#it's just a rant I felt the need to let out into the void mostly

[teaforqne]

I'm just ranting into the void about Led Zep, post TSRTS clarity.

Feel free to read how I vomit my feelings, or not. TW: mentions of drugs, death, EDs.

I hate getting too into my interests because now I feel bad knowing so much about Led Zep's members as people, and not seeing them simply as personas on a stage – which is ironic because that's the whole point of getting to know more about my interests, but it just feels... Bad.

Maybe it's just me being a new fan and all these things that are now dawning on me are well-known in the fandom or amongst older fans lmao, but I need to let my feelings out somewhere! And I think here is a good place, since I've been blessed by nothing else than heartwarmingly nice mutuals.

For example, after reading about the personal relationships between members, mostly out of curiosity, it's said from the begining that Led Zeppelin didn't start as a band between friends; Jimmy needed a band to continue an already booked tour he had from before the Yardbirds broke up — he knew Jonesy and then found Robert and Bonham, therefore he created LZ from a professional need. Which is... You know, understandable.

The thing about me discovering this is that, I guess it made me realise that it wasn't the best time in the world for any of them, as one would suppose it was from an outer point of view. Robert himself talks about the "Led Zep times" as something that brings dark memories back, rightfully so; Bonzo lived with constant anxiety, addictions and homesickness, Jimmy had horrible addictions and problems with anorexia (if I'm not mistaken), and Jonesy didn't feel comfortable at all around the ambiance of hedonism, drugs and sex that was created around the band, he was an introvert whose personality collided with the rest of the group's.

I guess I thought of them as the idealised version that is their stage personas, where they all get along perfectly well and they're all friends jskwjwkw.

Just thinking about the deeper, more hidden part of them as people makes me appreciate them more, I suppose. It makes me appreciate Robert's solo career in which he could expand himself with the music he liked making, or Bonzo being a complete sweetheart to Robert when Karac passed away, amongst other things.

I don't think there's a clear conclusion about this little rant of mine, it's the first band ever in which I take my time to actually know each member closely, read about them and understand that bands are simply not perfect as so aren't people, no matter how good of an artist they are.

A while ago, early when I started liking LZ, I read about Jimmy and Robert because I was blown away by them, and I won't lie, I was destroyed by the revelation of Robert's infidelity and Jimmy's... Taste in girls. (Sorry! I'm not completely comfortable by saying it appropriately, as I'm a grooming victim myself, but you know what I meant.)

It felt really, really bad to have two people you looked up to as literal rock gods, taken down that altar by discovering that... Eh, they aren't exactly the best people. It kind of made me think about the whole thinking process of separating the art from the artist, the moral battle inside myself because I felt guilty for liking them, and then ending up accepting that some things are simply out of my hands and I can't really do anything about them other than be conscious about what I enjoy, and hold people accountable. The best thing I could do about absolutely loving Led Zeppelin was criticise it, and not look up at them as untouchable beings of perfection.

Ty for reading, if you did! <[:^)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

personal rant (tw chronic pain, chronic illness)

i don't normally post stuff like this on here at all because i love keeping this space here just for fun fandom stuff, but today has just been so unbelievably shit and i feel like i just need to scream into the void about it for a moment to try and process.

basically, me and my sister had vip tickets to meet and see this band today who's incredibly special to us. they were a total lifeline for us when we were growing up, but we never got the chance to see them live. in august when we finally got these tickets over ten years after we both started listening to them, we were both over the MOON. it was such a special moment for us, but also felt like such a milestone because both of us have been through so much since we were those kids sitting in my room finding so much solace in this band's music together. it felt like such a significant thing to be going to see them all these years later, having overcome so much and both of us being in places now that we never thought we could get to.

anyway, fast track to today and i woke up in excruciating pain. some of you might know that i have some issues with various chronic illnesses/pain already, and one of the conditions i have is endometriosis. for anyone who doesn't know, it's an incurable condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb grows outside the womb and causes chronic pelvic pain, fatigue, and a whole bunch of other fun symptoms. but it's biggest symptom, for me anyway, is the WORST period pain you can imagine. like, no medications can touch it, passed out on the floor for hours, screaming in agony kind of pain. i've lived with it for over half my life now and yes, obviously it affects me - but also i've got pretty good at learning how to manage it, and i have it down to like. a day or two per month where i'm incapacitated by pain rather than half the days. some months i don't get days like that at all now. i wouldn't say i feel good - a lot of the time i'm in pain and on painkillers/carrying around a hot water bottle with me when i'm at home etc - but i'm like. mostly functional. it hurts, but when it does, usually these days i can push through it when i really need to (even if that makes it worse later).

but today? today of all days, i woke up with the most excruciating pain i've had probably all year. i couldn't see or move enough to reach out to my bedside table and take my painkillers, let alone think of getting on a train and going to a gig. it's been over twelve hours and i'm only now able to sit up enough to watch stuff on my laptop for comfort and type this out (and i'm still in a lot of pain). of course my sister had to go to the gig without me, because there was just no way i could physically move to get there. and i'm just feeling so shit because although of course she was lovely about it, she was so nervous about going by herself and also really sad we couldn't go together, and i feel so much like i've let her down and that my body hasn't just ruined this incredibly special thing for me but also for her.

i generally try not to dwell on the stuff i can't do because i've learnt that it's NOT helpful, and it doesn't change anything anyway. i'm used to missing things i want to go to and not being able to see friends sometimes, working and having no energy left to do anything but sleep at the weekends. and most of the time it's okay, i've kind of made my peace with it. but on days like today i just feel so sad about it, all the things i don't get to do - especially things like this which are such special, once in a lifetime kind of opportunities. i know i shouldn't really complain because on the whole i've been really lucky with the things i've got to do despite my condition - i think this is the first time in a good five years or so that it's caused me to miss going to something really big like this, and i've got to go and see so many wonderful bands over that time. but this one... they're just such a special one to me and to my sister, and it feels like such a loss. and it just brings home how much this condition really does affect me - i've got pretty good at downplaying it over the years, but it's days like today where i'm like, no actually. this is awful and there's nothing i can do about it. which is a really scary kind of position to be in.

i don't even really know what the purpose of this post was other than to just let some of that out. normally i'd speak to my sister about it because she understands it the most, but i didn't want to let her see how upset i was about not being able to go because i still wanted her to have the best time possible and not be worrying about me. anway yeah, sorry to anyone who's read all the way through this, i know it's long and rambly and super negative. usually i'm able to take this kind of thing in my stride, but today it just really got me and i just feel so sad and defeated. i know in a few days it won't loom so big, and there are other wonderful things on the horizon that i'll get to do - but yeah. for today, i think i just need to let myself feel sad.

[stardusthuntress]

It will all be tagged "zenith writes" to make it easier to find.

NEW! taglist poll!

I write for the Clones of Star Wars x reader. You may request a GN!reader version of anything, OR if you spot something offensive or problematic and would like to (politely) let me know that there's a nicer way to phrase it, my inbox is open! Or if you want to pop in and say hi, dm me!

I just write when the inspiration hits. Mostly using this as my emotional processing system - just gonna write it all out. Shouting my nerdiness and pain into the void, maybe one day it will shout back (in a good way, hopefully). Thought others might relate and or have similar comfort mechanisms, so here's my work if ya wanna bother to read any of it!

Key: (consider ALL below to be NSFW, 18+)

* = smutty, even if mildly so, expect mentions of arousal and the like at a minimum

FOLLOWER CELEBRATION!!! There's ~150 of you now!!! (STARS that's a LOT!) And you guys decided you want more of my 'Right Attire' set! So that's what's in the works! That being said, FYI the title might change... (I promise I am still working on these!)

...and back to your regular programming!!!

The Bad Boys of Clone Force 99

Sergeant Hunter

* What Does Beauty Look Like? (female!reader) one-shot, implied smut!

* the Right Attire (afab!reader) one-shot, smut

ARC Corporal Echo

* a Gala-ctic Evening (afab!reader) one-shot, but featuring a smutty *Part 2!

* Hot... in So Many Ways! (femaleMandalorian!reader) one-shot, but will eventually have a smutty part 2!

Crosshair

To Speak Without Words (female!reader) mini-series, WIP (just Ch. 1 rn, 2 is in the works!)

Somebody to Lean On (female!reader) one-shot, hurt-comfort

Tech

What Does Real Love Look Like? (female!reader) one-shot, but I couldn’t resist making a *Part 2! With a happier ending that’s starting to get a little smutty!

* Turn Ons (gn!reader) drabble/imagine

EnigmaTech (female!reader) mini-series, WIP (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, ...) my Tech lives AU! (he lives, but they still gotta go get him, and Cross, and Omega, with reader's help!)

Concealed in a Touch (gn!reader) one-shot, touch-starved comfort fic!

Technically, it's Body Dysmorphia (female!reader) drabble/imagine - just a short comfort fic!

All

* Strong Women (female!reader) drabble/imagine - individually, but in one post

Triggered (female!reader) one-shot - deals with body dysmorphia, angsty comfort fic, all the boys being sweet towards reader

Shark Week (afab!reader) one-shot - periods suck, the boys are here to help!

The Boys in Blue - the 501st

Captain Rex

Angel Eyes (female!reader) one-shot, Rex is flirty because it felt like it fit him in this scenario! Reader is Chiss (look up Thrawn if this is new to you!)

Ancient Remedies (female!reader) one-shot, I guess it's a hurt-comfort, but Rex is the injured one and your job is to keep him from leaving medbay, for Kix's sanity of course

ARC Corporal Fives

What is Lost Can Also Be Found (female!reader) one-shot, sorta hurt-comfort but you’re comforting Fives, Fives Lives AU! (NEW)

Five for Fives (female!reader) one-shot, Fives Lives AU! (NEW)

The Knight in Shining Armor - Din Djarin

True Partners (femaleMandalorian!reader) mini-series, this one WILL get spicy - Ch. 1… WIP (NEW!)

Additional characters coming soon!

Credit Where It's Due:

Bad Batch boys dividers by @/djarrex

colorful dividers by @/saradika

(hyperspace headers/footers are my own)

Other

Lore rants: look for the tags “stardust rants” “zenith rants”, “infodump”, and “sw lore”

Science: I'm a space scientist by trade, so I have moments when I need to let my science out a bit. Those moments will be tagged as "secret scientist" and "Stardust rants" because my username is in fact, a pun. I could tell you more, but then it wouldn't be a secret, would it? ;P

no clone-cest here please!

[astrathechinchilla]

*clears throat*

Dark sides are awesome and lots of people (mostly Naughty Dog) suck at writing them.

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG RANT!

(This is mostly gonna be for my benefit, so I hope you don’t mind me screaming into the void with my headcanons)

Also, another warning: Mentions of how trauma is presented in media.

Also, PS: If you actually like my long rants about headcanons and critiques I have, you can ask me how I feel about certain subjects or characters, and I can make more stuff like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A while back, we all went through a small burst of Keira appreciation from multiple individuals, myself included, and that made me ruminate on the source of why she was treated so poorly by the writers of Jak 2 and onward. How she was poorly handled and sacrificed on the pedestal of early 2000’s tropes wasn’t okay and was a complete waste of her character.

This led me to remember that there are many other concepts and plot elements in Jak 2 onward that go absolutely nowhere in terms of story and only show inklings of being interesting in any shape or form. AKA: Going to waste.

Tonight, I’d like to talk about one specific element of Jak 2 & 3’s story that wasn’t even remotely touched on and was a waste of a plot device. I’m talking of course about Jak’s Dark Side- and by extension, Eco Sides as a whole.

They are just the sickest concept that Naughty Dog came up with, and it’s in the one of the very first scenes of Jak 2. It shows that something else is lurking inside Jak trying to break free, immediately catching your attention when our protagonist struggles to keep it buried inside him.

What is this being? Why is it causing Jak to react this way? These are two base-line questions that ND writers leave unanswered, only referring to the being later in vague tones. The only other time it’s brought up again is in Jak 3, again at the beginning, and then they introduce another new side, Jak’s Light Eco form, of which we barely see as well. They never truely touch on any of these concepts, only using them as the basic game mechanics of the Jak series that they are.

This isn’t a bad approach, per say. No approach is above any other, and it mostly depends on the person writing them. Sometimes things being simple, like them being simply forms Jak takes when channeling Eco and not sentient beings themselves, is fine. Kind of boring, but fine.

However, that doesn’t stop us from making them more than just that~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The way I view it, those two questions I posed earlier could be answered in many different ways, and many of you have already found your own personal answers. Perhaps Jak’s Dark side is an ‘Evil Alter Ego’, a darker part of Jak’s being that was only just awakened by the Dark Eco he was forcefully injected with. Or, maybe, he’s a raging beast, simply a manifestation of all of his animalistic urges taking the form of the dark essence now flowing through Jak. But for me, I find a particular view of Jak’s Dark Side much more compelling than many other approaches.

I think it’s more interesting to consider that this entity could be a manifestation of Jak’s psychological trauma, his emotions and pain that he felt at the hands of the Baron’s torture that comes back in a physical form, splitting off from the main part of Jak’s subconscious. He’s a defense/coping mechanism made in response to all the horrible things this boy has endured. He’s Jak’s new friend, one that knows him better than he knows himself.

Welcome to my headcanons, nerds😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before I continue, I just need to let everyone know that what I’m about to say isn’t to bash self insert characters that fit in this category. Self Inserts are a form of self love and care that I have no qualms with personally(I have even made my own personal ones in the past) , and you should make them care free. I don’t take them on a level of serious critique solely for this purpose, because they are only for good fun.

Now, with that out of the way- Let me quickly explain how I write Dark Sides personally. I’ll be using my original character, Ebony(the girl in the art in this post of you didn’t know already) as a point of comparison of her dark side to Jak’s.

I write Dark Sides as simultaneously having their own personalities and character, but sharing the same hopes, dreams, goals, and memories as their other halves. I also write them with having their own aging process separate from their other halves entirely.

Example: Ebony’s other half can speak fully developed english and talks like a wiser old woman would than an eighteen year old. The language she uses is almost akin to that of a scolding mother at times, most likely because of the influence in language she received from the people around Ebony when she was younger. All of this is because Ebony received her side at a very young age and it grew alongside her as she grew older.

On the opposite end of that spectrum, Jak’s can’t speak at all, only able to communicate via guttural noises and physical gestures because he was only ‘just born’. However, he also remembers things Jak can’t, like memories from his young childhood in Haven before all the time travel stuff happened, because he’s directly tied to Jak’s subconscious. Sure, it may be blurry and blocked off due to Jak’s subconscious suppression of his memories, but he can still see it unlike Jak.

I also design anyone with a dark side with their own unique physical traits being different. Ebony’s other half has those tear stains not only from a side-effect, but also a representation of the emotion she feels the most: sadness and grief.(I’m gonna be honest that was kind of on accident that I stumbled into, but I’m gonna act like it was deliberate cause I’m a bitch) This could mean that Jak’s horns and sharp claws are representations of his hatred and rage, his burning need to fight back.

Both Ebony’s and Jak’s trauma, like normal people’s trauma in real life, take very different forms and change differently overtime. I write these sides as partially being a metaphor of sorts for that trauma they experienced, while also partially being a representation of how they deal and cope with it.

And when I talk about their trauma, I don’t just mean a source of ‘angst’ for these characters you can just switch on and off when it’s convenient for your story, I mean something in their lives that has fundamentally changed everything about how they experience the world, and they have to learn to cope healthily with it. They won’t be able to ‘grow past it’, as if it didn’t happen, but they will be able to cope with the experiences of the aftermath and find comfort in each other and the people around them.

I specify the word healthily, because Jak obviously wouldn’t be coping healthily at first. He’s a frightened teenager who just went through hell and back, and to him, his personal feelings are getting in the way of him acting with a level head. His Dark Side acting out and going ‘out of control’ is proof of his unhealthy coping mechanism. It’s only acting out because of how Jak really feels deep inside, and him burying his emotions only makes it worse, cause all of those feelings pile up onto his other half. It suffocates his Dark Side, which inevitably could lead to Jak losing himself if he doesn’t change how he copes. He needs to talk to someone, someone he trusts and who knows more than him about his condition.

This is one of the main reasons why I made Ebony in the first place, to explore these concepts. I made her to act as a mentor/sister figure to Jak who helps him to understand his new side and how to better work with him to cope healthier. But, as I wrote her, she became a more hypocritical kind of character, who also stayed silent about her emotions and feelings. Her hypocrisy doesn’t come from pride, though; she doesn’t want to tell anyone, especially Jak, about her own problems when he already has plenty of his own to worry about. It’s a place of misguided and idiotic care for him.

However, instead of this solely staying a psychological problem, it expands into it forming into a physical ailment. Ebony literally almost dies because of her trying to bury her emotions.

Yeah, this is the big difference that I go for in my work. I’m gonna explain my personal three set rules about channeling Eco that really more people should try considering before making characters who use Eco powers willy-nilly(but I’m not the fun police, you can just ignore these. I’d only criticize you if you were to go out of your way to show me an overpowered character ya made and ask me to take it seriously)

The only kind of people who can use Eco safely are Eco-Channelers(AKA: Jak, Keira, and any of the Sage Characters. Possibly Metal Heads) People can be made Eco-Channelers many different ways, via a trial or by the Precursors themselves, or can be born a natural Channeler.

The only alternative way to channel Eco would be to use a catalyst; a piece of technology or a device that uses Eco as power/fuel/ammo(AKA: Jak’s Morph Gun or the Shield Wal)

Anything that deviates from these two groups, living or otherwise, could have serious side-effects that physically impair or seriously harm the individual in question.

Because Ebony isn’t a natural eco channeler, she is dying because of the Dark Eco that inhabits her body. The only way for her to channel the eco safely would be to become a channeler herself.

This is a major problem I have with a few of other original characters with Dark Eco powers is that they don’t set limits or try different things most of the time. That takes away the most interesting parts of a character’s story, the changes they go through when faced with the challenges posed by their faults(AKA: A character arc).

The only memorable instance of someone trying new and interesting things with the concept of Dark Side characters is @sonicringnoise ‘s fic Nothing More, Nothing Less.

THEY MADE SEEM REALLY COOL GUYS, IT’S AMAZING!

You don’t even have to write the dark sides themselves to do this, you just need to make having them be an actual challenge to have, which most writers actually already do. This is the low bar that most of us have already passed, which can’t be said the same for Naughty Dog.

