#the final classification is out so I finally feel like we can breathe easy and celebrate

[meova101]

Yes I do think I'm very funny

[sneasedtomeetyou]

At least all of you appreciate me! Rather than replying with the same story to each of you, I will simply recount it here if that's quite alright!

So these past few years regulations have been contested in regards to rare pokemon. With the relatively recent increased visibility of pokemon native to regions such as Hisui, there's been a push to include them in tournament play. Keep in mind that obtaining these pokemon is not easy and in many cases heavily restricted. There are groups that breed pokemon like Hisuian growlithe, but they're typically bred for working and not for battling. They aren't available in high numbers, and they aren't as well known about by the average trainer, making them often expensive and high maintenance. Not to mention, the rarity of this pokemon means knowledge on how to counter them in modern battling is limited at best. It's the ultimate wild card.

Allowing them in tournament play is still considered a controversial decision by many. Ultimately they've been allowed as many other extremely rare pokemon have been permitted in high level tournaments for decades. Another controversial instance of this was the Lily of the Valley Conference in 2010 that was won by a trainer with a Latios and a Darkrai! Darkrai was especially controversial as it is part of a classification of pokemon so rare that it's typically banned from tournament battling. It's nothing new, as unfair as it may sound.

Multiple finalists this year had obtained rare pokemon that the general public knows little to nothing about. It drew in some of the largest crowds we've seen for a tournament hosted in Alola. Regardless of their opinions on the entire thing, it seemed pretty clear that people were curious about how these pokemon battled.

Sneasler was a sought after pokemon for these sorts of tournaments, actually. Their high speed and devastating dire claw attacks would be extremely useful, but the breeding program is still too early on for me to feel comfortable giving many of these out. While I've considered gifting a Sneasel to a well respected Sinnohan Frontier Brain, selling them is never going to be on the table for me. Though it's been pretty clear by the existence of pokemon like Cheddar that... something is going on. Anyways. Focusing on the things we know for a fact.

Another controversy this year if you can believe it is one of the quarter finalists was also disqualified for unsportsmanlike behavior after winning a match. He performed some... questionable gestures on broadcast television and his match was disqualified several hours after the fact. His opponent then had to be notified that despite losing he will, in fact, be moving on. This isn't how this sort of thing is usually resolved, so the decision stunned a lot of people. This meant that someone who lost the quarter finals was moving to the semifinals. His team that included a strange seemingly... robotic tyranitar people questioned the legitimacy of from the very start considering it looked more like a movie prop than a living breathing pokemon, then won the semifinals. Then, in an extremely close best of three match managed to win the entire tournament.

And despite how fascinating all of this is including the fact they had to prove this pokemon was actually alive and not just a robot someone was attempting to pass off as a pokemon, Amy was not in the mood to hear it as I was looking further into the details. New information regarding these teams and the disqualification have been coming out more or less by the hour, so I've been following it closely.

[septusuki]

"Last time," they are at the meeting point. Strictly, a hill two miles north-east of it. The actual 'meeting point' has become a government hide, and was promptly abandoned. "Last time, you were larger." Standing, and looking pensively at the sunset, A crosses her arms in a slow confusion. It's rare that she encounters issues that throttle her to her very core.

"I was—?!" B scowls, almost screams. Sitting, still working off her body's exhaustion from the short hike, B glares up at A before remembering her stature. "I was larger. But that was due to a genetic misprint in the body's birth." She tries to explain between pants, wheezing as she growls at her partner. Her partner-thing. Not a partner yet, but a partner-to-be, most certainly. "Do not mistake yourself. It was not due to a lapse in my own judgement!" Pausing, for a few seconds, to type up the line in her brain, check it for typos, and then re-write it to make sure she's taken out the anger, B wishes she could stand, so she could stare A down and curse her for that cocky streak she's always had.

"I am not blaming you," A concedes, turning finally to look at B. "Of course I am not." She drones, speaking in robotic tones, as if every word between the two are just platitudes. Proceedings, in a ritual's foregone conclusion. "But,"

"But?" B forgets to remove the bite from her voice, as she chomps and chews back at A's accusations. She smacks her forearm quickly, to punish herself; to punish her body, for becoming so heated and frothing, so easily. Usually, she isn't like this. "Get to the point, A-61." She drawls her partner's true classification, as the 61st reincarnation of the woman she's betrothed to.

"If you'd stop interrupting me, I could." A snickers back, so easily plying B between her fingers. "This time, you're rather confrontational, aren't you? B-78." A purrs as she reminds B that she, too, has access to the same librarius codecs as her. "But that is beyond the point." She clears her throat, tying up one of the knots in her duster-coat as the evening's cool air settles around them. The tension smooths itself out, as though the atmosphere itself is aware that the little tip is over. "But you are larger this time, too. Care to illuminate me, as to why?" She sneers, pacing over to her benchbound partner.

B gasps, both in frustration and outrage. She is letting herself get worked up too simply; her matrix tells her that much, without a second's notice. "Leftover habits from last time. Leftovers that are refusing to leave my matrix." She whirrs, leaning forwards, and feeling the rub of her tummy rolls, underneath her sweater. This time, she had started slim. Slimmer than A, even; which only makes the fact that she's gotten this large, more of a complete failure.

"You hope." Decoding the wires and lines traced across B-78's face is a pathetically easy task. "You hope." A repeats, taking her place on the bench next to her partner. She smirks, and reaches out a hand, to place it on B's shoulder. "But. I ought to tell you a secret," leaning in close, she's almost whispering. Her black bob's fringe falls around her face as she gets close enough to breathe the husky sweat clouds formed from B's exhaustion.

"A secret?!" Shivering from shame as A grows closer and closer still, B resists the urge to shove the girl off of her. B resists a lot of urges, all carryovers from last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. So many urges, all burnt into her matrix-core. "So, what haven't you told me, in our thousand years together?" Easing off her embarassment, enough that she can lean back, B blushes as she feels every one of her breaths bulge her belly.

"It is," A's eyes search and scan downwards. "It is a new development. I have only realised this within recent years. Before we met." She hums, still as close as ever. Her hand traces down, to A's jeans, and stays there, fixated on the thickness of her thigh. "I think something from last time has tracked over into my matrix-core." A shuffles in closer to her already-lover, taking her red-head fluff between her fingers, accidentally prodding a chubby cheek as she does. "Last time, you weighed three-hundred and five kilos. At the moment of your death." She chides, tossing out such a loaded phrase, almost carelessly. B swallows, frustrated that A confided such a brutal fact to the librarius. Forevermore, they'll know this. It'll be locked in; B's exact, precise size. "You burnt that into me." A begins to smile. To grin, even.

"You," with another swallow as her biological body starts to blush, B just closes her eyes. A-61 can do whatever she wants. She is trusted, totally, by B, and by the program that governs them both. Even if her biological body has not known this freak for any longer than ten minutes, that changes nothing. "You are delaying. Out with it." She places her own hand on A's, keeping it fixed there, and making sure it doesn't make another journey, to somewhere more private.

"My matrix-core has been scorched. A new pattern has been added." A is blushing, too, now. "A pattern that wants you larger." Finally, out with it. The truth. "Please," A giggles, at her own humiliation. "Please do not put this in the librarius. This can be a secret between us. Us and our cores." A becomes teary, as she realises; this is the first time this body has confided that fact in anyone, or anything. Not even anonymous, online messageboards know that A-61 likes fat girls.

B-78 almost screams, down to her core. "You what?!" She gasps, throwing herself away from A-61, and almost dropping to the floor. She forgot how huge she was, and how much of the bench she was taking up. "A pattern that... That wants me larger?" B gawks, wondering if she's being toyed with. Screwed with, played with. Her hands clap against her stomach, feeling it gurgle and roil between her fingers. "Not that big, surely?" She squeaks, remembering how debilitating and dehumanizing it was, to be a blob of fat. Even in 60% gravity, she was near-immobile. She was restricted. She was restrained, by her own body-fat. Compared to that whale, this body is still stick-thin. "You freak!" There is no room left to apologize, for using such boorish language. She spoke out of turn, but B shall not make amends for it. If anything, A-61 needs to put together some kind of truce, for thinking B would just waddle along, to her plans.

A lifts her now-free hand to her chin. Her eyes begin to swirl as she examines her own innards. The furious beeping and squealing of her matrix-core can almost be heard, as she inspects it, ten-hundred times every second. "What do I want?" She snaps, unable to control her tone, as her consciousness dives inwards. There's a silence, for several minutes, as A-61's neural depths are plumbed. And then, "Bigger."

[jmalchanceux]

My little whore - Pepa Madrigal

Classification: Smut

Pairing: Pepa x female reader

Warnings: Jealousy, rough sex, marking, oral sex, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk

Word count: +2600

imagine requested: Could you plz do Pepaxfemreader? They’re dating and someone flirts with reader and Pepa gets jealous and smut ensues ? Ty!:)

Inside Pepa there is a little green-eyed monster, small but if fed correctly it can be a fierce and relentless beast almost impossible to control. She has always struggled with this inner and companionable feeling known as jealousy, being raised with two siblings she always had to share her mother's attention with both of them, Julieta being the golden child who never caused trouble and Bruno the youngest being constantly protected, she was in the middle as the temperamental child who constantly felt jealous of the distinct attention they received. As she grew up she learned to control her own feelings and refrain with the mantra "clear skies" but it is so easy to tell if something is wrong when it comes to the redhead, if there is a storm someone has pissed her off or she feels nervous/anxious, if snows it's because she feels afraid, hail rain is synonymous with family strife. Everyone could decipher her feelings just from the weather that hangs over their heads during the day, but Julieta already knew, the moment she saw her sister walk through the door, how angry Pepa is for not waking up with her wife in bed and finding her in the kitchen, helping with the preparation of the arepas and other delicacies for the day. Green eyes glazed over her hand, holding Y/N's waist, guiding her around the kitchen to finish preparing the ingredients and instead of leaving the touch continued to hold her before leaving the girl at the nearby countertop and guiding her closely, taking care to bring their faces close together and whispering the instructions as if telling a secret or inside joke, slyly scanning the kitchen with glancing eyes to find a scowl and being stared at by her younger sister about to attack her. But Pepa restrained herself, took a breath and began stroking her own hair reciting in compulsive whispers the usual phrase, instead of intervening immediately she let the situation unfold to see where she would get to or when her wife would notice her presence. It irritated her that Y/N was paying so much attention to Juliet that she barely noticed her presence and the most primitive feelings, even childish ones, plunging her into the familiar feeling of jealousy and feeding the little monster long hidden inside her. She had always admired her wife's friendliness and proactivity and that's what attracted her immediately, it's like opposites attracted each other and worked out superbly. The fact that the family adores her immediately made her surprised and happy, Alma despite everything respects and cares for her as if she were a daughter, Bruno is shy, but was instantly won over and became a great friend, nothing that would set off a red alert, but Julieta is different, she spends time with Y/N, pleases her with cooking and other hobbies and is always touching her or showing too much affection. This irritates her so much. It's like her sister is everything she is not and it makes her feel insecure as hell. She gets tired of waiting and coughs falsely, drawing the attention of the two women, making Y/N finally aware of her presence.

- Good morning, mi amor. - the girl smiles and sneaks away from her sister-in-law's touch, walking over to her companion excitedly and practically throwing herself into the tall woman's lap - We were making some baked goods, you know how chaotic Encanto can be and Juli needed help.

- Sorry to steal her away, but I needed those little fairy hands to knead the buns.

- Fairy hands? - Pepa questioned feeling something bubbling up inside her and snorted at her sister's way of talking about Y/N's hands, who still seemed oblivious to the tension bubble forming in the kitchen, at least until she felt the drops falling fast and running down her skin - Don't talk about my wife's hands like that again if you don't want to lose yours. - the redhead whispered angrily and put her wife behind her as if protecting her - And if you touch her again like that, make sure there's no arepa to cure you.

Julieta didn't take any of the threats seriously knowing that they are empty threats spoken by the little green-eyed monster she herself has fed, so when she saw her sister-in-law practically being dragged upstairs began to laugh and continued to prepare special arepas for the different pain Y/N would feel at the end of the day. Bruno, who was at the breakfast table just watching everything unfold, sighed and nodded in denial before putting another piece of pie in his mouth.

- You planned this, didn't you?

- Sure, I wanted a rainy day and for those two to have some fun. I am a genius.

