, Master. Tomorrow." he places the pill bottle in his hand and leaves the bedroom. The door closes behind him.

Obi-Wan probably thinks he's going to bed, but he isn't. Instead, Anakin leaves, taking deep breaths as he walks through the halls of the Temple. The Force is especially pungent today. It feels like he's wading through a foggy bog with all the negative emotions he's stirred up, and meditating in his room isn't going to resolve that. So he heads to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It's a weird time-- the younglings should be at dinner, it's evening briefings for the knights and padawans out on a campaign, and the council is usually in session, leaving the massive fountain room basically empty.

He climbs a few levels up, already feeling better with the mist of the waterfalls against his skin and the activity of climbing. His favorite place is a little nook on the fourth level where an upper fall cascades beside it. The constant water noise is soothing-- something he never thought he'd ever hear when he was a kid. If he's going to do the old-fashioned meditation, it's going to be here. Anakin settles down on the rocks, breathing in slowly and letting the Force saturate around him. With how pushy it's been acting, there's no surprise he's pulled into a good, deep meditation quickly.

Anakin awakes lying on the ground. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but meditation is pretty boring so it's not uncommon for him. He groans, letting his eyes adjust to the light streaming in from the window-- he must have slept here all night... whoops. Hopefully, it's still early or else Obi-Wan will have a whole other reason to be mad at him.

But strangely, when his eyes adjust he realizes he isn't in the Room of a Thousand Fountains anymore. He's laying in the middle of the hallway that leads to the council chambers.

Did someone carry me down or... No that would be difficult and I would have woken up. Maybe I sleepwalked? Anakin has never done that but he supposes there's a first time for everything. He straightens out his wrinkled robes and tries to fix a few parts of his braid that are trying to unravel.

Voices approach. He looks down the hall to see a tall master walking with long strides. Beside him, a little boy trails slightly behind and to the side-- the padawan position. But this boy doesn't look like much of a padawan. His hair is long, unevenly cut and falling into his eyes and down to his collar. If he has a braid, Anakin can't see it. While he wears some Jedi robes, they're mixed with pieces of civilian clothing. A blue undershirt paired with a the standard-issue outer robe and black pants with mismatched patches on both knees. And he's tiny-- concerningly skinny from the way his robe is hanging off of him. The boy's bright eyes snap to him as he stares, and Anakin adverts his eyes from the strange kid.

"Excuse me, padawan," the master says, brushing past him, and Anakin's entire body freezes. The voice is familiar, one he would never forget. He'd been so busy trying to figure out what the heck is going on with the padawan's wardrobe that he didn't get a good luck at the Jedi Master's face. Anakin whirls around.

"Master Jinn?"

The master stops, and turns around, his eyebrow raised. "Yes?" He blinks. This isn't possible. Qui-Gon is dead. Has been for a decade. Qui-Gon steps forward, cocking his head to the side. "Are you well? You've gone pale."

"Yes," Anakin chokes. "Yes, I'm... I'm fine. Just... uh, have you seen Master Windu?"

His brown eyes scan over Anakin critically. "In a council meeting. They should be done soon."

He can't stop staring at the dead master. He looks younger than Anakin remembers. Grays are only beginning to invade his sideburns, and there are far fewer wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. This must be a dream... a really vivid dream... but how could Anakin possibly dream about Qui-Gon if he never knew him at this age?

The realization dawns on him. He looks down at the shaggy padawan. Bright blue eyes shine back, silently watching Anakin's awkward encounter. A blank stare that Anakin would recognize anywhere. "Obi-Wan?" he blurts out.

Now the kid looks alarmed. He can't be older than twelve or thirteen. "Uh, yes..."

"Manners, Obi-Wan. Senior padawans are to be respected, too." Qui-Gon corrects, and the padawan's eyes widen, and then he bows. Master Jinn turns his attention back to Anakin, still looking at him funny. "Where is your master? And what is your name, I'm sorry, I thought I knew most of the senior padawans."

"I, uh, my name is Ani. My master is a shadow, so I'm... gone a lot."

It's a threadbare excuse that any reasonable Master would as follow-up questions to, but Qui-Gon seems to be in too much of a hurry to go through the trouble. He just nods. "Right. Nice to meet you, Padawan Ani, but we must be going. Master Windu should be done momentarily, though, if you wait outside the council chambers.

"Thank you, Master," Anakin replies, bowing. He still can't believe he's really talking to Master Jinn again... and padawan Obi-Wan? This just makes it even weirder. Why is he dressed like that? And how did Anakin get here? When even is here?

It has to be some trick of the Force. There really isn't another explanation. For some reason, it has sent him back in time, and he has a feeling it has something to do with Obi-Wan.

The pair turn and continue on in the direction they were before. He watches them go, Obi-Wan trailing with his head staring at the ground.

"As I was saying, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says in a low voice, but the acoustics of the vaulted hallways make it sound as though he's talking directly to Anakin. "The council may have accepted you back on probationary status, but I am not yet ready to accept you again as my student. Do you understand this?"

Anakin's brows crease in confusion. The Force must have sent him back in time and to another dimension! If he heard Master Jinn right then... Anakin needs to talk to little Obi-Wan and find out what's going on.

It's harder to track down the kid than he thought it would be. He passes the time by taking a quick lap around the Temple to check out what else is different in this new time-- he figures out it's about two or three years before he's actually born, which is weird. Not much has really changed besides the Temple being much fuller. Like when he first was brought here. His first stop is the Archives, which surprisingly doesn't contain Tiny-Wan. He passes by the mess, the padawan training sala-- nothing. Then he gets an idea.

He strolls into the initiate training sala and smiles. Obi-Wan is on the other side of the room, his back to the door and a training saber in hand. He goes through the Form I katas slowly and smoothly.

As Anakin strolls in, Obi-Wan stops, dropping his saber at his side and turning slowly around. "Oh, hi Padawan Ani," he says in the same Core accent but a few octaves higher. It seems he hasn't had time to change, so he's stripped down to his undershirt and pants, Jedi robes cast to the side. He seems to also have gained a strip of cloth he's fashioned as a headband to keep his hair back. It makes parts of his hair stick up in wild directions. Definitely, a look that isn't characteristic of his usually tidy Master. He tops off the greeting with a polite bow.

"No need to bow when we're not around the Masters, kid. And you can just call me Ani. We're both padawans."

Obi-Wan's eyes drop to the ground, his face falling. He can't get over how young he looks. "Oh... you didn't hear?"

"Like I said, I've been away."

He traces a saber mark on the ground with the toe of his boot. "I, uh, left for a while. My master doesn't trust me anymore."

Out of all the things he expected to come out of Obi-Wan's mouth, this was not one of the possible options he contrived. "Doesn't trust-- I mean, what could you have possibly done?"

"I said I left," he says, his blue eyes snapping up to him with surprising intensity. Anakin raises an eyebrow.

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry."

"You're upset."

Tiny-Wan doesn't reply. Anakin gets another idea. He pulls out his lightsaber and turns down the power into training mode. The kid watches him carefully.

"Wanna spar?"

"Now?"

"Helps blow off some steam so it's easier to meditate later." Anakin ignites his saber, waving around the blue blade in a quick spin. Obi-Wan's long face turns to a grin, and he ignites the training saber again. They stand in opening positions, Obi-Wan sticking with Form I, which makes sense for a thirteen or fourteen-year-old. Anakin decides maybe doing a form he isn't as good at would even things out a little more-- he raises his lightsaber above his head, turning his body to the side and pointing his arm straight out toward Obi-Wan. The kid's eyes widen at the Soresu stance.

In taking a defensive form, Obi-Wan is the first to make a move. He moves swiftly, naturally, testing out the clash of the sabers against one another with simple blows Anakin is meant to easily deflect. He's testing me, Anakin realizes as he keeps pushing him in a tight circle. He lets the kid get warmed up to the spar, giving him a few more offensive moves to mix things up, which seems to excite him.

"Been a while since you sparred?" Anakin asks.

"That obvious?"

"Oh, no, Obi-Wan I didn't mean you were doing bad you just seem... happy to be doing it." The Force is singing right now.

The kid does a slightly more advanced move, grinning wildly. "I've missed fighting with a lightsaber."

Slowly, Anakin is picking up clues. He "left", didn't have his saber with him (or he did and just had nobody to use it against), and whatever he did got him in trouble with the council.

"What form do you wanna learn first?"

"Four!" he says, demonstrating a classic Ataru acrobatic move with his answer, which surprises Anakin enough that Obi-Wan manages a combo move.

Anakin smiles. If only he knew he'd be a master of Soresu a handful of years from now.

"Very impressive, young one. You stayed in shape while away."

Once again, his face falls, and he puts his energy back into the fight. Their actions start picking up, Obi-Wan funneling more of his young energy into quick movements and acrobatics. Though his forms have fallen out completely by this point and turned into less controlled jabs, Anakin is struck with how smart he's fighting. He is selective with diversions and fakes, fighting well enough that Anakin is actually having to put some effort into maintaining his Soresu form. He's strong too. He slams his saber into his with surprising force, but never still long enough for Anakin to return the blow.

It's like he's used to fighting those much larger than him. He uses his size and speed to his advantage, knowing exactly how and where to strike that makes it difficult for Anakin to counter. It's fascinating, and not at all like how Obi-Wan spars now. Anakin even starts to forget who he is crossing swords with after a while until he speaks and the Tiny-Wan accent reminds him.

"You're holding back," he says, his forehead sheening with sweat.

"You're a kid."

"It's harder to practice real sparring when you're fighting like a training droid."

Anger? Taunting? Who is this kid? Anakin smirks at him, and when they reach a lull, he shifts his position into an offensive. Now, let's show him how Ataru is done.

The fight ends minutes later. To Tiny-Wan's credit, he held him off well, but Anakin is a senior padawan, trained by one of the best swordsmen in the Order, and Obi-Wan... well, he hasn't found out he's one of the best swordsmen in the Order yet. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he lays on the training sala floor. Anakin peers over him, and finds a toothy smile on his face.

"That. Was. Awesome!" he says, jumping up. "You moved so fast I couldn't even see you sometimes! You and my master--" he trails off, biting on his lip. His mood deflates. "You and Master Jinn should spar sometime. He also specializes in Ataru."

"Do you feel less upset now, at least?"

He nods. "I have a lot of catching up to do, but it... helped. Thanks, Ani."

Obi-Wan walks over to the bench to get dressed again. As he picks up his robe, his belt falls and clatters against the durasteel bench, making a loud singular bang. He doesn't think much of it until he looks at the padawan and sees his entire body has gone rigid, his eyes darting around the room.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks. When he doesn't move, he walks up to him and crouches down to eye level. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

The kid clears his throat, his eyes finally focusing on the senior padawan. "I, uh, nothing, Ani. Just... loud."

Anakin reaches down and picks up the belt. "The noise this made... Did it scare you?"

"Jedi don't get scared."

"That isn't true. What just happened? Your face is white as a sheet."

With a deep, shaky sigh, the padawan sits down on the bench and buries his face in his hands. "It sounded... it sounded like the invasion bell."

"Invasion bell?"

"The scouts would ring it when they were attacking in the night."

"Obi-Wan, I don't know what you're referring to."

"The--The Melida. Or the Daan!" he exclaims, his head popping up from his hands. "They attacked so often in the night, we could never sleep well. What if we missed the bell?"

Cold sweat is beading on his forehead. Anakin has no idea what to say. He puts a comforting hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing softly.

"Hey, hey, you're not there anymore. It was just your belt. You're in the Jedi Temple. You're safe now. Just... breathe."

He guides him through deep breaths in and out-- something that his own master has gotten him through as well. It's strange to be preaching his own tactics back at him, though he doesn't seem to notice. Probably hasn't learned them yet.

Obi-Wan recovers. Finishes getting dressed. Seems embarrassed to have him kneeling beside him rubbing circles on his back from the flush in his cheeks. "I should... go home now. But thanks for fighting with me Ani."

"Anytime, kid. You know, things with your master are going to work out."

Tiny-Wan looks up at him with those big blue eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Obi-Wan leaves with a spring in his step. As soon as he's out of the room, Anakin deflates. How did this kid-- shellshocked and emotional-- become his steadfast master? How has he never heard any of this before? He decides the best way to figure this out is to go talk to the council. Tell them he's here somehow and try to figure out more.

But suddenly the sala starts to sway, and he begins to feel like he's being put under a sleep suggestion. Uh oh. Not now! Not yet! I just need to talk to--

Anakin gasps awake, a headache pounding at his temples and his sleeve soaking wet from falling into the spray of the waterfall. He's back in the room of a thousand fountains, back in his own time period, assumingly, and now with a million questions going through his head. Light is streaming in from the skylights-- he really did spend all night here. He wastes no time jumping up and climbing down the falls.