So yeah, long story short, I find dark sides really fascinating, and I believe more interesting things can be done with them outside of having them be a source of ‘angst’ for Jak. It doesn’t have to be specifically the way I posed, and you could find a completely other way to write these and make it interesting.

Hell, writing them *at all* is a miracle of itself, and a low bar that many of us have already passed. Naughty Dog, you had one job, and you failed miserably.

Bye bye~

[ghoulfr13nd]

hi!! op i care you too 🥺🥺 im making us a friendship bracelet as we speak it shall have a ton of music notes!! 🎶 fgsdjk

aspect playlists are really so much fun! it combines classpect analysis and music! the best of two worlds! :D me and my friend made a shared playlist for every aspect and that was a blast! (and as it turns out we have the most music in rage aspect even though neither of us are rage we just listen to rage-y vibes a lot fsdgh) also pls tell me what's your classpect i need to know! 👀

omg im glad you had fun but also so sorry for the parking incident (honestly, felt that, i scraped my car in front of others too i know how you feel ;v; i shake ur hand in solidarity 🤝) and ooooh! hope you also had fun on other concerts too seems like you did! and you know? i actually havent considered earplugs! maybe it'd be good to test it, especially since in 2025 Billie Ellish will be on the tour and will visit my country (where a chance like that doesn't happen often! :O )

oh my god excuse me while i let myself to go on a little longer rant here gfjksdfh you mentioned Matt and Kim being a required listen to know you, and well, if i'd have to point to any band that would be the same for me Rammstein would probably be the one, it has so many memories attached to it and it's Up There in my fave bands ranking! fgsdjf for recommendations though: Links 2 3 4, Sonne , Amerika, Moskau and Rosenrot are my absolute faves! :D (<- i'm holding myself from recommending like 20 songs here fgdjfksa) oh also! Rammstein is a german band so if you'd be curious about their lyrics there are probably translations somewhere! of course it's not necessary to enjoy their music but i think they're totally worth looking into in free time, they add a lot, i love their lyrics! gdfjsdf (i mean Equilibrium is german too but honestly i listen to them mostly for the vibes and they also sing in english so- shrug fgdfsd) speaking of! for Equilibrium I'd reccomend Met, Karawane and Tornado! :D pls let me know what you'll think im curious!

have a good day/night!

music anon 🎶

alright music anon 🎶 the wait is over — thank you for being patient!!

i haven’t made any of my own aspect playlists in the time since we spoke last but i’m keeping it on my to-do list!! i would love to hear some of the songs you chose for yours, and i’ve had a great idea that i’ll circle back around to!

i LOVE talking classpects though! i put a lot of effort into choosing mine back in the day, and identified as Witch of Void for a long time. however, I wasn’t sure if I identified with that anymore, so I wanted to re-take the quiz before I answered you. I got Maid of Breath or Maid of Light this time, and both seem very fitting, but I’m not sure how strongly I feel about either.

(If you’re curious — for YEARS I have sworn by this quiz combined with this classpect analysis. I ignore the non-canon classpects on the quiz, though, personally. If I went by that, I’d be a Star of Blaze, which sounds pretty cool but I don’t know what any of that means, so…)

Also you MUST tell me your’s!!!! I at one point made all of my friends, including the non-homestuck ones, to figure out their classpects, I am so serious about it. its my favorite personality test that I am perhaps a little intense about. uh. anyway.

SHAKING YOUR HAND IN SOLIDARITY YOU GET ME !!!!!!!!!!!! this is also re: your other ask but i love that we are both bpd scratched-car twins. what a pair, us.

I HOPE YOU GET TO GO SEE BILLIE!!!! And that it isn’t overwhelming for you! For me, seeing artists I love, live, is a very personal thing. Being able to sing and cheer and dance with the rest of the crowd is a spiritual thing for me. Especially if it’s one of my gender-playlist artists! I’m only half-joking when I say I think I just need to see every band on it live and then I’ll finally evolve into my final form.

And on that note, that brings us to your required listening. Music anon, I have taken this so seriously. I’m holding these songs in my hands. I want to do right by you.

So. First impressions. I have to admit to you, anon, German is so foreign to me that I could not help but find it a little silly at first. That being said, the longer I listen to it, the more I ease into the sounds. I did this initial listen-through at work, when I first got your ask (which I received a full 23 hours after you sent it! I checked!). The sounds are fun!

However, I didn’t want this to be the entirety of my experience with them. Which comes to the part that took me so long to get around to — looking up the translated lyrics, and re-listening to all the songs with a little more context. This was an important step to me! I want to understand what you love about them!

My favorites from Rammstein were Links 2 3 4 and Sonne, and Karawane was my favorite from Equilibrium. Links 2 3 4 was the first one I listened to and the one I thought “german sounds so strange” about, but I really enjoyed it my second go around!!

Do you have any particular thoughts about the songs you chose? I’d love to hear what you’re thinkin!

Also, to circle back around to the idea I had — I know you were hesitant about sharing actual playlists with me, but how about sending me lists of the songs and letting me put the playlist together myself? I actually already started one with the songs you recommended!! Let me know what you think, and don’t be afraid to tell me no if you’re not into it.

I hope you have a very good day/night as well, anon!!

[knittedkikwi]

So, this turned into more of a vent session than I intended. Just need to send it out to the void. Please ignore.

How is it that people send in all their requests at once? Do they coordinate?? I had my work inbox all caught up when I left on Friday. Then yesterday happened. One of my favorite things about my job is that it’s just busy enough to keep me from getting bored but still gives me time to breathe and take breaks. Which, yes, I still took a couple of breaks today because if I didn’t I’d end up staring blankly at my screen and get even less done. But that meant I ended up leaving 20 minutes late. And even then I haven’t finished everything! I did as much as I needed to do to not immediately cry when I get in tomorrow. I was prepared to stay later if it meant I could actually sleep tonight. This was supposed to be my easy week! There’s no payroll this week! I was supposed to be able to do all the employee changes yesterday, spend most of today on a report due tomorrow (which I did actually manage to finish, thank god), and then spend the rest of the week preparing for payroll next week and answering questions from employees. Instead, I got bulldozed by verification requests, which I couldn’t even get to because I had a million little fires pop up from last weeks payroll. That meant I walked in to a second round of requests this morning. Except mandatory government reports take priority, so I couldn’t get to them til this afternoon, by which time a THIRD round of requests were coming through. When I finally called them back, the guy had the gall to ask if the email they sent all of the requests to was still good and what the turn around time was. I’ve had them for a day! Sir, I think 24 hours is a pretty good fucking turn around time for someone trying to juggle payroll, employment verification, employee changes, government wage reporting, and every damn employee question about their paychecks, taxes, and pto for three decently sized companies. Forgive me for prioritizing!

Phew, rant over. For clarity, I love my job. The people are great, the workload is (usually) just right, there’s enough routine that I always know what to do but enough variety that it’s not the same thing day in day out, and they actually actively encourage me to take time off. Partially because the government requires people in my industry to take a week off every year so that someone else has to do my job and hopefully notice signs of fraud, but also because they legitimately don’t want their people burning out. I’ve been there a year and have finally really started to believe that I’m not going to be interrogated or guilt tripped if I ask for time off AND my team will actually take care of my responsibilities while I’m gone.

Like, my last boss never minded me taking time off, but she would ask me why. I think it was mostly because I was the one person she could maybe consider a friend at that place and was just interested in my life as a result. But I never truly let myself forget that she was my boss, so I always felt like she was checking to see if I really needed the time off or if she could turn me down. I always felt like I had to justify my requests. And while I was gone, she was too busy to do my job unless it was 100% necessary, which pretty much just covered new hires and payroll. She did her best, but I would inevitably come back from just two days off and be absolutely buried in emails and paperwork. Then, I would have to deal with overhearing people gossip about me not doing my job. Forgive me for wanting to spend time with my family occasionally.

At this job, my boss keeps telling me to take time off while the weather is nice and I can “go do something fun!” Every email I send asking to leave early is immediately answered with an “absolutely!” I even stopped myself from including reasons for the two afternoons I asked for next month, just to see what would happen. She just said yes. She’ll probably ask when we get closer to the dates, but the distinction is that she’s asking AFTER she’s agreed to the time off. I actually believe that she wants me to rest and will deal with what she can while I’m out. I mean, I not only left for a week, but came back to a nicely organized inbox (better organized than I had it, even), the only things that hadn’t been processed were new hires starting that day (and some term forms that the team clearly hadn’t realized were there. We get so many ahead of time that I keep them in a sub folder of the inbox so I can actually see the rest of the emails I need to answer. Yay for a job where people actually give two weeks notice instead of just disappearing) and any changes that had come through after hours. AND my team was immediately asking what they could help with because they knew I’d have a million emails in my personal inbox (it was actually 69 which is just too perfect). Hell, my boss started checking payroll reports before I even asked! Like, Christ, I haven’t had this level of support in years!

PLUS everyone in the office asked how my trip went and were exceedingly patient as I proceeded to show them a million pictures of my niece. She’s very cute and this was the first time I’d gotten to meet her, so I was a very excited auntie (also, she rolled over for the first time this week and they got it on video!! She’s not even 4 months old yet. The kid’s a genius!). Anyway, there was no shit talking, or if there was, they had the decency to do it where I can’t overhear. I have a hard time believing anyone in this office would begrudge me taking time off though. Everyone else takes off time around holidays or gives themselves the occasional long weekend. It’s really common for me to be the last person leaving on a Friday. Like, so common that the other lady who doesn’t tend to take off those days has started calling the two of us “the usual guard” for holiday weekends. I can reliably predict the days that it's gonna be just me and the other lady. People actually use their time off in this company and it's refreshing. i took an afternoon off to go kayaking and it was surprisingly guilt free.

Anyways, that kinda turned into a second rant that i didn't plan. I just think the sudden spike in demands that I do things NOW reminded me of the old job and kinda sent me into a spiral. I’m really glad to be where I am now. I’m just not used to having 200 demands on my time anymore and having to stay late just to get through half of them. I’m so ready to let go of the old job. It just rears it’s ugly head when I least expect it and I don’t know how to forget it and move on. I'm think i'm going to ask my doctor if she can recommend a therapist the next time i see her. I'd really like some help with overcoming the trauma of that job.

[niennandil-me-writes]

Goretober 11: Sewing

cn: mind control

“Aaaaand that’s game.” The Goddess of Death and Murder snapped her fingers and the stage dissolved, along with the requisites, and her cast: the Sleepers, the Awakened, and the Fly.

“Is there a specific reason why I’m still here?”

The smile on her face, a well-practiced mask of control, faded. Before she could be overtaken by panic, she turned it into fury. She turned around.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t give me any of that bullcrap! What was that supposed to be? You pushed too much! You almost made another person break, you – “

“Oh, don’t act like you care. Why am I still here? Aren’t I supposed to be, I dunno, hanging out in your scarlet webs or somewhere in the Void, or did you fuck up when you tried to make me disappear?”

“I did not fuck up. This is all according to plan.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz it’s always all according to plan with you. Like my Awakening, or whatever the fuck happened to Tommy or – “

“Shut up!” She wanted to slap him, a very ungodly desire. She wanted to tell him the truth right there, a very unsmart desire. She opted for breaking his arm again with a snap of her fingers. He screamed out, and oh, that felt good, she could get used to that. “Now, you listen to me, Vinny, and don’t fucking interrupt me again or I’ll fucking sew your mouth shut like I did Grace’s.”

“Fuck you!” Vincent pressed out between gritted teeth.

Murder God decided to ignore him. “Anyway, I don’t want to go into spoiler territory here, so I’ll keep it vague. Until now, we were having our fun: We triggered each other’s trauma, we bantered, we hurt each other – well, mostly I hurt you, but what’s a goddess to do? We got a story going here.”

She realized she was having one of her rants, one of those were her voice rose several octaves over the span of the sentences, and that would bring tears to her eyes if she could still cry. She realized that this wasn’t smart, but she kept going.

“So what the fuck are you doing? You’re supposed to do things as they ought to be done! But you keep messing up. You keep going round in circles. You’re supposed to be the hero! You’re supposed to be my – “ She cut herself off just in time.

“Listen,” he spat at her. “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about. None of what you say makes sense.”

“You don’t have to understand.” She forced the ice back into her voice. “Maybe it was stupid to let you run free for so long. That’s never worked. You don’t even know anything about what it takes to spin a story.”

She saw his fist racing for her face again, but this time, she didn’t let him. An inch from her face, his arm got caught in red pieces of string that hadn’t been there a moment before. Without missing a beat, Vincent reached for the gun in his jacket, but his broken wrist made him fumble, and the weapon fell to the ground. Murder God snapped her fingers, and it disappeared.

“That’s not how we’re playing this time,” she said. “You wanna improvise? You don’t wanna stick to the scripts? I’ll make you.” She snapped her fingers again, and the pitch-black dagger in her hand turned into a needle, with one end of a red string already threaded through the ear.

Vincent’s eyes widened. Despite everything, he couldn’t hide his fear.

“Now, let’s do it like way back when, shall we?” Murder God reached out her hand. “Give me your hand, Vincent Marshall Reid.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just fixing both our mistakes.” She stepped closer and took the arm still caught in the webs, set the needle point to the skin on the back of his hand. He started struggling, tried to get away.

“Well, this is annoying,” she said. “You know what, Vincent? You don’t have muscles. You still got nerves, though. And I don’t mean the nerves you need to keep defying a god. No, I mean the nerves that will scream with every stitch I am running through them.”

His body became slack, slumped down on the ground, his arm still held up. She snapped her fingers again and Vincent’s pilot jacket vanished to give her better access to his arms. She only enjoyed the view marginally less now that his muscles were removed.

A crimson droplet greeted the first stitch. She stuck the needle deep into his flesh before making it reappear a centimeter farther on. Vincent tried to power through the pain, but a she sewed the thread through his entire forearm, he started swearing, cursing at her. She laughed.

“You know, you really are making me reconsider that thought of sewing your mouth shut as well,” she mused. “Then again, I like that little thing we got going. You insult me, I insult you back, but I use bigger words. It’s got that certain tension. The fans love it.”

She waited for a response, but none came. “Oh, Vinny, are you all out of profanity already? Must be hard living with just the 100 words you know.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed. “Jesus, if you’re doing this to me you could at least be quiet for a minute!”

“That’s more like it. I trust you to act your usual self, even if I will be in control of all your actions in the future. It wouldn’t be a good story if you seem like just a vessel of the author, you know? Even though that’s technically what you are. What can I say, I’ve always been more of a writer than a game master.”

His blood was staining both the needle and her hands, but of course, that wasn’t visible with both being a deep black. There were certain benefits to a black and red color scheme. When she reached Vincent’s shoulder, she threaded the needle back, just to be safe.

“Well, seems like you’re all done.” She pulled the string taut and stitched a couple more times to add something akin to a knot. “Sorry, I’m not a master seamstress, but this will do. Don’t worry, they won’t be visible during the games. That would betray the point. Now let’s move on, shall we? Would you hand me your other arm, please.”

Without hesitation, Vincent’s stitched up arm reached to the side and pulled him forward by the hand.

“So helpful,” she praised him as she set the needle to his broken wrist. “That’s a nice change.”

[minrathcows]

I was not (pro)active enough in this fandom before (hopefully I can fix that after I transfer my blog and scrap these ones, and I can commit to posting consistently again), not enough to know what the thing with JC stans was, like I'd heard they were yikes but I never paid much attention as to why, so I ended up discarding it from mind. And then here I am after the donghua finale and I think I'm getting why lmfao.

I cannot believe I have to see with my own two eyes, people unironically making takes like "JC never consented to WWX golden core"... that's like the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard in my life and it tells a lot about these people's ability to intelligent conversation and comprehension. Sure, you can say “JC never asked for WWX to do this” and it’s correct to some extent, you could see it as a 「余計なお世話だ」 or like it was none of WWX’s business but here is the thing:  

JC did say, on one front, that he was ready to do anything to get his core back, and 

on the other front, the very point of WWX's sacrifice is that is was unconditional, same as everything he has ever done. 

To frame that sacrifice, made out of love at the end of the day, as something bad - and here I am particularly uncomfortable with the phrasing “JC hasn’t consented”, and with the use of the word “consent” particularly, something we use when referring to violations, of physical, emotional, intimacy boundaries, a breach of consent implying, at least to me, a complete lack of care and dismissal of someone’s boundaries and well being - to frame that as something JC is now, aware as he is, obligated/forced/scarred to live with, when to begin with the arrangement has been a positive impact for him... that whole conversation is wildly baffling and infuriating to me.

Whether, if he had known what WWX wanted to do, he would have chosen to stop him, or go through with it same as it happened anyway, that in itself is quite irrelevant, WWX to begin with had not told JC about his sacrifice precisely because he didn’t want to be owed, not because he wanted to violate him in any way, but because he wanted the best for him without any other obligation, at worst you could bring up his guilt and sense of duty but ultimately it was a sacrifice borne of love at the cost of himself (and not at all at the cost of JC). 

If anything, that frame of mind is how JC himself sees the world, and his relationship to WWX, hence why he constantly holds everything WWX has ever done, or what he himself/his family has done for WWX in turn on a ledger to be reimbursed. WWX was similarly saved by JFM without condition, out of empathy - having a conversation about consent involving things that... characters do for each other purely out of love, without expecting things in return is just so... stupid and represents such a shallow understanding. And since I brought up this comparison, inb4 y’all are gonna start unironically asking why JFM saved WWX at all when he didn’t have WWX’s consent... hell, make it even more braindead and say WWX was a minor who couldn’t consent to being saved while you’re at it, why don’t you. I swear to fucking god, is this the level we’re at?

Anyway, this bullshit take about JC “”not consenting”” to the golden core is not only by far the most braindead thing I’ve had the misfortune to be subjected to in recent memory, it also brings the same exact emphasis JC does on relationships as transactions. And why is that, because all throughout the story JC has benefitted from having a core, but now the issue of consent is coming up, why exactly - because JC brings up “owing” WWX because of the reveal, thus now he’s not “allowed” to scream and lash out in his face anymore because suddenly JC is faced with the reality that his martial brother has always loved him and done things for him out of that love, while all he was able to return was hate and death to everything he tried to nurture.