Y/N frowned in confusion as she ran after the tall woman who pulled her by the arm, still trying to keep up with her wife's large steps. When they arrived in front of the golden door she took a breath and tried to speak something only to be cut off at the first syllable as she was thrown against the door, Pepa's tall slender body pinning her down, the right hand reached for the girl's neck and squeezed lightly, enough to make her melt at the touch, while the other hand opened the doorknob. In seconds the couple is inside the room, the redhead didn't forget to lock the door so that no one interrupts them and immediately attacked the other woman's lips, savoring the softness and delicacy of her mouth while brutalizing her in a passionate kiss full of possessiveness. They walk blindly around the room stumbling over the furniture and clothes, until the folds of Y/N's knees meet the edge of the bed and they end up lying under the untidy sheets, lost between the soft folds as they continue to kiss desperately. Pepa breaks the kiss and lets her wife get some air before starting to attack her neck, leaving hickeys and bites all over the length of it causing restrained moans and whimpers, giving special attention to the curve between neck and collarbone, applying more pressure when marking the area knowing that anyone could see and that it would be present longer than the other marks that are already starting to appear, red spots that will soon turn to purple and crimson tones.

- You like it when my sister touches you, don't you? - the redhead asked rhetorically, the hoarseness in her voice giving away how angry and excited she is. - You are such a needy little whore. My little whore. - her teeth sink into the soft skin and leave a shallow mark - Only mine.

The redhead's long strong hands squeezed Y/N's waist and with carelessness she pulled up the hem of her dress revealing the lacy petticoat, without any patience the woman pulled the soft fabric and ripped it to shreds in seconds, leaving her wife exposed and at her mercy, completely naked from the waist down, Y/N felt a wave of arousal pass through her body by the act and could swear she felt something dripping between her legs, as if she was flooded with excitement. She shuddered as felt Pepa's fingertips rubbing against her clit, almost like a tease, not pressing too hard but enough for the touch to make the bundle of nerves throb and light enough for her to beg for more. She whimpered softly, begging to be touched and for the torture to end soon, Pepa smiled smugly and pulled away, admiring the little mess she caused between the other woman's legs, completely wet and ready for her.

- You're dripping. - she smiled and slapped her inner thigh, eliciting a small strangled cry. - I doubt anyone but me can pull that off. You're my little whore.

- Yes, I'm yours. - the young woman whispered and sat up in bed, reaching up to pull the redhead by the neck, grabbing her for another kiss only to be roughly pulled away and thrown onto the bed. - If you don't want my services, maybe I'll go back to helping Juli. - she teased, finally realizing what this was all about and taking advantage of the situation.

- You're not, not even going near that kitchen again anytime soon. - Pepa growled between her teeth trying not to show her anger and a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, the bedroom window closing by itself with the force of the wind announcing the storm about to begin. Every hair on Y/N's body stiffened and she shuddered feeling that she is in trouble locked in the bedroom with a temperamental wife and smiled knowing that she would not get out of there so soon or intact. - Safe word?

- Storm.

And the two smiled before the redhead threw herself onto the bed, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her already abused lips again, the same hand creeping its fingers back to the curve in her neck and squeezing the spot while the free hand dipped into the folds stroking the bundle frantically and aggressively, a knot forming inside the girl and warning that climax is near, but before she could take one last breath of release the fingertips left her intimacy. Pepa abandoned her wife's mouth, grabbing her lower lip between her teeth leaving a small trail of red and sighed satisfied as she realized what a ruined little mess her own wife had turned into. Without wasting any time she plunged between Y/N's legs, disappearing under the thin fabric of the dress and without warning slipped two fingers inside her, a surprised cry in response. Pepa barely gave her time to adjust and began to pound mercilessly, fast and sure, hitting the right spots. Wrapping her fingers repeatedly around the sweet spot making Y/N's body shudder and break apart in seconds in an intense orgasm. She screams her wife's name and throws the head against the soft mattress, the body trembling in pure ecstasy. But the redhead didn't wait for the moment to pass and in one quick movement turned her so that Y/N was on stomach, face against the bed and hips in the air, taking advantage of the sensitivity of a newly orgasmed she penetrated her again, adding one more finger making sure Y/N is ready and wet enough for this, turning the girl's body into jelly and completely at Pepa's mercy. Within seconds she peaked again, flooded in her own moans and shuddering, a painfully pleasurable sensation. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, not of pain but of pleasure, everything suddenly seemed too much as if her brain was melting with every touch.

- You like that, don't you? When I fuck your brains out. - Pepa smiles satisfied with the results and her green eyes get cloudy with horniness as she realizes that the marks intentionally left on her neck started to take shape and color, this turned her on even more, so she continued to move inside her wife in a slow and provocative way - Needy little bitch.

- Pepa... - she was cut off by a rough and fast thrust, like a warning - Mi amor... - and before she could continue the redhead invested in her again, movements increasingly rough and jerky, Y/N's juices soaking her pale hands until they created a dripping mess on the sheet.

- Look at what I'm doing to you, I doubt anyone else has that power. - the redhead takes hold of Y/N's y/h/c locks with her free hand and hooks it between the fingers pulling her back, finding her way to the wife's sinful and attractive mouth, enveloping her in a slow and sensual kiss, without losing the rhythm of the strokes. Thus Y/N falls into a third orgasm, giving in completely to her own body and falling against the mattress - Because you are mine, my good little girl, my teasing brat.

- Mi amor, please... - the girl moaned, biting the lips hard as Pepa left her, sliding the fingers slowly and teasing the needy clit in the process, scraping the fingertips lazily across the sensitive button.

- Just one more, can you get one more for me? - the woman's voice seemed strangely calm all of a sudden, sounding tender and sly. - Show me that you're a good girl. My girl.

- I am a good girl. - Y/N whispered and turned her body so she could meet her wife's deep eyes, finding strength and motivation to continue - Yours.

- Mine.

Pepa got rid of Y/N's clothes, or the tatters that the fabrics had become, leaving her completely naked and exposed on the bed. She carefully arranged it in the middle of the bed, propped up on the extra pillows, and spread the legs to admire her own work, proud of the mess she had made, loving every gasping breath, involuntary contraction, and the drops of sweat dripping down every curve. A carnal sin. After a few seconds of contemplation, she went back to work and wrapped Y/N's clit between her fingers, stroking slowly, enjoying every minimal response to the contact. The sensitivity turned the girl into a mess again within seconds, but before she could cum the movements stopped completely, denying her the fourth and expected orgasm. She was about to complain and Pepa began stroking the bundle again, light, controlled movements.

- Fuck! - Y/N moaned when she felt her wife's tongue join the fingers, alternating between stroking and sucking, driving her quickly insane - Please... - she doesn't know what she's about to say, undecided between begging for release or saying the safe word. The tears began to fall freely and thanks to Pepa's skilled tongue she climaxed for the fourth time in less than five minutes, another orgasm coursing through her already tired and abused body - That was... - the redhead covered her mouth before she could continue, kissing tenderly and making her taste herself.

- Fucking good. - Pepa added between kisses and frowned as she heard the woman below her sniffle, finally realizing the tears staining her blushing face. - What happened, mi vida? Was I too harsh? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?

- No... I mean... It was four orgasms, I loved it but I don't think my body can take anymore... - she whispered and kissed the redhead before smiling fondly. - You're so sexy when you're angry.

- Aww, you know you can always use the safe word, you know how I can go overboard but I always stop when you want me to. - Pepa whispered and wrapped her between his arms, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. - Are you all right?

Yes, mi amor. Just a little sore and tired. - and decided to tease her a little. - I think I need a Julieta arepa.

- You really are a brat. - the redhead laughed and rolled her eyes, getting up to tuck her own clothes into place, - But since you've been so good you deserve a little relief, so I'm going to run us a bath and get you something to eat. You look exhausted.

- I am, I need the strength to return all the orgasms. - Y/N blinked and stretched, groaning as her muscles ached.

- I can barely wait.

Buy the author a coffee / Masterlist / AO3

[spice-chan]

Legally Incapsulated

yandere!Bakugou Katsuki x darling!reader

In a different, dystopian world, yanderes are allowed to run rampant and they make up 15 percent of the population. It gets a little interesting when Bakugou, a protective yandere falls for you, a taken darling. 

warnings: dystopian society (ig?), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, reader has a bit of an early stockholm syndrome kinda thing, blood and near death, captivity. 

also hi, i came back from the undead with an update. 

.........

Bakugou laid on the ground, bleeding profusely, cold and alone. The red liquid soaked through his clothes, painting him as an ugly manifestation of destruction and death. However, he did not welcome the latter yet, clinging to-hanging tooth and nail to the threads of life.

What cruel irony. To be dumped somewhere so public, yet at a time when no one would bother to come. To have the Hero hanging onto the hope that someone would visit the park at three in the fucking morning. 

A brutal fight between him and a particularly vicious villain ended in Katsuki suffering not only the humiliation of defeat but injuries that will do him in soon enough from blood loss. All alone, with no back-up, Katsuki suffered possibly the worst defeat of his life, for it might cost him that very same thing. Fucker attacked him after he finished his night shift too when no reporters or anyone would be around, knocking Katsuki out and dumping him in a public park just for the mockery of it. 

His head felt light and doozy, and he was starting to succumb to the feeling sucking him in when he heard a gasp amidst the fog. 

With what little stamina he has left, he turned around, sharp red eyes spotting a petite woman heading towards him. 

You quickly got to his spot beneath a tree, crouching down and inspecting him, your warm eyes becoming horrified at the blood pool. 

“Oh no, what happened here?! No matter. I’m going to call an ambulance. You’re going to be ok.” You reassured, or tried to, for the words coming out of your mouth could only be taken as self-assurance when one notices the dampness of your eyes. He tried to concentrate on what you were doing, but the next time he was aware of what was happening around him was when you clutched his hand tight with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna be ok.” 

He sure hopes he will be now. 

“What’s your name?” 

Despite the haze covering, his red eyes zeroed on you, calmly taking you in despite the battered state he was in. You froze. 

You stammered, heart hammering as you finally had another person's attention for once. It should’ve made you really ecstatic, but it just made you feel like you were naked on live TV. 

“It’s um-“ you nibbled on your lip as if unused to your name, Katsuki just got lost in the dainty, delicate sound of your voice. 

And when you said your name, as if testing foreign words on your tongue for the first time, he couldn’t help but think it suited you. 

So pretty. 

Honestly, if the sight of you is the only thing he’ll see before dying, he’ll be content. Your hand remained in hold his, your warmth travelling to his frigid hand and warming his very soul. 

But the sound of ambulance sirens broke him out of his trance, and you too, it seems. For you broke away from him in fright, he had to hold back from grabbing you and keeping you close. He would, had he not been injured. 

“Whe-where are you going?” He asked brokenly, desperate to keep the angel that saved him close. You shook your head, frightened and frantic. Looking at the time, and seemingly getting further and further. 

“I’m sorry-I—I’ve got to go. I’m gonna late, I’ll get punished if I’m late.” 

His heart sunk with every syllable you uttered, feeling a pain he had never felt before, something not tangible enough to be compared to injuries and not comprehensible enough for a man like Katsuki to express. 

You’re a darling. 

You’re someone’s darling.

By the time the ambulance rolled in and took him, you were long gone…

But not for long. 

……………...

Katsuki Bakugo: Yandere. 

Classification: Protective

Darling: Unregistered 

In a world where yanderes are allowed to go rampant with their love, an ordinary citizen doesn’t know when they’ll become trapped by a person who claims to ‘love them unconditionally’. Thus making them a darling. And from the moment that label is put on them, the law ceases to help them and they become entirely at their yandere's mercy. 

Yanderes are often separated into their schools and housed in their specified yandere classification ranging from obsessive, possessive and protective, and if a person overlaps two during their classification test they get reign into which house to go to. At UA, the houses are split between those three types and are equally split. 

Katsuki, who scored rather high in both protective and obsessive traits, chose to go with the protective unit where he met Kirishima, who’s currently blabbering on about nothing in Katsuki’s hospital room. 

“You barely made it man, I still can’t believe it. One can never be too careful these days.” He said, for the hundredth time. Katsuki was topless, the nurse having just finished bandaging his wounds. The stark white stood out against his chiseled, muscular front, it had every nurse swooning but he only had one thing on his mind. 

You. 

Where were you? Who were you? Did you really have a yandere? How can he take you away now? 

No, he doesn’t like you. He’s just curious. 

He’s survived this long without a darling. He doesn’t need one, contrary to popular societal belief. 

When babies are three, they undergo tests and scans to see whether they have OLD, obsessive love disorder, which is something about 15 percent of the population suffers from. 

They go to their own schools and such, but their identity as yanderes won’t be revealed to the general public, making it easy for yanderes to take their darlings by surprise when the grand reveal comes. 

Katsuki himself attended a yandere oriented hero school, but what the public doesn’t know is that the acceptance rate is so low because only yanderes are accepted. Yanderes rarely, but not never, go for other yanderes so it poses as less of a distraction. 

And so, the talented in the 15 percent of Japanese yandere are carefully picked and honed. 

And the separation only proves something. That darlings are a distraction. He won’t be like other wanderers, he’ll get a hold of himself. 

…………..

Y/N L/N: Darling

Under yandere of classification: Obsessive

Yandere name: Nagisa Mura

Katsuki ground his teeth, red orbs staring viciously at his computer screen. Hypothesizing and being faced with the fact that you do belong to someone else. The distraction, unneeded angel who fell from heaven just to save him. 