Obi-Wan is awake when he bursts back into the apartment, sitting at the kitchen table eating sliced fruit. He looks up apathetically when Anakin enters, half soaking wet, only raising an eyebrow. The Obi-Wan blank stare that apparently he's had mastered since he was a kid.

"Where have you been?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you. "Early start."

"Mmhm." he doesn't sound convinced, but he chooses to stuff another piece of fruit in his mouth instead of questioning him further.

"Obi-Wan..." Anakin doesn't even know where to start. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he says, gesturing to the chair across from him. Anakin sits down slowly. It's early enough that Obi-Wan is still in his nightclothes and his hair an unorderly mess. In this state, Anakin can see a flash of his padawan self, long messy hair, and baggy clothes hanging off him. "What is it?"

"What's the Melida?"

Obi-Wan lowers his fork slowly, "In... In what context?"

"Like... Melida or the Daan. Maybe a war?"

Obi-Wan goes completely still. He stares forward for a long time, not looking at Anakin or anything in particular just staring. What can Anakin do besides sit there and wait for him to say something. Anything.

"Well," he finally says. "Melida/Daan was a planet that had a civil war spanning generations."

"Had?"

"Well, it ended years ago. By a third group that fought against the other two for peace," he swallows dryly. "The Young. Why... Why do you ask, Anakin?"

"Well, I..." he didn't think he'd get this far if he's being honest. From the way Obi-Wan is looking at him, he seems to not have expected this to ever come up. "I heard something. About you as a padawan."

He's quiet for another moment. Not as long as the first, but just as haunting.

"Qui-Gon and I had a mission there when I was thirteen. Master Tahl had gone dark, and we were sent to find her. I saw what was happening on this planet. That children had taken it upon themselves to fight the war their great-great-grandparents waged. And I felt my place was there with them." Obi-Wan stands from the table, walking toward the window that faces out onto the skyline of Coruscant. "Qui-Gon didn't agree with me. He gave me a choice, and I chose to leave the Jedi Order and stay on the Melida/Daan."

"You... left the Jedi?" Anakin whispers in awe. Suddenly Tiny-Wan's cryptic words make sense.

"For about a year, yes. And then my feelings changed. I wanted to return, and we needed the help of the Jedi to lock in peace for the planet so I called Qui-Gon again. And he came for me... not without consequences, though," he mutters the last part.

"You. You left the order?"

"That is what I just told you, yes."

"And Master Jinn... he was hard on you about it?"

Obi-Wan's lips press together into a thin line. "Master Jinn and I were on scant terms before I left. He feared I would turn out like his previous padawan who turned to the dark side."

This almost makes Anakin laugh out loud. Obi-Wan? Turning to the dark side? He literally can't think of a person less likely.

But he thinks about how when he met padawan Obi-Wan his emotions were strong, easily read across his face. He was upset and a little angry and Master Jinn certainly wasn't doing anything to help him with that. Now Anakin feels horrible for what he said to his master the night before. Not only was it out of frustration, but it was also completely incorrect.

"Master, I'm... I'm sorry. For what I said earlier. I didn't... I wasn't--"

"Not many do," he says serenely. "And maybe I should have told you sooner I just..." he shrugs. "I suppose it's not my favorite topic to think about. I was far too young to be in a warzone. And when I returned, my guilt often got the best of me. It took a long time for him to trust me again. It's not a way I wanted you as my padawan to see me."

But when Anakin looks at Obi-Wan now, he isn't let down by this new context. If anything, it makes him respect his master even more. He always believed that Obi-Wan was hard on him because he wanted him to be as perfect as he was... but obviously, Tiny-Wan wasn't the saint he thought him to be, and Master Jinn didn't exactly give Obi-Wan the benefit of the doubt. But now he knows, even if it was just a glimpse, that maybe he knows more about needing to keep emotions under control than Anakin previously thought.

"Will you tell me more Tiny-Wan stories?" Anakin asks, making his master look at him funny.

"Tiny-Wan?  Why are you assuming I was small?"

Because I met you, Master, and you were pretty tiny. "Just... a hunch I suppose."

"Well, I'll have you know I was perfectly average for my age group." he pouts.

"Fine," the padawan groans. "Will you tell me more of your padawan stories?"

Obi-Wan walks into the kitchen and puts a kettle on the range. "I'm sure something of that sort can be arranged."

He watches him pull out two mugs and start to make some tea. He picks out Anakin's favorite as well as some milk-- just the way he likes it. And then his own. He watches his master with a new admiration. This must have been what the Force was trying to lead him to.

[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 13 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n:guess who’s realised she never submitted this to AQ? it’s ya boi. if u haven’t been able to read this yet then here it is, and look out for the final chapter coming soon! thank u to everyone who’s ever sent this fic some love, it means the world to me!!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

6th December 2020

Vanessa’s in the wine aisle of Marks and Spencers when she sees her again.

Her hair’s been dyed- she already knew that, she’s seen pictures of it on her Insta feed- and the demure tones of the honey-brown balayage are a contrast to the blonde ombré she’d had when they’d been together, but it suits her. She’s in sweatpants and a cropped jumper, because of course she is, and Vanessa recognises the matching pink set emblazoned with the Playboy logo from Missguided adverts on bus shelters. She’s wearing some form of chunky white trainers and Vanessa isn’t proud of the fact that she feels a little flame of satisfaction light up in her gut when she sees that they’re splattered with mud, contrasting with her clean outfit and perfect makeup.

Vanessa turns back to the green bottles in front of her, staring at them for so long and with such intensity that she thinks she might rip the fabric of reality in two. She consciously blocks out her peripheral vision so that all she can see is the label of one bottle of white which she reads over and over again. A light, dry white with citrus notes and lively green fruit flavours. Grown in the spectacular setting of the sun ripened vineyards of central Spain. Goes with fish, chicken and salads.

She doesn’t, in any way, shape or form, know how to play this situation, because this is the first time she’s seen Kameron in person since they decided to call it quits. One one hand she could just keep staring at the wine bottle, attempt to blend into the shelves via osmosis and completely avoid her ex, but on the other hand…Vanessa doesn’t really know what the other hand is, because she doesn’t know what a conversation between the two of them would look like. There’s a part of her that wants to find out.

And suddenly, with a cry that Vanessa recognises as hers, the decision is made for her.

“Vanjie?”

Slowly, timidly, Vanessa turns around to meet her eyes. Soft, brown eyes that Vanessa had once looked into and seen her whole world and future.

God, it’s fucking crazy how she used to be so in love with her and now she feels completely apathetic.

“Kam! Hey,” Vanessa smiles tightly, waving awkwardly with the hand she’s not holding her shopping basket with. “How are you?”

“I’m fine! Well, actually, not amazing. I tried to make this really fancy, complex coq au vin for dinner last night but I don’t know what the hell I did wrong because it tasted like fucking ass. So I’m here getting ingredients again because Mama didn’t raise a quitter. It’ll probably still taste like garbage though, you know what I’m like,” Kameron reels off, which makes Vanessa smile in spite of herself. Kam was never the best at cooking and it was usually Vanessa who made the dinners when they were together, but there were still a couple of times when she’d tried at something and had failed spectacularly. Kameron seems to pick up on what she’d said as a little look of discomfort flashes in her eyes before she follows her sentence up with, “How’re you? God, it’s been ages.”

“It has,” Vanessa shrugged a little. So much has changed since they’ve last spoken that Vanessa isn’t really sure where to start. “I’m good. Things are pretty great, really. Obviously had a good run on the show for my first year competing, so hopefully I’ll get a partner next year too an’ win it next time.”

“I know, you did so well! I was really shocked you didn’t make the semis at least,” Kameron frowns, and the flattery does admittedly soften Vanessa up a little. Kameron’s face lights up as she adds, “God, your girl was so amazing though too! Brooke Lynn Hytes, right? She was super talented. Now I know how good a dancer she is I can’t help but feel like she’s sort of wasted as a presenter.”

“Yeah, she’s incredible,” Vanessa nods emphatically, unable to help the heat she feels spreading to her cheeks whenever she gets to talk about Brooke with somebody. Kameron’s expression changes a little as she clocks Vanessa’s blush, and a cheeky glint appears in her eye. Vanessa frowns. “Hey. Behave.”

“I didn’t say a word!” Kameron laughs, and as she trails off there’s a smile on her face that’s affectionate and helps Vanessa warm up to her ex even more. ���Listen, what’re your plans? I’d honestly love to catch up. It’s been too long.”

Vanessa tilts her head in thought. The conversation isn’t going too badly, and her only plans are going round to Brooke’s later on to watch the semi-final results and have dinner (hence the reason she’s gone to M&S to get wine and not the Tesco Metro round the corner from her). So Vanessa surprises herself when she shrugs, giving Kameron a little nod. “Okay, yeah. Lemme get this wine and then we can get coffee.”

The way Kameron’s face lights up makes Vanessa think that her decision was the correct one.

They’re sat at a little table at the window of a nondescript coffee shop roughly ten minutes later, Kameron stirring the hell out of a vanilla latte that’s sat in front of her and creating a tiny whirlpool in the coffee that puts Vanessa in mind of a Pirates of the Carribean movie. Kameron’s talking about the flat she’s in just now- she bought it after she rented for a while when she moved out of Vanessa’s place- and how furniture is so expensive.

“I mean I could just go to IKEA and just furnish the entire thing for, like, two grand, but I actually want some really nice stuff, you know? Like it’s a big girl professional flat, not a uni rental,” she screws her face up as she finally takes a sip. Vanessa bristles a little opposite her- she knows Kam doesn’t mean it, but Vanessa wants to remind her that most of her furniture is from IKEA, because they’d gone and bought it all together when they first moved in. Kameron doesn’t seem affected, though, and keeps talking. “What about you? You still living out at Finsbury Park?”

Vanessa nods. “I’m still in the same flat, I never moved.”

A look of shock passes over Kameron’s face and Vanessa can read her like a book- the fact she’s still in that flat where they made so many memories together is obviously surprising. Vanessa can’t help but laugh. “Kameron, chill. You don’t roam the fuckin’ halls like a ghost, I don’t burst into tears whenever I go into a room. It’s a decent flat at a decent price, I wanted to keep it.”

“Right. Sorry. Ego check,” Kameron smiles sheepishly, and Vanessa feels bad for poking fun at her. Kameron perks up after a second, laughs a little. “I like how you said ‘halls’ plural. Like it’s a stately home and not a fucking matchbox with an intercom system.”

Vanessa’s taking a sip of her own hot chocolate and she almost chokes on it in a laugh, Kameron howling and slapping the table in response. Vanessa’s forgotten that Kam used to make her laugh, still can. She always used to see it like some sort of secret privilege she had access to, the quiet girl’s funny side rare and only popping out on special occasions. That hasn’t changed over the years.

“How’s work, anyway?” Vanessa asks her as she composes herself. Kameron shrugs easily.

“Pretty good. I did a Dua Lipa music video the other week, that should be coming out in a month or so.”

“Is she actually as bad a dancer as that video made her out to be?”

Kameron smirks. “She had a shit choreographer; she’s actually alright. Not pop girl standard, but you know. My agent’s trying to get me on the Blackpink tour next, so I should hear back from that soon.”

Vanessa’s glad that work hasn’t dried up for Kameron- the backing dancer industry is treating her well.

“Anyway,” Kameron bats her lashes, looking at Vanessa coyly from behind her glass. “Tell me more about this dance partner of yours, miss.”

Vanessa feels herself blush, a bashful laugh escaping her lips before she can stop it. It’s weird- after they first broke up Vanessa always used to think she’d love the chance to rub her ex’s face in a new relationship, but it feels ever so slightly odd now she’s actually about to talk about Brooke in front of her. “Honestly, we’re just seeing each other and keeping things casual. Y’know, while the series is still goin’. We’re not even official or public.”

“Yet,” Kameron smiles cheekily at her, and Vanessa can’t suppress the smile she returns to her.

“Okay, yet. But it’s going really well. I really like her. She’s sweet, an’ she’s caring, an’ she’s the best listener.”

“And she won’t be a fucking idiot and cheat on you.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” Vanessa shrugs, the fact that Kameron’s brought the situation up casting a small grey cloud over the conversation. It’s clunky and awkward, a puzzle piece jammed in a place it shouldn’t be. It’s been brought up now though, so Vanessa grimaces and adds, “But then I never thought you would, either.”

Kameron’s face screws up in regret, and before Vanessa knows it she’s rested a hand on top of hers and is giving her a tentative smile. “I know I said it about twenty million times when we were together but I’m honestly so sorry, Vanessa. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Kam, you gotta stop beatin’ yourself up about it,” Vanessa cuts in and says swiftly. Her own words shock her; they’ve come from virtually nowhere, and she’s amazed at the raw sympathy she’s just shown her. “You were drunk, it was a kiss. Strictly is…it’s a weird show. You saw him more hours in the day than you saw me. Kisses between partners happen all the time, it just…sucks that it happened between you two.”