JC owes WWX nothing, because WWX never wanted JC to feel indebted, he never wanted to be owed, his sacrifice was a result of his love and thus it never had a price to begin with, to him it was... the only thing to do for his brother/family. JC is the only one who consistently makes everything about “what the Jiangs did for you/how much you owe the Jiangs/now it turns out I owe you?”, WWX quite literally died giving all he had and all he could to the Jiangs, and then to the Wens he saved, and in general he gave so much of himself to everyone who had need of it at the cost of being hated and misunderstood. WWX was there for JC, supported him after the clan’s demise, throughout the campaign, they were together up until the Wen issue came up, at which point JC was the one that was not there for WWX anymore - even as WWX is torn between two clans and wanting to protect both.

Also since I’ve already ranted like a madman for so long, I might as well go and say that the thing with JC’s seclusion is blown out of proportion a bit in my opinion, like... based on the donghua alone... wasn’t JC’s first impulse when faced with his clan’s demise to like.. go die himself lmao. The golden core reveal obviously cannot be on par to that, but I think claiming that him running away for a bit would be OOC is a bit of a stretch since... this is the™ character that consistently runs away and throws a fit before he picks himself up. When the clan was massacred he wanted to join them in death were it not for WWX holding onto him (not to mention he didn’t even consider his sister Yanli being left alone in the world lol), before he got back a core and sprung back into action and assumed responsibility. 

Maybe it’s just me but I don’t find the thought of him running away a bit and leaving A-Ling to be that outrageous for him, he’s not exactly an exemplary uncle either, just as he’s not an exemplary brother. Also A-Ling has his other uncle now so it’s fine, I’m sure WWX won’t mind spoiling his other little one and catching up on missed opportunities with him. The seclusion being an unnecessary change... maybe... although it’s an adaptation, it has no obligation to follow the original 100% and I wish people understood that... that’s the thing with adaptations... but throwing a fuss over it and screaming that it’s OOC and going so far as to talk shit about the animation team... my dudes consider going out to feel the breeze a bit.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

(The Witcher) Could you make one where you find out your pregnant with Geralts baby and he is in disbelief because he cant have kids you know, but you obviously only have seggs with him. Then you get all sad because he is just silent and you start freaking out. ?? i know its long and you dont have to do it but it was a thought.

First ever Witcher request! This is so exciting!!!! hope you all enjoy it!!!!! I'm only 3/4th through the first book so please understand that I don't know too much yet. Other than the TV show - which I could rant about forever.

Rated PG: Family feels, pregnancy, mothering, panic & anxiety, happy ending!

He lay there looking down at her stomach while she slept. Disbelief washed over him as he grew sure that it was indeed a soft heart beat separate from your own. Ciri was asleep a small ways away, but her heart beat was clearly her own. 

A baby. But how? He thought closely over the past month or so. You were by his side the entire time, except for when you stayed at camp as he slaughtered monsters. Never were you left at a Tavern alone, certainly not out of sight long enough to conceive a baby…. Even then if his eyes weren’t on her Ciri was next to her. She never appeared to be assaulted or upset, surely Ciri would have said something. He closed his eyes for a moment chasing those thoughts far from his mind. He would only wake you up if he moved or tensed, you needed your rest more than ever. 

Looking over her peaceful face, it only became more obvious. She looked different, a tinge to her skin that seemed unmistakable now. He’d known she’d seemed different, but this was not on his list of possibilities. 

A sense of panic started to creep up the back of his neck. She can’t be sleeping on the ground like this, out in the open. He didn't want her to tag along initially. But he needed the help with Ciri, and she’d been too attached to you, leaving you behind would have only caused her further suffering. Everything had changed now. The both of you had someone else to think of, growing in her belly. He would do everything he could to get her to Kaer Morhen. If the baby was his or not, looking down at you sleeping, the anxiety to keep you out of trouble overpowered everything else. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Geralt was getty bossy again. Pushing you greater distances, somehow there was a sudden void of monsters to slay leaving him grumpier than ever. He was pensive, deep in thought, and very… bossy. 

It was mostly little things, insisting that you travel on Roach, except for the occasional meadow in which you could stretch your legs. He’d spend forty minutes trying to assess the land and area for an optimal sleeping spot. Instead of giving you some privacy with bathing, he wouldn't let you near water if he wasn't next to you. His gaze on your body was always welcome, but you couldn't understand the look in his eyes. A look that was becoming more and more worrisome. 

Ciri had spoken to him, wanting to test the new rules he was making up as she always did. Unexpectedly she seemed to agree with him, taking more time to help you out. She seemed burdened by something, and you watched as she felt the need to fuss over you. You felt tired enough to allow it, which made you worry. Did you look as unwell as you felt? 

In three days of travel you had covered a distance that normally would have taken a week. Leaving you with two more sleeps till Kaer Morhen. 

You felt nauseous, head woozy at times. There was a nervousness that was creeping up on you stemming from his weird behavior. Perhaps he’d changed his mind? Meeting his father figure and the rest of his brothers, maybe it was too big a step. Very few non-witchers had been there, maybe you weren't meant to be one of them. He had to think about what was best for Ciri, had you done something wrong? 

The day progressed and you were left to swim in your own thoughts, most of them about being rejected and left on the doorstep. Eventually you stumbled on to the way your body felt. Sore breasts, nausea, and no matter how much water you drank an awful metallic taste in your mouth. You knew what this would normally mean, you’d missed two periods but pushed it out of your mind as it was impossible for Geralt to… Oh. But what if it wasn't. 

Or what if it was impossible and you got pregnant without knowing? You’d not been drugged out at any point. No loss of memory. The only time Geralt's eyes weren't on the two of you was when he was killing stuff in the woods, even then Ciri would stay close to your side ready  - what about that sketchy bath water at that one traven - could that be it? 

What if it was his, but he wouldn't believe you - then he threw you out. What if he did believe you but then the rest of the Witchers didn't and then he threw you out leaving you to brave the cold winter road alone. What if he thought you were a bad mother to Ciri? What if everyone thought you were a bad mother? What if everyone was fine but Ciri resented you? 

Gods, you did not have enough money. Not to mention leaving Ciri would cause you tremendous pain, you doubted you’d survive the winter. Then you thought of what was to come, how you would most likely be at it alone, your stomach twisted painfully and your vision swayed.

“Ger-” You whispered before everything went black. Thankfully he has that ridiculous hearing, he caught you holding you tightly. Once he had you settled on a fallen tree, you watched as he scanned the forest. Ciri did the same hand on the hilt of her sword. 

 The thought of losing them caused your eyes to prickle, you closed your eyes tightly and he steadied you. You rested your forehead against his shoulder. You thought about the humiliation of being sent out of the fortress and decided you’d much rather skip doing the mountain path all together, rather than twice. 

“Ciri, give us a moment” She nodded at your words, and you immediately wanted to put on a better face to cure some of the worry weighing on her. She went to take Roach to a stream nearby. Geralt had his eyes on her, so you took a deep breath. 

“I’m pregnant.” The words flew out of your mouth on a breath of courage. You kept your eyes shut tightly. “It might be something else - I don't know how- I feel - but all I know for sure is something’s off.” You rambled quietly, still too afraid to move.

His grip tightened on you slightly and you both sat there listening to the forest sounds, the soft murmur of Ciri’s voice as she talked to Roach. 

He was quiet, very quiet. The nerves were becoming unbearable and tears started to roll down your cheeks. You huffed out a deep breath trying to calm down but it only gave away how broken up you were. 

He cradled your face, causing you to finally meet those amber eyes. 

“Just breathe, what hurts?” His concern wrapped around you like a warm blanket. His hand rested gently on your stomach. 

“I can’t -” You couldn't finish your words, your chest was heaving. 

“You can. Just breathe.” He responded calmly. Eventually you managed to calm down, his hands and gaze never leaving you. 

“I don't know what to do? I don't know how this -? But when I finally had the thought - I just know - that it’s - I know that it's true.” 

“It’s true.” He confirmed with an unreadable facial expression. “I could hear the heartbeat - hence the rush to get back to Kaer Morhen.” 

“You knew and didn't say anything!?” You swatted his shoulder without thinking. 

“I wanted to get you somewhere safe, so you wouldn't worry.” Finally some emotion in his tone. Empathy radiated off of him, and it made you want to cry again. “I think that glowing hot spring may have been a fertility pool. I can’t think of any other possibility.” 

That would explain it well enough. Panic surged through you again and you gripped the leather of his armor the best you could. 

“But it’s yours right?” An edge of panic was back in your voice. 

“Heart beat is slightly off, so I'd assume so.” He said with a faint smile on his face, that quickly disappeared. “If you're well enough I want to keep  moving.” 

“You're still taking me there?” 

“Of course. It’s not the most comfortable, however it is the safest place. Vesemir will know what to do.” He paused for a moment. “ I don’t have anywhere else to take you. I’ll send word for Triss and Yen when we arrive. If it's too unbearable they can help take you elsewhere if you prefer.” 

You thought about his words. He wanted you there. He wanted you. He thought his family would want you too. You burst into tears, shouting when he tried to pull away. 

“It’s not as bad as the legends make it out to be” He tried to comfort you.

“No- It’s - Gods.” You took a deep breath. “I thought you’d be embarrassed or ashamed. Wouldn’t want to take me.” 

“No.” He answered simply. 

“I don't care where I am as long as I’m next to you.” You hugged him as tightly as you could. “Plus the only bad thing I’ve heard about is the rats?” 

He let out a hum. 

______________________________

It was a fertility pool. Something Yen was beyond happy to learn about. Her and Triss came to help you with the pregnancy as it was very unusual. 

Kaer Mohen was worse than the legends, but also far far better at the same time. Lots of rats, two supernatural incidents, and it was very very cold. After the first few weeks, the girls arrived bringing a great deal of goods Geralt had requested.

They made a room for you that was beyond beautiful and warm. The first night you slept in it you realized the extent they went through to make it comfortable was due to the fact that this would be your room for much longer than a winter. 

Nine months flew by as you were surrounded by your new family. You insisted on cooking as you couldn’t train with Ciri and sitting around was unbearable. 

You still couldn’t believe how lucky you were. Everyone here had dropped everything to help you, Ciri was over the moon initially. Assuring you and Geralt that she’ll help and is good with babies. It didn't take a mind reader to know that she was trying to put on a brave face, scared that maybe she’d be replaced. 

She’d rest her head on your lap after supper telling the large bump all sorts of things. You were always amazed at how young she was and yet she knew so much more than you did about things. She’d go on about all the history and lesson’s she’d learnt as a child. You’d let her lay there, running her hands through her hair hoping it would reassure her, she’d never spoken this much in the time that you’d been with her. 

“If I tell her everything now, when she’s out in the world it will come easier to her. That’s what my grandma did for me when I was in my mum” She finally said one night when Eskel asked her why she was telling you all this stuff. 

“Ah, and it's a girl then, eh?” Vesamir asked.

“Of course! It’s going to be exhausting being the only girl witcher.” He let out a hearty laugh and she stuck her tongue out at him. 

You wanted to laugh but the thought of having your baby out there, both your babies out there fighting like he did - you looked to Geralt to find your feelings in his face. 

“She’ll be in great hands.” Eskel said and you were happy to hear her go back to talking about the different types of desert plants and how they impact a significant portion of some forgein economy. 

_____

You were prepping the stew for dinner when your water broke. Eight long hours later you had brought a baby into the world. 

She suckled on to your breast, looking like an old man covered in tomato sauce and yet she was the most beautiful thing you’d laid eyes on. White peach fuzz and golden amber eyes stared up at you confirming that she was indeed her fathers daughter. Geralt looked an interesting mix of exhausted, terrified, and adoration. 

Once the after birth was sorted Triss had a healing bath made for you. You offered the sleeping bundle to Geralt, but he shook his head. Causing your heart to stop.

“She’s too small.” He whispered. You opened his arm and placed the small bundle there showing him how to hold her. “I’ve never had to hold a baby before.” he said softly, tracing his finger across the top of her tiny forehead. 

“You need to get into the bath.” Triss helped you stand up. “And you need to let Cirilla in here before she chews her arm off.” 

“She’s not slept?!” you exclaimed.

“That's his problem.” She nodded to Geralt before helping you to the door. Ciri was there in the hallway ready to pounce on you.

“Are you alright! Where's the baby!” 

“I’m fine, love. Your baby sister’s in with your father. Go help him till I'm back.” You watched her face light up as she moved past you into the room. 

After the world's nicest bath you moved into the bedroom to see Geralt watching the baby in one arm with Ciri tucked under his other arm. Both asleep. 

“I see you all survived.” You said with a smile, you took the babe from him taking her place under his arm. He watched as you fed her again. 

You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, you thought of how scared he looked during the whole process. Watched as you fought your own battle, unable to help in any way.

“Thank you.” You said softly as your eyes were getting heavy. He chuckled softly.

“Thank you doesn’t begin to cover the amount of gratitude I feel towards you.” He whispered. You tilted your head back and felt his lips move against yours, sometimes words aren't necessary. 

The love he felt for his family was always evident in everything he did.

Tags: @kpopgirlbtssvt

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

[burnedbyshoto]

bakugou leaving reader for the unknown, for his dream, because where they were wasn’t good enough, it was a hindrance on his future. it wasn’t so much that he hated his hometown, the people, or even you — he loved you, after all — but he just could never keep himself tied down to the place he was trying to outgrow.

he leaves for university, in the big city, a campus that is known for making the best, creating trailblazers in every field imaginable, and when he leaves at the age of eighteen, he doesn’t come back. all he remembers is the shocked look on your face and the helpless tears streaming down your face when he broke up with you.

it’s been twelve years, and he’s thirty now. he changed his number when he got to the new city, only keeping touch with his parents out of obligation than anything else. it’s short phone calls, three minute conversations of mitsuki scolding him for not calling enough, for never visiting, masaru trying to gently express their concerns for their only son, and of course, bakugou saying he needs to leave.

his parents are strangers to him, practically, and whenever they try to speak of his past life, the one he exchanged away for the current CEO position he’s found himself in, he hangs up. he doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want the bitter pit in his stomach when they even begin to speak your name.

but they haven’t mentioned you in years.

but the thing about katsuki is, unfortunately, his attitude.

thirty years old and a prominent CEO of a company no older than four years old and yet already a billionaire? practically unheard of. sure, people, normal people, praise him for it, but the board? men who used to people like katsuki don’t praise him.

they hate his harsh attitude, his ridiculous will power, and necessity to do everything, and somehow… katsuki gets put on a leave of absence for a minimum of a year.

at first, it’s fine. bakugou spends the newfound free time traveling, seeing the world, doing things he never was able to because he was building his empire. but three months of nothing leads him to grow restless, bored, and the worst feeling in the world crawls into the pit of his stomach and he realizes in month number five what it is.

for the first time in his life, bakugou katsuki is: homesick.

so he goes home, trading the concrete jungle and modern technology for dirt roads and rusting machines. it’s just for a moment, he says as he sees the life he left behind ages ago.

it’s much slower in his hometown, people much more open and conversing with one another instead of cellphones like he’s grown used to. he isn’t quite ready to knock on his mother’s front door so he goes to the general store and walks straight to where he just knows his past time favorite snacks are.

to his total surprise (notice the sarcasm?) it’s right where he remembered it was through the cobwebs of his memory. there’s one bag of spicy corn chips left and as he reached for it, another hand goes for it too.

he freezes for a bit, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the person who’s hand is connected to the bag of chips he wants.

but he stops breathing for just a moment.

it’s a young girl, most definitely no older than twelve, with your face. it’s exactly the same. but unlike you, the girl had ash blonde hair and deep red eyes.

the girl blinks eyes looking taken back and slightly lost, as does bakugou, and then as if finally caught up on the situation of things, she scowls.

“hands off the chips, old man! I got here first!”

the magic is gone and bakugou feels his eye twitch as he reels backward.

“what the hell did you just say to—?!”

“I said hands off! arent you too old to be eating chips anyways?! you’re practically a million years old, eat the lame corn nuts or something,” she scoffs rolling her eyes as she tucks the bag of chips under her arm.

“aren’t you some shitty little brat!” bakugou hisses, his hand twitching with irritation. “don’t you know to respect your fucking elders.”

“ain’t nothing to respect from what I can tell!”

“aiko, hurry up,” a voice bemoans from behind the aisle and bakugou feels his chest constrict in the weirdest, most heart aching way as you walk around the corner with an armful of party supplies. “we have to get to your grand—”

bakugou stares at you, and you at him. the tension and silence so thick and heavy on the both of your shoulders and tongues.

in the twelve years he’s been away, bakugou has had other relationships. most of them due mostly to friends insistence, and others mostly just because he wanted a warm body nearby. but no one could ever match what you meant to him, not that he could have realized that because he could never think back to you. you were his past, not his present, not his future.

and bakugou was suddenly feeling a lot of things, thinking a lot of things as he looked between you and well… aiko.

“y/n,” bakugou’s voice is hollow, almost unbelievable. “i-is she — are we—?”

“this is my daughter, y/l/n aiko,” you say, steely calm and dangerous. the warm smile you were wearing moments ago clean off your face and your eyes were like glass — shiny, unemotional. “she was born after you left, so you never got a chance to meet her, did you?”

“y/n—“

“y/l/n!” you snap, face still void of emotions. “you don’t have that right anymore.”

bakugou stiffens for a moment, but he knows that you’re right. “y/l/n,” he tries again, your last name a word he’s never had to use in his entire life to address you. “how old is she?”

“mama,” aiko whispers, eyes glaring at bakugou as she stand protectively in front of you, fingers digging into your blouse. “I wanna go now.”

your eyes drop from bakugou, and he watches as a strained but kind smile is expressed to aiko as you press a kiss to her forehead. “okay, go pay for these things for me, will ya? tell tayo-sama we’ll pay him back tomorrow. i’m going to finish this conversation with… with my old classmate.”

aiko looks between you and bakugou, eyebrows furrowed with unsaid questions but she nods, grabbing the things from your arms and going to the cash register. bakugou keeps his gaze on the young girl until your fingers dig into his bicep and your pulling him into a corner that he had definitely made out with you in ages, lifetimes ago.

“what are you doing here?!” you hiss in a near terrible whisper, face frazzled and overwhelmed. “you’ve never been back home! what’s different?!”

“is she mine?!”