Poor you, he bets that piece of shit doesn’t treat you as good as he could. 

After looking further into you, he found several allegations of sexual assault made towards Mura that got completely dropped after he captured you. 

A flash of searing pain made Katsuki jerk back, narrowly missing scorching his screen to smithereens. 

He...he hurt you. The fucker hurt his angel, his princess...he hurt you, he hurt you, he hurt you. 

He thought of your pretty, kissable lips, making unsure, clumsy movements as you tried to vocalise your name. 

No, Katsuki has to have you. He needs to save you. It’s the only way for both of you to be happy at this point. 

And this, spurred on a thorough check at your yandere, and Katsuki delved so deep that when he found what he wanted, he couldn’t help but break out into a lopsided, sinister grin. 

………………

Nagisa burrowed his face in your neck, breathing in your scent while you sat still and rigid, not wanting to move away and risk his sanity flying away. 

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked softly, suddenly attentively look at you with his cat-like, loving, sick eyes. Your heart palpitated in fear for a second before you nodded. 

“Oh, where did you go? You...didn’t talk to anyone right?” Your heart erratically hammered, thinking that he might’ve somehow found out you did, and even told him your name. You shook your head at the speed of a sewing machine, then thought that might’ve perhaps been too aggressive to be convincing. 

“I didn’t. I walked to the park and came back home.” 

He sighed in satisfaction at that, moving his dark bangs back to stare at you with his green hues. 

“I knew night time was a better idea. There would be no one around at this time that you can’t deal with with pepper spray. Fewer people to talk to, fewer people who see you” he was smiling, not breaking eye contact once, and with each syllable, his soft voice seemed to get more sinister and sinister. 

You only nodded, pliant as a lamb in his grip as he twisted you however he wished. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of you as if smelling a rare fragrant flower. 

“We’ve gotten so far since the days in the orphanage when you refused to share your dolls with me when we were five.” 

Memories. Something that should fill one with nostalgia, only filled you with an unbearable sense longing to a freer, more easy time. When you only had to worry about Nagisa bothering you during breakfast, lunchtime, movie time, sometimes worship time and wash time. 

Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you hugged him back, feeling icy cold in his embrace. 

“Nagi, what are we having for dinner?” A twinge of regret pierced you as you lowered your guard for a second. His hold became stiff, and he didn’t bother to swipe back his bangs as he flashed you a blank face. 

“You’re thinking about dinner while we hug?” 

But you knew how to deal with him better by now, deflecting his anger and turning it into something more malleable. 

“Oh no, it’s just that I feel a little dizzy. I don’t think I ate or drank well those past few days.” You paired the lie with a yawn for extra measure, and the ice of his face melted to reveal a familiar worried expression pouted lips and widened greeny eyes. 

He carefully put you down, bundling you in a blanket before he rushed to the kitchen to prepare you some food. 

The worry he harboured for your well being should’ve filled you with warmth, but instead, you were left twiddling your thumbs and rocking yourself back and forth, an unexplainable feeling of doom filled you. 

The feeling of a hand touching you caused you to spring out of your reverie in fright, but the sight of the green hues staring back at you only calmed you a fraction. He put the food in front of you, which he brought back with some vitamins because he can’t have you getting sick. 

“Thank you…” you murmured, feeling incredibly stupid and useless. 

He insisted he feed you and that you go to bed early. 

But as you laid in bed, thoughts of strange red irises and their bewitching beholder swarmed your thoughts along with the fatigue. You hope he’s alright… 

You wanted to check on him, but if you asked or even implied to Nagisa that you met someone, let alone a man albeit injured or not, that he will opt to not let you out for a year again, or possibly longer this time. 

Even in his injured form, there was something undeniably feral about him, as if ready to pounce any second and gamble his chances at life if the situation called for it. It frightened you. 

You shook your head, willing comfort to return to you through the soft duvet and sheets enveloping your body. You better sleep before Nagisa comes to bed and finds you awake…

…….

Finally, Bakugou has the best reason to get that fuck arrested. And you? Poor you, you’re going to have your yandere taken away, and you can’t *just* be let free. You didn’t earn it after all. Well, you would have, had there not being a perfectly suitable yandere for you to be rehomed with. 

Heh, to think of it, you might hate him a little for this...but he’ll show you that he can treat you better, in no time, you’ll be wrapped around his finger like he’s shamefully wrapped around yours. 

Bakugou’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt when the L-word is mentioned, not noticing when his thoughts spiralled to that degree. His deranged obsession with you had been planted the moment you saved him, but Katsuki didn’t notice when he lost the wheel of his rationality to his heart. 

Yeah, sure, he did background checks on you, felt a twinge of pain when he realised you grew up in an orphanage, felt a tornado of anger when he saw the assault charges that went nowhere after that obsessive fuck captured you. Yeah, ok, he felt proud when he saw that you were the valedictorian. But… where did the stone hearted Katsuki go? Where did the one who was afraid of getting close to anyone in case his true nature shows and distracts him from his dream go? 

But then, he remembered your glassy eyes, staring at him in worry that no one ever showed towards him before, fumbling with his phone to dial the ambulance while holding his hand. Telling him he’ll be ok. 

The moment Bakugo looked in the mirror, he knew he lost. 

His cheeks were flaming hot. 

Whatever, he better start preparing your room. 

…….

It felt like preparing the room of a newborn baby, Katsuki bought enough stuffed animals and plushies to make it resemble a fluffy asylum, along with pastel pink sheets. Your name was also put on the wall, with cursive pink letters that had butterflies surrounding them.

Not to forget a dresser filled with all kinds of things you could ever desire. But his favourite was filling the closet. 

Besides adding some of his own shirts, he stuffed it with all kinds of pretty dresser and cute clothes that he can’t wait to see you wear. 

Bakugo dusted his hands, taking a sigh and looking at the finished guestroom, previously a spare but now your own room, it looked as if a sparkly fairy vomited all over it. Hopefully you’ll like it… 

He wishes you were here to see it… 

An unfamiliar sense of isolation invaded his heart, perhaps it was the realisation that he just finished a room to a person who doesn’t even live with him *yet*, or knowing what he’s missing out on with you, but he knew he desperately wanted you here. 

He wanted to protect you from the bastard who has you in his clutches

…….. 

A day later

You sat on the sofa, munching on some popcorn while you sat on Nagisa’s lap, watching anime. 

A rough knock sounded out, the sound so aggressive is sounded as if the wood itself was gonna break under the aggressive force. Nagisa tensed up, he wasn’t expecting any guests, in fact, he rarely invites anyone over. He disassociated the both of you from any acquaintances from the orphanage, and you weren’t allowed to mingle with anyone. 

He saw your curious look, even without any verbal question, but he opted to simply kiss your forehead and put you on the sofa. 

He quickly went to answer the door, but not without grabbing a dagger and hiding it somewhere discreet. 

He turned the knob, feeling his chest tighten painfully, as if sensing a near, imminent loss. 

Three aggressive, toned cops welcomed his sight as soon as the door was open. They forced their way inside, cuffing him and telling him things, words that were spoken too fast and went over his head as the only thought that went through his head aas you. 

He turned around to where he left you, but you were suddenly standing besides one of the officers, not allowed near him. No…

“According to our database, you are a yandere who has a darling. This means that she will be permanently taken away from you and handed to an eligible yandere as part of your punishment.” 

He swallowed, his gaze, which always seemed morbid to you, now looked panicked and morose, gaze moving like a boomerang between you and the officers, as if not processing what’s happening. 

“Nagisa, what have you done?” He couldn’t answer you, he couldn’t speak a word. You were leaving him, and there’s nothing that he can do. 

“Eligible yandere? But as far as I know, there’s no one after her besides me.” The thought comforted him. Maybe he’ll recapture you after he serves whatever sentence he has, even though he’ll have to do it on the down low now. It’s illegal for a yandere who had their darling taken away to go after them again. 

“Well you thought wrong. Scum” 

Bakugou felt like the star of the show, coming in to rescue his damsel and finish his quest, with you as the prize. 

Your mouth was agape, the little hope that simmered in you that you might possibly be free is now crushed, confusion coming full force in place of it. His face was all too familiar, it was the face of the man you found on death's door only a few days ago. 

Nagisa’s face blanked, turning to you with bloody accusations in his eyes, which made your vision narrow to only focus on him, afraid to make eye contact yet afraid not to. You almost felt the bile rise up your stomach as goosebumps covered your entire body at his familiar, haunting stare. 

“(Y/n)...how does he know you?” 

“I-“ you swallowed, unable to answer. Who is he? 

The dots were starting to connect in Nagisa’s head, however, instead of his chilling rage, all you got was a sad, nostalgic smile. 

“Very well (y/n), it’s ok.” You couldn’t feel relieved from his ambiguous tone. Your very gut screaming at you that something was wrong. 

And your gut was right. 

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m sure of it but I’m sorry because if I can’t have you then nobody can.” In the blink of an eye, Nagisa charged at you with a dagger, with speed you didn’t know he possessed, while you were frozen in place in fear. 

However, before he could reach you, the blond, brawny man moved like the wind, catching the hand that threatened you, firing an explosion at the wrist in a show of wrath, probably giving Nagisa third degree burns, then twisting his arms behind his back and pushing him harshly into the floor. The level of strength between them was visibly imbalanced to the blondes' favour, Nagisa was by no means fit or sturdy, not at all when compared to the wall of strength in front of you. 

The officers, novices who should have expected this turn of events by all means, have proven to be useless until the very end of this spectacle, thanking the blond the blond profusely while handcuffing the hysterical Nagisa, who was taken kicking and screaming by one of the officers while one stayed behind. 

“Miss (y/n), I believe? Sorry we couldn’t prevent this unsavoury turn of events, that criminal will be locked for good, you don’t have to worry about him.” The officer tried to reassure the frightened lady in front of him, disappointed that a yandere would try to kill the person he loves. That was one of the most prohibited laws, though what can he expect from a criminal? 

“You don’t have to worry about your safety though, as it turns out, you will be rehomed with Mr Dynamight. This will serve as both a punishment for the offending yandere and a way for darlings who haven’t earned their freedom to stay with their next eligible caretaker.” 

You nodded shily, overwhelmed by the influx of information directed at you. It didn’t help that you barely spoke to anyone besides Nagisa in years. 

The officer took your agreeableness in stride, scramming quickly as he physically felt the burn of Bakugou’s stare. 

Now it was just him and you. 

“You ok?” He managed to mutter, not sure how to start a conversation with you now that he had you. 

You nodded, not facing him. Are you ok? 

You felt the moisture gathering in your eyes, making your eyes seem like gleaming crystals. 

Of course you weren’t ok. 

You just had the person who, for years, claimed they loved you, stole you against your will and forced you to adapt to a lifestyle that suited them try to kill you. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but apparently your body did as it broke into a sob. 

Your shoulders shook in failing effort to try to hide yourself from him-Mr Dynamight or something, but he felt his heart clench when he heard you sniffle. 

You heard him kiss his teeth, and you had a half mind to apologise, having unfond memories of the sound, but he instead, to your surprise, brought his beefy arms around you and embraced you warmly. 

Your crying halted, head turning up to fave him with a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look in your eyes, making him blush and turn away from you with another kiss of his teeth. 

“Stop crying.” 

Why did his simple gesture stop your tears? Why are you not trying to make a run for it? 

Most importantly, why do you feel something warm blooming in your chest instead of hate? 

You looked at him, trying to channel all the hate you harbored for Nagisa for this newfound captor of yours, but all you could think about is when he saved you from Nagisa’s sharp blade— how strong and capable he was, really, shouldn’t you be thankful? 

At that moment, you experienced something that never happened to you in your years of being with Nagisa. 

You blushed. 

……

 You stepped through Bakugou’s house, already having an idea of what kind of lavish place it is from the exterior, but you were nevertheless impressed. 

The place is something out of a movie, extremely different to the small and cozy apartment you lived in. Everything seemed up to date and costly. 

You didn’t notice Bakugou preening in pride at the impressed look on your face. He tried to appear nonchalant, but he was seconds away from grabbing your hand in excitement as he tours you around the place. 

Still, he wanted some form of contact with you, so he opted to put a hand behind your back, excusing it as you being too slow when you turned to him with a quizzical look. 

His hand felt warm on your back. 

“This is the bathroom nearest to your room, but there’s one in your room as well.” 

Your room. It felt strangely delighting to have something be your own, when previously everything was ours with Nagisa. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn’t know whether you should try to pause to catch your breath or pick up your pace. 

“And uh, this is your room.” This time you did notice Bakugou’s redness, it was quite hard not to when his entire face was red. Of course it would be. 

The room looked like it was something out of a barbie house. Soft, pastel rugs paired with baby pink curtains. Plush, stuffed dolls littered the place, some small and some big enough to engulf you. You slowly stepped inside, unsure how to feel about this interior, until you felt your bed. It was also a gentle pink, but the catch was how featherlight soft it was, it felt silky, and the mattress reminded you of when you’d dream of sleeping on a cloud. 