Kameron nods quietly, and Vanessa puts her other hand on top of hers. “I forgive you. Give yourself a break.”

Kameron squeezes her hand, shoots her a soft smile. “Thanks, Vanjie.”

They let go of each other’s hands and each take a sip of their own drink, the silence between them somewhat symbolic like someone wiping words off a whiteboard. Vanessa watches as Kameron swallows a gulp of her coffee and grins. “Hey, do me a solid and put in a good word with Asia O’Hara for me, okay? I really want to slide into her DMs but I need some context first.”

“Your face can be the context, fuckin’ look in a mirror,” Vanessa snorts, and the two of them laugh together.

It’s nice. This huge, big, massive event she’s built up in her head for all these months is happening- she’s bumped into Kameron and she’s speaking to her. She doesn’t need to build it up anymore, or wonder about how it would play out because she’s living it, it’s playing out and she never has to see Kameron for the first time since they broke up ever again. A wall crumbles down in her mind without warning and once the dust settles she realises that she feels somewhat lighter.

Vanessa has been carrying this burden around with her for all this time without even having known it.

The pair of them eventually finish up- hug goodbye outside the coffee shop and tell each other how nice this all had been and then go their separate ways. They don’t promise to keep in touch, but Vanessa knows they’ll probably like each others’ Instagram posts or occasionally tweet each other support or that kind of thing now. Little things that remind them they’re still on good terms.

As Vanessa heads to the tube, her mind drifts to Brooke and how excited she is to see her. The week has been long and Brooke’s been busy, but true to her word she’s messaged Vanessa whenever she’s had a spare moment, updating her on her day and asking her about her own. On Tuesday she’d invited Vanessa round to her flat on Sunday night as she has a day off on Monday and they can spend the night together. She’s not just abandoned her or left her hanging, and if there’s about to be a gap between her messages she always pre-warns her. Brooke’s treating her well. Almost like a girlfriend. Exactly like a girlfriend.

Vanessa still doesn’t know what they really are. She’s so far told herself that that’s alright, but now they’re out of the competition that answer isn’t really satisfying her any more. She wants to call Brooke hers, she wants to be with her properly. As Brooke’s apartment building comes into view, Vanessa wonders if she’ll bring it up tonight.

As she buzzes Brooke’s intercom, though, Brooke’s tone throws everything into a tailspin.

“Hello?”

Vanessa frowns. Brooke sounds ever-so-slightly icy and fed up. She wonders if she’s imagined it. “Uh, hey! It’s Vanessa.”

“Hey. Come up.”

As the door buzzes open and Vanessa steps into the building, she waves away the thoughts in her head. She’s probably overthinking things, and as she steps into the elevator and lets herself be carried up to Brooke’s 12th floor apartment Vanessa tries to calm her nerves. It’s the first time she’s been to Brooke’s flat- in fact it’s the first time either of them have been at either of their flats- so she’s a little anxious. It’s another layer of the relationship they’re adding on, and the thought of things getting a little more serious makes Vanessa’s heart flutter.

So her head is thrown into a tailspin when the elevator doors open onto a landing and she’s met with three doors- two closed, and the other (Brooke’s, a little gold 111 set into the smooth grey exterior) is ever so slightly ajar. Vanessa narrows her eyes, tentatively stepping out of the lift, crossing the hall, and pushing the door open a little.

“Brooke Lynn?”

Brooke’s voice replies, still something to it that Vanessa can’t quite work out. “I’m in here.”

Frowning, Vanessa steps through the doorway and into Brooke’s flat. The whole situation is so strange that she can barely take in everything she sees; a long, narrow hallway lined with high heels that leads down to what looks like a sunken living room with a cream sofa and a floor-to-ceiling view of London. There’s a room to the right halfway down the hall, though, and it seems to be where Brooke’s voice came from, so Vanessa closes the front door and hears the click of the lock behind her as she follows it. Maybe she’s in the middle of something. Maybe she’s just busy and she wants Vanessa’s company while she finishes whatever it is she’s doing.

And then, as Vanessa turns into the room, the situation becomes immediately apparent.

Brooke’s bedroom is dark- the blinds are drawn and the only light comes from a few candles that are sitting on the tidy grey dressing-table under the window and the soft pink salt lamp that sits on the bedside table. The large bed pushed up against the wall takes up most of the room, and its sheets are white and perfectly ironed and crease-free.

They serve as a perfect backdrop to the sight that’s currently greeting Vanessa- Brooke, in a matching set of black Calvin Klein underwear, curled up against the pillows and scrolling her phone. The dark material makes Brooke’s pale skin pop, and the sight of her toned thighs and stomach forces Vanessa to squeeze her thighs together in spite of herself. Brooke looks up as she enters the room and smiles smugly, clearly happy to get the reaction Vanessa’s given her.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, her voice light and sing-song and making the entire situation worse because the fact she’s so perfectly put-together while Vanessa is slowly becoming a melting, gooey mess in front of her is, for some reason, only making her want to rip Brooke’s clothes off even more than she already does. “Come sit.”

She gently pats the space on the bed next to her and Vanessa almost knocks herself out kicking her trainers off and letting her jacket fall to the floor as she scrambles up onto the bed. She feels herself blush as Brooke gives a soft laugh (presumably in response to just how eager she is) then decides she doesn’t really care how she’s coming across as Brooke leans in and closes the gap between them, kisses her with soft Chapstick lips that Vanessa feels as if she’s addicted to. Vanessa expects the kiss to be more than it is- flames of seductive fire that make one thing lead to another all too quickly- but instead it feels as if Brooke is deliberately holding back, teasing her a little. It’s not helping Vanessa’s desperation at all, and just as she brings a hand up to rest on Brooke’s hip, Brooke breaks the kiss.

“So,” Brooke begins cryptically, as she reaches for her phone where she’d discarded it against the sheets. “I was just scrolling Instagram, you know, as you do. And, uh, I felt a little bit confused.”

Vanessa frowns in tandem with Brooke, who finally appears to reach the post she’s been looking for. Brooke’s voice keeps its light tone as she continues. “Because apparently, according to these photos…it looks like you had a cute little reunion date with your ex today?”

Vanessa’s heart drops as Brooke turns her phone to show her the long-lens photograph posted by The Sun’s Instagram account. It’s her and Kameron at the coffee shop window, taken at the exact moment that Kameron had reached out and taken her hand and Vanessa had shot her a forgiving smile and taken hers in return, probably the most affection they’ve shown each other in a whole year.

But Jesus Christ, has it been taken out of context and then some.

She’s panicking, and she can feel her mouth opening and closing rapidly as she attempts to explain herself. The one saving grace about the whole situation is that Brooke appears to be…calm? Relaxed? She’s not flown off the handle, anyway, which Vanessa wouldn’t exactly have expected, and there’s also the fact she’s in a matching underwear set so clearly can’t be that mad at her. So Vanessa finally finds her voice, tells Brooke everything- how she’d only bumped into Kameron in the shop, and how it was just a coffee and nothing more, and how she’d actually finally received closure for everything that had happened between the two of them.

As she speaks, part of Vanessa wants to bring up the fact that she and Brooke aren’t even together together, so why Brooke’s so pressed about all of this Vanessa doesn’t know.

Unless Brooke wants them to be more than what they already are. And Vanessa has fucked it.

Shit.

“It’s just all a massive misunderstandin’, honestly,” Vanessa finishes, and she’s relaxing a little more now that Brooke’s body language is warmer. “I maybe should’ve texted you but I was gonna tell you tonight anyway, I promise. I wouldn’t…I just wouldn’t mess you about like that, Brooke.”

Brooke slowly lets a bashful smile creep across her face as she nods softly. “Okay.”

And, just because she can, Vanessa pulls her in for another kiss. This time there’s a little more heat to it which makes Vanessa’s stomach flutter in anticipation, but she still feels as if Brooke’s holding back. It’s only then that Vanessa remembers how Brooke had told her she liked being in control, how much Brooke got off on hearing her beg for what she wanted the first time they’d slept together, and it all falls into place.

Oh.

Before Vanessa can say anything, Brooke’s trailing her hand from its position cupping Vanessa’s jaw down her body to rest on her waist, and Vanessa’s mouth goes ever-so-slightly dry. Brooke’s face is still close as she speaks again. “See I thought that would be the case, because I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

Vanessa responds by mirroring Brooke’s touches, resting her own hand against her exposed thigh and delighting as she watches something darken behind Brooke’s eyes. Her tone changes a little as she continues. “But it did get me thinking…what if you did forget how good you had it one day?”

“Won’t happen,” Vanessa shakes her head, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as Brooke pushes up the hem of her oversized white t-shirt, rests the palm of her hand against the bare skin at her waist. Vanessa squeezes her legs together again and she watches as Brooke flicks her gaze down, suppresses a smirk badly.

“It won’t?” Brooke pouts mockingly, and Vanessa loves it. “Well, just in case…I thought I’d show you what you’d miss if you ever did think you could do better than me.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa verbalises what she’s thinking in a hiss, as Brooke tugs at the bottom of her top and removes it quickly without Vanessa having to do anything other than raise her hands above her head.

Brooke dips her down so that her head’s resting against the pillows and presses kisses to Vanessa’s jaw, neck, collarbone, right down to the lace of her bra. Vanessa’s pulse is racing and she finds herself already spreading her legs, unable to help the way she needs Brooke to touch her.

“God, you’re so needy,” Brooke tuts disapprovingly into her skin, briefly reaching her hands under Vanessa’s back in an attempt to unhook her bra. Vanessa’s stomach tenses as she lifts herself off the mattress to help her, and soon the bra that she spent entirely too long picking out this morning is thrown halfway across the room onto the dark wood of Brooke’s bedroom floor.

“Says the girl that’s trying to get my boobs out in the first two minutes of foreplay- ah!” Vanessa cuts herself off as Brooke sucks a hickey into her collarbone. If she wanted to get Vanessa to shut up she’s succeeded, and so Vanessa instead focuses her attention on trailing her nails up and down Brooke’s back, delighting in the way the other girl shivers gently at the contact.

Brooke brings her lips up to meet Vanessa’s and she licks gently into her mouth as she strokes her thumb over one of her nipples, the contact making Vanessa flinch against the bed in the best kind of way. Vanessa trails a hand up Brooke’s back and pushes her fingers into her hair, and when Brooke breaks away her stomach flips at the way it’s all messed up and imperfect. Paired with Brooke’s blown pupils and plush lips, it’s a sight that makes Vanessa buck gently into the air almost without realising.

“Jesus. It really doesn’t take much, does it?” Brooke laughs gently as she loops a finger under the waistband of her leggings, and Vanessa shakes her head and pouts self-indulgently.

“Brooke…” she begins, then trails off when she doesn’t actually realise what she wants to say. She’s very happy to let her be in charge if this is what happens as a result, and when Brooke moves to straddle her it renders her twice as speechless as she was before.

“If this is you now, I’m almost scared for how you’re going to react when you see what I’m planning on doing to you,” Brooke says softly, the fake concern to her voice sending shockwaves rippling through Vanessa’s body. Before she can respond Vanessa gasps as Brooke pulls off her leggings, leaving her in the red thong she’d agonised over and the white ankle socks she’d put entirely less thought into. Brooke is left kneeling between Vanessa’s spread legs; dark heavy-lidded eyes, mouth hanging ever-so-slightly open. When she speaks, her voice is ragged.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she says, and maybe it’s the simplicity of it but Brooke’s words make Vanessa feel completely naked despite what she’s still wearing.

“You’re beautiful,” Vanessa breathes out in an instant reply.

Brooke pouts and trails one of her short acrylics up Vanessa’s inner thigh, ripping a whine from her. “You sure Kameron isn’t more beautiful?”

“Jesus,” Vanessa throws her head back against the pillow and lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t have you down as the jealous type at all.”

When she tilts her head up Brooke’s got an unimpressed eyebrow raised at her. “You’re already in trouble, this isn’t helping your case.”

Vanessa can’t resist the urge to tease her and so she sticks her tongue out in response. “Oh what, you gonna punish me? You gonna tie me to the bed an’ spank me?”

Brooke’s gaze darkens. There’s a pause as she crawls up the bed, hovers over Vanessa with her face close. Vanessa keeps her own eyes sparkling as she stays still, challenging her to see if she’ll crack even though she wants to grab her jaw and kiss her with the same intensity they’d shown each other earlier.

“Brooke Lynn’s jeal-ous,” she sing-songs right in her face, and when Brooke pulls back she’s wearing a dark expression. Vanessa brings her hands up to rest on Brooke’s waist, traces the outline of her waistband.

And when Brooke leans over to the top drawer of her bedside table, Vanessa’s eyes widen as she instantly realises what she means.

She produces a wireless pink wand vibrator, and Vanessa’s body hotwires.

“Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke murmurs, lips quirking in a smile. “You’re going to get punished for the stunt you decided to pull today.”