“no!” you shriek, fist hitting his chest. “she’s not yours! she’s mine! she’s not some claimable object you get to collect years later!”

bakugou stiffens but also feels like he melts with guilt under those words… youre right. he has no claim to her. all he did was give her life but it was a life where he was probably nothing more than an empty space in. but he looks at you, millions of emotions swimming through your watery eyes, and the snarl on your lips as you stand before him as if you could do anything.

“i’m… i’m sorry, you’re right,” bakugou says, lips pressing into a thin line.

“you shouldn’t have come back,” you laugh miserably, fingers massaging your temples. your tone is weak, defeated, as if for the first time in your life you felt the bottom of the pit. “why did you come back home?”

“mama!!!! let’s go already!!!” aiko whines by the entrance and you tremble in front of him before shaking your head.

“coming!” you call back to her.

bakugou steals another look at what is his daughter. a girl he never knew existed.

“do me a favor, bakugou,” you say passing him with small but domineering steps. “don’t do anything to make her suspect youre her father.”

it took a few hours, probably more, maybe less, but bakugou finally finds himself at his childhood home. he’s heart feeling like it was being swallowed as the front door opened and he saw his older mother and father standing at the entrance. bakugou couldn’t understand what they were saying as they welcomed him in, he could only notice how their home looked exactly the same… well except that the walls that were decorated with photos of him and only him were also covered with pictures of aiko.

“did you know?” bakugou asks before he can even say hello.

mitsuki stopped mid rant, her face moving from irritated mother to exasperated but pitiful silence.

“since she found out.”

“why didn’t you… why didn’t I know?”

“she tried telling you, called you multiple times only to be blocked,” masaru gently explains. “you always shut us down when we so much as mentioned her.”

“she even flew out there at one point but caught you making out with some dumb model too.” mitsuki inserts with a huff. “we tried, brat. you just…”

bakugou is silent, his heartbeat roaring in his ears at the thought of his initial monstrous attempt of deleting his past life. mitsuki sighs, sad and sullen.

“there was no point in telling you when you won’t listen.”

or the story of a one sided bitter ex as bakugou and reader are challenged at creating some semblance of a relationship because aiko pieces it together the moment they looked at each other. including a lot of angst, a six month time limit to rekindle a once in a lifetime love story because choosing between family and work is damn hard.

[chemicalcarousel]

is it normal for the host of a system to having attributed your headmates' behavior/thoughts/opinions/ect to yourself before you were made aware of your plurality?

and is it normal for other headmates to having confused themselves as being you, the host, in the past?

(gonna do a "keep reading" for the rest of it, since it became a long rant about my& struggle with our mental health)

ig it's because we just thought that was what being one person was idk we do be a lil stoopid lmao. like... i remember some episodes where levi was close to the front or fronting with me where we were well aware that there was a levi there (name and all), but we thought it was a delusion or we just brushed it off as if it never happened. then we identified as otherkin/fictionkin (since levi is an introject from a fictional source). levi thought he wasn't his own person and he still seems freaked out by the thought of existing and honestly i dont blame him since i find existing freaky too hxkfsfksxs

i thought one of the littles was me doing involuntary age regression as some sort of emotional flashback, but idk my therapist thinks she's a seperate part and ngl it makes more sense. she's much different, but probably based on young me and holds our trauma from that time. i'm personally emotionally distanced to the trauma mostly, but she's the one holding it. every therapist/psychologist/psychiatrist that have met her are extremely surprised how i change so drastically. and they have all commented on how im not in touch with my emotions when i describe my trauma very analytically. but then sometimes "i" start acting like a scared child. i cant control it in any way. i especially cant control my body language, my thoughts, my emotions, and my speech. and after the episode is over i definitely have emotional amnesia. it was a dissociated child part

also the child has a passive influence on me from positive triggers too and it's hard to control that. let's just say we have a lot of plushies lmao but idk they are very cute and the big ones are good for especially the littles to ground and soothe themselves. sometimes hugging one also helps when a little is upset inside of the body. we have a hard time reaching each other inside the headspace, it's like we are lost in an infinite void of darkness where we can sense each other faintly at times, but it's so hard to communicate. but i hugged a big, soft plushie once i felt a little crying and i kept repeating that we are safe and that she's not alone and that we love her. idk why the plushie hugging helped, but my theory is that she might have felt it through our body and hugging that plushie helps her. she didnt seem to be at the front at all, but idk maybe she could still feel it?? idk how this works, my therapist has been very hesitant to help us, even though she's the one who was like "yeah you are three different parts, i've observed them all" (havent told her about lee bc we are scared and he only fronts when we are alone and he can do some activities he likes)

TW // suicidal ideation mention

our therapist is a licenced psychiatrist and psychotherapist who is specialised in mood disorders (we have bipolar), so maybe that's why she's so bad at handling our case. she's like "it's hard to work with your trauma when you're either not in touch with it or you're triggered to the point of closing off from the world". bruh........ we're trying our best here, you're supposed to like.... know what to do. there's a reason that we are here, if we knew how to handle this we wouldn't need therapy wtf. sadly we barely have an income high enough to live off of since we aren't allowed to work yet due to our strong anxiety and s//cidal ideation. also we dont have the right disorders to get disability (only schizo-spec or bpd, denmark is so stupid istfg). hhh life is so hard and we are super split on having hope for the future or not

TW OVER // suicidal ideation mention

anyway, a question turned into a rant (yet again). ig it's because we literally have no one to talk to about this. sorry hhhhgggg

~ Sof (she/he/they)

[footballffbarbiex]

I also feel that with the amount of players that are popular currently, it's hard to keep up. When I started writing, there was like a handful (or what felt like a handful) of players that were trending. I guess that is also tied to how well national teams are doing in EUROs or world cups, like you said, but I also think it's linked to how well teams are doing in their respective leagues. I can still remember the sheer amount of Arsenal fanfics I read, or how popular Real Madrid and Barça were (lol, Barça wishes it was still as popular. I don't watch football for a few years and things have gone to shit apparently? And is Real still popular? I only paid attention because of Xabi Alonso) I completely agree that it feels like wasted energy pouring so much love into something that seems to end up in a void. Fandom is fickle and I still haven't figured out whether it's because of allegiances to certain clubs/players that make it so certain fics flop, or whether there's a different reason.

If you ever need to rant about the fandom, my ask is always open. Please take care of yourself and your joy ❤

yes! when i started on here it was very much the same. we would have a small pool of writers, some of who wrote exclusively for woc OC's, some were for everyone, but mostly it was leagues that weren't PL. if you did it was Arsenal and United. now it's the other way around, it's PL dominated with a small pool of players who now get written about and player interest absolutely changes depending on if they're benched or succeeding.

blurbs the length of the paragraph i've just written get a shit ton of notes and longer pieces don't, unless you're certain writers. people ask for updates of xyz but then can't find the ask box to send feedback. tumblr is a very different experience to what it was, and i'm not sure what's happening but i definitely feel lost rn.

if you find a reason, let me know because i can't figure it out either 😂

[navegandoaciegas]

Broken Wings {2/2}

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its Sheriff behind for good. Lee Bodecker would do anything to make sure you stay with him.

Warnings: smut, explicit language, non-con, breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, overall dark themes, kind of a slow build up to the nasty.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve had an eventful couple of days. This is part 2, read part 1 here.

The adrenaline that rushed through your veins blocked out the pain in your body and the noises around you. Your breathing came out in short, panicked huffs as you sprinted through the woods, Lee hot on your heels.

You thought back to the past 12 hours, and how they’d changed your life.

Leaving Knockemstiff and boarding a bus for New York, with your big dreams and a small bag. Almost reaching Pennsylvania’s border before your hopes were snatched away. Lee chasing said bus, blasting the sirens of his patrol car and pulling the driver over. The dread that settled in your stomach when you met his enraged stare, your hopes of a better life shattering in a million pieces, the anger and humiliation that had filled you when he’d dragged you, kicking and screaming, out of the bus, under the judgemental or pitying stares of the passengers.

“You can’t run from me, dove.”

His voice echoed in the woods, tantalizing and terrorizing you all the same. You’d managed to bolt away and hide in the woods before he could handcuff you, but you hadn’t made it too far before he’d found you.

In the event that he’d ever caught you, you’d imagined that he’d fall on his knees and beg you to stay. Lee dragging your ass out of the bus like any drunk bastard he’d escorted home after a fight was certainly not the reaction you’d expected.

You pushed the branches out of your face, feeling a new tear in the skin of your cheeks whenever you’d barrel through a bush. You had no idea where you were going, all you knew was that you had to keep running until your feet bled. Hide. Disappear.

Just a couple more miles and you’d find another town, you could catch a bus then, and maybe you’d be safe-

One second you were sprinting through the trees, and the next your foot was caught in an exposed root, and you tumbled down the slope with your arms stretched out to protect your face.

You hissed in pain when you lifted your palms from the ground. Debris stuck to the abrasion, and it burnt and stung when you flexed your hands. You tried standing up, but fell back among the leaves, feeling lightheaded.

You registered some more cuts on your knees, but you couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears that streamed down your face.

The branches contorted around you, and the shadows they casted danced around the edges of your vision.

New York, new life, new beginning. Your mom’s smile in her Sunday dress when she’d waved you off. The stench of alcohol in Lee’s breath when he’d caught on the bus.

You thought you’d heard a voice call your name in the distance before your vision went dark, and you let the void envelop you.

-

The sky had turned dark when Knockemstiff’s rusty welcome sign came into view, and he hadn’t spoken a word to you since you’d woken up in his car, with his dark leather jacket draped over your shoulders and bandages on your bruised skin.

You’d stopped sobbing, and you’d run out of pleads, apologies, and tears.

For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him.

His car pulled to a stop in a deserted parking lot. He killed off the engine, and clenched his jaw, inhaling a deep breath before he spoke.

“What was goin’ through that dumb head of yours, sweetie? What made you think you could up, and fuckin’ leave me like that?” he bit through gritted teeth, chest heaving. “One of the boys called me this morning, said he heard your mother talk about you to one of her old hags, babblin’ ‘bout leaving for good, New York, a job.”

He let out a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“He thought she’d finally done lost her goddamn mind. Ain’t no sheriff’s girl leaving town for good, he said.”

“I’m sorry, Lee, I should've told you, I was selfish-”

“Yes, you fuckin’ were, fuckin’ selfish is what you are.” he screamed, and you jumped in surprise, because he’d never raised his voice at you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want. I don’t want that. You know I don’t belong here Lee, just lemme go, forget all about me.” you pleaded once again, voice small and broken.

He stayed silent for a moment after your little rant, before bursting into a fit of laughter. His body shook with the vibration, and he clutched his stomach, as if no joke had ever sounded so fun in his ears.

“Forget about you? Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. I love you too much.”

“If you love me, let me go Lee, I’m begging you. Please.” you sobbed, gripping his hands in yours, hoping your wobbling lips would move him.

He sighed, and enveloped your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips. He left a trail of kisses from the inside of your wrists to your knuckles.

“Come with me, then. Leave this shitty place behind for good, Lee. Ain’t nothing good’s come out of ‘ere anyways.”

You thought you’d seen his resolve break. You thought he’d choose you for once. Choose you over his thirst for power.

“You know I can’t do that,” he snapped, raising his voice again, “I’m so close to gettin’ myself elected, the campaign is going well, I can’t give up now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you pressed, anger hardening your stare.

He held your gaze for a moment before looking ahead, eyes unreadable for the first time since you’d met him.

“You know I’m selfish too,” he shrugged.

He reached for his belt, and held up the metal handcuffs, wordlessly securing them around your wrists, ignoring your protests.

“Just stay here.” he grumbled before swinging the door open.

The cold, unyielding cuffs dug in your wrists as you attempted to tug them free from the metal hook on the dash where they were attached to.

It was useless, but it made you feel like you were actually trying. You were mad at Lee, of course, at whoever had tipped him off, and at yourself.

Especially at yourself for your wistful thinking, for convincing yourself that Lee would have given up on you as you’d had on him. For not running fast enough, being strategic enough.

You huffed in annoyance when the metal hook refused to give in, and fell back on the headrest with a groan.

Your calves and shins were sore from your crazy sprint in the woods, and the palms of your hands were scraped from your fall. Lee had cleaned the cuts, but they still stung when you’d inadvertently brush them against each other.

You were mostly unscathed, except for your wounded pride.

You wished your glare could incinerate Lee on the spot when he opened the door to the driver’s seat with a smirk on his lips. The car creaked and swayed when he sat down.

“Fries and vanilla shakes, your favorite.” he announced, opening up the brown paper bag on his lap.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumbled, turning your head to observe the diner’s feeble neon lights in the distance.

Your stomach chose that moment to betray you, and let out a growl when the waft of fried food reached your nose. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were starving.

“Your tummy seems to think otherwise, dove.”

You used to think that his cocky loopsided grin gave a youthful glow to his face, but now you couldn’t help but hate the satisfaction it oozed.

“Open up.” he chirped, a handful of fries in his hands.

You rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself. “You’re not actually going to do that, are ya? Just uncuff me, Lee.

“I won’t uncuff you until I’m sure I can trust that you won’t run off on me, dove. Might take a while, tho. Now open up.”

You parted your lips, deciding that this one wouldn’t be the hill you’d choose to die on. Glaring at him, you took a bite out of the fries. He hissed when your teeth snapped hard against his fingers, but let out a chuckle seeing you in the state you were in, amused by your pathetic struggle.

“Good girl.” he praised you, feeding you some more like you used to do on those long nights patrolling the streets. Back when feeding each other was an act of love, not a humiliating punishment.

“So how was your little trip in Ohio, sweetie? Enjoyed the fields?”

He hummed when you refused to speak, and brought the milkshake to your mouth, studying your lips as they closed on the striped paper straw, and your cheeks hollowing when you sucked.

“Could’ve drove you myself if you’d asked. Could’ve brought you somewhere nice on holiday this winter. Someplace outside of Ohio.” he continued, taking a sip for himself, “Maybe we can go to a beach on our honeymoon, whaddya say, huh?”

You snorted at his audacity, almost inhaling the milkshake.

“What honeymoon are you talking about, Lee? Ain’t no way I’m marrying you now.”

He shook his head again, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yes, you are, dove. You are marrying me.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head as you gave him an incredulous look. Had you been blinded by love, or was he showing his true colors now?

“What, you’re gonna drag me by the hair and force me to sign the papers? Don’t think the preacher or the fine citizens of this shitty fuckin’ town are gonna like that too much.”

You scoffed, feeling your vision blur with tears again.

Lee levelled his face with yours, eyes darting between your own. You’d never noticed the darkness in him, and it made your heartbeat spike for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t need to drag you, dove. You’re gonna come to that altar with a smile on these pretty lips. And you know why?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

His calloused hand caressed your thigh, slowly hiking up your pleated skirt. “Because I’m finally gonna put a child inside you tonight, and nothing’s gonna stop me.”

Before you had time to react, or panic, he’d climbed to the passenger’s side, caging you in with his large body. He slanted his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue between your lips that you’d parted in a surprised gasp.

You pushed your shoulders against his, trying to pry him away, but he groped you relentlessly. Panic gripped you when you realized you were bound and at his mercy, and he wasn’t joking about his intentions.

“Gonna keep you chained until I knock you up, dove. Keep you in my house, can’t trust that mother of yours,” he huffed between kisses, hands roaming over your body.

“Stop, Lee, have you lost your goddamn mind? Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you asshole. Lemme go.”

You managed to kick his stomach, but in the frantic haze that had overcome him, he barely took notice, continuing his exploration of your body.

You shrieked when his hand dipped in your panties, and to your utter shame, found them soaked.

“You really want me to stop? Because your pussy is telling me a whole ‘nother story, sweetie. Feel how wet you are for me, you like this, don’t ya?”

He brought his finger to your lips, forcing your mouth open until you’d sucked him clean of your juices. He hummed when he dipped down and kissed you again, tasting your arousal on your tongue.

Your teeth snapped on his bottom lip until you’d drawn blood, and he released you with a hiss. His hand gripped your jaw, and tears began blurring your vision.

You couldn’t find adoration, love, and care in his eyes, only cruel determination.

The screams you let out sounded like a muffled gargle.

“Scream all you want, no one’s gonna hear you, and if they do, what’re they gonna say to me? I’m the sheriff sweetie, I’m the law. You were just stupid enough to think you could escape me.”

You pushed, kicked, screamed, thrashed until the metal cuffs had scrubbed your skin raw, fighting the hands that were pushing your bra down until your tits spilled out.

His fingers grazed your heated skin like they’d done a million times before, staining your loving memories forever.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you, all round and swollen.” he groaned, nipping at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin hard enough to hurt you, “All the men in this town are gonna be jealous of me. Might have to keep you locked up all the time.”

You couldn’t deny the throbbing in your core when his tongue licked a stripe behind your ear, nor the arousal soaking through your panties when slid his hand over the hair on your mound, teasing you.

“Gonna keep these tits full of milk for a long time sweetie.”

You moaned when his thick fingers breached your entrance, feeling the pressure build up as he kept pumping them in and out of you. He kept his thumb on your clit, the way he knew you liked, until you were so sensitive and overstimulated that you couldn’t tell pain and pleasure apart.

“You can never leave me, never again. Don’t you understand, I’m nothing without you. I need you.”

He played your body so well that it made you sick.

“Please Lee,” you panted, clenching your jaw to suppress your wanton sounds, “Don’t do this. There’s no turning back from this. Please.” you pleaded, lips wobbling.

“That’s the point,” he huffed, struggling to fit in the space between the passenger’s seat and the dashboard.

He forcefully spread your legs open, making a quick work of ripping your cotton panties to shreds. Bringing his face down to your glistening cunt, he inhaled a deep breath before delving into your folds, tongue lapping at your juices. The lewd, slurping sounds soon mixed with your moans that you could no longer keep in.

By that point you didn’t know if you were fighting to keep his head where it was or to rip it out of his neck.

“You taste like heaven, so fuckin’ sweet.” he grunted before latching onto your bud, hollowing his cheeks arount it as he sucked you off.

Fireworks went off in your lower belly when pleasure exploded inside you. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body, rendering your limbs limp and heavy.

All rational thoughts thrown out the window, you melted into his body when he surged forward to slant his lips against yours. He swallowed your moans with his hungry kisses, cradling your face like the most precious artifact.