“Like it?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your blessed face. That’s the first he’s seen this expression on you. He feels almost cheated, like he would have seen way more of you and learnt way more than he already knows if that piece of shit let you out. 

You hummed to him in response. 

“Good, ‘cuz it’s your nap time now.” 

“Huh?” You straightened your back, looking at him in protest. 

“But, I still have things to ask you! Plus, I don’t need a freaking nap-“ 

“Sleep now, questions later.” 

The sun was starting to dip, giving the room a warm, orange glow which did make you feel somewhat lethargic. Bakugou closed the curtains, and shut the door, but surprisingly didn’t leave your room. He pulled the covers back, gesturing for you to slip under. You were afraid for a moment that he was gonna slither his way inside as well, uninvited. But he merely sat besides your supine form. 

“Um-?” 

“I’m gonna stay here ‘till you fall asleep.” You nodded mutely, not finding a point to objecting anymore. You never have a say anyways. But, this wasn’t so bad. He put his large hand on your head, caressing it and admiring its texture, and how amazing it feels beneath his fingers. You felt his touch to be invasive at first. Who does he think he is, touching you when you don’t even know him?

But you don’t speak. You instead relax and let the stress you built up melt away, and you welcome sleep. 

…..

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the feeling of someone lately shaking you. You were disoriented, glancing around the fluffy place in confusion, your eyes looking adorably lost and confused. 

“C’mon dumbass. It’s time for dinner.” 

Oh, right, you were living with him now. 

“I put the clothes you’re gonna wear on your bed, and here are your slippers.” You glanced on the bed, seeing a comfy looking white, silky pyjama dress slippers at the foot of your bed. 

“Ok.” You nodded, “I got it.” 

He gave you one final final intense look leaving your bedroom. 

…….

In the dining room, Bakugou had already set everything up. He made your favourite food, lit up some candles and sat down, anxious glancing at the door and waiting for you to appear. Will you like it? Will you ask him questions? Do you enjoy living with him so far? 

If the answer to some of those questions is no, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He does know that you aren’t going anywhere though. 

You quietly walked in, feeling the tension increase with each step you took. 

You spied the contents on the table, salivating at the smell of your favourite food like a starved ogre, not even bothering to grimace at the memory of Nagisa’s poor attempt at making it. 

Bakugou was salivating as well, but for different reasons. He couldn’t look away from your exposed skin, staring creepily as if he’s never seen a leg before. 

The meal was consumed with awkwardness, neither party breaking the ice. You were afraid of confrontation, of asking too many questions and receiving nothing but anger and resentment in return. He seems so much nicer than Nagisa, you didn’t want him to hate you. 

The silence reigned, and the dishes were cleared away and being washed by Bakugou, who insisted you stay near him but also insisted you stay unoccupied. 

Every moment that passed felt like a moment lost, and you kept summoning your courage, but the words just wouldn’t leave your mouth. Maybe you should build up to what you really wanted to ask instead of jumping straight to it. 

You saw his red eyes sneakily glancing at you, rapidly leaving your form when you noticed him, causing his ears and face to flush. 

“So um, what do you do?” he quirked an eyebrow, looking at you strangely while his movements didn’t pause. 

“You-you don’t know?!” he exploded, looking at you in disbelief. You just shook your head like a deer caught in headlights. 

Oh, that shit must’ve not let you watch TV much. 

“I’m a pro hero.” 

Your eyes widened in wonder, the decadence of the place suddenly making sense. 

“Cool! What’s your quirk?” he ditched the dishes, excitedly showing you his quirk and explaining how it works, delighted at your cute smile and interest in him. The air felt charged and lively, and maybe that’s what led you to ask the questions that have being nagging at you. 

“So um, how did you-uh, how did you even find out anything about me?” 

Your heart dropped when you saw the excitement on his face disappear, his usual scowl in place of it. 

“You told me your name, that’s all I needed to know. I never stopped thinking about you ever since I saw you, I tried but I couldn’t. If even someone as strong as me can end up on death's door, then what would happen to you? I couldn’t just leave you.” At this point, he was caressing your face, looking at you with love stricken eyes. You were reminded of who you were talking to, you were talking to a Protective yandere, who took you. 

You didn’t have to ask anything else really, pandora’s box opened, and everything you weren’t previously privy to is now made obvious to you. 

“It sickened me though, knowing you actually fucking belonged to someone else. So how could I leave you? I had to save you like you saved me.” he had both of his huge hands on your face, looking at you with pure insanity, love, adoration and bloodthirst swirling and mixing in his irises. He was a yandere, he was the person every ordinary person should fear, he has you in his clutches, you should be trying to escape and regain your freedom, you saw first hand how easily capable of hurting you he could be if he wanted… So why weren’t you scared?

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Four]

Summary: Desire and darkness consume Poe and the reader, leaving them with only one goal. In the aftermath, years of pain and grief finally surface. 

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen=dubcon/noncon smut. Dark themes, mild violence/injury descriptions, language, angst, fluff. WC: 10,551

A/N: SURPRISE! One day early because I love you all and got my shit together this week. PLEASE NOTE the red banners are visual cuts you can use to skip the dark smut should you prefer to! 

Poe stood next to Charlie on the tarmac, waiting impatiently with his stomach in knots of excitement and anticipation. Even Charlie was shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically quiet while watching the transport ship slowly landing. When it hit the ground and the flight intake crew moved forward to help with debarking, he tossed Poe his signature grin.

“Ready, Flyboy?”

Poe laughed, “What does that even mean?” He glanced down at his shirt, straightening it for the tenth time before smoothing his hair carefully. “It’s been two years, I’d have gone to pick her up myself if they would have let me.”

“That’s my point,” His friend replied smoothly, raising a brow at Poe, who gazed back at his best friend, bewildered. “Two years apart, barely been able to speak with her, you keep her picture in your inner pocket here,” He tapped Poe over the heart, where the picture would be if he was in his flight suit, “You two are the most clueless lovebirds, I swear. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Glancing at the ship to see the ramp still hadn't lowered, Poe frowned, a rush of emotions swirling within. “You...uh, knew how I-?”

Charlie clapped Poe on the shoulder, “Isn’t there a term for it? Soulmates, I think. Yeah.”

“Charlie, I don’t think-“

Charlie rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying anything else about it, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know I understand why you took so long picking the perfect shade of sand shirt to wear under your jacket.”

Poe hummed in response, stunned by the casual way his friend spoke like everything was inevitable. He wasn’t so sure, though he’d always thought the term ‘soulmate’ could apply to platonic relationships. And while he was pretty sure he’d never just felt platonic toward you in any sense, Poe wasn’t going to get his hopes up that you actually may return his feelings.

Two years ago, Poe had held you the entire night before his and Charlie’s departure for D’Qar, cried along with you over how impossible it felt to part, to not see each other every day when his life had been wrapped around yours since as long as he could remember. He had left a part of himself there with you on Yavin-4, and now you were about to disembark your transport ship and unknowingly hand it back to him by simply being with him, real and tangible.

He was nervous to see you, he didn’t know why. Maybe Charlie’s words were only highlighting Poe’s own concerns now that you were mere moments away. He had barely even been able to get in contact with you for two years, he and Charlie were far enough away and regularly over-worked that it was impossible to do as much as they both would have liked. What if you climbed off of this ship as a completely different person? Perhaps things wouldn’t be as easy and natural between you both now, after so long apart. 

He’d gotten through these past two years without you knowing he would always have his memories of you, that before he knew it you would be with him-and Charlie-again, and new memories could be made. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Regardless, the last thing Poe was going to do when he finally had you back was confessing his feelings and risk fucking everything up straight off the cuff. He’d lived with these feelings for a long time, he could continue to do so now.

Lost in his thoughts, Charlie suddenly stood taller next to Poe, who glanced at his friend to find he was beaming toward the transport ship. Following his gaze, he first saw that the ramp was down and many of the passengers were now splitting away meeting friends and family. It only took him a moment from then to locate you.

The moment his eyes landed on you, excitedly bouncing down the ramp with a duffel bag over your shoulder, eyes searching wildly around, Poe felt every single worry melt, and a heavyweight on his shoulders seemed to lift away. You still looked like you, and stars were you ever beautiful, the loveliest woman-because, you were a woman now, not a kid, not a goofy teenager-he’d ever laid eyes on. He drank you in, during those moments you hadn’t yet spotted Charlie’s waving arm. Two years had given your curves a new classification, a reverence within Poe rising as he gazed briefly in surprise at the swell of your breasts, the fullness in your hips.

He could...drop to the ground right here and declare his undying love for you, just for coming back to him with that same fucking perfect smile. Just for the way your eyes finally found him and Charlie and you lit up like a sun, bathing everyone lucky enough to be within your presence in your warm glow. It was a fucking sight, a moment that he would never forget; you grinning and then hurrying forward through the crowd. Your duffel bag hit the ground just seconds before you were throwing yourself toward your brother and Poe, who each expected exactly what you would do and easily stepped forward and caught you. Crushing you between them in an embrace that felt so whole, so entirely right. Poe felt for the first time in two years as though he were home.

Wherever in the galaxy Poe went, if he had you with him it would be home.

“Oh stars, kriffing STARS,” You were squealing, an arm wrapped behind each of their necks to hold yourself up, your lips peppering warm kisses between them each, “I’ve missed you both so much, my best guys!” You had a few happy tears on your cheeks now, Poe noticed when you leant your head to his and pressed your forehead to his own, repeating the affectionate greeting with Charlie.

“Kid, fuck it’s good to see you,” Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion, but his eyes were much drier than both yours and Poe’s. “How was the trip?”

“Maker, Charlie, Poe-you’re both so tall!” You laughed, realizing you were dangling a few inches above the ground as they held on to you. Poe liked the way he could feel your laughter as your body moved against him; as though you were passing it to him. “The trip was fine, crap food but I had a nice elder lady as my seat-mate. Reminded me of mum.”

They set you down, though Charlie was stroking your hair out of your face and Poe kept his hand on your waist, unable to let you go and lose the sensation of you finally, finally in his arms again. He never wanted to be apart from you for that long again, not if he could help it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it home for mum’s funeral,” Charlie murmured, an apology he’d repeated many times since your mother’s passing a few months prior.

“Hey,” You smiled sadly, “You two spent a lot of credits to holo-call in for it, that meant a lot to me. You know mum would have been livid if you’d abandoned your duties just for her.” Still, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and Poe reached up with his free hand to gently wipe them away as Charlie nodded solemnly, opening his mouth to respond when-

“Horn! Hey, come meet my brother!” The three of you glanced around, Poe recognizing one of the mechanics Charlie was friendly with waving him over. Pressing a quick kiss to your temple and assuring you he’d be right back, Charlie hurried away to greet the mechanic and his brother.

When you turned to peer back up at Poe, your grin wide and eyes seemingly doing their own assessment of him, he realized that this was now the first time you’d been alone together since that night two years ago. Feeling his face flush, Poe tugged you close against him and pressed his lips to the top of your head. You certainly hadn’t gotten any taller yourself, now especially small in his embrace. Something about the realization settled warm in his belly, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling back slightly to look down into your eyes again. Your expression was a little shy, as though you were pleasantly caught off guard by his affection, “How have you been, really?”

You had your hands pressed against his chest as you smiled up at him. ���Good, glad to be here finally. Yavin-4 didn’t feel like home anymore after mum,” You trailed off, eyes falling and brightening somewhat as you gazed at his chest. “Poe, you got uh,” You slide your hands across the expanse of him and Poe had to work to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of it as heat coiled within him, “Like, big? Broad. Wow, oh and less scruffy, too!” You added, eyes swinging back up to his clean-shaven jawline.

Poe made a noise of embarrassment at your words, smiling at you shyly. Reaching up with one hand, you stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Dousing fuel on the fire within him, the motion was so second nature, intimate, comforting, that he really could have gathered you in his arms right there and pressed his lips to yours. He wanted to ask you if you realized how much he fucking loved you, if you had any idea what you did to him, body and soul and mind consumed and controlled by you and only ever you.

Instead, taking a deep breath, Poe shifted himself away from you casually, leaning at the same time to bring his head level to yours, his nose scrunched, “And you are exactly as short as I remember. Actually, might be shorter with my extra couple of inches now.”

“Rude,” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, whatever tension that had just been present now gone. Your eyes strayed away from Poe’s to look all around at what you could see of the Rebel base here on the tarmac, your gaze landing almost hungrily on a nearby x-wing before jumping to watch as several flew overhead; the current patrol.

He watched you in adoration as you drank in your first real glimpse of the Resistance, your eyes widened in wonder and excitement that Poe had felt too the moment he’d arrived on D’Qar.

But in truth, it didn’t compare to what he was feeling right now.