“Oh no, I hate orgasms! What a terrible punishment,” Vanessa smiles back at her, sarcastic and indulgent.

“Who says you’re going to be allowed to have any?” Brooke frowns.

Vanessa instantly realises her mistake.

“Wait…but-”

“Yeah. I’d suggest you better start being extra nice to me,” Brooke interrupts her, resting the wand down on the bed beside one of Vanessa’s thighs and hooking her fingers around the waistband of her underwear to tug it off. While this is happening Vanessa shuffles against the sheets in anticipation, something curling tightly in the pit of her stomach and the throbbing between her legs becoming impossible to ignore. She wants so badly to be touched, wants Brooke to feel how wet she is and for her eyes to go all wide when she realises she’s the one that’s got her this worked up, but instead of her fingers or her tongue she’s using that stupid fucking vibrator and she’s not even going to be allowed to come.

Fuck.

“Please, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa pouts, letting a hand trail up Brooke’s thigh from where she’s positioned herself between her legs.

Brooke gives a short laugh. “You think you’re begging me now, wait until I get started.”

“Promise I’ll be good for you,” Vanessa insists, the end of her sentence almost getting cut off with a gasp as Brooke presses the wand against her. It’s not even switched on yet but it’s something that Vanessa can grind against, and she bucks her hips gently against the head.  

“If you want me to turn it on you better keep those hips still,” Brooke says quickly, and Vanessa groans in resignation, lies still like she’s been asked.

She’s rewarded with a soft hum and a gentle buzz against her slit, and she can’t help the moan of satisfaction she gives in response as Brooke holds the wand there for a few moments, letting Vanessa get used to it. After so much build-up it feels like heaven, and the feeling leaves Vanessa wondering how long she’s going to last.

Brooke starts to swipe the wand up and down against her; lazy, slow motions that leave Vanessa squirming against the mattress every time she feels the vibrations brush against her clit. It’s not helping that Vanessa can see Brooke’s own chest rising and falling increasingly quickly, her pink, flushed cheeks, her hair all unkempt from Vanessa running her fingers through it.

“This good, babe?” Brooke asks, her tone ragged and her voice hoarse. When she snaps her gaze up to meet Vanessa’s eyes her pupils are blown and black and it sends an arrow through Vanessa’s heart that instantly shatters it as if it’s a piñata full of confetti.

“Mm,” is all Vanessa can manage, along with a rapid nod against the pillow.

“Not quite hearing a yes or a no there,” Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should just turn it off-”

“No, no, no, no! It’s good, it’s good, fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” Vanessa instantly reels off as if it’s a frantic prayer. Brooke’s probably the closest thing to religion she’s experienced in months.

“You sure? You sure Kameron wouldn’t do it better?” Brooke says teasingly, wiggling the vibrator against her clit as if to make a point and sending Vanessa into the stratosphere.

“No, I promise, I promise, babe, please, please, please,” she whines. She can hear herself pleading and she hopes it’ll help Brooke come round to the idea of letting her orgasm because if Brooke ups the setting on her wand then there’s no way she’s going to be able to exercise any form of restraint.

Brooke switches back to slowly sliding the vibrator against her, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s grip on her thigh tighten.

“Fuck, I can see how wet you are from here.”

Vanessa feels herself throb, her body responding to Brooke’s words before she can. She fists both her her hands into the sheets, can’t see her knuckles but knows they’ve gone white. “You wanna taste me so bad.”

“So much,” Brooke pouts, nodding slowly. “But…you need to lie there and take your punishment.”

“Fuck. I miss when you were too shy to talk during sex,” Vanessa huffs, grumpy, and she’s immediately stopped from saying any more as the wand buzzes that little bit more intensely against her. Brooke brings it back up to her clit, rubs it in slow, small circles that drive Vanessa wild and render her almost incapable of thought.

“Sounds like you’re the one who can’t talk during sex,” Brooke deadpans, squeezing Vanessa’s thigh to punctuate her point.

She can feel how slick the wand is against her, only illustrating how wet she is. The hum of the vibrator and the gasps Vanessa can hear herself making are heightening her senses; it’s too much and not enough all at once. Both Brooke’s teasing and the sensation of the wand vibrating against her is making Vanessa’s inevitable orgasm build inside her, and it’s only a matter of time before she hits boiling point.

“Brooke- ah!- please…don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last…”

“Oh, no way,” Brooke says darkly, and in an instant the vibrator is off and Vanessa’s back is arching off the bed in frustration as she cries out in disappointment. “You don’t get to come yet, babe, not after the sass you just gave me.”

Vanessa instantly regrets opening her stupid mouth and teasing Brooke more than anything she’s ever regretted before in her life. She whines, reaches her hips up into the air as if she’s going to generate friction from nowhere, and Brooke’s pouting in mock-sympathy. Vanessa knows she could just spring up from her position against the bed, grab Brooke’s face and kiss her and pin her down and take the control back, but there’s part of her that knows how unbelievably satisfying it’s going to be when she does get to come if she’s this worked up already.

Brooke’s watching her with heavy-lidded eyes as she traces up her leg then fans her fingers out over her inner thigh and rubs her thumb against her clit. The contact makes Vanessa’s eyes almost roll into the back of her head; the wand has heightened her sensitivity and she’s by now so slick and wet from all of Brooke’s teasing that with every little rub of her thumb Vanessa can feel the fire between her thighs become completely out of control.

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this to you every fucking day since Blackpool,” Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa bucks against her thumb helplessly. “We’d be having to rehearse but all I wanted to do was just to make you beg for it again and again, fuck.”

“Should’ve told me.”

“Mm. I almost texted you about it. One of the nights I was lying in bed fucking myself with my fingers and remembering how good yours felt…remembering how you felt like fucking heaven underneath me…I could’ve sent you so many pictures that night…”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ you need to stop talking or I’m gonna come,” Vanessa squeezes her eyes shut. Brooke’s still teasing her clit and Vanessa knows she’s deliberately applying just not quite enough pressure. She’s so on edge and it feels like the most incredible form of torture.

“You want the wand back, sweetie?”

“Please, fuck, yes,” Vanessa begs, almost wanting to sob. When Brooke’s thumb gets replaced by the vibrating head of the wand she feels lightheaded, lets out a cry that she instantly knows Brooke’s neighbours will hear but she doesn’t care. Brooke’s teasing her badly, holding the wand against her, taking it away for a second, then replacing it, and Vanessa feels so sorry for herself that she starts pleading with her.

“Keep it on me, please,” she gasps out, and when she looks up at Brooke she’s smiling at her wickedly.

“Like this?”

Brooke ups the intensity the moment she makes contact and Vanessa can practically feel herself give a little gush against the wand. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps now, and she’s only just registering the fact that Brooke’s got her hand that isn’t holding the wand down under the waistband of her own underwear, playing with herself. There’s a light sheen of sweat against her chest that’s making her glow like an angel and the way her chest is rising and falling is mirroring Vanessa’s.

Vanessa now realises why people yell out declarations of love right in the middle of their orgasm.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you like it?” Brooke murmurs. Vanessa can see her bucking against her fingers and the sight makes her press herself down against the wand, the way the vibrations roll over her clit in waves making her want to scream.

“So much…so fucking much…”

“Anyone else gonna fuck you like me?”

“No, baby, no-one else, just you, fuck, only you,” Vanessa whimpers. She looks up at Brooke and the sight of her eyes closed in ecstasy, grinding against her fingers and her nipples hard through the fabric of her bra is enough to tip Vanessa on a very gradual decline over the edge. “Fuck, can I come, please?”

“Yes, babe, you can come.”

When Vanessa feels her clit sieze up then pulse frantically against the vibrations of the wand, she shouts out into the bedroom, the pace of her fuck, fuck, fuck in sync with the waves of her orgasm flooding through her body. Brooke holds the wand against her until she’s sure she’s finished and Vanessa can only lie against the mattress, completely worn out and exhausted, as she watches Brooke take the wand and hold it between her own legs, the thin material of her underwear dark between her legs as Vanessa realises just how wet Brooke must be as well.

And even though Vanessa’s too worn out to help her out in the way she wants to, it doesn’t stop her from sliding a lazy hand up her thigh. She takes a couple of shallow breaths before pouting up at Brooke.

“Aww. Did watching me get you too worked up, baby?”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke hums in reply, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she squeezes her eyes shut. It gives her an idea.

“Not used my mouth on you yet. Bet you wish I was doin’ it now.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, keep talking.”

“You don’t get to boss me around any more, princess. Keep talking what?”

Brooke’s face contorts into a frown as she ruts against the wand, eyes still closed. “Keep talking please.”

“Good girl,” Vanessa purrs, and she almost feels as if she could go for round two as she hears the way Brooke gasps in delight at the praise. “You want me to tell you how much I want to put my tongue between your legs and taste you and watch you come apart under me?”

“Ah…”

“Maybe you don’t want that, though. Maybe you want to sit on my face instead. Ride my tongue and shut me up so I can’t talk back to you and drip all over my face all dirty while I just lie there and take it like a good girl.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brooke hisses out. Vanessa’s surprising herself with what’s coming out of her mouth and how absolutely filthy it all is but she’s going with it because she knows Brooke’s close.

“Tell me how much you want it.”

“Fuck, want it so much.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Vanessa…fuck, please…”

Vanessa regains enough strength to sit up and cup Brooke’s face with her hands, meeting her lips with her own and teasing her with a slow, deep kiss. Vanessa flicks her tongue inside her mouth and when she rubs it over Brooke’s she cries out against her lips, her moans almost-but-not-quite swallowed by Vanessa’s kiss as she comes.

Brooke breaks away as she falls against the mattress and Vanessa follows her, lying down beside her and gently switching the wand off. They lay there in silence, Brooke’s gasps and the buzzing in Vanessa’s ears the only things she can still focus on until Brooke reaches out a hand to curl around one of Vanessa’s. Vanessa throws a leg over Brooke, pulls her closer so that Vanessa can rest her head against her chest and feel her frantic heartbeat.

“Fuck me,” Brooke whispers breathlessly, and Vanessa lets out a chuckle.

“What, again? Thought you’d at least want a break first.”

“Shut up,” Brooke giggles. There’s a pause as she presses her lips to Vanessa’s head, mouths something Vanessa can’t hear or see. Then she mutters again, a little louder. “You’re so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Vanessa replies childishly, though the way Brooke’s chest judders against her in a laugh Vanessa assumes she doesn’t mind. She flinches a little as Brooke’s stomach gives a loud rumble. “Oh yeah. Forgot you were meant to be making dinner.”

“Hey, I have made dinner thank you very much! It’s in the slow cooker. Cuban beef and rice if that’s okay?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the little nervous tone in her voice. It’s adorable.

“Sure it is.”

Brooke lends Vanessa some pyjamas to shove on in lieu of the outfit she’d arrived in, and Vanessa’s heart swells a little at the implication that she’s going to be staying over. She’s not sure if she’ll try and breach the subject of what they are tonight- the evening is already so perfect and Vanessa doesn’t want to ruin anything, especially not when they’re curled up on the sofa with bowls of warm food in their laps and laughing guiltily at the way Jan is sobbing because she and Jackie have become the latest ones to leave the competition after a tense dance-off with Crystal and Gigi.  

“It’ll be a close final, though. Like that’s everyone been in the bottom now,” Vanessa contemplates, tilting her head in thought from her position at the other side of the sofa. Brooke nods, then snorts again.

“God. I feel for Jan, but she just has such a memeable crying face. Like Kim K,” Brooke snorts again, as some ridiculous BBC One gameshow that seems to be based around celebrities strapped into a wheel starts in the background.

“Jan’ll be fine. She’ll recover, she’s a big girl. She’s got Jackie anyway,” Vanessa shrugs. Brooke hums in response, and then there’s a palpable silence that fills the room, almost like Brooke is about to say something. Vanessa waits.

“So today got me thinking,” Brooke finally says, reaching out and curling her fingers around Vanessa’s. Her eyes are in her lap and she’s not meeting her gaze. Vanessa is, in every sense, on the edge of her seat.

“Uh-huh?”

“When I saw those pictures of you and Kameron,” Brooke continues, the reminder making Vanessa’s heart drop. “I got so envious…and then I thought, well…what’s the only way I can make sure Vanessa’s just mine?”

Brooke finally looks at her, and every fibre of Vanessa’s being lifts in hope. “So, uh, I was wondering…if you would want to be my girlfriend.”

And when Vanessa blinks, she can see fireworks explode behind her eyes. She’s unable to help the huge, dumb smile that breaks out on her face as she blushes shyly, gives a nod.

“‘Course I would, baby.”

The smile that bursts onto Brooke’s face mirrors her own, and Vanessa can’t help but lean in and pepper Brooke’s face with kisses, wrap her arms around her in a cuddle.

“Officially yours, now,” Vanessa smiles excitedly, as she rests her head against Brooke’s chest. She can’t see Brooke’s face, but she knows she’s smiling too.