It felt wrong, yet so right. He was still Lee. Your Lee. The one who’d drive and sing with you, who’d found your dad a job after he’d lost it, who’d made love with the most care unlike any other man who’d ever laid a finger on you.

At least, that’s what you tried telling yourself when he pushed his hard, leaking cock inside your swollen cunt, and your body welcomed him in your warmth without any fight.

You both snarled when he sheathed himself inside you.

“I love you so much sweetie, I can’t lose you again.”

It was wrong and dirty, but it was okay to feel good because it was your Lee between your legs.

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and slumped against the seat. His cock reached deeper than you thought possible, and you felt every ridge and veins slide over your walls.

Teeth clattering, bruising touches. You ached to touch him, maybe claw his eyes out or caress his chubby cheeks.

Electricity jolted every nerve ending on your body, and the next words he whimpered in your ear would have been a cold shower, had you not been so far gone already.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum inside you, dove, fill you up with my cum over and over again until I’m sure I’ve put a baby in you. Fuck-”

He snapped his hips harder against yours, thrusting his cock in and out of you. Your cunt quivered around him, gripping him tightly. He pushed you over the edge over and over again, until you were a drooling mess who couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore.

“I told you sweetie, it’s only a matter of time.” He punctuated each world he panted in the crook of your neck with a harsher thrust of his hips. “Ain’t no more parking lots, just a big ole bed. Yeah, people like me in this town, you know that, dove. I’ll get myself elected-, get a- cushy place up on Brewer Heights. We’ll be happy, have kids and all. My pretty wife, fuck- every man in this shitty town will envy me.”

You bucked your hips against his, wildly chasing your release. He could feel another one of your orgasms near by the way you clenched around him.

“Fuck-, God, you’re squeezin’ me. Fuckin’ cum on ny cock dove, I want to feel you come all over me, make a mess on me.”

You pushed out the muscles of your pelvis, and the intensity of your pleasure almost blacked you out again as you gushed all over him, soaking through your skirt onto the seat.

His cock swelled and twitched, and he released himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot spurt. The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, a fullness you never thought you could experience.

Your chest heaved as you slumped on the seat, arms aching and wrists scrubbed raw.

His cock softened inside you, and he watched enthralled his seed spill out of your cunt, your abused hole still clenching around nothing.

“Jesus, I hope it takes, dove.”

He droned some more, but you’d stopped listening. You kept staring ahead, letting him dress you back again like a motionless doll.

Had you been more aware, you would have seen the shadow of guilt creep on his face, soon replaced by cool determination when he blinked the tears away and hardened his stare once again.

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore.

Static noises interrupted his actions.

“Any cars around-...got a call from Hawk at the bar- anyone can check that out?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, picking up the radio, “I wanted to go at it a few more times, just to make sure.”

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed by in a blur. You had no idea where you were, or how long it’d been since he dragged you back in this hellhole.

New York, a new job, a new beginning. It all seemed so far.

There was only one thing you knew for sure.

“I’m getting out of ‘ere again, Lee.” You murmured in a daze, “I’m getting out and God himself couldn’t stop me if he tried.”

Drained of all energies, you let the soothing sway of the car lull you to sleep.

Lee sighed to himself, watching you so defensless, bound at his mercy. He’d take care of you until the end of his miserable life, and protect you from everything, even yourself.

“I'm the only God here, sweetie, and I can assure you, you’re not going anywhere.”

Afterall, his dove couldn’t fly away from him with broken wings.

-

I hope you enjoyed this! Please, leave some feedback. It means the world to me! 💓

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Three]

Summary: In which the fragile state between Poe and the reader is shattered, a mission is assigned, and everything goes to hell. 

Warnings: Swearing, an actual fuck-ton of angst, light smut mentions, sad fluff, grief. WC: 14,090

To avoid too much free time you had begun working late any days that you could, making excuses to run diagnostics on your ship, tinker around or simply clean it. You left the maintenance to Ana, your lead mechanic, but knew enough to at least make yourself feel busy. The less free time you had, the less time you spent overthinking your life.

Today, you were both avoiding your thoughts as well as a specific person. Though truly there was nowhere on base he wouldn’t be able to seek you out, and your hope that staying in your flight suit in the hangar would be enough of deterrent proved futile.

The healer still showed up.

At the sound of approaching footsteps in the otherwise quiet hangar, you turned your head and instantly felt like an animal trapped in a cage. At this point, just over a week since meeting the man, you’d run out of excuses to try and encourage him, as nicely as possible, to fuck off.

Healer Rush Derrin was...annoying. To put it lightly, that is. If you were being honest, he was easily the most irritating man you’d ever met, and also the most clueless. Your initial attraction to him felt ridiculous now that you had one-failed-date and too many follow-up conversations that showcased just how self-absorbed and uninteresting the man was.

He’d found you a few days after your initial meeting, in the hangar as you had suggested to him, just before you were going to leave for dinner. You had lit up when you saw him walking over, feeling a little excited not only for time with a handsome man but also the opportunity to just talk to someone. Poe was giving you an unusually sombre silent treatment, though he did finish off reprimanding you the day after your mission fuck up. And then he was just...silent.

And you weren’t going to question it, because the less you said to one another, the better. It always felt like such hard work just trying to exist around Poe now, you were honestly grateful not to have to exchange jabs at one another. But it was also lonely; your only friend on base outside of Black team was Ana, your mechanic, who had long hours and limited free time. Temmin was always good for conversation, so you’d usually gravitate his way during the day when the opportunity arose, engage in friendly banter until Poe came along and you’d be forced to slip away. Kare was more content to give you a wide berth, treating you with respect and preferring the relationship was merely professional. You got along really well with her but could sense the lack of connection on a personal level.

So, lonely as you were, handsome as Rush was, you gladly accepted his offer to join him in the caf for dinner and treat it as a first date of sorts. At first, during the walk to the caf and waiting in line to pile your plates with dinner, you spoke casually enough that you felt the date was going fairly well. You weren’t too hung up on whether or not it would lead anywhere; it wasn’t like you were looking for anything serious at this point with anyone. You hoped it would lead to something fun, perhaps a few nights at the cantina drinking and dancing, and if you meshed well a couple of tumbles in between sheets.

But when you took a seat in a quieter section of the over large room, it was like a switch flipped for Rush and he went into ‘date’ mode and frankly, you’d wished he hadn’t. The man did not shut up about himself. He spoke over you enough times that you considered jabbing him with your fork, and just when you thought he was going to start asking you about yourself-now that you knew his fucking life story-he launched into a rant about what he wanted to do once the war was over, and on and on it went.

By the time dinner had ended and the caf was much less crowded, you were about ready to hurl yourself out the second-story window, figuring you could probably manage to tuck and roll to avoid injury that would require him to treat you, and then maybe you’d just run into the jungle for a few days.

As you pretended to listen to him ramble, your mind had wandered and you realized that you hadn’t ever needed to discourage any potential suitors before. Poe and Charlie had, in so many ways, made you set your standards high, high enough that not many dates ended up going anywhere, and you just never developed the ability to read other men, to be able to sniff out the bad eggs. Rush was a nice man, but he was also entirely not your type. And based on the way he occasionally bragged about mediocre accomplishments, you had a sneaking suspicion he would not be up to scruff in the bedroom.

You finally had to call the date off when he began talking about future second date ideas, politely cutting in to say you had an early call time and needed to call it a night. He hadn’t been fazed, merely clearing your trays before returning to the table, where you had stood up, to give you a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. You wished now you’d been more direct, thanked him for the date but admitted you weren’t interested. And you hated to think about it, but the best part of your date with Rush had been when, after turning away to walk to the exit that would take you to your wing of the base, you met a pair of familiar brown eyes from across the room. You saw Poe standing with Temmin, in the middle of a conversation, his eyes narrowed slightly in your direction, flicking between you and the retreating healer.

At least you somehow managed to annoy him, if nothing else.

But thanks to your complete lack of ability to send Rush a clear and direct message, you were awarded his regular appearance in the hangar each day following the date. Usually stopping by on his lunch, he’d chat with you amicably enough but end the conversation by asking you out again-each fucking time. You had tried the excuses of being too tired, too busy, going on a mission, and hoped he’d just give up. But he kept coming back, pulling out the works to charm you with no success.

You knew you were going to need to get it together soon and just tell him it wasn’t going to happen. You wanted to be nice about it because he was a friendly enough guy, he just wasn’t your type in the least. And you had never really needed to discourage a man before, now that you considered it. Before Charlie died, he and Poe had been by your side your whole life-and they took care of you, easily discouraging anyone you had no interest in by tossing an arm over your shoulder on nights out if you asked them to.

You’d mostly had a few casual flings, never anything serious. Even your first time was with a friend, on the eve of your departure from Yavin-4 to head to D’Qar and begin basic. You met up with an old friend, Tahla, and one thing had lead to another. It had been nice, each of you parting on good terms after what had been a pleasurable evening. One that only encouraged your high standards because Tahla had ensured you reached your peak more than once, something that you’d since learned wasn’t always a priority for male partners.

And after Charlie had died, and you’d fled D’Qar, you had tried to fill the emptiness with one-night stands. But you would only wind up feeling more lonely in the morning when they left, regardless of how good the sex had been, and none of the men had been what you had wanted. Or, what you had thought you’d wanted. You spent about a year trying and failing to fill that void with sex, only to give up on it entirely after the last man you’d spent the night with had broken the terms of your understanding and tried to continue the relationship. You hadn’t been ready to start dating, so you closed yourself off, moved to another assignment to be safe, and now it had been...a few years.

A few very lonely years.

Rush wasn’t going to be someone you kept around to date, and you really needed to get your shit together and tell him. Especially considering how he was looking at you right now, with big eyes that held a hopeful gleam.

“Evening, honey, how are you doing?”

You gave him a small smile, setting your datapad down on the step stool you had in your parking spot (you were endlessly teased for being too short to hop up into your x-wing). He was a few steps away, giving you a warm smile as he looked down at you.

“Hi, Rush,” You wiped the sleeve of your flight suit over your face tiredly, “Been a long day, I guess. How are you?”

“Just fine, just fine,” He nodded, then gestured vaguely toward you and your ship, “You’ve had a busy week, which isn’t a surprise for Black team but I hope you have some time off coming your way!”

Damn, he just had to be so nice, didn’t he? Yet, you knew you’d still be brushing him off despite wishing you could just look past his issues and let him in, a little bit, for maybe a little while. “Ha, I wish I had time off!” You lied, knowing full well that, unless a mission came in, you were going to have the following day off. “We don’t get as much vacation as you Healers do!” You teased, internally cringing because flirting wasn't going to help discourage him. Kriff!

And you saw the way his eyes widened at your gentle chide, hope flashing his expression before he smirked, “Oh, you think we get vacation, do you?” He took a step closer and you had to tilt your head back to hold his gaze, warmth pooling in your belly at his proximity. Encouraged, Rush raised a hand and gently brushed it across your cheek, and against your better judgement, your eyes fluttered closed at the small display of affection. He then dropped his hand to cup your neck, and when he spoke next it was a whisper as he had lowered his face to your level. “You know honey, even in this flight suit, you’re the sexiest woman here. Not sure you get told that enough.”

You bit your lip, heat flushing your cheeks, “Rush, I’m not sure I-“

His free hand was suddenly on your hip, distracting you from whatever you’d been about to toss out as an excuse prevent him kissing you; your eyes snapped open to find him giving you a searching look, reading the heat in your cheeks, the way you had moved just a little closer when his hand gripped your hip, and he seemed to approve entirely of your reaction. His lips ghosted over your jaw, chin, and then pressed to yours, and stars did you ever let him do it.

Suddenly, all of the excuses seemed silly because here was a nice, handsome guy telling you he thought you were sexy and giving you a hungry look that had wetness pooling in your panties before he’d even touched you. At first, this kiss was measured, soft, until you pressed your body against his and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You felt rather than heard his low rumble of pleasure before his tongue swiped across your lips and you parted them to allow him to deepen the kiss.

In those moments, there was nothing else, just a warm and friendly man holding you close and making you feel desired. And as much as you didn’t click with Rush, the idea of his large hands on your bare skin was making you eager to leave the hangar the find comfort in the physical, to let him in just enough so that he could distract you from life with his expert touch, sturdy build, even if just for one night.

Before either of you could pull apart to suggest moving things to a more private location, the abrupt clearing of a throat followed by the drawling voice of Poe Dameron interrupted you.

“As entertaining as this is, Major, I have to interrupt.”

You sprung away from Rush in surprise, twisting to find Poe standing a few feet away, hands on his hips and an annoyed scowl fixed on you. But instead of embarrassment or irritation at being found in a compromising embrace right in the fucking hangar, you felt a surge of relief.

Because, Maker, you had been just about ready to let Rush Derrin take you to bed. What was going on with you? You knew better, and already decided against this very thing and yet the moment he touched you, you went to putty in his hands just because you were lonely? Poe’s scowl relaxed, morphing to confusion at the expression on your face before he glanced over at Rush, who actually was annoyed at the interruption.

“Commander, apologies I was just saying goodnight to the Major here, I’ll uh, leave you to it.” And he shot you a smile before hurrying off, a smile that told you he read about as much as you’d expected from your reaction to his kiss.

You were furious with yourself.

Good thing Poe was right there for you to take it out on.

“Did you need something, or do you just wander around here at night to be annoying?”

Poe huffed a breath out in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “Didn’t realize I’d be walking in on a Corellian Soap Opera sex scene. Leia wants to see us.” He shrugged, but you froze, torn between wanting to continue being angry at Poe and the desire to laugh because hadn’t you thought Rush looked like he belonged in one of those shows when you first met him?

His words sunk in then, distracting you, “Wait, she wants to see us right now?” When Poe nodded, his expression curious as a result of your weird behaviour, you glanced down at your flight suit, “Should I change?”

“No,” Poe shook his head, turning to begin walking and so you joined him, falling into step alongside him, “She said straight away, she won’t care what you wear.”

You fell into silence after that, walking through the twisting halls of base, and though it was evening time you still passed by a lot of other Resistance fighters. You realized as you hurried along that you hadn’t spent any time with Poe outside of missions, of the hangar, and you hadn’t yet witnessed how he was treated beyond that of other pilots. 

Turns out, he was well-liked and admired, everyone you passed greeting him by name with friendly grins or flirty smiles, and even though every person also greeted you by title out of respect, you still found yourself growing increasingly annoyed.

It was certainly due to a combination of emotions and reasons, but you chose to focus on the fact the Poe Dameron was walking around D’Qar as the poster boy for the Resistance, a title that should belong to your brother. You hadn’t realized you’d scoffed aloud until Poe glanced down at you curiously, his expression hardening when he saw your frown.

“What?” It was just the two of you in this new branch of the hallway, steps away from the room where Leia was waiting. You could easily have not replied.

Instead, you sneered at Poe, “Please, I’m surprised we didn’t stop for you to sign some autographs, Commander.”

Poe stopped walking and stepped in front of you, blocking your path, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m just realizing how popular you are, I suppose. Poster boy of the Resistance, I mean, that has to have a lot of perks,” You kept your voice cool despite the heat burning inside you from how angry you’d grown. “It must be a lot of fun, getting to fly all the time, fuck whoever you want, walk around with that stupid smirk...” You trailed off with a shrug, satisfaction coursing through you when his surprised look turned to irritation.

“That what you think?” His voice was low and threatening and you didn’t care in the least.

“I’m not surprised, really. You’re like a celebrity, and without Charlie around to keep you from growing too big for your pants I guess it’s only expected you’d become the biggest player on the base,” His eyes turned to ice as you spoke, “Bet you can just smile at a woman and end up getting a blow-“

Poe moved so quickly you had no time to react, your anger clouding your defensive abilities. With no other noise or people around, you heard the sharp draw of breath he pulled in as he slammed you back against the hallway wall, his grip on your arms preventing you from hitting hard enough to cause pain, but it certainly shut you up. You gaped up at Poe as he gave you his worst look, his breathing hitched in fury.

You had finally gone too far.

And isn’t that what you had wanted?

“(y/n), do you-seriously, you think I just?” He broke off, his anger preventing him from speaking proper basic and his grip on your arms tightened, “You think I just walk around fucking everything that moves and having a blast every day? You think I’m fucking happy?”

You shouldn’t reply, you knew. You would be better to stop, to listen to the twinge of guilt now in the back of your mind, the little voice that was asking you if you’d ever made Poe this angry before and questioning why you were doing it now.

You instead decide to pull on the string a little more and see what you could unravel.

“Aren’t you? I’m not saying you didn’t love Charlie, but you have to admit without him and me around you did pretty fucking good for yourself-“

“Shut up,” He growled, suddenly pressing his body to yours and lowering his head to meet your eyes, preventing you from pulling away or even looking anywhere but into his dark glare. “Maybe you’re a little worked up because I just interrupted your foreplay session, but I need you to shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything about me, about my life now or what I’ve gone through. You want to be mad, hate me for what I did, that’s fine, I deserve it. But that’s it, that’s the line.”

“Oh, you get to decide where the line is all of a sudden?”

Poe scoffed, “You got what you obviously wanted, (y/n), you pissed me off. Can you just leave it? Because you really don’t want to hear about what my life was after you abandoned m-everything here.”

You gave a harsh laugh, “Fine, sorry to have insinuated you’re a heartless manwhore, I mean it’s not like you blamed me for my own brothers' death at the fucking funeral!”

Your words seemed to hit Poe as if you’d slapped him; he flinched and jerked away from you, taking a few steps back before raising a shaky hand to rub his face. When he looked back at you where you stood still against the wall, you faltered a little at the genuine hurt in his expression.

After staring at one another for a minute, Poe finally pointed at you and his voice came out more clearly than you’d expected. “You don’t know anything. Not about me, or what my life was after you left, or what kind of person I am now,” He took a steadying breath, walked to the nearby door and paused with his hand on the handle, “Just like I don’t know anything about you. Which is why when I see my second in command making out shamelessly with a healer in the fucking hangar, I don’t comment. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me.”

With those final words, he swept through the door, not bothering to wait for you and you held still until the door shut behind him, letting out a sob as guilt-wracked your body. 

You regretted pulling the string.