Poe reached up and stroked your cheek, “Welcome home, (y/n).”  

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

“Commander.” You stepped out of the cockpit, your hands twisting in front of you nervously. Poe looked up from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “We’re safely in hyperspace. Autopilot engaged.” You kept your voice soft, as if afraid he would startle.

Or maybe you were afraid of him now. He wouldn’t blame you.

Rather than replying, Poe simply made a noise that was meant to be confirmation he had heard you but it came out strangled enough that it sounded like he was in pain. And he was in agony but he was trying to hold it all back, figure out how to forget.

Did there exist a plant that could make him fucking forget?

He watched as your face twisted before you dropped to your knees in front of him, his body stiffening when you pushed between his legs. Your hands came to rest gently on his cheeks as Poe met your eyes, their expression mirroring his own; pain, regret. But there was something more there, though it hurt him to see it: concern.

“Poe,” Your voice was soft and Poe felt himself tremble in response, unwilling to accept your kindness. “Please, Poe. You didn’t do anything wro-“

Poe jerked himself out of your hold, leaning back as you remained crouched before him, your hands falling to his thighs to keep steady. “Didn’t do anything wrong?” He breathed, watching you look up at him. “I keep hurting you. All I do is hurt you, (y/n). Don’t tell me everything is okay.”

MISSION DAY FOUR

Desire.

It was...the only thing you could feel anymore. All there was. Nothing else in your mind, like it had been scraped of every memory, every morsel of you and the only thing that remained was this burning, intense thirst. It was fucking incredible, there was no pain anymore, the heat felt like it belonged, that you were designed for the sole purpose of allowing it to burn you. When you set your gaze to the man before you, you could see that he was burning too.

Poe, with his dark eyes and heaving chest, moved quickly-almost too quickly, and you wondered if the pollen gave humans a physical boost. It would make sense because when he was suddenly lifting you and thrusting you against the stone wall, you didn’t feel it. There was only pleasure, no pain, no disorientation, but fuck the feel of his hands finally on you was exactly what you needed. The relief of his touch was enough to have you craving more, more now, now!

As if reading your mind, he was swiftly peeling your layers of gear off, ripping and tossing the material, tugging off your boots, one hand holding you against the wall and it wasn’t until he was sliding your pants down that you realized you were dangling a few feet above the ground. So there was definitely some juice to the pollen. Something about that realization made your toes curl in anticipation.

“Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait another minute,” You heard yourself begging, and dark Poe smirked, pulling his clothing off before adjusting his grip on you. Now, his hand slid down to roughly hold your ass, pressing his body against yours so closely you were supported between him and the wall. You wrapped your legs around his hips, moaning at the feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, and you glanced down to watch as he lined himself up with your cunt.

And stars, he was huge, the biggest you’d ever had. Thick and veiny, you let out the filthiest moan just looking at his cock, your sounds morphing into screams when he tilted his hips and thrust into you completely in one swift motion. Filling you. Growling as he claimed you entirely.

It should have hurt. Even with how wet you were, being split open and filled so brutally should be agonizing but it felt amazing. You could hear yourself demanding he never stops once he began a fast, harsh pace. Your head knocked back into the wall and you still felt no discomfort, not with dark Poe surrounding you, filling you so perfectly. One of his hands did shoot up and grip your jaw, pressing your head into the wall so that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

He was feral, his expression greedy and dangerous and it only made you clench around him. “Fuck,” He groaned both hands tightening their hold on your hip and face, “G-going to fucking ruin you for any other cock, little girl. Fucking brat, always so mean, and now you’re begging for me to fill you up, aren’t you?”

You were delirious with pleasure, his words shot straight to your pussy, but you still managed to reply. “Want you to...fill me up, use me, just n-never stop fucking me.” He growled at your words and pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth to open so that he could lick into you, taste you and swallow your whimpers and moans for more. After a few minutes of this pace, you felt the coil you hadn’t realize was tightening suddenly snap, and you gushed all over his cock as you had your first orgasm.

“Oh maker, I’m cumming, fuck!” But even as you came, crashing through wave after wave, dark Poe didn’t let up and you didn’t feel even remotely spent. An orgasm of that magnitude should have had you passing out; instead, you screamed for more.

+

Poe couldn’t get enough of your body, tight pussy clenched around him as he took you in every position. He didn’t feel tired, sore, and despite having already filled you several times with his seed, his erection hadn’t worn off. You allowed him to roughly handle you into whatever pose he felt like, though you would curse if he took too long, and then mewl when he’d enter you again and begin harshly pounding you. Those dark eyes of yours always focused on him, taunting him. Begging him to claim you.

He was behind you on the floor now, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your lower back, forcing you to arch for him. You were screaming for more even as he relentlessly slammed into you and he only grinned at the idea of giving you what you wanted. He smacked your ass to punctuate every other word, “So fucking tight! Such a good little slut, taking all my cum, you want more now?” He slapped you one last time as his hips slowed, his orgasm tearing through him and pulling another from you and he cursed aloud at how fucking good it felt when you squeezed his cock during your high.

“More, fuck, more!” You whined moments later, even as his forward thrusts forced out the excessive amount of cum he’d filled you with. It was hot, the visual alone enough to hold his attention as you wiggled against him and begged.

“Good little slut, taking me so well,” He moaned, leaning over your back and nipping marks into your neck. When he rose back up, he pulled you with him so that you were flush against his chest as he picked up the pace again. The new angle seemed to hit something inside you differently, as your renewed screams were filling the room within seconds. “Such a perfect body, look at these tits.” He whispered into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your nipple.

You came again, drenching his cock and before you even stopped moaning from the high you were asking for more.

And fuck, he was going to give you more.

+

Hours, it had definitely been hours. At least six, you thought, if the light from filtering from the hall was anything to go by. The sun was different on this planet, never fully setting, so from your best knowledge you guessed Poe and you had been fucking for a good six hours, minimum.

It wasn’t enough. You hoped it never stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t.

It still didn’t hurt. Each orgasm wasn’t yet enough. You could see rather than feel the bruises on your skin, the cuts on your knees and hands from the rough ground. Even when Poe spanked you, the bite was momentary and delicious. This high was simply incredible. The sensation of him coating your insides with thick ropes of cum was forever engrained in your mind now.

You were riding him now; had been for the last few orgasms. He liked letting you do the work even though it didn’t feel like work-and watched as you rolled your hips and bounced for him, his hands occasionally reaching up to play with your tits. When he would come, he would grab your hips and slam you down, his strength preventing you from moving as he filled you deep, usually pulling your orgasm along with him because he was just so fucking sexy groaning for you.

“Like riding me, little girl?” He growled, releasing your hips and allowing you to start moving again. This time, you braced your hands on his chest so that you could change the angle, moaning when his thick cock dragged along your walls in the most perfect way. Kriff.

“Love it, never stopping,” You gasped, the room loud with the noises you each made and the sounds your cum stuffed pussy made each time he entered you. “Fuck, so fucking good.”

You sunk yourself onto his cock for a long time, watching his face as he filled you over and over, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Was it ever going to be enough?

+

Poe could see you were cock drunk, your grasp on Basic slipping to the point where you simply whimpered out short phrases, some of them entirely unintelligible. It was incredible, seeing you bent over the table, stuffed full of his cock and unable to articulate properly how good it felt.

“Oh fuck, here you go, take my cum,” He snapped his hips forwards and came, his grip on your hips like steel, holding you in place to take every last drop. You came moments later, your orgasm soaking him and dragging his out again. After just a moment, he readjusted you, lifting one of your legs onto the table and holding it there, his other hand sliding up your back and pressing to the back of your neck, pinning you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” You screamed when he started up again. He smirked, enjoying the sound of his body slapping against yours. From the way he held you, Poe had his wrist comm directly in his line of sight. After a moment, he registered the time on the display and realized that you’d been fucking for twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours.

“Fuck, been fucking you all day little girl, filling you with my cum for fucking hours and hours,” He groaned, pressing you into the table even more. You whimpered in response, unable to speak. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? Want more, come on I know you can speak, tell me you want my cum.”

“Uh, fuck I w-want, want your c-cum, please!”

“Yeah you do, fucking slut,” He picked up the pace again, then shot over the edge as you screamed, “Take my cum, take it, fuck.” Poe growled, still amazed at how tight you were, milking his cock perfectly every time. Once his orgasm subsided, he flipped you over onto your back and took a moment to gaze down at you.

Your black eyes were staring up at him hungrily, waiting for him to decide his next move. When you licked your lips, an idea popped into his head. He reached down and spun you so your head was at the edge of the table, your legs pointing away from him. He moved you so that your head just dangled over the edge, and then he pushed his fingers into your mouth, wetting them.

“Gonna put my cock down your throat, think you can handle that?” He said, grunting when your lips wrapped around his fingers and sucked a little. He was quick to replace them with his cock, one hand moving to hold under your head and the other guiding his length into your eager little mouth. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned, quickly setting a steady pace.

Once he had a rhythm going, Poe used the hand not supporting your head to place one of yours behind that one, “Tap, fucking hell yes, t-tap my hand if you need air, ah shit!” He just managed to give you the instructions before the overwhelming feeling of your mouth working on him so expertly had his balls pulling up and before he knew it, he was shooting his load down your throat.

You swallowed everything and then continued sucking him off as he fucked your face.

Thirteen hours.

+

He tasted delicious. You’d almost wished, when he shot that first load down your throat, that he’d started things out this way so that the taste of him was on your tongue the whole time. You made up for it by taking as much as you could, swallowing around his length as you pulled orgasm after orgasm from him.

Eventually, you were moaning around him enough that he realized it had been a while since you’d cum, and he pulled from your mouth. His dark gaze searched your cum covered face greedily before he climbed onto the table, pulling you up to lift you over his cock. He lowered you slowly onto him, the stretch exactly what you needed and so perfect that the moment you were fully seated you came, jerking in his arms.

You were in his lap, your legs wrapped around his back, and you briefly thought of how this was the most intimate position yet. Your chests pressed together, and he was expertly moving you in his lap, helping you to ride him.

His face was a breath away. You closed the gap.

He groaned when your mouth opened for him, letting his tongue taste the mixture of you and his spend. You squeezed his cock harder, you were so turned on, and it only took a few more rolls of your hips to feel yourself come undone again.

Your head felt heavy, so you let it fall into the crook of his neck, nuzzling.

“Oh yeah, so fucking good,” You whimpered, your arms around him, “Oh, Poe don’t stop!”

Poe.

Your Poe.

+

This is how...this is how he would have liked to be with you the first time, how he pictured it when he was younger. You straddling his lap, wrapped around each other as you rolled your hips and he pulled the most delicious sounds from you with his deep thrusts. It was intimate, the position allowing him to move between kissing you, holding you, licking your breasts, ensuring you were enjoying it as much as him.  

He could whisper sweet nothings into your ear this way, tell you he loved you and that he’d take care of you. And you would have liked it too, he knew, because you liked watching his face, reading his expressions every day and he knew that would have translated over to making love.

But this-this wasn’t making love, was it?

You had dropped your head down as you came again, your body curling into his as though for safety, comfort.

“Oh, Poe, don’t stop!”

He was going to cum again, the sound of his name on your lips for the first time hurling him over the edge, “Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!” He pressed your body into his and dropped his head to your neck, where he peppered it with gentle kisses as he spilled inside of you.

You both slowed your movements after coming down from your highs this time.

Poe felt himself panting, out of breath. You were panting too.

But why...why was he on the table? Poe leaned back slightly and you raised your head at his movement, your eyes meeting his. They weren’t as dark as before, but you looked tired. Poe felt tired, exhausted really.

You were still moving your hips, almost as if on autopilot. But you were frowning at Poe as you did, and then you winced. He froze, watching as you looked down at yourself, his eyes following yours.

“No...” He heard himself whisper in dawning horror. You were covered in marks; bruises or bites, hickies, red welts from places that looked like they’d been slapped.

They had been slapped. He had slapped you.

Poe felt himself softening inside you, a pain in his back and knees, his chest smarting as well. He glanced down and saw track marks from your nails down his chest. He didn’t even remember you doing that, it hadn’t hurt at the time. You whimpered, this time in pain and he looked back up into your eyes. They weren’t dark anymore. You were crying.

“Sweetheart-“ Poe faltered, shaking his head and trying to clear the clinging fog. You shifted a little and he slipped from inside of you. Both you and Poe groaned at the sensation, and you quivered as the mixture of fluids spilled out from inside you. “I-what happened...what did I do?”

Poe was sobbing now too.

It took some time to regain enough strength to move from the table, without the boost the pollen had provided you were both spent and every tired, aching muscle, bruise and bite mark or scratch could be fully felt now. Poe recovered first, easing himself to his feet and searching for the packs you’d each dropped when things...went dark.