And suddenly, a little sentence appears in Vanessa’s head, three very small and simple words that she’s not thought about in a long time but just make sense in that moment. She looks up at Brooke, meets her gaze and feels her heart thump.

Maybe she can save that for another day.

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 13, Part 1 of 2

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed)

[covers MDZS chapters 52, 53 and 54]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰🐰+🐰🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰+🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

(Each WangXian scene automatically gets one 🐰 even if they’re just thinking of each other; one scene can earn up to five 🐰 depending on the intensity of WangXian-ness. Each scene is separated by an “+”. In rare instances, certain WangXian scenes are so full of WangXian love that they warrant more than five 🐰...the last scene of this episode is a prime example of such an instance)

The last 10 minutes of this episode, starting from this moment, is probably one of the most giffed, vidded, screencapped, blogged, reblogged, tweeted, retweeted, etc scene in the entire show, so there’s really not much more I could say about it that hasn’t already been stated and echoed by many, many others. Suffice it to say I absolutely love it: I love how the scene was constructed and performed, and I am still amazed that it exists at all. It is perfect, adorable, hilarious, and simply precious. Even though it is still a few degrees tamer than its novel counterpart (I’ll get into that in the second part of the post), the scene still managed to fully capture the spirit of the original. It really is so damn perfect, thanks in large part to Lan Zhan’s sublime reactions. Seriously from now on, under “gay panic” they should just show Lan Zhan’s face while Wei Ying is taking off his clothes:

Strangely enough, this disrobing moment always reminds me of a WangXian scene that occurs much later, during Wei Ying’s second lifetime, which was left out of The Untamed because...well, there really is no bromance way to interpret it. It’s the scene in Lotus Pier when Wei Ying is up in the tree looking down at Lan Zhan, and he thinks, “if he catches me, I’ll....” For some reason, whenever I watch this moment, I instantly think of that scene, except in this case, I always imagine Lan Zhan thinking, “If he takes off his clothes, I’ll....” The sentiments and circumstances between the two scenes are hardly related, and yet I feel a similarity between them because in both instances, figuratively speaking, the person directly affected—Lan Zhan in this case while in the Lotus Pier scenario it’s Wei Ying—seems to be standing at the edge of an emotional precipice, and a little nudge is all it’ll take for them to fall right over and become overtaken by the emotions they were feeling. For the later Lotus Pier scene, Lan Zhan does catch Wei Ying, and I think that’s when he realizes his feelings for Lan Zhan. Whereas with this moment, I don’t know what would’ve happened if Wei Ying had successfully taken off all his clothes in front of Lan Zhan, but I feel that Lan Zhan was deathly afraid to find out himself, hence, his overreaction.

~~~

I love that Wei Ying pulled that stunt because he figured Lan Zhan was such a prim and proper fuddy-duddy that the idea of being naked or seeing someone else naked would've been enough to shock him into spitting up his bad blood. While that isn’t an unreasonable assumption, it doesn’t quite hold water since we’ve been seeing how Lan Zhan is around Wei Ying all this time and had been privy to his point of view leading up to this moment. As a result, I feel like there’s two realities going on at the same time: what Wei Ying thinks is happening and what Lan Zhan is actually experiencing, which is sheer panic because he already had feelings for Wei Ying but has been more or less keeping a tight control over his emotions. With Wei Ying’s in advertent act of temptation, his control was quickly slipping away. It’s no wonder he became so overwhelmed that he vomited up all that blood; it's like an anime’s equivalent of a nosebleed.  

Wang Yibo really hit it out of the park with his performance in this entire scene: I was truly impressed with how he so capably brought to life the spectrum of tumultuous feelings Lan Zhan was experiencing. While Xiao Zhan has plenty of opportunities to emote due to the nature of Wei Wuxian’s character, Wang Yibo naturally has the shorter end of the stick due to Lan Zhan’s stoic nature, so most of his emoting is usually restricted to just his eyes. As a result, chances for him to fully break out of that restrained façade is rather rare, and I think he really relished the opportunity, taking full advantage of it and gave it his all in the limited capacity that he was able to without getting out of character. His reactions really ran the gamut of emotions: there was pain (due to his injury), shock, confusion, indignation, the aforementioned panic...erm...vomiting, then gratitude, jealousy, displeasure, hope, annoyance, and finally sadness about Cloud Recesses and his family. No wonder he fell asleep shortly after, he must’ve been exhausted from emoting alone.

I think it's a significant point that Wei Ying mentions that Lan Zhan has never spoken to him as much as he had in the cave since I believe it is here that Lan Zhan has finally, truly fallen in love with Wei Ying. That’s part of the reason why he opened up to him much more than he has ever done with anyone else except for Big Brother Xichen. I’ll hold off on talking more about this until the next episode but I would definitely consider the Xuanwu cave as a landmark event in their relationship, especially for Lan Zhan. In the novel, he actually starts crying in front of Wei Ying because of what happened to his home and his family. Here in the show, while he did get teary-eyed talking about Cloud Recesses...

...he still obviously held back, not letting his tears actually fall.  At first I thought it was a shame that Team CQL made that change from the book since it was such a heart-breaking yet sweet moment, but since my initial viewing of this episode I’ve learned to really appreciate that choice. It means that the only times Lan Zhan has ever really cried was because of Wei Wuxian.  That’s just so utterly beautiful it makes me emotional.    

Still, the fact that Lan Zhan had such a moment of vulnerability in front of Wei Ying was a strong indication of how much their relationship has deepened. Even during their journey to the Xuanwu cave, there were a number of small yet significant moments that further illustrated the steady growth of their bond. As usual, they were constantly focused on each other, always aware of what was happening to the other person so that they could offer support. In addition to offering Lan Zhan a piggyback ride and then asking Wen Qing to slow down the procession for his sake, Wei Ying was generally just so attentive to Lan Zhan, bringing him water during their rest stop, which actually earned him a rare smile...

...and then when they got moving again, Wei Ying was right by Lan Zhan’s side to help him.

Even if Wei Ying’s attentiveness can be attributed to his considerate nature, what adds meaning to their interaction is Lan Zhan’s behavior in return, since he’s constantly going against his known reticent nature by exhibiting his concern for Wei Ying, such as when he worriedly calls out Wei Ying’s name after Wen Chao kicks him over the ledge:

It’s like once again, seeing Wei Ying endangered, Lan Zhan forgets all caution and his surroundings and just zeroes in on Wei Ying.  Even though he was seriously injured, he still raced down those ropes to the bottom of the cave so that he could help Wei Ying.  

Not to mention, while they were distracting the Xuanwu so that the others can escape, Lan Zhan pretty much sacrificed himself to protect Wei Ying, thereby worsening his leg injury.  

 Interestingly, in the original version of that scene, Lan Zhan actually got caught in the jaws of the Xuanwu so Wei Ying had to jump in to rescue him, which resulted in him carrying Lan Zhan on his back. In other words, Wei Ying did actually end up giving Lan Zhan a piggyback ride after all. I’m not quite sure why Team CQL decided to omit that detail. If it’s a censorship issue, carrying an injured person on one’s back seems a reasonable enough thing to do...and it’s not like there wasn’t a piggyback ride later on. If it’s a strength issue on the actors’ part, if Wang Yibo can manage to carry Xiao Zhan, I’m sure Xiao Zhan could have done the same to him, especially since he has a few inches of height on WYB. I really can’t figure out why they omitted the piggyback ride in the drama. Strangely enough, the donghua also left out the piggyback ride as well. Again, considering what they kept in the scene (Wei Ying is half-naked, Lan Zhan touches the brand on his bare chest), it is rather puzzling why a relatively harmless piggyback ride didn’t make the cut.

Continued in Part 2...posted

[elixir4paradise]

Promise-of-Happiness

Set after Bad Relationship Ending 1, what happens if V catches wind of what Rika has done to both her and Ray? Will they be saved?

I could remember screaming, a voice screaming my name. A voice asking, begging, pleading for forgiveness for leaving me alone. The face before me seemed so familiar, yet so far away. Bleached hair with pink tips splayed messily on his forehead, his gloved fingers running over my cheek. Why was his touch so familiar? Why couldn't I speak?

I hazily remember him shouting as believers grabbed him and pulled him away. He continued to shout for me, telling me he would be back..but why..? It was like I had no memories of him, I only remembered the Savior calling me down to her throne room and scolding me for barely using the messenger I had come to test. The game? Oh wait. It wasn't a game, they were real people. What a strange feeling.

Feeling darkness invade my field of vision, I cried out; or so I thought. I was awake but I couldn't open my eyes, a faint beeping filled my ears. I struggled and cried out internally as I begged my body to listen to my commands. A futile effort, I couldn't wake up. Ceasing my internal struggles, I faintly recall hearing a voice, speaking to me so very softly.

"It'll be okay, MC." The owner of the voice gently stroked down my hair, tangling his fingers between the locks. "I'm so sorry I got you involved in this, so please wake up soon." Then my memory faded back into black as I felt my consciousness slipping back away. Sweet darkness, warm darkness, comforting darkness.

The redhead who sat beside the hospital bed, untangled his fingers from the young woman before him. His eyes clouded with worry as he turned towards the door that slid open. "V.."

The man with mint colored hair adverted his gaze from the golden eyes baring straight into his soul. "Luciel, I didn't think you'd still be here." he spoke softly, nervously approaching the redhead. He lowered himself onto the foot of the bed, flitting his eyes to the hand Luciel had the unconscious girl's in. "I didn't realize you were so close."

Seven pressed his mouth into a thin line, glancing back to the girl. "We're not." he said curtly. "We get along in chat and I..." biting his tongue before considering his next words. "..I feel responsible, with Saeran and all."

V watched him closely, feeling he was hiding something, but it was not an issue he was going to press. He knew Luciel had started to develop feelings towards the woman attached to IV and a heart monitor before them, it was obvious in the way he interacted with her on messenger. It was even more obvious as he set aside his work for the agency even after their rescue was completed.  Not mentioning it was the least he could do since Luciel never once asked how he knew she was at Magenta. How he knew his brother was there too, he just listened as they infiltrated and carried out the mission, no questions asked.

--- My dream was hazy, I felt the warmth of the sun hitting my face. It felt so good, I felt myself shifting to my side and a hand supporting me. I stirred again before opening my eyes. Beautiful mint green/blue eyes gazed into mine, the familiar white haired man looked to me with such tenderness on his face. I gathered that I was on his lap, I could feel a soft pressure on my head causing me to reach up before his fingers intertwined with my own.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" His voice was beyond comforting and familiar. "Don't mess with your crown princess, it's fragile."

Crown? I strained my eyes to unblur as I began to notice he was sporting a crown of flowers, causing me to reach up and touch upon some soft petals entwined around my head.

"I'm sorry." He spoke again, brushing a strand of hair from my eyes. "You just looked so much like a princess I had to make you a crown to match the sleeping beauty before me."

The heat that rose to my cheeks had me certain that I was burning as bright as the roses that adorned his crown. I adverted my eyes quickly as I sat up, his hand loosening on mine, allowing me to shift into a sitting position.

I felt my body move on it's own as I let my head lay into his chest, curling up lightly inbetween his legs, I took in the surroundings before us. We lay against a tree in a garden, vibrant colors painted the scenery before us, the orange of twilight cascading the area in an even dreamier glow.

"You fell asleep, Princess." Lips touched the back of my hand and touched again on my forehead. "We were having a picnic, remember? The Savior has allowed it and I was so happy to see you." He smiled wistfully as he stroked my hair, a nervous but calm aura surrounded him.

"I love you." he broke the silence, his voice shuddering, it sounded as if it was his first time confessing those words. I heard myself confirming his feelings by pushing up and letting our lips touch, before I pulled away I spoke. "I love you too, Ray. So much."

A sad smile crossed his features as he began to dissolve infront of my very eyes. He faded into darkness, leaving my arms cold and empty. I reached out as I watched him disappear before my very eyes. ---

"RAY!!" I shot up in bed, the scenery around me vastly different from my dream. Sterile white walls, a beeping monitor. I jolted my body forward, gasping for air and wincing as I felt the IV tube grow taught against my movement. A hand grasped around mine, causing me to whip around. Gold eyes bore onto mine, an intense, somehow familiar stare, peering into my soul.

"Who-" Before I could even get it out, the redhead before me was moving me to lay back down on the hospital bed.

"Rest. You've been out for a few days." His voice was so quiet, sweet and somewhat sad. For some reason he also seemed familiar. His red hair messy, disheveled and yellow and black striped glasses adorned his face. "I'm sure you're surprised. He won't hurt you anymore."

Who? I glanced around the room nervously, trying to figure out what he was saying, trying to rack my brain as to who he was. He reminded me of the guy in my dream, but starkly different with the red mop atop his head. "Ray....?"

Seven sat back down after getting her to calm down, sighing softly and shaking his head to the confused woman. "MC, You probably know me as Luciel.. I.. I'm so sorry."

"Seven?" Obviously bewildered, his name came from my lips probably louder than I intended. "Where's Ray?"

"He won't hurt you now."

He didn't! He was always kind to me. I was remembering now, my affirmation to his feelings, the memories we  shared in the garden seemed like so long ago.

 "He... he would never hurt me.." I finally managed to choke out, contributing to the mix of emotions on his face. "He... He's not--"

"No. He's okay. V and I got him in the psyche ward.." His voice trailed, an obvious pain contorted his features. "His name isn't Ray." He inhaled deeply, resting his hand on my shoulder. "His name is Saeran. He's my twin.. it seems like someone pit him against the RFA, he was unconscious when we found him, just like you were." His amber colored eyes seemed to search mine for answers.

Seven shifted in his seat before continuing. "He was in a basement, locked in a cel. According to the doctors he ingested the same mixture of chemicals you did, but a greater quantity. I'm not sure what that stuff was but he was angry and delirious. MC.. Do you remember who did this..? Anything.. He's my brother. I left him in Rika's care, V ensured he was safe but he won't answer my questions."

The young man spoke so quickly, feverently that it was almost so hard to keep up. It was a lot of information. "The Savior must have... The Savior must have punished him after I stopped coming on messenger.." I recollected to the best of my abilities. "She... looked really familiar.." suddenly something dawned on me and as I began to ask him to show me a picture of Rika, the door to the room swung open and a gentleman with mint colored hair and mint eyes stood, his breathing labored.

Seven and I sat in silence as the man entered the room. "Please don't say any more." He panted. "Please." He approached us slowly, holding his hands in a clasped position. "Please let me handle... that Savior."

I shifted my attention to Seven, whose hands were gripping the railing to my bed, his knuckles white. As if to comfort him I moved my hand to cover his lightly. His whole demeanor relaxed at my touch. He let his head hang down in defeat, not pressuring the mint haired man further.

"V..." Seven spoke softly, trying hard to mask the shaking in his voice. "Why are you here...?"

"I came to check on you both, the other members asked me to since you haven't been on messenger. I filled them in the best I could."

Seven nodded lightly. "How is he..?"

"He's still angry, he keeps calling for someone, he seems desperate but incoherent."

I tried to find the courage to speak, moving my mouth opened and closed, like a guppy gasping for breath. "Can I see him...?" I finally managed. His memory was becoming clearer, our memories together. I wanted to see him more than I could bare.

"He's your kidnapper. I don't feel it'd be wise." V spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed lightly, somehow betraying the calmness and tenderness behind his voice. He approached me and reached out to touch my arm gently, his expression has since relaxed. "He is very frantic, I'm not sure you'd help. I'm sorry."

Seven watched his "guardian" speak to MC, watching them interact closely. He was acute to the emotions being hidden in their tones as their voices bounced along the walls of the sterile room. Thank goodness for his experience as an Agent helping him read the situation better. While he understood V's concern, he could feel the eagerness and sincerity behind MC's intentions too. After a while V excused himself, leaving the two in silence. They waited a while, ensuring V was gone before he spoke up, his voice still hushed. "Want to come with me..? I know where he is."

I couldn't help the joy that sprung to my eyes, glittering with happy tears as I nodded vigorously. "Please!" ---- I could hear screaming from the room, thrashing around and a nurse leaving quickly before our presence caught her attention. "I wouldn't go in there." She spoke quickly as she finally pushed past. 

I could feel Seven looking at me, concerned, as if he was questioning our next move. I was holding onto the IV drip, rolling it beside us as Seven was pushing my wheelchair towards the room. His excuse was that I haven't used my legs in days and he didn't want me to overexert myself.

The shrill screams filled my ears again snapping me from my distracted state. I made sure my eyes met with Seven's and mustered up the most determined, pleading expression I could muster. I was scared but I had to see him with my own eyes.

"Little brother.." Seven's greeting was met with a hiss and another crazed scream. "Bro, Listen. I--" A book flung across the room, narrowly hitting him. Sighing he confirmed with me again but I wasn't ready to give up. Finally he wheeled me into view.

The frail figure on the bed was bound tightly, his chest struggling against the bounds, causing the railing to rattle with the sheer force he was using. Another sharp hiss of an inhale before those icy mint eyes met with mine. For a moment his angry expression faltered.

He gasped and tugged at his binds again, his eyes seemed to brim with tears. 

She was here. She was here! She was ALIVE! He pulled again, desperate, his demeanor no longer one of anger. "MC..." he choked out, completely forgetting the man who brought her to him. "MC!" his voice broke out in a sob, a strangled desperation of an onslaught of emotion crashing into his weak body.

Seven watched his brother's attitude go a complete 180 upon seeing the girl. What did he feel towards her? The same thing he felt? Maybe he only liked her because they are twins and they felt the same thing? Trying to piece together his own emotions, he didn't notice the girl struggling and reaching at the railing of the bed.