-

Before meeting Poe at the cantina that night, Charlie mentioned too casually that Poe hadn’t been going home with women for some time. Not since you had officially joined Gold team, which he was insisting was because of you. That it was always you when it came to Poe Dameron. You brushed your brother off with a roll of your eyes, keen to avoid the direction his words were leading you. And it wasn’t as if you hadn’t noticed Poe’s abrupt change in behaviour, how he had stopped slipping off partway through evenings at the cantina to flirt with someone who had been giving him eyes, maybe dance a little before they would wander off, no doubt in the direction of one of their rooms.

It hadn’t exactly bothered you, he was free to enjoy himself as much as you were, and he never left you alone, never ditched you when you were having a bad day. You wondered what was going on with him, naturally, but didn’t ask and certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Charlie.

Poe was already at your usual table when you walked into the cantina, and his eyes seemed to light up when he spotted you. Trying not to let that go to your head, you weaved through the crowd with Charlie right on your tail, which was a good thing because his bulk and intimidating appearance meant that people hurried out of your way before you had to even ask.

As you moved, Poe’s eyes never left your face and you wondered if he sensed the way he was making your heart flutter, how your stomach was full of butterflies. Your mind also replayed recent memories, now with Charlie’s words in your head and Poe’s eyes melting you from across the room, you could see something...was different. 

How he’d been the one to walk you to your room every night you all went out, and even though you’d just spent an hour or two together he’d linger for a while, lounge with you on your bunk and chat until one of you yawned. How often you both would switch to a private channel to talk during training or low-stakes missions. And when...when was the last time you had gotten yourself your morning caf? You hadn’t realized, he had met you outside of your room nearly every morning, two steaming cups in hand, for a while now.

And the subtle touches. You grew up with Poe, and he’d always been an affectionate enough person, but Charlie’s timing had been right-you joined Gold Team and Poe’s behaviour had shifted, not just in the day-to-day, but also with how he seemed to operate around you. A hand on your back, fingers brushing your long hair out of your face, the endless hugs-the kind that made you feel safe and whole, each time.

When you reached the table and broke eye contact to take a seat next to Poe, his arm dropped to the back of your chair casually. Had he been doing that long? You always sat next to him, but you hadn’t realized...

Your brother flashed you a knowing look that Poe missed because his eyes were still on you. You fought the urge to frown over at him.

“You look like you’re still up in the clouds, sweetheart.” Poe tossed you his signature grin, and you smiled back at him while simultaneously noting how the grin didn’t reach his eyes the same way it used to. It was genuine, yes, but there was a depth to his gaze that seemed like he was a little self-conscious, unsure.

You raised the drink he’d had waiting for you in thanks, “One of those days, I suppose.”

If he thought your response was inadequate, he didn’t say. He merely nodded, eyes searching your expression for a moment before he looked away to take a sip of his own drink. Charlie pulled him into a conversation then and you fell silent, your thoughts swirling again.

You watched Poe, for a while, out of the corner of your eye. You picked up on how his eyes didn’t wander around the room like they used to, even though YOU noticed women looking over, trying to catch his eye. His arm remained behind you, though he wasn’t touching you, the thick design of the chair allowing you your own space...but actually, you don’t think you would mind if he did touch you, just casually.

Well, where the fuck had that thought come from?

Your train of thought startled you so much that you were grateful when you glanced at your drinks and found each of you was getting low. You leaned forward and tapped your glass, interrupting what was now Charlie and Poe’s version of a heated disagreement (so basically they insulted each other back and forth while laughing), and said, “I’ll get us refills.”

You were up and out of your seat before either could object, and you determinedly did not look back at your table. You knew Poe would be looking at you. You were scared of how that made you feel.

The bartender was busy making drinks for a group of loud women you recognized as mechanics, all out to let loose-as they so deserved. You knew they had long hours, and you watched them all, already tipsy and giggling too much, while you waited your turn. You were leaning against the bar on both elbows when a voice to your right caught your attention, saying Poe’s name. You didn’t react physically and probably would have tuned back into the drunk mechanic's funny banter had that voice not been so full of vitriol.

“I hate seeing him out having a good time, wrapped around the Horn girl like a fucking lapdog.”

You stiffened, though it was less from offence (because whoever this was wasn’t worth your time of day) but more because she obviously hadn’t realized you were standing behind them.

Another woman laughed, “I think he’s pouting, can’t get into her pants obviously. You should have made him work harder for it, Liv, maybe he’d be your lap dog instead.”

The first woman scoffed, “Look, he was good for a couple of fun nights, don’t get me wrong. The dude is seriously packing, and he knows what he’s doing, too. But even when I did have his attention it wasn’t all there. Pretty sure he’s hung up on her.”

“And probably will be for a while, she’s a stuck-up little thing. Dameron can’t be very bright if he lets her keep him wrapped around her pinky like that.”

“He’s a real idiot, that’s for sure. Good thing he’s handsome, clearly there’s not a lot going on-“

Abandoning your perch at the bar, you swung around and roughly poked the back of the shoulder nearest to you, furious, “Excuse me.”

Both women turned and you recognized the blonde one, she had hung out a few nights at the cantina with Poe in the weeks before you finished basic. She must have been one of the last women to go home with Poe.

At first, they were both frowning, curious, until they looked down at you. You usually didn’t mind how short you were, but when trying to glare at a couple of long-legged, beautiful women, you suddenly hated how it made you feel small. You jerked your chin up, “You’re speaking quite rudely about a superior, you know. I could report you for that alone.”

The blonde, Liv, glared at you, “I’m not saying anything new, sweetie. Most people are saying it, actually.” You remembered then that Liv worked in the comms office, a notoriously gossip-heavy section of the Resistance.

“Doesn’t make it any less pathetic, though, does it?” You jabbed, your anger increasing. Liv scoffed, setting her drink down on the bar and taking a step closer to you, a little too close to be anything other than a veiled threat. You held your ground, unfazed.

“Look, sweetie, you want to play dedicated little teammate instead of admitting you’re just jealous of me, that’s fine. But don’t get in my face about it, I’m not interested.”

“Funny,” You deadpanned, voice low, “And here I thought we both knew it was you who was jealous of me.”

Liv jerked back slightly in surprise, giving you her worst look, “Speaking as the one who has gotten to more than sample his goods-and let me tell you, you’re totally missing out because he does knows how to make a woman mean it when she screams his na-“

SMACK

Liv stumbled back a few steps, a hand reaching up to touch her tender cheek in disbelief, the skin already reddening from the impact of your full palm slap. You were more surprised in yourself, you hadn’t realized just how angry you were until it coiled and snapped at her insinuations. Still, you felt a rush of satisfaction that faded to concern when the much taller women straightened up and stalked forward, eyes dark.

“You little bitch!”

Before you could begin to back away-keen to avoid an actual fist fight-you felt a sudden presence behind you, Liv stopping short in her advance the same moment a familiar, muscled arm dropped over your shoulder. Her brows shot up in surprise before a simpering little smile appeared.

“Liv,” Poe drawled, his voice light and almost friendly, but the grip on your arm gave way to you that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared. When you glanced up at him, his jaw was tight, a muscle twitching there, and his expression was cold. Colder than ice. You wondered how Liv hadn’t frozen just from having that look directed her way. “So sorry to interrupt, but figured I’d step in before you do anything you’ll regret.”

Liv raised her hands as if in surrender, then pointed at you, “Not sure if you saw, Poe, but the little brat just slapped me.” Her fury was funny to you now. You’d clearly injured her delicate pride more than anything.

The arm around your shoulder shifted as Poe pushed the braid that had fallen behind it back in front, where you usually let your hair sit. It was a simple gesture, both casual and intimate, enough to have Liv’s expression fall.

He tightened his arm around you again before replying in a low voice. “Thankfully, I was lucky enough to see that. It’s officially now my favourite memory, ever. Proudest, too, seeing as I taught her how to hit back at bullies” With his free arm, Poe raised his hand and pointed it at Liv, who was looking at him wide-eyed, “Now get the fuck away from us, before you really piss me off.”

You had to bite back a laugh at how quickly Liv and her silent friend scampered away, leaving the cantina completely with their heads low. You turned to look up at Poe and thank him, faltering when you saw him gazing at you intently, concern and worry replacing the cold glare. “Poe?”

“Are you okay? What did she say to you?” He spun so that you were now directly in front of him, both his hands falling to gently hold your arms. Your heart was about ready to beat its way right out of your chest over the intensely protective and concerned expression he had.

You reached up and did something that always worked on Poe when he was upset; gently running your thumb along his jaw, just a few times, before you dropped it again. It used to feel like second nature. Now it felt...wonderfully intimate. It worked though, his shoulders relaxing. 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

Poe swallowed before throwing you a grin, “I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since we were teenagers, sweetheart. And that was a nice hit.”

You laughed, shrugging, a little bolt of pleasure warming you when he pulled you a little closer, wrapping an arm around you. “She was being exceptionally rude. Guess I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”

Poe chuckled warmly, and you felt it rumble in his chest because you were pressed against him. Quite suddenly, the urge to reach up and just touch his hair a little, stroke his cheek, maybe run your thumb across his lower lip-

What was going on with you?

As much as you were completely confused at yourself, you didn’t miss how his laughter met his eyes-the warm honey gazing into yours almost adoringly. You finally looked away and turned, glancing at your table for your brother. Charlie, however, was gone. Poe, still with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, noticed where you were looking and laughed again.

“Charlie is otherwise occupied by none other than Vanya, who despite my initial skepticism does, in fact, exist.”

You snorted, “In that case, I think we can leave unless you wanted to stay-?

Poe cut you off, giving you a little smirk, “Nope, I’ll walk you home, sweetheart.”

And his arm didn’t drop as you made your way out of the cantina.

Nor did it drop when you were walking the halls, or entering your door code to your bunk.

It still didn’t drop when you both fell onto your bed, laughing over the look on Liv’s face after you had slapped her and how quickly she and her friend had run out of the cantina.

That arm remained securely around you the whole night, as you and Poe talked for hours, reminiscing about Yavin-4, exchanging banter over who was the better pilot, even imaging what life would be like once the war was over.

And Poe’s hold only tightened when you nodded off, laying the wrong way across your bed and tucked against his chest. Loosening only when he too fell asleep, his final thoughts that he would tell you how he felt after tomorrow’s mission decommissioning a fuelling yard in the Sanbra Sector. Because he wasn’t sure he could pretend otherwise any longer.

+

General Organa had noticed the thick tension between you and Poe the moment you joined him in front of her, your face flushed but otherwise neutral. Her eyes had flicked between you both before commending you on how well you worked together and then explaining that she had a mission.

Normally, a top-secret, high stakes recon mission would thrill Poe straight to the bone, but upon hearing the finer details he felt his smile tighten and his excitement waning. Of course, mere moments after finally exploding on one another, you and Poe were assigned the task of taking a cruiser to a planet in the outer rim. A three-day trip minimum there, where you would be inspecting a base long since abandoned by the Galactic Empire after it had fallen. An outpost that, once cleared, would be of incredible use to the Resistance.

Upon learning that she needed you to leave first thing in the morning, Poe thanked the General, promised her the best teamwork, and then swept quickly from the room. He went straight to his to pack, glancing at his wrist comm for the time. He decided that after he was finished preparations he would go to the cantina for a drink.

Stars, if he wasn't just assigned such an important mission he would be having several drinks. After what had just transpired with you, he was reeling and in need of a distraction. He was angry, yes, but mostly he was hurting.

You’d been aiming to get a reaction out of him for a while now. Giving him the cold shoulder outside of missions to throw him off balance. It was the combination of finding you pressed against the healer, who had had his hands all over you, and then hearing your accusations...he just snapped, something he wasn’t prone to doing and yet you always seemed to pull the strongest emotions and reactions from Poe, even when you weren’t trying to.

And it wasn’t so much the scorn with which you described his status as a poster boy, but rather the genuine belief you held that Poe’s life had been good without Charlie and you. As much as you were trying to piss him off, you still believed what you were saying, and Poe hadn’t known what to do, how to make you see that everything, everything fell apart after he lost you.

Fuck, he knew it was his fault-he had said what he said and then he’d left you alone in the dark, but it still floored him to hear how little you thought of him now. You didn’t just hate him, he’d realized, you also believed he hated you, that he was living a happy life and didn’t spend every day wishing his life was different. He had fucked things up between you and him so well, that you never realized just how much he loved you.

Loves you.

Because the truth was, as much as he didn’t like you right now, there wasn’t a single thing in the entire galaxy that could stop Poe Dameron from loving you.

And he didn’t know...what that love was anymore, what it meant or what he wanted from it. He was happy to leave it in the background, to let you despise him until you said the things you did tonight. What you said told Poe that you didn’t know anything, despite growing up together. You still refused, to this very day, to look back at your relationship with him and recognize that it was never anything but the start of something millions would die to have. An epic love story, one that generations to follow would have spoken of.

You never saw it, and he’d failed to show you. And now you were both just fragments of those star-crossed idiots, and Poe had never felt more lost or alone.

+

Aware that he had a good week alone with you ahead of him, Poe hurriedly changed and made his way to the cantina after packing, intent on enjoying one good drink with Temmin to help clear his mind. Socializing in a loud space was the perfect way to prepare for what was sure to be a stony silence-filled week.  

The cantina was busy when he arrived, his timing synced with the late-night crowd. It only took him a moment to spot Temmin, though, and he made his way across the room, raising a hand in hello when his friend spotted him approaching. He turned, signalling to a nearby waitress for another drink for Poe, before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Commander! Nice of you to join us!” Temmin called merrily, and Poe already felt his tension fading, his friends genuine kindness always appreciated.  

“Thought I’d better keep an eye on you idiots,” Poe replied, thanking the waitress for his drink and winking at his laughing friends as he took a swig. He fell into an easy banter with the others, sipping his drink slowly as he would only indulge in the one on the eve of such an important mission. After a while, his drink half-finished, Poe found himself glancing around the room quite suddenly, his senses on alert.

It was then that he spotted you. And no wonder he’d been wary a moment before, as his eyes must have gone past you twice before they snapped back, realizing that the long-haired woman in khakis and a navy shirt was you. He hadn’t seen your hair down since you had been back, and it was longer now than he thinks you’d ever grown it. The braids you normally weaved into your low buns left the long locks wavy, and you weren’t used to wearing it down as you kept self-consciously brushing it out of your face.  

You were standing with your friend, Ana, a few other mechanics Poe knew mostly by their faces. Your friend was laughing at whatever you were saying, hard enough that you joined in and even though he couldn’t hear you from across the room, he knew exactly how genuine your giggles were just from your expression.

Poe looked away, flushing with a mixture of emotions he preferred not to examine.

His hand roamed around the room before landing on a tall figure making his way toward you. Rush had a grin on his face that suggested pleasant surprise at your presence at the cantina. Remembering the weird look of relief that had been on your face when Poe had walked into the hangar earlier, he wondered if maybe you weren’t as into Rush as you had seemed in that particular moment.

Maybe he was already worked up before your argument if he was really honest with himself. Something about having to watch from afar all week as Rush popped in every afternoon to flirt with you, then to walk in on him pressed against you, it had pissed him off. It had also brought forth that same protectiveness he’d felt when the stormtrooper had punched you, which only served to confuse Poe further. He’d swiftly stuffed those thoughts back as he’d told you Leia was waiting to speak to you both, only for them to tumble around in the back of his mind until you’d crushed his patience to bits.

Poe watched as the healer picked his way toward you. Glancing at you, he saw Ana stepping around you to move toward the direction of the fresher, leaving you standing alone as the other mechanics seemed to have already melted away to have a separate conversation. You sighed, your smile faltering a little, before taking a sip of your drink, your eyes raising up and immediately zeroing in on Rush. His suspicions about your level of interest in the healer were confirmed when you blanched, your eyes casting around you and widening in horror when you realized you were entirely alone. And then you fixed the fakest smile he’d ever seen on your face before turning to greet Rush, a stiff set to your shoulders.  

When the healer reached you and greeted you by way of running his hand down the bare skin of your arm, Poe stiffened. You greeted him in return but took a half step back, eyes peering up at the much taller man with a modicum of fear. Suddenly, Poe’s mind took him back to years and years ago, on Yavin-4, when boys would hit on you and you’d glance toward Poe or Charlie for help and they would be right there, without question.

Now, you looked so alone that Poe’s instincts took over, Charlie’s voice in his head saying, ‘Flyboy and I will always take care of you, Kid.’ And he abruptly stood, abandoning Temmin and his drink, and marched across the room. His anger for the earlier argument was long forgotten and Poe almost felt seventeen years old again.

“Why don’t we continue our earlier fun somewhere quieter, honey?” He was saying, his voice carrying over the music. You had been focused on Rush until Poe was just a few steps away, your head jerking to meet his gaze in surprise.

And unless Poe was mistaken, he saw a little relief there too.

Without preamble, Poe grabbed you by the shoulder and gently pulled you back a few steps, moving you away from Rush. “Sorry pal, not happening.” His interjection was in vast contrast to how Charlie would have done it. He’d have smiled, sauntered up, made it friendly. Poe pointedly conveyed no warmth, no room for argument.

Still, the Healer didn’t get the hint. His brows furrowing, he tilted his head to look at Poe, who stood a few inches taller. “Didn’t realize you had any say in the matter, Command-“

“Don’t care,” Poe replied easily, “Buzz off, and read the room-she’s clearly not interested in you.”

“Now wait just a-“

“Actually Rush,” You hurriedly cut him off, your hand reaching up to grab the one Poe still had on your shoulder, “He’s right. I-I’m not interested, I’m sorry. And we have an early call tomorrow, so we’re just leaving. Goodnight.” You spun away before Rush could reply, your grip on Poe’s hand slipping to his wrist as you dragged him out of the cantina.

Poe spared a glance over his shoulder to look at Rush, who was standing in the same spot looking a little dumbfounded. He bit back a grin before looking forward and watching you pull him along. Poe could feel your hand burning his skin where you held his wrist. After making it halfway toward base, you stopped walking and let go, your arms crossing as you peered up at Poe.

“I don’t need you to do that, Dameron.” Your voice was low, your gaze sharp. Poe wanted to flinch under the intensity of it but instead found himself standing to his full height and matching your stance, returning your glare right back.

He scoffed, “Charlie would have-“

“Yes,” You cut in, taking a step closer to Poe and lowering your voice further, “Charlie would have. He always would have, that’s what big brothers do. But you’re just my Commander, and you don’t get to step in on my social life.”