You were panting on the table still, in much worse shape than he was and the rising panic inside of Poe was giving him the energy he needed to get to the medkits. He pushed through the pain in his limbs, thirst in his mouth and throbbing in his head-none of it mattered right now, not when you were suffering. He glanced at his wrist comm as he unzipped the medkit and realized, with horror, that it had been fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of brutal, relentless, rough sex.

The plant hadn’t just taken away inhibitions, hadn’t made it impossible to resist one another, no it had obliterated both of you-pushed you both into the far recesses of your minds and forced you to watch as its pollen turned you into feral, angry animals with exactly one goal.

And it stole from you both, stole your consent, your right to chose, abilities to control the urges that were twisted by its potency. Warped into selfish desire, the need for release and control, as if it was some archaic mating ritual-mark, consume, dominate. It wasn’t real, none of it had been, each of you losing yourselves in a hopeless battle against the strength of the pollen. And Poe...he had been violent, mean, brutal. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been, but it was the unavoidable reality that he was much bigger and stronger, the boost of the pollen making it easy to manhandle you.

He would never forgive himself for harming you. For the things he said, the marks left all over your body. If he could have died instead, fought against the pollen and let whatever happened in that case happen, he would have. Ten times over, he would have.

Just like Charlie, he would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you.

But you had refused to run and told Poe that you didn’t want to die. At that moment, right as he was coiled to try and run from you, he realized that you could die too. There was no medical backup, no nearby crew to call for help. It was Poe and you and the bacta shots that would have been completely ineffective with the pollen pulsing through your systems. He had to give in, and the darkness had taken him over the moment he accepted it.

He remembers fleetingly thinking of all the times in his life he had let himself think of being with you intimately. Usually guilt-ridden, he pushed the thoughts away; as a teenager, he failed half the time, and as an adult, he tried to refocus on other women, but they never measured up. When his imagination did get the better of him, it was always, always tender. Soft, slow, sensual. Just the very idea of being the one pulling moans from your lips and taking care of you would send him over the edge.

But that wasn’t what happened here. It wasn’t a light high that lowered inhibitions and made the sex last longer, feel more intense. No, this was a sinister plant so potent it drove away each of your humanity and respect for one another, pulling pleasure for yourselves instead of giving it to one another.

It was cold and harsh, and Poe was devastated.

You whimpered suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, his head shooting up to look toward where you were laying on the table. “Sweetheart?” He stood the medkit in hand and tried to swallow back his sobs as he moved toward you.

“S’okay,” You groaned, eyes pressed tightly shut, “Find the bacta?”

“Yes, I-“ Poe faltered as he stood at the edge of the table, his hands holding the bacta shot he’d pulled out. “Can I touch you, or do you want to try and-?“

“Poe,” You mumbled tiredly, “I’m okay, please just give me the shot.” You attempted to roll yourself to your side and expose your buttocks for him but only ended up sobbing in pain again.

Flinching, Poe reached out and gently, so incredibly carefully, helped you to twist your hips. He heard himself whispering words of comfort but focused on opening the shot and lining it up. When he plunged the needle into you and pressed down on the plunger, you let out a weak but relieved little moan. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, tossing aside the bacta shot and brushing his fingers over your face comfortingly.

His shattered heart beat hopefully when you reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing.

+

Poe was watching you race Charlie up an older tree, his strength no match for your agility as the smaller sibling. It was a lazy day, hot enough to warrant a day by the river-which was what most of the kids in their town on Yavin-4 had been thinking, it seemed. The banks of the river were piled with kids and teens as far as he could see, though thankfully the prestige of the Horn and Dameron families left your favourite spot along the water relatively free of unwanted guests.

A few friends were nearby, giving Poe his space as he sat leaning against a boulder. A book sat open in his lap, though he’d been distracted many times now thanks to his inability to control his thoughts around you. His father had assured Poe that it was natural at seventeen to have a wandering mind, a surge of hormones, he’d horrifyingly explained. He advised that should the thoughts and feelings become too intense, that Poe needed to take a few breaths, refocus elsewhere, remind himself of the person that deserved his respect and not his wayward thoughts.

But Poe didn’t have these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck about anyone but you. It had always been you, and though so far he’d managed to hide his emotional and physical feelings from your notice, it alarmed him in moments like this. When you revealed much more skin than usual in a simple water suit, hair and sun-kissed skin damp from the water, he worried he might slip up. He was as ashamed of the direction his thoughts would go in as he was sure that you would, for the rest of his life, be the only one he ever truly admired so ardently, loved so deeply that he fought to refuse to disrespect you with his hormone fuelled thoughts.

You gave a whoop when you reached the highest point the tree would allow, its trunk and branches thinning enough to make it unsafe to climb any further beyond. A friend of yours, Tahla, and a few of his buddies were nearby in the water, laughing and teasing you from below and jokingly daring you and Charlie to jump. It wouldn’t have been unsafe to do, so instead, you both laughed and began the slow climb down.

You were moving much more slowly than Charlie now, out of breath from the race and taking care not to scratch yourself. Your brother hit the ground, tossed Poe a smirk, then barrelled into the water to cool off. Poe rolled his eyes, laughing as Charlie started picking up some of the smaller guys and tossing them into the water. A game fondly, yet unofficially, referred to as tempting the bull.

Poe adjusted himself against the rock, trying to get comfortable but he felt warm enough now that he thought he should get in the water as soon as Charlie wore himself out enough not to be a threat. You were still a good way up the tree, now slowed even further as you had a conversation with one of Tahla’s friends that had come out of the water to chat with you. Frowning to himself, Poe watched as you continued a friendly banter and felt the clutches of envy reaching for him.

This seemed like a good enough excuse to close his eyes and take one of those deep breaths his father advised. First standing, Poe tugged off his shirt so that he could make his way to the water, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Taking half a breath in until the sound of a branch snapping and your scream halted him in his tracks. Poe’s eyes snapped open and then he was frantically running, too far away to do anything as you lost your grip and fell, slamming into the ground on your side and letting out a pained wail.

Poe briefly met Charlie’s wide eyes as they both ran for you from different directions. Panic reflected there, but Poe got to you first and his eyes moved to you. Annoyingly, the blonde who had been speaking to you-distracting you-was knelt over you and worriedly checking you over.

Poe pushed him away from you, “Don’t touch her,” He heard himself snarl, taking a threatening step toward the kid, who raised his hands in surrender, “Get the fuck-“

“Poe,” He halted in his tracks and spun at the sound of your tiny voice, his anger waning the moment he saw you clutching awkwardly at your arm, Charlie knelt beside you. It was like you hadn’t even noticed your brother, though, your eyes only on Poe, surprisingly intense as you stopped him from chasing down Tahla’s idiot friend. “I-I think my arm is b-broken.” You sniffled, eyes streaming, and flinched as some of the tears ran through the scratches on your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart,” He was kneeling in front of you seconds later, inspecting you all over for any more injuries, thankful when your head appeared to be free of any bleeding. He looked to Charlie, who read his thoughts instantly.

“Kid, I’ll run ahead and let the Healer’s know what happened, flyboy’s got you.” Charlie kissed the top of your head and ran off at full speed.

You let out another sob, this time revealing to Poe that your pride was as injured as your arm. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” And with great care, he slid one arm under your legs, the other bracing your back, lifting you as he stood.

He carried you with great caution, moving a little slower than he’d prefer but, since you were still flushed and awake he figured jostling you too much would cause more damage than taking his time getting you to the healer.

“Were you gonna punch Raine, Poe?” You asked, still holding your arm carefully.

Poe grimaced, “He distracted you, should have waited till you were on the ground to bug you.” He replied tightly, not meeting your gaze as he didn’t want you to see in his expression how upset he was.

You sensed it, though, your good hand reaching up to stroke his jaw one, two, three times in a successful effort to soothe him.

“Raine isn’t all that distracting.” You murmured after a minute. Poe had to bite back a pleased smile, a little guilt bubbling up as a rogue thought tumbled in the back of his head that perhaps you had been looking at someone else when you became distracted.

+

Poe was a stubborn fucking man, this was something you’d always been keenly aware of, but at this moment you wanted to throttle him for it. You didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him, though the bacta shot he’d given you had you feeling physically wonderful, it did nothing to help your mind.

And you were so weary, all you wanted to do was sleep but his refusal to receive his bacta shot was preventing that from happening. You just needed to close your eyes for a few hours and let your brain process everything that had happened.

“Poe, there’s no reason for you to say no to the shot. You know I have to do it, it’s my directive-“

“And as your Commander,” He cut you off, pushing the hand that held the shot away, “I’m ordering you to not follow the directive. I’m fine. Don’t need it.”

And he wouldn’t even look at you now, his eyes everywhere but yours, his expression tight. Stubborn, stupid flyboy!

You considered how to convince him, realizing the arguments you had used so far were ineffective. “Poe, I don’t know anything about this pollen.” You stepped up to stand in front of him at the table, both of you now dressed in fresh clothing, skin scrubbed with medical towelettes, though you both needed to take showers urgently. You stunk.

Poe glanced at you nervously as you came into his space, and you wanted to cry at how he looked afraid of you. Afraid to move, because he might hurt you. You could see him taking the last few years and pushing it all into this fucking day, convincing himself that he hurt you again, that it was somehow his fault.

You’d really done a number on him. Your heart filled with sorrow.

“I feel fine.”

You set the shot down on the table next to where he sat, then reached up and grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. He flinched at your touch, his body going rigid. “Poe, baby please let me do this,” His brows shot up in surprise at the sincere concern in your voice, the tenderness of your hands on his face, “If for no other reason, to at least prevent cardiac arrest or...or a relapse.” You didn’t want to say this aloud, but you knew that just because you’d been exposed to the pollen once didn’t make either of you immune to its effects. The bacta would ensure that nothing further happened while you were on the planet.

“What?” His voice was sharp, “Are you saying I could...that I might-“

You shook your head, “I’m saying I don’t know, and anything is a possibility if you don’t take the shot.”

Poe sighed heavily, his eyes closing as he gave you a small nod. Wordlessly, he stood and you dropped your hands, picking up the bacta shot as he undid his belt and pushed one side of his pants down just enough to reveal his buttocks. Wasting no time, you plunged the shot into his skin and let out a breath of relief at his sound of content. Without thinking, you placed your free hand on his lower back in comfort.

“Thank you, Poe.”

He fixed his pants and glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression painfully dejected. You wanted to hold him. Instead, he took a few measured steps across the room and stooped to pick up both of your packs, no longer meeting your eyes. You sighed.

“Let’s find somewhere to get a few hours shut-eye.” He said, leading the way out of the room.

You followed him, glancing over your shoulder at the room one last time, your heart ten times heavier than it had been before you entered it.  

+

It didn’t take long to find a room with a few bunks, you and Poe each falling to an empty bed and falling asleep in a matter of moments. You were able to get a few hours, waking up feeling surprisingly refreshed, one of the helpful effects of the bacta shot. You were on your back and blinked up at the base of the upper bunk for a few moments, confused as to why you’d awoken. A sharp, suppressed sob pulled your attention to the bed just across from you, though Poe’s back was to you, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying.

It happened then, a monumental shift inside of you that was like seeing your whole life flash before your eyes. Only it was all Poe, every single moment of your life interwoven with him because he had always been there, always been absolutely everything to you. Seeing him across the room from you, trying to hide his pain again. Something in the core of your being shifted. You had to bite back a gasp as you felt several years of pent-up anger and pain begin to melt away until you were left raw, trying to reconcile how you had let your relationship with Poe get to this point, and even why you ran in the first place.

Maker, you were awful. Charlie would be ashamed of you, he loved Poe like a brother and you had been nothing but cruel these last couple of months. Another choked back sob cut through the air and you wanted to walk over to Poe and soothe his pain, assure him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and you didn’t know how to even begin to try and repair everything between you and him, especially not after what had just happened.

But you did...you wanted your best friend back. Which meant you needed to do some serious thinking. And that couldn’t all happen right here during the mission. So you pretended to just be waking up, noisily to give him a moment to hide his tears and pushed everything else back-just for a little while longer.

Poe stilled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head duck down, no doubt wiping his tears away. By the time you sat up, he was rolling over at pretending he had just woken up as well.

“Hey,” You gave him a small smile, then glanced at your wrist comm. “If we eat something and then start our search, we can be back at the ship in roughly four and a half hours.” Poe nodded in response, sitting up, and you watched him reach into one of the packs by the side of his bed. He pulled out two bottles of water and a couple of rations each, handing yours to you and carefully avoiding touching your skin as he did.

As much as you wanted to tell him you weren’t afraid of him, you knew this moment wasn’t the time to start the conversation. Instead, you ate in silence, Poe’s eyes on the floor and yours gazing at the walls, which had some basic Empire propaganda posted upon them.

After breakfast, you each suited up properly for exploring the facility and set out, wandering the halls cautiously in search of the main control room. It didn’t take too long to find, though you were held up trying to get the door to disengage. When your usual tricks didn’t work, you had to set up a charge and blow the door. You’d used these kinds of minor explosives plenty of times, retreating down the hall further than necessary as you counted down until detonation.