I shakily grabbed the railing to Ray--Saeran's bed and pulled myself up, I could barely stand but I felt the need to get close to him. Tears were threatening to burn my eyes as I managed to pull myself forward, stumbling. "I'm here.." I felt a strong pair of arms lift me and sit me on the bed, Seven smiled tenderly, mussing my hair before stepping to the side with a soft nod, signalling me to go ahead.

Glancing at the sobbing figure before me, I lifted his chin gingerly, examining his face. Ray--wait. Saeran's face was stricken with tears, a look of relief gracing his lovely eyes. He buried his head against my shoulder, choking back another gasp. Wrapping my arms tightly around him I let him cry it out into my shoulder, feeling the tears I was holding back falling freely. ---

A month has passed since we were discharged from the hospital, Saeran and I were living in Seven's bunker, I slept in one of the guest rooms, Saeran had his own room and Saeyoung, who I learned was Seven's real name obviously had his own.

The brothers have gone through a lot in the time we've been together. Saeran had pushed away from his brother and fought feverently against the belief's the Savior had instilled in him. Deep down he understood Saeyoung did what was best for them at the time but there was a part of him that didn't want to accept it.

Saeran suffered a lot, anxiety attacks riddling him a useless sobbing mess. I was always quick to help him breathe and calm down. We would press foreheads together and count slowly. His tears would slowly dissapear as his breathing would slip away from erratic to calm and collected.

I stayed in my room a lot to give them to bond and to struggle with my own feelings, I loved Saeran so much but I was very confused. I was trying hard to process the that Saeran and Ray were similar but not quite the same. I tried to quiet my steps as I headed towards the kitchen. Upon reaching my destination I was graced with a serene scene of the brothers actually eating peacefully together. Saeyoung was cracking some joke or another and annoying Saeran but not to the point of angering him.

Mint and gold eyes flitted over to me, holding my surprised gaze. 'G-Good morning you two.." I pushed past, bowing my head lightly, trying to seem as small as possible, to not disrupt their peaceful moment. Saeyoung's voice rung through the morning. "Let's go on a date!!" His hearty laugh reverberated in his chest, the mirth in his eyes youthful and excited.

"Date..?" Saeran looked up from his breakfast curiously, knitting his eyebrows together. "What do you mean..?"

"You, Me and MC!"

I felt the plate fall from my hand, clattering to the counter. My face was so hot I felt like I couldn't breathe. "W....what...?"

Saeyoung wasted no time, moving and wrapping his arm around my shoulders in a onesided hug. "Well! GOD7 is bored and you've helped us both so much! If you hadn't come to chat.." his voice grew serious from the hearty boyish tone he had before as he pulled me tighter. "I wouldn't have been reunited with my baby brother and I wouldn't have met you so please! Let us treat you.."

I could hear Saeran choke on his food before getting up and prying his brother's arm off me. "Okay okay that's enough of that.." He spoke flatly, mussing my hair. His tender eyes glanced down on mine, smiling lightly. "Go get ready.. Yeah?" 

Saeran watched as she scrambled back to her room to get changed. He moved to meet his brother's gaze. "What's with you?"

Saeyoung only grinned largely, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

"Whaaaaat?" feigned innocence dripped over his words. "Jealous?"

Saeran didn't miss a beat. "Yes. Stop flirting with her."

Saeyoung slumped his shoulders, defeated before his shit eating grin disappeared. He tried to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "You love her...?" He watched a series of emotions flash through his brother's face. Gold eyes widened as his brother confidently nodded. Back to a shit eating grin, Saeyoung grabbed his twin tight. "I'M SO EXCITED FOR MY SISTER IN LAW!!!" 

Yes, his heart had been shattered into a million pieces but he bounced back quickly. He was happy to set his feelings aside as long as they could both be happy. He swung his brother back and forth laughing loudly to keep from the feelings he buried deep in his heart. He understood his feelings may not change but his brother has suffered enough and deserved this chance. ------ The "date" was lovely, walking around a botanical park and Saeran explained the many different flowers. Saeyoung played on his phone but he and I cracked jokes freely, teasing one another. We poked and prodded as Saeran would watch on with tender eyes.

I was on cloud 9. The happiest I've felt in years. We were headed towards our final destination to the date, my arm linked in Saeyoung's playfully as we pretended to be heading down the yellow brick road. As my free hand swung freely, I brushed against the back of Saeran's hand. I shot an embarrassed glance to him and his response took me back to the days in the gardens. His fingers intertwined with mine, staring straight ahead as if it was a natural action.

The ice-cream shop was bustling, Saeyoung had already unlinked with me and went off to order ahead of us. Saeran's fingers never left mine as we sat across from each other laying our linked hand on the square table. His eyes bore into mine as he smiled lightly. "One chocolate, one strawberry and one vanilla coming right up!!" Saeyoung's voice snapped me out of my trance and Saran and I untangled our fingers. I touched my burning cheek in embarrassment. Saeyoung sat at the table, handing the cones out, laughing to himself. Sarean and I blinked together as if wanting in on Saeyoung's inside voice.

"Together we make Neapolitan Ice-cream!" He held up his chocolate cone while Saeran held up his vanilla, I brought my strawberry cone in the middle, the flavors lightly touching as we made a "toast" with the ice-cream. Laughter ensued. ---- Saeran and I have grown even closer since that day and my realization that Ray was alive inside of him only made my feelings stronger. Saeyoung and I had become the best of friends and hung out constantly. I was no longer confused about my feelings. I did love Saeyoung, but not the same way he hoped I did.. 

My feelings for Saeran.. have become clear as day.

Saeran was planting some flowers outside of the bunker, admiring his work and wiping his arm on his head. I sat on the ledge of the flower box, kicking my legs as I watched him work. "What did you plant?" I asked curiously.

"Primrose, roses, dandelions, baby's breath and lily of the valley." His cheeks dusted with a sweet rosy pink as he mentioned the last one. Curiosity must have filled my face because he answered me without my asking. "Lily of the valley.." 

He removed his glove and cupped my cheek gently. "The promise of happiness." I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, my eyes softened lightly as I leaned into his touch. "I hope you'll find all the happiness in the world. You and Saeyoung deserve it." I touched my fingers along his wrist, stroking them lightly.

He relaxed into my touch and caught my gaze in his own, keeping eye contact, he searched mine as if asking if I was listening. Before I knew it, his face was so close to mine, our foreheads touching, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've already found it.."

Saeran's breath tickled my lips, casuing my breath to hitch in my throat. I shivered against his touch, my heart hammering in my chest. "Y...You have?" 

Without a moment of hesitation, he closed the distance between us, cupping my face now with both hands. I felt like I couldn't breathe for a moment, giving into his kiss I exhaled, wrapping my arms around his neck. His free hand wrapped around the back of my head, pulling me closer. He exhaled through his nose, pushing the kiss deeper.

We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, not wanting the other to pull away, but we both needed to catch our breath. A radiant, gentle smile graced his features, tears brimming in his eyes. "My MC. I love you. I always have. I know now.. those feelings weren't just Ray's but mine. Thank you for being by my side constantly and for helping me find my family."

I inhaled nervously, pulling myself into a closer hug, trembling lightly. His words processed as I let my eyes flutter closed. I had no doubt in the world now. 

Nothing could break this moment. I exhaled against his collar bone, peppering kisses on it lightly. "I love you too... I love you Saeran... All of you, every side of you and that will never change."

I heard him let out a relieved sob, exhaling a breath I was unaware that he was holding. We both laughed to ourselves, showering the other in months worth of kisses to make up for lost time. Both a tearful, hiccuping laughing mess, we couldn't have it any other way.

The promise of happiness. Everlasting love.

Nothing ever felt more right in the world and we had it, in our hands.

Forever.

[keyofjetwolf]

NEW SEASON NEW SET TO POKE AROUND IN

AND POKE I SHALL

It looks like we’re still in the library, which along with the title leads me to believe that Laura (and Carmilla, I’m guessing) have basically been living in here for the past two to three months. But their internet connection seems solid, so, you know. Reasonable. I do enjoy that Laura either snuck out at one point for her Tardis mug, or she grabbed it before fleeing for her life at the end of S2.

Did she pick up a matching one for Carm?

LAURA THAT’S GAY

It is with some disappointment that I must report, after a full and intense ten minute search, that I could find no trace of the tiara. WHY DO YOU KEEP DENYING ME SHOW WHY DO YOU KEEP DENYING YOURSELF

Being a library, there are of course many books on many shelves. I can’t really identify any of them by vague size and spine colours, but I did spot these:

I got super excited for a second, all “I’VE SEEN THESE”. Oddly enough, on my own shelves!

Alas, no. They’re close, but not the same. (Mine, if anyone’s curious, are a set of DIY books by Popular Mechanics from like 1976. They left them when we bought the house. IT WAS AN INTERESTING TIME

So I was, sadly, wrong, but I feel I HAVE seen that set before somewhere.

I doubt very much this is a Shakespeare wanted poster, but if the library is in fact sentient in some way and has a three-hundred year old grudge against ol’ Will, THAT WOULD BE AMAZING.

Awwww, the library has won awards! Also possibly keeps cremated remains on shelves. The trophies, though! I don’t know what they’re for, but until I learn otherwise, I’m going to assume “Best Mad-On For A Major Literary Figure”.

And then we have my very favourite of all.

A BULLETIN BOARD FULL OF SHIT

LAURA IN THE LOOP. Wearing the same outfit in her DANGER-FREE opening. A proto-version? Why do you still have this though, Laura, I HAVE QUESTIONS.

I’m not sure what makes up the board trim, but I’m going with the finest Kotex product wrappers. Some cut into heart shapes! Because what else are you going to do when you’re being hunted and hiding out in a library over summer break but make crafts projects with your tampon packaging.

A photo of what looks to be men in underwear? YOU LADIES DO KNOW YOU’RE LESBIANS RIGHT?? Something about the picture does look to be quite old though, 1900s or earlier? I’m wondering if maybe it’s a sports team? Or perhaps old board members. In their underwear.

I feel like I’m SO CLOSE to knowing what the text says here, but no go. It looks like a magazine advert to me, though, but the hair makes me wonder if it’s Almost Anya? Not that those two have to be mutually exclusive, in fairness.

“EVENT RADIUS”, this one says, with what appears to be a map.

Sadly, these other signs are less easy for me to read.

Much bigger than that, and the pixels just become fuzz. We have looks like a header for the sheet, and then some bullet points. It may say “Laura”? Which would seem like something you wouldn’t need a sheet for, if you are in fact Laura, but then she also has HER OWN PROMO PICTURE UP THERE, so who the fuck knows.

The bottom one I thought said “JPD”, making me think it was something about a police department. Looking again though, it may say “JP?” So are these sheets then maybe them searching for their missing friends? So maybe the magazine ad IS Almost Anya, and perhaps the “Laura” sheet it’s connected to is for Captain Ginger? I can’t make out any other name though. Also, it’s not helpful that I’m so fucking bad at names and the show keeps INSISTING on not using my character nicknames.

A building map! That one’s easy enough.

And finally

“WHAT DOES THE DEAN WANT?”

Yes, I can see you’re committed to your new danger-avoidant lifestyle, LEMME KNOW HOW THAT WORKS OUT FOR YOU

BONUS:

This looks like a strange mummified long-legged turtle, and if I’m wrong, I don’t ever want to know.

[oliverwxod]

Her (Tom Holland)

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst

Summary: Weddings had a reputation of bringing people together in unexpected ways. It had been 2 years since Tom last saw her and he was dreading/dreaming of seeing her again.

A/N: happy new year people, hope you have a happy and healthy 2019!! My master list is in my bio on my page, would appreciate if you gave it a little read xx

Tom had been mentally preparing himself for one of his co-workers weddings for the past few months. Ever since he found out she was going. It was silly of him to assume she wasn’t up until then. Why wouldn’t she be? They had all worked on the same film with each other, of course she would be invited. 

But nothing would ever fully prepare him to see her again. The girl who walked out of his life like it mean’t nothing. Like he mean’t nothing. 

It had been 2 years since he last saw her. 2 years since he last heard her name, 2 years since he saw her smile, 2 years since he saw her laugh and cry at the same time.

2 years was a long time to not hear a word from her. No explanation, nothing, just silence. She had blocked his number, his social media accounts and she even moved apartments, none of her friends or their mutual friends telling him where. 

Tom never understood what went wrong. Every time he asked anyone he knew was still in contact with her, they just smiled sympathetically at him, shrugging and telling him they knew nothing, or that they couldn’t say.

It hurt. It hurt like hell and he felt like he hadn’t smiled properly in those years, a piece of himself and a piece of his heart missing. She held it in her hands, she always had and she always would. 

He wanted to hate her. But he couldn’t. She was still his everything after all that time. She was still the one he wanted to wake up next to, the one he wanted to have by his side holding his hand through the good times and the bad. 

“you ready?” Harrison asked, clapping a hand on Tom’s suit covered shoulder. Tom nodded, giving his friend a nervous smile as he readjusted his tie.

“as ready as I’ll ever be” he nodded, shrugging slightly. 

“you’ll be fine” he reassured him, giving Tom an encouraging smile. “I’ll be right by your side if it gets too much”

“thanks” Tom smiled in appreciation at his friend. 

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

The reception went slowly, Tom spent the whole time adverting his eyes away from anyone. He didn’t look around him at the surrounding, focusing solely on his co-worker and friend who was saying his vows to his wife to be. It made him smile. 

The picture perfect image of love really did come true for some people. He couldn’t find it in him to be bitter about it. Just because love didn’t work how he wanted it to, didn’t mean that everyone was that unlucky. 

He didn’t see her there once. 

In fact, he managed to avoid seeing or bumping into her throughout the whole reception. She must have been sitting in the back. 

Tom greeted a couple of friends from the set, smiling and hugging them, chatting about fond memories. He could feel himself relax in the atmosphere, letting his worries free for the hour. 

That was until the atmosphere shifted. It was as if he could feel her presence in the room. The overwhelming intensity of her being had always affected him. He could feel her eyes on him, searching the room blindly until his own landed on her. 

His breath caught in his throat at the sight. The soft and kindest smile graced her features as she timidly met his eyes. Tom was unsure whether to go to her, he had spent all his time thinking of the words he would say to her. 

Part of him wanted to shout at her, demand an explanation, but he knew that would push her further away and scare her off. The other part of him wanted to be passive aggressive and ignore her presence, but he didn’t know if that would hurt himself self more than it would her. 

So he made his way towards her, fiddling with his tie again to readjust it, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat down. 

Her eyes widened in panic... fear... as she turned away from him, walking to the edge of the room and pushing open the front doors to the venues car park. 

He sped up his pace, he wasn’t loosing her this time. 

“Y/n” He called as he made it out of the door. He needn't have worried. She was waiting there for him, sitting on the outdoor bench. 

He frowned, standing frozen looking at her. 

“Tom” she spoke gently, looking down at her hands in her laps, ready for him to shout or get angry at her. She knew she deserved it and that it would hurt because Tom never ever raised his voice to anyone. 

But to her surprise he didn’t look angry. It was worse.

He looked sad. Defeated and broken. She had broken him. 

“why?” he asked, still not moving from his spot away from her. 

“I owe you an explanation Tom” she spoke. 

“And you couldn’t have given me that 2 years ago!” he spoke, voice breaking slightly. Y/n recognised it, it was the sound where he was trying to keep himself together, to keep his tears back. 

“I’m sorry” she spoke quietly, her own voice breaking now as she let the tears she had been holding back all day go.

“2 years Y/n! 2 years of nothing and what do you expect me to do?” he asked running is hands through his hair in frustration. 

“I don’t want you to forgive me” she cried “I just need you to know how sorry I am and to explain, I owe you that.” 

Tom was silent, staring at the floor in contemplation. 

“how can I ever forgive you?” he spoke, but it was more of a question to himself, no undetected hints of anger of malice. He shook his head, a quiet chuckled escaping. “How am I supposed to forgive you when you left me like you did. I thought I finally had you, that we could finally be together. That’s what you said, you told me those exact words as soon as we slept together and I told you that I loved you.” 

“I don’t expect you too forgive me Tom, I fucked up and I know I’m a terrible person. I couldn’t face you and I know and you know that you deserve more, you deserve so much better than me Tom, I had to leave you.” she cried, wiping her eyes in frustration. She didn’t want to come across as pathetic. 

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “so that’s what it was all about? You being insecure?” he spoke through gritted teeth. “all of this for that.” he frowned. “Y/n you know I would never think bad of you, I would never make you feel insecure because you were perfect for me and I hate that you couldn’t see that and felt that you had to leave” 