The words cut, but Poe had heard you say worse to him. He flooded with exasperation, “Major, are you telling me you would prefer to head back inside and let Rush fucking Derrin flirt with you until he inevitably passes out before you can say ‘do you have a condom?’”

You gave a humourless laugh, “Oh, please don’t think that just because any woman you set your eyes on is keen to lay under you that it means the rest of us love to go home with random idiots, regardless of whether we make out with them or not,” You jabbed a finger into Poe’s chest as you spoke, your words laced with venom, “I hold myself to higher standards, and I definitely don’t need the Resistance playboy inserting himself on my behalf.” With that, you spun and stormed away, toward base.

Poe had no option but to follow you. He lived next to you, he was going in the same direction.

Still, when you glanced over your shoulder as you entered the doors that led to the ranking official's dorms and saw Poe a few steps away, your anger seemed to snap and you let the door shut behind you in his face.

“Sweetheart,” Poe drawled as he stepped inside, still only a few paces behind you, “Be as mean as you like, I don’t care. But save the anger for the real fight, it isn’t going to work on me again.”

When your only reply was a frustrated groan, Poe smirked to himself. He watched as you flipped your middle finger over your shoulder before disappearing into your room, the door slamming closed with finality.

His smirk faded then, as he began to consider exactly why he’d gotten so worked up, and whether it really had anything to do with Charlie.

MISSION DAY SIX

Poe was completely numb.

Numb with shame. Regret. Disgust for his actions. Still, he remained protective at your side, following you through the jungle as you avoided looking his way. Knowing you were just as eager to get back to the ship as he was, and yet keenly aware that it meant three days alone together in the cramped space.

At least it would give you both time to come up with a believable explanation for your delay in return. An entire day lost, yet you’d already agreed with one another that the real reason wasn’t going in the mission report. If you never spoke of what happened again, it still wouldn’t be enough to curb the pain, the fucking guilt he was feeling.

Poe had been wrecked, mentally obliterated beyond repair. How he wished he could have died-if he could have ensured you wouldn’t have been harmed he would have gladly let himself die. You promised him it was alright, that you were alright, and yet Poe knew there was no coming back from this.

No, now everything had changed. In one night, it had all changed.

MISSION DAY ONE

The morning of departure for the top-secret mission had been smooth, but entirely silent, between Poe and you. He was glad you worked well enough together to not need to speak. With merely hand signals and grunts, you successfully managed to depart D’Qar and slip into space.

Once safely in hyperspace, Poe left you alone in the cockpit to engage BB8 for auto-piloting the cruiser, secretly relieved when you didn’t come into the small cabin once you’d completed the task. Content to give you as wide a berth as he could in the tiny ship, Poe spent the first few hours of travel lounging on his bunk, reading.

Poe was used to being alone in his x-wing, even if there was a conversation over comms, it was always just him and BB8. But the planet was far enough away that you needed to take a ship built for longer journeys. This meant brushing against one another more often than either of you would have liked, for a few days more than was ideal. Especially given the current climate of your relationship.

It meant sleeping on bunk beds, Poe one the top bunk because he could easily climb up with his height advantage over you. As second in command, you were tasked with ensuring Poe and yourself were fed, watered, and debriefed on the little known about the planet where you were heading. It had been during the mission the week prior, where you had been hit by the Storm Trooper, that BB8 had stolen the data needed to find this outpost.

Poe’s duties were to keep an eye on the ship status, update the mission report and study whatever materials you sent his way to prepare, until arriving at the destination. And to ensure that his team worked well together, which was why he was going to try and walk around on eggshells.

It was when he was warming his dinner rations the first day that he realized you hadn’t ever come out of the cockpit, not for lunch or even a trip to the fresher. With a sigh, he warmed a ration for you and carried both into the cockpit. You glanced up when he entered, your frown morphing into suspicious surprise when he handed you your plate and drink wordlessly. He managed to sit down in the pilot’s seat and get himself comfortable before you spoke.

“Did you poison it?”

Poe rolled his eyes and glanced toward you, his eyes falling to the datapad you had resting on one knee. You were reading a newspaper from a planet he’d never heard of.

“Yes.” He replied swiftly, before pointing at the tablet, “How’d you get that?” His eyes narrowed when you smirked.

“Seriously?” You replied, taking a bite of dinner and dropping your gaze back to the article you had been reading, attempting to brush him off.

Poe scoffed, “Did you ask MY droid to load that on there for you?”

When you looked back at Poe, your brows were raised in surprise, “Did you really not notice BB8 in my room when you walked by this morning?”

You gave him an exasperated look when he shrugged because truthfully his mind had wandered when he’d opened his door that morning. Yours was open as a service droid was carrying out your supplies to take to the ship. You had glanced up when Poe moved into the hall, shot him a glare and then returned to whatever you had been doing crouched on the ground, which he now supposed must have been taking the newspaper data from BB8.

He hadn’t noticed his droid because his eyes had immediately fallen on the corkboard above your desk, where you had posted several photos, the largest of which was the same one he tapped every morning before leaving his room.

You frowned when he didn’t reply straight away; Poe tore his gaze from yours to look at his food. “Had other things on my mind,” He finally said, taking a large bite of his meal and speaking with his mouth full, he added, “And ask next time you want to have my droid do you a favour.”

In response, you merely gave a small, cold laugh, returning to your article. Silence fell between Poe and you again. Eventually, he finished eating and decided to head to bed and read until you came out of the cockpit. He took your plate from you wordlessly, not lingering to find out if you thanked him.

A few hours later, you slipped quietly out of the cockpit and made your way to the fresher, where he heard you have a quick shower before getting ready for bed. Poe was reclined on the top bunk, comfortably laying on both his and your pillows when you emerged, and he bit back a smile as he waited for you to look at your bunk.

You sighed. “Can I have my pillow back, please?” Your voice was tight and Poe smirked, aware that he was decidedly not walking on eggshells at that moment.

He sat up, grabbing the top pillow, “Well since you’ve asked so polite-“ Poe broke off as he looked down at you, his gaze dropping below yours. He gripped the pillow in one hand as surprise swept through him upon seeing what you were wearing to bed. It was one of Charlie’s old shirts.

He’d recognize it anywhere because Charlie wore that shirt all the time; it was one of his favourites. It had been a gift from you though Poe couldn’t remember the occasion. His heart constricting at the sight of you dwarfed in your dead older brother's shirt, Poe let out a quiet breath, at a loss for words. The shirt had a few holes in it from being worn so many times.

“Kriff, my face is up here, asshole!” You snapped, and Poe was abruptly pulled from his thoughts. Meeting your angry gaze and then registering your words, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Honey,” He drawled, using the nickname he’d heard Rush call you the night before. When your face pinched with fury he knew he’d hit his mark. Poe jumped down from the top bunk, carelessly tossing your pillow behind him before taking a measured step toward you. “I recognize the shirt, that’s all.”

Glaring up at Poe, you flashed your white teeth before replying, “You recognize my shirt, so you stare at my chest for a solid minute?” Crossing your arms, you let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

Poe bristled, “Damn, you really have me cast as the worst kind of villain, don’t you? Poe Dameron, Rebel fuck boy. Poe Dameron, pervert with no fucking soul or moral code,” He was seething, leaning over you now, getting just as worked up as he’d promised himself he’d avoid. He gestured at your shirt vaguely, “Poe Dameron, sees a woman in a shirt and must be staring at her tits. Couldn’t possibly be that I see you wearing my dead best friend's old shirt and have any human feelings about that, right (y/n)? Because I ruined us,” He pointed first at you, then to himself, “It means that I don’t miss Charlie, don’t ever think about him, don’t have happy memories that make me sad.”

You were frowning up at Poe as he yelled, a mixture of surprise and confusion evident in your expression. For a moment, you both just stared at one another, and Poe thought you might be at a loss of how to respond. Until you did. Of course, you fucking did.

“You are the villain. You said what, the other day, that I abandoned you? How do you-I left after you deserted me!” Your voice was shaky with emotion, “You weren’t there for me for the funeral, and then you completely broke my heart and just walked away. Got into your ship and fucking disappeared,” Your voice cracked, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes; you hastily wiped them away, “Left me, all alone. I didn’t leave right away, Poe. I packed, I asked for a new assignment off-planet, and you still were just fucking gone. So I left, and you think it’s unfair of me to think of you as the villain?”

“Do you think I didn’t regret everything I fucking said the moment I said it? That I don’t know-didn’t know-how badly I fucked up?” Poe shouted back, “I tried to find you! You blocked me from being able to find you and tell you I was sorry. Didn’t even think you would forgive me, but you still deserved to hear me beg for forgiveness and work to make it up to you,” Poe took a step back from you, running a hand tiredly over his face, “What I did was the worst thing I’ve ever done, my biggest regret. I didn’t mean anything I said to you, I lo-I took out my guilt, my grief, on you and I know it was wrong. But you can’t twist everything I do now to fit into that version of me, it’s not fair.”

“Fair? Right, okay, I’m not being fair.”

“No,” Poe’s voice came out in a near whisper as he glared at you, “No, you’re acting like a brat, ever since you came back, and I’m kind of over it.”

Your eyes widened in fury, but before you could answer Poe swiftly stepped around you and shut himself into the fresher. He didn’t want to fight any longer, and he knew you would just be going back and forth at one another all night, neither of you willing to be wrong. So he turned on the water and had a brief rinse off under cold water and hoped tomorrow would be a little less terrible.

MISSION DAY SIX

You could feel Poe’s eyes on the side of your head as you walked. As much as you wanted to turn around and ask him to stop because you could basically hear his horrified, guilty thoughts screaming at you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

You were struggling with your own mortification, jumping from memories of what had happened to concerns about what would happen next. What could even happen next?

How things had been between Poe and you up to yesterday could no longer be the case, not after this mission. You just didn’t know what that meant now.

As much as you considered, during the two-hour walk back to the ship, leaving D’Qar and Black Squadron once you returned from the mission, you knew you could never do that. That you wouldn’t do it.

You couldn’t run again, but how the hell were you going to stay?

Everything had changed last night. And you could remember every single detail of how.

MISSION DAY THREE

You woke first on the morning of the third day in hyperspace, blearily looking at your wrist comm to see it was fairly early morning back in D’Qar. With a small sigh, you stretched your body before climbing out of the lower bunk and stepping across the small cabin into the fresher. When you emerged, Poe was still fast asleep and you set about making caf as quietly as possible, knowing the longer he slept meant that much more time for you to enjoy peaceful silence.

As much as you’d both been on eggshells around each other since your latest fight, the tension and silence were thick and heavy and draining. As angry as you’d gotten as he shouted at you, guilt had wormed its way into your mind the more he had let slip how much he’d been hurting. The truth was, you hadn’t wanted to believe he could be hurting, preferring to close him into a box where he was simply a terrible person, through and through, when you knew that wasn’t Poe Dameron at all.

He had done a terrible thing, yes. But he wasn’t evil, he didn’t deserve the vitriol, the cold shoulder, as much as you dished it out these past few days, did he? On the other hand, you felt if you let up on that treatment entirely, it would be akin to forgiving him, letting him off the hook for his fuck up.

You thought that you were treating him how he deserved to be. You had convinced yourself he was the villain. When he’d called you a brat, it hit you a moment later that you were being a huge fucking brat. He didn’t deserve your friendship, forgiveness, but he also didn’t deserve how you’d treated him the past several days.

You sat in the cockpit leisurely reading another newspaper BB8 had loaded onto your datapad before the mission. Poe had grumbled about it, but you had always enjoyed reading highlights from around the galaxies, it was like a little guilty pleasure for you. You lounged for half an hour, sipping your caf and enjoying an article that discussed the art of moisture farming before you heard movement in the cabin.

You strained your ears, listening for Poe to enter the fresher. Once you heard that door swoosh closed, you abandoned your article to head into the cabin and begin packing your bags for arrival. Based on your best calculations, you’d be arriving early the next morning and wanted everything to be ready to hit the ground running. You set the two bags onto the foot of your bunk and then dumped all of the supplies in several armfuls over the rest of your bed.

You were mindlessly sorting, doing inventory and packing everything when Poe eventually emerged from the fresher. He said nothing, quietly getting his caf before heating a ration.

You hadn’t eaten yet yourself, so you decided you would get your ration once he’d gone into the cockpit to avoid you. You were caught by surprise when you turned from his pack, where you’d just stuffed in his protective outerwear, to see your ration warmed up on a plate, set onto your bunk next to you.

You stared at the food for a moment before glancing up just in time to see the stiff set of Poe’s shoulders disappear as the cockpit door closed. You blinked a few times before moving to sit down and eat your breakfast, the sudden tightness in your chest ensuring the food tasted of nothing.

-

You cleared your throat awkwardly when you entered the cockpit later that afternoon. Poe hadn’t emerged and as much as you were glad for space, you knew he needed to eat. And you kept thinking of how he’d ensured you had your breakfast when you were heating your lunch.

He didn’t look around when you came in, his eyes remaining on the book open in his lap until you held out his plate of rations into his line of sight. He gave you a weary look before taking the plate, “Thank you.”

You shrugged, then took your seat. He watched you in surprise but didn’t comment. “I think, um. We’ll be arriving early tomorrow and I think we should just go over a few things now if that’s alright?” You glanced up at Poe when he didn’t reply straight away, only to find him curiously searching your face, confused by your near timid behaviour. You swallowed uncomfortably.  

He turned to his food after a moment, spooning a large amount into his mouth before nodding at you. With that, you began to go over a summary of your notes and data on the planet, the outpost and surrounding jungle conditions. Poe listened as he ate, occasionally nodding his understanding.

“If we have to hike in, I should warn you the time zone we are landing in is at its peak of summer. So it’ll be extremely muggy during the day.” You finished speaking abruptly and Poe glanced up from his food and met your eyes.

“Well as much as I like a good hike, let’s try to get as close to the outpost as possible.”

You hummed in response, looking away as a heavy silence fell between you. Entirely at a loss, you simply sat together for a while before eventually, you decided to do weapons check in preparation for the next day.

When you stood, you had to brush by Poe. Instead of continuing to avoid looking at you, he peered up as you moved, his eyes tired, and you felt something tighten within you. Heat crawled up your neck and you hurriedly ducked out of the cockpit.

MISSION DAY FOUR

Excitement had overtaken Poe, as it usually did when a mission was well underfoot. This was compounded further by the knowledge that, very shortly, he’d be set free from the stifling tension of the ship. It had drained his mental energy enough that even if you’d told him that he had to wade through molten lava to get to the outpost, he’d happily take the lead. Naked. Blindfolded. He just needed out.

You had everything prepared the night before, so all that needed to happen in the early hours of the morning of arrival was pulling out of hyperspace, approaching the outpost and scanning for a landing zone. The base wasn’t constructed to have an outdoor hangar, as it would defeat the purpose of being hidden, but Poe had hoped there would be a spot somewhere around the facility. Given the abandoned state of the planet, however, he didn’t let his hopes climb too high.

He’d heard your frustration as you ran the ground scans and came up short, your breath huffing out in disappointment. He let you work through it, knowing you were more than capable of finding the next best option, though he couldn’t agree more that it was a letdown there would be the need for a hike. The longer the mission took, the longer you were stuck alone together.

You sat up straight once you’d found an area to land, throwing Poe a triumphant look as you pointed on the radar. “This will do, Commander. Two-hour hike, along a river that will provide a decent nav-point, look it leads straight through the outpost.” Your finger traced along a line excitedly.

Poe leaned over to look closely, examining the map and seeing no flaw in your plan, not that he thought he would. It was his job to double-check, to make the final call, but with you, as his second in command, it was hard to justify the need to do it-you were simply that good. He drew in a breath to reply only for his brain to stutter as your freshly showered, peachy scent filled his head.

With a slight frown, Poe leaned away before speaking, keeping his eyes fixed on the map. “Set the course, Major.”

“Commander.” You agreed, setting to it. Poe left the cockpit then, heading to gear up and check his blaster over while you took the ship in to land. By the time he’d finished pulling on his pack, holstering his blaster and ensuring his wrist comm was good to go, you had successfully landed the ship and given control over to BB8.

“Alright, buddy, take care of things while we’re gone and no parties!” Poe called to his droid, who replied in the affirmative before telling Poe to be careful. He chuckled warmly, punching the button for the ramp to lower as you finished gearing up and came to stand next to him.

Poe made to start down the ramp, stopping when you suddenly grabbed his arm, turning to look down at you in surprise. You released your grip and gestured outside. “I know it was in my reports, but I have to say it again-don’t touch anything, especially if it’s colourful. I overpacked on med supplies in case we come into contact with something poisonous, but we don’t know a lot of the species of plants and animals here.” You reached up and brushed some hair out of your eyes, “If we have to move quickly for any reason, try to pick the most open path, okay?”

Poe cocked a brow, “You think some plant will be worse than whatever’s making us run?”

You shrugged, following Poe as he began to descend the ramp. Immediately the cool hull of the ship disappeared, replaced by the humid air of the jungle planet. It smelled similar to Yavin-4, and as Poe took a deep breath, feeling almost nostalgic, he heard you do the same before replying.

“Honestly, I’m hoping we don’t find out.”

-

Within twenty minutes of a steady pace through the jungle, first in the direction of the nearby river and then shifting North to follow along its banks, Poe was soaked in sweat. You hadn’t understated the humidity, and though you had broth grown up on a planet with similar weather, it did feel a little heavier here. And the jungle surrounding you both was thick, densely packed with trees so tall and substantial that not a ton of light from the single sun made its way to the jungle floor. Though, if the shade was offering any reprieve from the heat Poe couldn’t fucking tell.

The air had sweetened somewhat once he’d followed you from the small field into the jungle and Poe, though on high alert for any threats as you lead the way, couldn’t help but admire all of the colour interspersed through the greenery. It was no wonder you had reminded him to avoid anything colourful, for the jungle floor was full of every colour imaginable, as beautiful as it was dangerous.

Thankfully, as you had predicted, moving along the bank of the river was the safest option, a long winding path of densely packed mud and rocks leading you to the outpost without having to brush against every bush you passed. The river wasn’t flowing too quickly, but it did give a subtle backdrop of sound that made the quiet between Poe and you less noticeable.

After just over an hour of walking, Poe was feeling grateful that the combat gear you each wore was as moisture-wicking as it was, though he had to keep wiping sweat from his forehead before it could fall into his eyes. It was one of the times he turned his head at an awkward angle to wipe his brow that his eyes caught movement in the distance, and though he kept walking behind you he fixed his gaze to the general area as he filled with alarm.