Surprising you, Poe suddenly spun from where he stood next to you and blocked your body protectively with his wider frame as the door was blown off of its hinges. He looked over your head, hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move until you leaned to look around him and confirmed it was safe to move in.

You felt as though your heart was sitting in the back of your throat now.

It was well preserved, evidently one of the first rooms to be locked up when the Empire forces abandoned this outpost. It was a treasure trove of intel and you excitedly got to work, breaking away from Poe to complete a safety sweep.

After completing a preliminary search of the room, you found the main control panel and, flipping through every piece of information you had in your brain on old technology, you started pulling it open to seek out where you could insert the data drive you’d brought. You were confident BB8 could crack through any ancient firewalls on any of the data you were able to recover. Poe was doing similar work at the stations' console across the room, working in silence but sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, looking away before you could catch his eye.

A while later and you were on your back under the console, seeking out the hidden panel that would give you access to the data bridge. It took a few minutes, but you finally found it and had to finagle it awkwardly with your nails, trying to pry the cover off. It gave a satisfying little ‘pop’ when you managed to free it.

And then it promptly fell straight onto your face.

It shot straight through your hands, the edge smacking off of the corner of your cheek before bouncing to the ground. “Fuck!” You cried, feeling the skin tear and warm blood pooling out.

Stars, you really were off your game.

Dabbing at the blood carefully with the sleeve of your shirt, you were suddenly dragged out from under the panel by your ankles. Before you could even question what was happening, Poe was leaning over you, his expression panic-stricken, only paling further when he saw the blood on your cheek.

“What happened?” His voice was frantic, hands hovering above you; it was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction for him that for a moment you could only stare up at him in surprise. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I’m okay,” You assured him hurriedly, sitting up onto your elbows, “Just dropped that panel on my face.” You gazed at Poe as his eyes dropped from you to the panel now laying on the ground next to you. A modicum of relief swept over his features fleetingly.

Wordlessly, he reached into your nearby pack and pulled out a bacta-spray. When his hands raised toward your face, you watched as he hesitated briefly before he touched you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you steady, the other applying the bacta-spray.

Still holding you, he dropped the spray into the pack again and pulled out a bandage. “Turn your head for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his eyes focused on your cheek.

You did as he asked and waited as he used both hands to apply the bandage over your skin. Peering up at Poe when he finished, you were touched by his gentle care, though you understood it was coming from a place of contrition more than anything. His fingers absentmindedly brushed downward, to ensure the edges of the bandage were sealed; you shivered involuntarily at the light contact.

Poe went rigid, his eyes meeting yours briefly in surprise before you glanced away, your face flushing. “Thank you.” You murmured, remaining still until he scooted back and stood, and then you were quickly pushing yourself back under the panel.

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

You sat back on your hunches, eyes on the man in front of you as he came apart, the emotions he’d tried hiding from you since that morning now spilling out. You were holding yourself steady by gripping his thighs and could feel the way his body was as rigid as durasteel. You looked at him and reminded yourself that this was what you would do to him if you left again, that leaving things unsaid and unresolved was never the answer.

“I hurt you, over and over,” His hands came to clench at his sides, gripping into the sheets of your bunk, “I said horrible things to you, at Charlie’s funeral and then since you’ve been back, and yesterday I-I can’t even-“

“Yesterday wasn’t you, Poe, it wasn’t either of us.” You interjected softly, urging yourself to remain exceptionally calm as he came undone.

He huffed, unimpressed with your argument, “Y-you and I, we lost everything the day Charlie died. But you kept it together, organized the funeral, smiled and hugged everyone who came up to us...all I could do was stand there and be angry at y-you even though I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Poe shook his head aggressively when you opened your mouth to interrupt, “No, you know it’s true, you even said it yourself. I failed you. And then you came back and I failed you again, let us drift further apart than we’d been when you were in a different galaxy. You lost your brother, and then I lost you both and I-I’m so, fuck (y/n), I am so sorry.”

And he sobbed, a retched, heartbreaking sob that almost knocked you off of your feet, it was so real and deep. You couldn’t help the tears that poured down your cheeks in response, and you were momentarily at a loss of how to respond. How could you even begin to help take away that much pain? When you were the fucking person who caused it?

Unsure of what else to do, you slid forward and in between his legs again, your hands moving to grip his forearms. You rubbed up and down soothingly and held him harder when he tried to pull away.

“You shouldn’t be near me, not after w-what I’ve done to you.” He gasped out, failing to move out of your grasp but continuing to struggle. It was a testament to his fear of causing you harm that he simply didn’t push away, as the stronger person.

“Neither of us had any choice, Poe, we were both covered in that pollen. And,” You moved your head to catch his eye, to ensure he heard your next words, “And Poe, I was the one who tackled us into that bush, who forgot the map they studied for two days that showed that cliff. Do you blame me for what happened?”

Poe almost glared at you, stilling, “Of course I don’t blame you-“

“Then understand that I don’t blame you either, Poe, fuck.”

“(y/n),” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, “You said...right before I-you said that you didn’t want to die. When you put it like that, I knew it meant you understood what was happening but hadn’t heard of a plant this powerful and didn’t know if you could die if we didn’t...” He paused, shaking his head. He looked at you then, through tear-soaked lashes, an expression so full of sorrow you stopped breathing. “That was the only reason I stayed with you. I was fighting it, I was going to make a run for it when you wouldn’t. I wanted to run, let myself die because I could feel what the pollen was making me want to do to you and fuck, it scared me. What I did to you yesterday was horrific. Unforgivable. Everything I’ve done to you is.”

Suddenly, you were angry, his words registering in your brain like an explosion, “Shut up,” You growled, harsh enough to catch him off guard and he was peering at you in surprise, eyes searching your face in confusion. “Don’t ever, ever say-I can’t believe you...why would you want to die, Poe? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could survive you dying? That I would want to live in a galaxy where you and Charlie were both gone? I left, I know, but I always knew you were at least alive!”

Poe gaped at you in shock, looking as though you had just slapped him awake, cleared the fog from his brain. Before you knew what was happening, he reached down for you and gripped your waist before dropping to his knees on the ground with you, crushing you into a tight embrace. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, and you wondered how you ever could be trusted enough for this strong, capable man to let himself become so vulnerable for you.

“Didn’t mean it,” He murmured, nuzzling your neck slightly as you instinctively run your fingers through his hair. “I promise I won’t leave...if you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you.”

You remained in Poe’s arms for some time, the silence was no longer heavy with anger but rather thick with emotion. And stars, you had forgotten what being held by Poe was like, the warmth and safety his arms had always surrounded you with. You let yourself forget; instead, you’d spent these last few years painting a picture of Poe Dameron with only the medium of his final words to you, resulting in an ugly, distorted image that served to fuel your pain, your resentment.

In doing this, you had forgotten how complex Poe was, how he acted cocky, snarky, but deep down he was a serious, earnest man with a heart of gold. He let himself feel, didn’t try to hide his emotions from you or Charlie growing up, he cried when you cried and...and fuck, the one time he messed up and let his emotions get the better of him, you fled and didn’t look back. You didn’t let him apologize, and you knew even if he had found you straight after your fight you wouldn’t have listened.

You abandoned Poe because you had been afraid, a coward if there ever was one in this situation. And you weren’t just running from the loss, you were running from feelings you didn’t understand the depth of until you lost your brother. Because there was this moment, it was so brief, fleeting, but for just one moment you had been relieved that Poe hadn’t died during the Gold team mission.

And what did that make you? Not only a coward for running but a monster for thinking it in the first place. Instead of dealing with any of your feelings, your grief, you took the easy route and fled literal constellations away, severing ties with the one man in the whole galaxy who mattered to you anymore because you were terrified of how fucking in love with him you had been, and how your brother dying was what made you realize it.

+

Poe had let you shower first, taking time while you were in the fresher to collect all of the items from the mission and put them in an airtight container. He didn’t want to risk any of the pollen getting onto either of you again. Once he’d done that, he put on a fresh pot of caf and was halfway through his first cup when you emerged, hair down in long, damp tendrils, wearing another of Charlie’s old shirts and some worn jersey shorts.

“Oh, maker, caf!” You groaned happily, eagerly accepting the cup he’d poured for you and taking a long swell, eyes closed. Poe watched you, his mind still reeling over everything that had occurred in the last day.

You had been acting so much like the you he remembered, the person he’d grown up with-so kind-hearted, understanding. It was overwhelming to try and process what had happened with the pollen while navigating this shift in his relationship with you. For the first time in a long time, Poe felt as though his best friend was coming back to him.

“Did you,” He paused, gauging your reaction to his voice, but you just observed him over your mug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Did you keep a lot of Charlie’s things?” If you were upset by the question, it didn’t show. You considered his words, nodding.

“I did, at first. I left so quickly that I didn’t have time to grab anything of his...Tommy and Rico boxed everything for me and kept it stored until I was reassigned.” Your expression tightened at the memory, “I had a few weeks off, I planet hopped to some of Charlie’s favourite spots, then once I was settled in at my new assignment had everything brought over. I kept a lot of his shirts, personal effects. Just donated his pants, really.”

Poe smiled, “I guess there were some very happy big and tall men that found those pants at the shelter.” Cheesy, he cringed internally.

But you laughed, a genuine little giggle just for Poe, one he’d heard a million times before but it had been so long, emotion bubbled up within him and his smile faltered; he glanced away, hoping you wouldn’t notice his shift in mood.

“What is it?”

Poe sighed, mildly amused at your familiar behaviour. You never did let him get away with hiding things if you could help it. Rather than explain how much it meant to him to be standing there with you, laughing, he swivelled the conversation, one last thing on his mind.

“I’m going to say something, and then if you want to just close this conversation after I do, I’m good with that, okay?”

You tilted your head curiously, giving him a little nod, “Sure.”

Poe looked away from you, staring down into his mug as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I know it was the pollen, all of it,” He took a deep breath, willing his brain to make itself useful, “I still need you to hear me say this: the things I said to you during...while we were under it-I wouldn’t ever say anything like that to you, (y/n). They were mean and filthy, crude words I’ve never...would never...not that we would, I mean, shit.” He ran a hand over his face, holding over his forehead as his frustration with himself grew.

“Poe?” You said after a pause, and he glanced up. Your expression was exceptionally understanding, “The same goes for me. The scratching too wasn’t me. And,” Your lips quirked, “I think I called you Commander a few times, and please know I do not call people by their rank during sex, stars.”

Poe chuckled, “Obviously, that would be fucking embarrassing,” Your smile widened at his response. “It’s just important to me that you know I would never think or enjoy saying mean and degrading stuff like that about a woman, about you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, “I’ve always known that, Poe.” Pausing to take another deep drink of your caf, you then pointed with your free hand to your right forearm, “Also, um, I have an implant so we...that is, I’m not going to, uh...” You trailed off awkwardly.

His eyes widened in horror, realizing he hadn’t thought beyond the potential emotional consequences of what had happened. “Shit, are you sure?”

You nodded vigorously when his gaze fell to your stomach before meeting yours again, “No sex pollen babies.” Each of you looked away at the same moment, embarrassed.

After a few minutes of quiet, Poe looked back down at you. You were standing next to him, leant against the counter and staring unseeingly in front of you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocused and met his, “Y-yeah, Poe?”

He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. Using his free hand, he cupped the back of your head and lowered his own to press your foreheads together, an affectionate display you had both done since you were little. He felt you relax into it, and for a minute everything was quiet and peaceful and safe.

Poe felt like his shattered heart wasn’t in so many pieces anymore.

And then you reached up with your hand and stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Just like that, he felt you come back to him.

Poe smiled to himself, getting lost in the feeling.

@mermaidxatxheart​ @foxilayde​ @eleinemk​ @paintballkid711​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @deitysnips​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin

[aiekerman]

Easy pt2 - Eren Jaeger

Eren Jaeger x Reader - fluff

Pt.1

AN - Okay so a couple people asked so I finally wrote it put here’s part 2! I realise you can kinda read it by itself? But reading the first part will give better context. Honestly I wish I could write NSFW to end this off but I’m so bad at it. Maybe one day lol. Also I’m trying to keep my reader as gender neutral as possible, but please let me know if there’s anywhere I can improve!

I’ve titled it the same for continuity sake, but song vibes for this is We Belong by Dove Cameron. 

Content Warnings - Alcohol, swearing (I apologise if I miss anything here but I know these would be the main two)

Summary - Two idiots in love attend the end of semester party and despite attempts to not end up together, they struggle to keep swallowing down their feelings.

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

Jean’s house is filled with over-zealous college students, dropping all their inhibitions at the door after finishing finals. 

You were included in that classification. Having made a bee-line for the kitchen and immediately filled a cup with your drink of choice.