“you deserve the world Tom and that’s not me” 

Tom let out of breath of air at her words, tears falling freely from his own eyes now. He made his way over to her sitting down next to her in silence. He hadn’t been this close to her in a while.

“I forgive you” he spoke quietly.

“You don’t need to say that to make me feel better Tom” she said. 

“I’m not. I forgave you weeks after you left” he admitted, causing her head to whip to the side to face him. She let out a watery chuckle. 

“you’re too good for this world” she spoke, smiling gently at him. 

“why do you always say that?” He spoke, laughing gently as a few final tears rolled down his face. 

“because it’s true tom. You are” she spoke in admiration. 

“you know- I’ve spent the last 2 years thinking non-stop about you.” he said timidly. “I’ve thought about what I would say to you if I ever got the chance to see you again” 

“did you say what you wanted to?” she asked. 

He shook his head. 

“No. Because In my thoughts I never spoke to you” he said. She watched him speak, curious as to what he had thought about the past years.

“In my thoughts It always played out like a scene from a movie.” he said laughing at himself while shaking his head. 

“Yeah?” she asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “and how did that movie scene go?” 

“well there were several.” he spoke, a hint of the playful Tom she once knew lacing his voice. “the first one we would have fought real bad, as in shouting and screaming at each other and then gaining the attention of all the guests.” 

“that would have been funny” she laughed.

“one of them we would have just completely ignored each other and pretended the other didn’t exists, using other people to make each other jealous.” he spoke, eyeing her from the side to see her reaction. 

She pouted “I'm glad that didn’t happen” 

“Me too” Tom said, smiling at her. He saw her hands still in her lap, one of them turned palm upwards. So he did what he never used to hesitate doing. He laced his fingers with hers, relaxing as she let him.

“A ridiculous one was me turning up to the wedding in my Spiderman super suit, swooping in and taking you with me and saving the day from well... from nothing I guess.” he chuckled. Y/n laughed loudly, causing him to join in. 

“that would have been entertaining” she said through her laughs. 

“yeah. Maybe a little embarrassing though.” he spoke. 

“what was your favourite one?” she asked the mood turning more serious now. 

“My favourite one?” he asked a little taken aback. She nodded prompting him. “my favourite one was the one where everything turned out perfectly. We would speak, I'd find out the real reason you left me, I’d tell you I forgive you and still love you and then I'd kiss you” he said shyly, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“go on then.” she spoke, giving him a teary smile “make it happen” 

Tom looked a little surprised but shook it off, he wasted no time in leaning in towards her, both hands cupping her cheeks in admiration. She leaned into him, foreheads pressing against each other in an intimate fashion. And after 2 very long years he finally captured her lips in a kiss he had only dreamed of.

“I love you” he spoke once he pulled away, wiping away her tears with his thumb. 

“I never stopped loving you” she spoke back.

Forever tags:

@dreambigbeawesome @hellosafie @linheliano @extreme-supernatural-lover @thisismysecrethappyplace @mannls @1elboomdemsechevarria @what-the-hell-is–a-hufflepuff @myrabbitholetoneverland @jbarnes87 @permanent-lines @alyssaj23 @piensa-bonito @maresmiley @soldierplum @jjsoccer11 @les-bio-lie @dewy-biitch @despelllestrange @kingdomcage @unlikelygalaxygiver @hiddles-rose @httpmcrvel @breezy1415 @artisticlales @imthegirlyourparentswarnedyouof @maladaptive-ninja-returns @xinyourdreamsx

[shannonisawitch]

I Know That It’s Love

Sonia x MC

Sleep continues to evade Sonia as she tosses and turns. The dark of night sits heavy around her, the silence making her antsy. Perhaps it was the fact that she actually had time to sleep now, with the Monaco job over and done with (thank God), that she didn't know how to actually fall asleep unless she was utterly exhausted. Whatever it was, this was the third night in a row that she found sleeping impossible, and she grit her teeth in annoyance. It didn't help that three days ago, she had talked to Gwen on the phone. Her stomach had done somersaults, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. Gwen, of course, had teased her, given nothing away to her location, and openly flirted. Sonia was all business at first, but her resolve had quickly faded when she realized that she liked the banter between she and Gwen. However, she didn't get a chance to act on it because Gwen had ended the call. So perhaps that was the true reason to her not being able to sleep.

With a huff, Sonia buried her face in her pillow, cursing her feelings. She chanced a glance at the clock, groaning. 3:15am. She'd been trying to sleep for over four hours now.

A rapid knock on her front door near made her jump out of her skin, and she cursed as she eased out of bed. Who the hell was knocking at 3:15am?! Probably Ms. Drew again from down the hall, looking for her cat. Just in case, she tucked her Glock in the small of her back. Reaching the door, she looked through the peephole, and had to rub at her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Gwen stood in the hall, a bottle of rosé and a box of cereal under one arm and a disgruntled cat under the other.

"What in the hell are you doing here?!" Sonia near shouted, throwing the door open.

"Shh, you'll wake your neighbors! But gosh, not even a hello for your dearly beloved?"

"Just shut up and get in here."

"Very forward of you," Gwen purred, brushing her arm against Sonia's as she entered the small apartment.

"Gwen, give me one good reason not to arrest you right now."

"Oh, please. You have no evidence to prove I'm guilty." Gwen shot her a smirk as she set the rosé and cereal down on the kitchen island, snuggling the cat against her. "And you invited me into your apartment. So, no forced entry or trespassing, I'm afraid."

"...Fine. But why are you here?"

"Well, I wanted to see you." There was nothing but pure love behind those words, and Sonia stood stunned for just a moment.

"Gwen..."

"Oh, come on, babe, I know you feel it too. Or else we wouldn't have had all those run-ins in Monaco. I know there's a part of you that knew it was me under that mask, and you still kissed me. Not to mention, getting handcuffed in the hallway..." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at this, and Sonia rolled her eyes.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Mmm maybe just a little. I had every intention of coming here sober but, um, I got wine." Gwen moved across the room to the couch, sprawling herself across it, the cat balancing on her chest. She wondered if it was the same cat that Ms. Drew was always looking for.

"And why do you have a cat? Did you steal it?!"

"I don't steal everything ya know, I'm actually an outstanding citizen, outside of stealing from the rich to give to the poor."

"The Robin Hood act is honorable, but you're still a criminal."

"A gorgeous criminal with a huge crush on a super-hot policewoman."

Sonia could feel the heat creep up her cheeks. "Gwen, you need to go. You shouldn't be here."

"And you're just going to kick me out? A drunk girl in the middle of...what country are we in again? Anyways, that doesn't seem responsible."

"Oh, don't get me started on responsible!"

“Ugh. Eat some cereal with me? I need to eat something.”

Sonia just glared at her but moved to the small fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. Opening the cereal box, she poured the cereal into a bowl before adding the milk.

“Thank God.” Gwen was suddenly looking over her shoulder.

“What?”

“You poured the cereal and then the milk. Proves you’re not a monster.”

“Good, I’m glad I’m not a monster.”

“Far from it, sweet cheeks.” Gwen grabbed her bowl, and sat at the small dining table, Sonia removing her gun and leaving it on the counter, coming to sit across from her. The cat jumped onto the table, watching them intently.

“Were you going to shoot me?!”

“You knocked on my door at 3 in the morning. I wasn’t taking a risk,” Sonia replied, raising an eyebrow as she smirked.

“Fair enough.”

“Seriously Gwen, where did this cat come from?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not an animal person.”

“Gwen.”

“Ok, ok, he was sitting outside your door. Thought he was yours.”

“Really?”

Gwen just shrugged, slurping the milk from her bowl. Sonia sat silent, wondering how she got herself into this predicament. Eating cereal with a drunk thief that she was totally in love with and a cat that was definitely not hers at 3:30 in the morning was not how she thought her Thursday would go. And Gwen was right, she has no authority or evidence to arrest her.

“You look cute when you’re pondering life’s difficulties.”

Sonia blushed again, but said nothing, watching the other woman. Her heart fluttered, and Sonia wanted to punch something.

“I think we should let the cat out so he can go home,” Gwen finally said, rising to pick up the orange tabby. “Sorry buddy, but you can’t live here.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Sonia couldn’t help a giggle as Gwen lifted the cat, his eyes alight with protest.

Sonia stood and opened the front door, Gwen kneeling beside her. “On you go! Go home!”

The cat jogged down the hall, looking over its shoulder one last time before rounding the corner.

“I’m going to miss him,” Gwen mumbled as Sonia shut the door.

“You knew him for all of ten minutes.”

“And we became best friends.”

“I think you should get some sleep. Do you want me to call you a Lyft?”

“Hmm. Can’t remember where I was staying. Guess that means I gotta stay here.” Gwen batted her eyelashes, moving into Sonia’s personal space.

“You can have the couch.” Sonia took a step back and turned back towards the living room. Gwen openly pouted as she followed behind her. Sonia grabbed blankets and a pillow from the hall, tossing them on the couch. “In the morning, I’ll get you a Lyft. Goodnight, Gwen.”

“Sonia…” Gwen looked at her longingly, her green eyes sparkling.

“Goodnight.” Without another glance, Sonia turned and damn near ran to her room, shutting the door behind her. Why did this woman continue to put her into these situations?! Sonia tossed herself onto the bed. She was definitely not getting any sleep now.

 --------------

Gwen woke with an intense pounding in her head, and wondered if she’d recently suffered a concussion, or maybe been hit by a truck. Cracking her eyes open, she winced at the bright light of morning creeping in through the blinds. Groaning, she rolled over and sat up, opening her eyes again. Wait…where the fuck was she?! She panicked for a split second, then flashes of last night came back to her. She groaned again, her head in her hands.

“Fuck.”

Rising from the couch, she made quick work of folding the blankets before searching for her phone. It was on the counter, next to an open bottle of rosé and a box of Fruity Pebbles.

“At least I brought decent cereal,” she mumbled, checking the time on her phone. She considered her options. Leave without a word, pretend it never happened? No, that wasn’t like her. Wait till Sonia woke up? What time did she wake up? It was only 6:45am. Maybe she’d leave her a note. Yes, a note with her number on it, so they could at least talk. Gwen was sure she’d…said some things last night that sober her would regret.

Scouring the kitchen and living room, she found a pad of paper, tape, and a nice fountain pen (Sonia, you pen nerd).

Sonia,

I’m so sorry I was a complete ass last night. Please understand that this is not how I wanted this to go, at all. I want to talk to you, I want to see you. You mean a lot to me, and I want to get to know you. No ulterior motives, no guns, no tricks. I promise. If you can accept my most sincere apology, call me.

Yours,

Gwen

Gwen scribbled in her number, breaking off a piece of tape and sticking it to the paper. Moving down the hall, she stopped before the only closed door. Her heart beat quickened, her palms suddenly sweaty. She, the over confident thief that had talked herself out of bad situations, avoided bullets more times than she thought necessary, jumped out of moving vehicles, and stolen millions upon millions in jewels, money, and intel, was nervous. She gulped, lifting her hand to stick the note to the door, when it suddenly flew open. Sonia looked like a deer in headlights, her eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise.

“Gwen.”

“Sonia.”

They awkwardly stood there, waiting for one another to make a move.

“Right, um, about last night, I’m so, so sorry, I was an ass and-”

“No, stop, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not! You deserve my whole attention, my complete sober attention. I’m pretty sure drunk me is a different person.”

“Actually, I think you’re much alike. She just has no filter. I mean, you don’t have a filter most of the time, but drunk you is worse.”

Gwen laughs at this, ducking her head to hide her blush.

“So…are you going to leave?”

“Um yeah, I was going to get going. I don’t want to interrupt your day.”

“Much too late for that, no?” Sonia smirks, a perfect brow arching, and Gwen just wants to kiss her. But instead, she lifts her chin, looking Sonia in the eyes.

“Well, I’ll just be off then.”

“Gwen, wait,” Sonia reaches out, grabbing her arm just as she turns. “Maybe we should talk. Come on.”

“Ok.” The touch sends a jolt through her, and Gwen dumbfoundedly thinks that she’d follow this woman anywhere. They move into the kitchen, where Sonia busies herself with making coffee.

“So. Why’d you come? At least, why were you planning to see me before you got drunk?”

Gwen adverts her eyes guiltily, moving to lean against the counter. “I really did want to see you. These last few months apart have been…well, quite frankly, they’ve been hell. I kept thinking about ways to see you, without you attempting to arrest me or you just slapping me across the face. I deserve both, I guess.”

Sonia just gives her a ‘yeah you do’ smile, before turning back to the coffee machine.

“I’ve always been upfront with my feelings, I’m not one to hide. But with you, I’m at a complete loss. You’re stunningly beautiful, and you know what you want out of life, and you are great at your job, and you do things for the greater good, and gosh, if I think I don’t deserve you, then I’m damn right. You’re everything I could never be, and I’m afraid I’d never give you love like you deserve. That is, if you’d ever let me, of course.”

Sonia stops what she’s doing, frozen by her words. She was not expecting this much truth to just spill out.

“Gwen…”

“I know I’m a thief, a criminal, but I really do only want to do good. And I know you’ll probably never feel the same way about me, and that’s ok, but I just had to tell you.”

Sonia turns towards her then, her dark eyes cloudy with emotion. Gwen swallows the lump that’s built in her throat, her eyes suddenly watery as well.

“Sonia, I think I love you. And I think you feel the same.”

“How could you know?” It’s just a whisper, but it sends an inkling of dread down Gwen’s spine, her whole body tingling with distress.

“After everything we’ve been through…I just figured, with how you reacted when we’d touch and the feel of your lips, and God, the time you handcuffed me in the hallway at the palace-”

"Gwen, just stop.” Sonia puts up a hand, and Gwen draws in a breath. “I know that it's love, 'cause it hurts. It hurts when I know I can’t talk to you, can’t see you. It hurt when we had to part ways in Monaco because you’re the thief and I’m the cop. It hurts like no other because I knew that no matter what, we’d never be anything more than rivals. How would it work, Gwen? God, it hurts.”

“But it doesn't have to.” Gwen is standing before Sonia in an instant. “It could work. It’s going to take some change and some getting used to, but believe me, there’s no one else in the world I’d want.”

“How could you be so sure that it’d workout between us?”

“Because I know that once you set your mind on something, there’s nothing that can stand in your way. I know that you’re the hardest worker in the room, and you fight for what you believe in. And, quite frankly, I’m much the same. Just not so up-tight about it.”

Sonia swats at her arm but smiles.

“You’re an ass. But you’re right. I love you, Gwen.” Sonia wipes at her teary eyes, relief spreading over her.

“I love you, Sonia.” Gwen closes the short distance between them, sealing their lips together in a silent promise.

They break apart, Sonia resting her forehead against Gwen’s. “I’m glad you showed up drunk to my house last night.”

“That’s not what I was expecting to hear, but I’m glad I did too. Thank you, drunk me.”

Sonia laughs and pulls her in for another kiss. Gwen melts against her, the heat building around them as the kiss grows more feverish. Her hands wander into the sable black tresses of Sonia’s hair, Sonia’s lithe arms snaking around her waist, pulling her flush against her.

“Bedroom?” Sonia asks against her lips, breathless.

“Bedroom,” Gwen whispers into the corner of her mouth, her tongue sweeping over Sonia’s bottom lip.

 ----------------

This time when Gwen wakes up, it’s not because of a pounding headache or blinded by the glaring light of the sun, but instead the tickle of hair against her cheek. She opens her eyes slowly, drinking in the sight of Sonia bathed in a golden glow, tucked against her, a tangled mess of arms and legs. Dark umber eyes meet hers, and she smiles, tracing a finger along Sonia’s jaw.

“Good morning, my love.” The term rolls off Sonia’s tongue, and Gwen’s smile widens.

“Good morning, indeed. Although, I’m guessing it’s more towards afternoon now.”

“Yeah, a little after 1.”

“And we’re still in bed, how scandalous.”

Sonia chuckles, running a hand through Gwen’s hair. “I found your note. Were you really just going to stick it on my door and leave?”

“Maybe?”

“Was the fearless thief Gwen Hargraves afraid to face her feelings?”

“Oh, shut up.” Gwen pinches her thigh and Sonia squeals, pushing her away, laughing.

“Maybe we should get out of bed,” Sonia says after a moment, moving to wrap her arms around Gwen again.

“Mmm, but it’s so comfy.” Gwen leans in and kisses her slowly. “Though, I am hungry.”

“How’s the hangover?”

“Better. It reminded me why I stopped drinking after I turned 25. I’m afraid the next hangover will kill me.”

Sonia laughs as she untangles herself and rises from the bed.  “Come on then, let’s go eat. There’s a great French bistro down the street.”

Gwen smiles at how domestic it all sounds. This relationship was new and unexplored territory, but they’d make it work. Gwen had just pulled one of the biggest heists in history, and had been so sure in her plan, her team. She had that same feeling right now, a feeling of complete confidence, watching Sonia get dressed, a smile on her lips. Even better, she had the feeling of undivided love, which was so overwhelming, that she felt it would consume her whole. Yes, they’d make it work, nothing could drive them apart now.