After a few minutes, he relaxed, fractionally, when nothing further moved. Still, he kept his eyes surveying the area, worrying at his bottom lip as he did. He was considering that the research and information about this planet didn’t pull a lot of data on living creatures, and as much as he was coiled for an attack he could just as easily have seen some sort of bird or rodent moving up a tree. His concentration on your surroundings was pulled when you suddenly let out a little gasp as you tripped on a root.

Without thought, Poe reached out and grabbed the back of your shirt before you could fall over completely, lifting you and setting you back on your feet. Embarrassed, you mumbled your thanks and looked away from Poe, who had been eyeing you to make sure you were alright. When your eyes landed somewhere just behind him and widened in horror, Poe was moving before you could open your mouth to warn him, instincts taking over.

Grabbing your upper arm, Poe urged you both forward quickly while pulling his blaster free with his other hand. You copied him, making no attempt to shake his grip and following his lead in shooting over his shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked, sparing you a glance and letting you go once you nodded and he was sure you were steady on your feet again, “Run.” And you did, neither of you wasting any time in shifting into sprints along the riverbed.

Poe looked over his shoulder and saw the creature he’d sensed earlier, cursing because it wasn’t just a rodent, and it looked like it most definitely ate humans.

It almost looked like a wolf, but it was about twice the size of any Poe had ever seen and its jaws were tightly packed with long, pointed teeth that would surely be able to pull limbs off without much effort. It was pursuing at Poe’s four o’clock, running carelessly through the many bushes and plants as it gained on you both, the only thing stopping it from lunging were the many thick trunked trees.

Firing a few more shots and cursing when they made no impact-clearly the beasts' sides were too thick for the blaster to cause harm-Poe shouted at you. “How far away are we?”

“At this pace ten minutes or so!”

“Fuck, okay, any idea what this thing is?”

You grunted, jumping over a fallen branch and glancing back at the monster, “Looks hungry, we should probably avoid letting it catch up to us.”

Poe swore again, picking up his pace and then aiming a few more shots over his shoulder carefully. The first few missed, but the third shot made contact with one of the beasts' eyes and it let out a roar of pain before barreling through the tree line and coming up right behind you both.

“Fucking shit, looks like we’re testing the theory of which is worse, sweetheart!” He barked, grabbing your arm and pulling you off the river path and into the jungle. Neither of you stopped, though Poe took the lead in running through the dense brush in hopes of keeping leaves and branches from hitting your face. His height advantage kept him just above most of the potentially dangerous plants.

He heard you continue shooting, then give a small whoop at the same moment another roar filled the air-you had hit it again. The heavy steps of the creature faded. Poe glanced over his shoulder to see if it had stopped. He didn’t see the beast anywhere, just you running slightly behind him until-

With a cry of his name, you suddenly sprinted to close the distance between you both and then tackled Poe to the ground, the impact, angle and speed making you both roll through the plants and bushes he’d been trying to avoid. Poe roared with indignation as he slammed right into the trunk of a large tree, coughing as dust filled his lungs. Seeing you on the ground next to him, he grabbed you and pulled you close, listening for any sounds of pursuit as you coughed along with him.

The tree you had tackled him into had a large bush at the base, which served as a decent enough hiding spot. You each waited for any sounds, but when nothing came Poe carefully led the way out, his eyes searching all over, almost overwhelmed at the abundance of colour surrounding you within the jungle. You both stumbled back toward the riverbank, reorienting yourselves until Poe looked around at you.

Closing the gap between you in two steps, Poe gripped the front of your shirt with both hands before shoving you into the nearest tree, “What the fuck was that?” He shouted, surprised to see you panting heavily and appearing unaffected by his violent outburst.

Shocked at his behaviour, Poe released you.

He was panting too, he realized.

“You almost ran over that edge up there, forty-foot drop.” You explained heavily, looking down at your clothing. “We’re covered in, what is this?” He watched as you patted your shoulder and dust hit the air, shimmering slightly in the light.

Since when did dust shimmer?

Poe glanced down at himself and found he was covered as well, copying you to try and get it off. “That bush had red flowers, did you notice?”

You nodded, frowning, “Yeah, not one of the few BB8 was able to identify. This could be its pollen.” You began to walk and Poe stepped in stride next to you, both of you walking along out of standard formation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized this. He just didn’t care, all of the sudden.

The base came in to view after a few minutes and Poe released a breath of relief. He hadn’t looked at you for a while, and something in his gut was telling him not to, though he had no idea why. He focused on searching for an entry point, trying to ignore how much hotter he felt, how the once comfortable clothing he had on now felt almost scratchy and he wished he could peel it off.

His skin felt...sensitive. Weirdly and increasingly sensitive. And still, he resisted the urge to look at you and see if you were experiencing anything similar. Looking at you didn’t feel safe.

Locating a doorway, you followed Poe and dropped to your knees to pry open the circuit board and play with the wires to get the door to release its lock so it could be manually opened. As he waited for you to work, his eyes dropped to stare at the back of your neck, where he could see the sweat dripping, the hair at the nape of your neck, below your bun, curling in the moisture. Just as he noticed how much you were sweating, he realized he was as well. Like, completely soaked.

Stars, he needed out of these clothes.

He didn’t even feel happy when you managed to break the door security and pry it open, nor any relief when he followed you inside and found the air in the abandoned, stone corridor outpost significantly cooler than outside. He simply followed you as you took a few steps down the corridor, stopping at the entrance to a room that’s door was open, peering in before taking a few steps inside.

It appeared to be some sort of old meeting room, a large marble table running the length, though most of the seats were gone and otherwise the space was unfurnished. This wasn’t a room of interest, and you seemed to decide this a moment before Poe, turning on your heel and looking up to meet his eyes as you did.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Poe looked back into your eyes as that gut feeling shouted again not to look at you, but it was too late.

A low growl tore from his chest, and Poe was stalking forward.

+

Poe was moving toward you and every muscle in your body was coiled, ready to run, your mind all but screaming at you to get the fuck away from him. But you didn’t, you couldn’t, you stood rooted to the spot as he made to close the distance between you both, growling as he did.

You knew something had been wrong since leaving the jungle. You had been sweaty and much too hot, and you almost started crying when you’d been trying to get the door to open to the outpost because your skin was aflame and you needed to get the layers off of it for relief.

And you’d felt...you couldn’t exactly describe it, but you just knew you shouldn’t look up at Poe as he breathed heavily behind you, something deep within you telling you that things were off. Very, very off. Whatever was happening, it was overtaking Poe more aggressively than you at this point.

It had to be the pollen, you realized with growing horror. If the pooling of heat in your belly was any clue, that red flower had to be an unidentified fertility plant. But you’d studied fertility plants, and none that you knew of were this intense. You’d only been exposed, what, ten minutes? And yet you were both sweaty and overcome already.

And Poe didn’t look like himself anymore, something in him snapped the moment he met your eyes. He looked like a predator. Scarier than the beast outside that had chased you.

He was a breath away when you heard yourself let out a whimper, a mixture of fear and longing that seemed to stop him in his tracks, his eyes widening. He stood rooted to the spot but visibly struggled to lean away from you, horror replacing the dark look he’d had moments before.

“What, what the f-fuck is happening?” He gasped, closing his eyes as if in pain.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking hot, I need to get out of these clothes!” You cried out, yanking your shirt from where it was tucked into your khakis desperately. “I think it was a fertility plant, Poe, we have to g-get out of our clothes. Cov-covered in pollen.” It was starting to hurt just to breathe, to speak, to not be touching Poe.

He gave a moan indicating he was equally as uncomfortable, opening his eyes again.

When he looked down at you, the dawning horror overflowed. His eyes, normally soft and honey-coloured, were completely black. His gaze locked onto yours and a smirk replaced his fearful look, and as much as it scared you, you couldn’t look away, heat and wetness now pooling between your legs in anticipation.

“Little girl,” He growled, his body locked tight still but his eyes devouring you, “Look at what you’re doing to me.” He demanded, his hand moving to palm over his crotch where-

Stars, even with his pants still on you could see the outline of his erection, and you whimpered again. This was going to happen, there was no stopping it, you could feel that despite everything inside of you fighting to step away, to run, that when you did move it would be straight for him.

The pollen from this plant would kill you both if you didn’t follow your urges, that much you knew. You’d studied the tales of this strength of a fertility plant, and you knew the dangers that it could pose. You might both die anyway, now that you’d been exposed. It could be strong enough that you’d both just fuck until you died, and you knew that should scare you but...you felt yourself fading into the back of your mind, the heat enveloping you everywhere. Taking over.

You moaned again, still fighting the need to close the distance between Poe and you because you needed him to understand what was happening. “We can’t stop,” You gasped out, and then you watched as the darkness in Poe’s eyes faded slightly and his horrified expression returned-he was trying to fight the pollen.

“Run, (y/n), g-get away before, f-fuck I need y-you so bad,” He was trying to step back from you but unable to fight the burning need, the desire. You saw tears slip from his eyes, “Can’t control my-myself, sweetheart, r-run p-please.”

Tears leaked out of your eyes as you only stepped toward Poe, feeling yourself disappearing further in further into the back of your mind, “We have to, Poe,” He was again only a few inches away now, and what a sight it must be as you each stood so close, fighting against the pollen’s wishes and trying to pull back from one another with no success, “W-we might d-die, can’t f-fight this, oh fuck PLEASE!” You suddenly felt the heat reach a boiling point and absolutely needed Poe to touch you.

“Sweetheart,” He groaned, “F-fight me, don’t, don’t let me hurt y-you, we ha-have to fight it!”

“POE,” You screamed, the last of your true self speaking, “I promise i-it’s o-kay, ple-please, I don’t wa-want t-t-to die!” And the band within you snapped, and you were moving into Poe at the same moment his eyes turned black again and then, quite suddenly, he was on you.

If only everything could have gone black at that point.

Taglist 

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812​ @poedameronloverx​

[angryschnauzer]

Imagine you're Henry's neighbour, you've heard his conquests, have to admit you're a little jealous as they all sound happy. But it make you wonder if they are faking it.

You chat to friend on the phone whilst in the garden, not realising he can hear you.

The knock on your door later that evening was unexpected but when you see your hot neighbour there you have no idea why.

Until he offers to show you just why those other women were so happy

Okay so i decided to continue my PE Teacher Henry series with this one, previous parts below:

Thigh Riding,  Jingle My Bells , An Epic Quickie

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of Angst, talk of breakups, young idiots in love.

The Boy Next Door

The sun was shining and the sounds of late summer could be heard as the four of you settled on dining chairs that had been pulled out onto the ramshackle patio so you could celebrate moving into the shared house for your last year of Uni and doing Post-Graduate for teaching. Opening a chilled bottle of Echo Falls Rose Zinfandel, Marie sloshed it into the four waiting glasses, handing on to each of you;

“Here’s to just one more year of Uni, then we can be set free onto the world of teaching education rather than being taught!”

The four of you had all done your degree’s together, and by the end of your 3rd year you had moved into a shared house to save on halls of residence costs. When you’d all decided to attend the same Uni for your Post Graduates qualification it was the easy choice to decide to rent together, and you’d manage to snag a gorgeous multi level Victorian town house to rent for the year. The landlord had admitted a few things needed to be updated, but it was a short walk from campus so in exchange for a reduction in rent you’d found the perfect place. 

By the time the 3rd bottle of Zinfandel was opened you were all pleasantly merry, and from the advantage point of the raised patio where the garden dipped away as it went downhill you could see the road that ran alongside the house next door that yours was connected to. The corner house had looked a lot more appealing, but the rent had been considerably higher, so the compromise was that you’d rented the one away from the street corner. Just at that moment another Removals Truck pulled up alongside the corner house, and you could hear various cars park behind it, the sound of young male voices easily heard. It was obvious you had a group of male students living next door.

-

Three weeks into term and you were sat at the desk in your room, glaring at the wall in front of you. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on how to teach fronted adverbials, the screams of the woman obviously on the verge on an orgasm from the guys house next door just reminded you of your lack of love life. With a sigh you set your pencil down and headed downstairs, away from the obvious now orgasming woman.

“Oh hey Hunny, thought you were catching up on some English Lit stuff?” Marie smiled as she poked at an egg she was attempting to fry on the small electric cooker.

“I was… until there was another screamer next door”

“Oh… another one?” she winced, knowing that from the 2nd day the guys next door had moved in, the one that was in the room next to you had been able to bed a different girl about every three nights or so.

You grabbed a glass of water and stepped outside, letting the sunshine warm your face. Opening your Motorolla Flip Phone you scrolled through your texts, smiling as you saw messages from last years classmates, checking in on how everyone was doing. You were vaguely aware of Marie coming outside, setting a plate down on the patio wall and the click of her lighter as she lit a Royals cigarette.

“You still miss him, don’t you?” she asked.

Pulling your gaze up to her, your eyes immediately growing wet. Nodding you swallowed the lump in your throat. Wrapping your arms around your body you looked out over the garden;

“I know… it’s stupid. Its been two years, and it was a mutual decision to part ways, but Henry was my first, you know? He was my first everything. We got together when we were sixteen, we made it through our A-Levels together, we even managed a year doing long distance when we didn’t get into the same Uni…”

“What about that dude… Chris? Didn’t you two have a thing a while back”

You let out a laugh;

“He loves his politics too much to commit to a relationship. If i had to listen to one more rant about Tony Blair whilst we tried to go out for dinner i would have screamed…”

You looked at Marie who was now halfway through her fried egg sandwich whilst her cigarette sat smouldering in the petunias that had mostly gone over for the season, and she gave you the ‘sad puppy eyes’ as she chewed. You let out a grunt of frustration;

“FUCK! I just want to not feel like this anymore! I’ve spent two years moping over Henry-fucking-Cavill, i just want to be able to get on with my post graduate and move on with my life without being constantly reminded of his skills every time i try to do any work in my room!”

-

Henry smiled and waved as Monica, no Michelle, no… wait… whoever made their way down the front steps of the house, closing the door with a sigh of relief. 

“Another one dude?”

Looking at where Anthony was coming down the stairs he nodded;

“Yup. Sorry about the noise” 

He followed his housemate through to the kitchen, switching the kettle on. He was now used to Henry’s conquests screaming the house down, but it was still fun to taunt Henry about the noise they would make;

“So, this was was faking it again?”

Henry looked at him in mock-shock;

“I can assure you none of them fake it”

Chucking teabags into two mugs Anthony chuckled;

“I know man. But i also know you’re still trying to fill the void she left. Its been two years man”

“Yeah, but she’s long gone, i’m her past, i’d only drag her down. She’s probably got some hot politics graduate about to propose to her. She wouldn’t want some dumb physical education ass like me anymore”

Handing him the strong cup of tea Anthony nodded;

“Whatever man, but i still think you should message her, you haven’t spoken in two years and you’re still hung up on her, one last try, huh?”

Heading out to the garden Henry sat on the patio wall and lit a cigarette. He’d sworn he’d never smoke again, what with being a physical education student, but there were still times when he buckled to his nerves and stresses. Lighting up he inhaled deeply, enjoying the quiet of the garden before he heard his neighbours come out onto the patio next door. Through the trellis covered in a thick layer of ivy he could hear everything, as although it did a great job at giving visual privacy, the clear voices of the young women next door carried easily through the greenery.

Ten minutes later Henry almost knocked Anthony over as he bolted up the stairs;

“Sorry man, got something to do… gotta get my Blackberry”

-

The next morning you were on your way to class when your phone chimed, looking at the screen you felt your blood run hot then cold at the name on the display;

“What does he want?” you muttered to yourself, before with a sigh you pushed the phone back into your bag, deciding to look at it later once you had finished your class. The last thing you needed to get your mind off of Henry was a text from him.

-

Making your way out to the patio, you threw your bag onto the sofa and smiled as you saw the rest of the girls already out enjoying the last of the days sunshine;

“Heeeyyyyy there she is” Janelle called, sipping from a bottle of Becks

“Is there any more of those? I need a drink”

Handing you a bottle Marie smiled as you smashed the cap off using the top brick of the wall, sipping the tart bubbles of Lager you let out a sigh;

“Henry texted me today”

The three girls went quiet before Jo spoke;

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it. I’m trying to get over him, the last thing i need is getting my hopes up. He’s hundreds of miles away, no doubt doing something super sporty that only makes him look even better, probably coaching kids rugby or something. He’s not gonna want some boring English teacher wannabe like me”

At the mere mention of the word ‘Wannabe’ the others broke into a poor rendition of the Spice Girls song, unaware of the silent frustration happening the other side of the ivy trellis.

-

After one beer you’d excused yourself, deciding to take advantage of the quiet to get some coursework done, thankful that your room neighbour on the other side of the wall wasn’t entertaining any female guests again, but you had no idea how long that would last so the sooner you got some work done the better. With your bedroom window open you got back to work, getting in a full hour before your phone chimed again with another text. Glancing at the little screen on the front you scowled, another text from Henry.

Setting the phone down you went back to your work, frowning as you struggled to concentrate, until five minutes later your phone chimed again, your eyes going wide when you saw it was yet another text from Henry;

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” you yelled at your phone.

“A REPLY!”

You sat at your desk, surely your ears were now playing tricks on you, you could have sworn you’d heard Henry’s voice. With a sigh you set your pencil down and opened your phone, reading the messages;

Received 8.46am: Hi. I know its been a long time but i’d love to call you at some point. Would be good to hear your voice. Hen. x

Received 4.55pm: Miss you. Can I call you? Hen. x

The phone beeped whilst you held it, another text coming in;

Received 4.59pm:

Look outside.

Glancing at your window you moved to it and looked out, before a voice so familiar it sent chills down your spine shouted out;

“Down here!”

-

Janelle shouted out as you flew down the stairs, Jo and Marie both staring at the blur you made as you ran past the lounge and out the front door, letting it swing on its hinges;

“Where is she going so fast?”

The three girls stood at the window and smiled as they wanted to run into Henry’s arms;

“Into her future Husband’s embrace” Marie sighed, the three watching as the young lovers fell back into each other's arms.

“Wait, is he the ‘loud’ one?” Jo asked to no-one in particular

“Unfortunately… i spoke to one of the other guys - Anthony - last week, he apologised for his housemates noises”

“Oh well… guess she can get us some ear plugs then”