That was three hours ago now and the buzz of alcohol is felt all over. You wander from the bathroom after fixing yourself up, not that much could be done in your current state. Hair frizzing like a tumbleweed. The overshirt you’d arrived in was now secured around your waist to fight the heat of the house, leaving your top half in a tank top.

Moving to allow the next person into the bathroom you wander into the crowd, eyes scanning for one of your friends.

Across the room you spot the back of Eren’s head, confident it was him despite your tipsy state from the sight of his brown hair scraped back in a bun.

Just as you push your body forward to go over to him a hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you in the direction of the kitchen. Your head snapped over to the body pulling you along and see that it’s the party host himself.

‘Y/N, c’mon, shots!’ Jean’s words are short and to the point, the effort required to be heard over the music making for terse conversations.

Your hazy brain immediately forgets your plan to say hi to Eren and smile after Jean, letting him lead you to the alcohol.

His kitchen features a small island, which for the night seemingly doubles as a bar. The entire surface is spread with various bottles and mixers and cups. As he pulls you up to it his eyes are scanning the selection, ‘What are we feeling? Tequila?’

Your face pulls into a grimace and your head shakes fervently. Instead you choose to reach for the fireball whiskey, the thought of the cinnamon taste much more appealing.

Jean rolls his eyes, but reaches for two shot glasses regardless, ‘Pussy.’

‘Excuse me for wanting to drink something that actually tastes good. You know how bad I gag on tequila.’

Jean leans down to your ear to avoid having to yell as he speaks, ‘Keep your voice down, I think Bertolt might get hard just hearing you talk about gagging.’

Your eyes widen at his words, and your eyes swing around the kitchen, landing on Bertolt who is leant against the refrigerator. His eyes are glancing at you, and you see his face turn red when you catch his eyes. He lifts his cup in greeting and you give back a small wave.

Eren’s words from a few weeks ago echo in your brain, but you mentally shake it off as Jean hands you your shot. After a small tap of the glasses in cheer with him you drop your head back to drink. The liquid gives a warm burn down the back of your throat, and you smile at Jean as he scrunches up his nose.

‘Shut up it’s so good.’

As Jean opens his mouth to retaliate, you feel an arm slide around your waist, and a hand comes up to cover your eyes. A familiar voice floats to your ear, ‘I know I am but what are you?’ 

You giggle and attempt to wiggle from the grasp but the arm secures more tightly. ‘Guess who?’

‘What do I get if I win?’

‘You get to do a shot with me.’

‘And if I lose?’

‘You have to do a shot with me.’

‘Wow, talk about peer pressure, Eren.’ 

His arms release you and one comes up to rest over your shoulder. You twist to look up at him, his green eyes are hazy, clearly affected by the alcohol himself. His smile is almost childlike as he beams down at you, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey you,’ you giggle back, wrapping an arm around his back. 

The two of you always leant on the affectionate side, hip bumps and head resting on shoulders never amiss. But when alcohol got involved, you were verging on touchy. 

He drops a kiss to the top of your head and reaches to pour three more shots, sliding one to Jean who thanks him, knocks it back and then wanders off again.

You lift the small glass and laugh as he wraps his free arm around yours, elbows hooked together as you both down the drink. You both erupt in giggles as you push up onto your toes slightly to reach his height and access your shot without spilling it completely. 

Dropping the empty cups down he moves his arm from your shoulder to rest on your lower back. 

‘You talked to Bertolt yet?’

‘I waved to him but haven��t talked to him.’

‘Well what are you waiting for?!’

‘How do you even know he wants to sleep with me?’

His eyebrows furrow and he steps back to look you over, ‘Why wouldn’t he?’

You shove at his shoulder and step back, reaching for a glass of water. Pouring one for Eren as well, which he accepts with a smile.

The two of you worked in sync throughout parties, despite spending half the night apart. But when one of you went out for fresh air chances are the other would be close behind, not even on purpose. So when you knew you needed some water it was only automatic to get one for him too. There was almost a sixth sense between you.

You start sipping at the water, attempting to balance out from the last two shots that were hitting you quick. From your peripheral you notice Bertolt’s tall frame head towards the back door. Your eyes quickly turn back to Eren who is smiling across the room at a girl you don’t recognise. 

‘What happened to just chilling for the night?’

‘Flirting is just chilling. We flirt.’

You internally sigh, flexing your jaw slightly at his words.

‘That is not the same.’

You breathe deep to rid yourself of the strange feeling bubbling in your stomach. 

What have I got to lose?

‘Hey I’m gonna head outside for some air.’

‘Oh cool, I’ll come with you. It is pretty stuffy in here.’

‘No, Eren.’

‘What?’ 

You feel your stomach drop at the kicked puppy expression that overtakes his face. Scrambling to correct your harsh tone, ‘I think I saw Bertolt head out that way.’

This time his face is overtaken by the cheekiest grin he can muster. His hip bumps against your’s and his hand reaches up to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away and nod over to the girl, ‘Go get ‘em tiger.’ 

He rolls his eyes, pushing at your shoulder once more, nudging you in the direction of the back door, ‘Look who’s talking.’

Stepping outside the cold air bites at your cheek and you quickly untie your overshirt and slip it on, eyes glancing around for Bertolt in the process.

The garden has a few bodies lingering around, most being people outside for cigarette breaks, one girl in the corner losing her last few drinks.

You spot Bertolt sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone. Sucking in a breath you remind yourself why the hell not? One last time before making your way over to him.

‘Hey, how’s your night going?’ You drop down onto the bench next to him, close enough for his knee to brush against your’s.

‘Hi Y/N, I’m having an alright night.’ He smiles warmly back. Returning the gesture you glance over his face, he was cute enough. But something in the pit of your stomach has reservations, you chose to push it down further.

‘Better now I just got here?’ You nudge his knee with your own and he laughs, giving a small nod. You let out a sigh, maybe your flirting skills weren’t entirely dead.

You begin to think of your next witty remark when he speaks again, ‘Although I’m shocked Jaeger let you out of his sight.’

‘What?’ You felt as though a brick had just hit you across the face. The feeling in your stomach came flooding back up. Now very aware of the tingling across your skin where Eren had been holding you only minutes ago. Your shoulder, your waist, your cheek. 

It was just the alcohol. Yeah, that was it.

‘Please, you aren’t that drunk are you?’

You force out a laugh. But your eyes still clearly read confusion. He tilts his head, his smile almost apologetic.

‘You’re really fooling yourself that hard?’

‘If you’re trying to suggest that Eren and I are a thing then you are the drunk one here.’

‘I’m not saying you guys are a thing, but you’re clearly in love with each other.’

‘Shut up,’ you swear it’s the weakest your voice has ever sounded. Your head turns when you hear the sound of his voice floating out the back door, and you see his figure in the kitchen window as he brazenly flirted.

‘He’s just my best friend.’ You mumble out as you turn your head back to Bertolt, who’s raised his eyebrows.

‘Best friend’s are in love all the time. It’s often the best foundation for a relationship.’

‘If this is just some elaborate way of saying you don’t want to get with me, you can just say it. I’m a big girl. I'll live.

‘Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Under any other circumstances I would be honoured to be your hook up for the evening. But I’m also a hopeless romantic, and I’m not gonna get in the way of you two.’

‘It was his idea for me to talk to you tonight.’

‘His way of stopping himself from trying it with you. Haven’t you guys already hooked up before?’

‘Uh, not really. We don’t talk about that though. Like it never happened.’

‘You and Eren, two of the biggest clowns on campus when you’re together. And you never make jokes about how you almost hooked up?’

Your brain goes blank. You didn’t talk about it. You also didn’t talk about why you didn’t talk about it. It was just an unspoken rule, and you don’t even remember when you both decided it. You tried not to even think about it. Eren was your best friend. That was all.

‘I-’

‘Hey, look I’m sorry if I’ve upset you at all. But I mean, I don’t know if anyone talks about it. But they definitely all think it. You’re Jaeger’s. And he’s yours. Even if it’s not really official.

Your mouth opens and closes for something to say. But your head is empty, except for flashes of memories.

You and Eren, half undressed and laying bed together. Giggling like idiots. Trying to stop laughing for five minutes so you could actually have sex. 

‘How about we go grab another drink?’

He takes your hand lightly and leads you inside, back to the kitchen island of alcohol.

You grab for a random bottle, looking like some kind of rum? And pour a measure - or three - into a red cup. You smile up at Bertolt who’s mixed his own drink and cheers.

As you lift the cup to your mouth you glance Eren and the girl, her hand resting on his forearm as she giggles. Without thinking you down the full cup, immediately regretting the action as it burns down your throat.

‘Woah, you okay?’ Bertolt’s eyes wide as he takes in your scrunched up face.

‘Yeah, I think I might call it a night.’

‘I’m sorry again, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’

‘It’s fine. I probably needed to hear it. I’ll be honest I start to think it all the time. Then I just shove down the feeling. Thank you, Bertolt.’

‘Have a good summer, Y/N.’ He leans in for a one armed hug and you reciprocate. Smiling and thinking to yourself that he was a sweet boy, but apparently you were already unofficially taken.

He gives a pat to your shoulder before moving off. You stare off ahead, thoughts swimming more wildly as the last drink hits you. 

Eren spots your pained expression and immediately, but politely, leaves the girl and takes the distance in two strides to reach you, his hands gripping your shoulders.

You jump at the contact, breath catching as you look up and meet his green eyes. Heart pounding harder at their intensity.

‘What’s wrong, did Bertolt do something?’ 

It takes all your sober brain cells to keep your eyes from his lips, but once you register his words you shake your head and furrow your eyebrows.

‘No, no he was fine. I, uh, think I’m gonna head home. I could use a lay down.’

‘Oh okay. I can go find our jackets if you wanna say bye to Jean for us?’

Your face heats up at the immediacy in his reaction to leave with you. He did it all the time, but it was now in your head that it had underlying meaning.

‘I’ll be fine, you stay. I only live two buildings over, idiot.’ Your words are half-hearted as you watch his expression sour slightly.

‘Shut up. When have I ever let you walk home alone this late, or when you’re this drunk?’

You drop your head, head not in the frame to argue with him. Turning on your heels you mumble back, ‘I’ll find Jean.’

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

You giggle as you manage to finally get your key in the door and push it open, finally managing to shrug Eren off your shoulders.

He’d spent the walk draped over your back, waddling behind you with his legs spread wide, making sure to not catch your feet and send you both tumbling.

Now though he pushed off his shoes, and confidently strolled to your kitchen. He knew exactly where your cups were kept, along with a bag of chips with the intention of sobering you both up to save the hangover tomorrow.

Your eyes took him in as he made his way about the kitchen, pouring glasses of water filling a bowl with chips.

It was all the alcohol’s fault, you kept telling yourself. It was the alcohol that kept flashing images of that night through your brain. And why you felt a stirring of butterflies in your stomach as he flopped onto the couch and spread an arm out, gesturing for you to tuck yourself into his side.

It was all so easy with the two of you. Or at least it had been until the idea of how you could possibly be hopelessly devoted to each other was thrust from the deep recesses of your brain.

‘Why don’t we talk about it?’

He glances up from shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, raising his eyebrows in question.

You repeat your statement.

He scrunches up his face, realising what you mean. Swallowing his food, he shrugs. ‘I don’t know, cause we just don’t.’

Thinking for a moment you reach into your jeans pocket, fishing out a ten dollar bill. 

Striding across the room you pull out his palm and place the money in his hand.

‘I wanna talk about it.’

His face falls slightly when he realises how serious you are, his eyes trained on his outstretched palm.

‘Why?’ His voice is dangerously quiet.

You falter, your mouth is running ten miles ahead of your brain and it was running out of steam as the reality of the territory you were stepping on hit you.

You start to speak, much less confident than before, ‘Cause it’s weird. We joke about everything. But we can’t even so much as mention it.’

‘Why does it matter? It’s been over a year and you wanna talk about it now?’

‘Yeah.’ Eren stands, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension filling the room was suffocating, your neck burning up under his stare.

‘But why?’

‘Because we should talk about it. It’s not healthy for our friendship to just pretend it never happened.’

Your stomach is twisting in knots in nervousness and regret for opening your mouth. But your chest has a burn of frustration for his attempts to avoid the subject.

‘We’ve gotten this far just fine. Why now?’

‘God fucking christ, Eren. Because I love you!’

You freeze. Bold running cold as you choke. Hands slapping up to cover your mouth, for fear of any more impromptu confessions slipping out.

Tears immediately start to fill your eyes, although you’re unsure why.

Eren is staring, open mouthed. His face is flushing red, thoughts firing off as he processed your words. His voice is suddenly much softer.

‘You know, I don’t believe in love at first sight,’ he steps toward you, ‘and I still don’t. But the first time I made you laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever felt my insides light up so fast.’

He’s right in front of you now, pushing your arms away from your face so that his hands can cup it. Your breathing quickens.

‘Just every happy receptor going off. And I knew I never wanted to stop making you laugh for the rest of my life. We didn’t have sex that night cause I just had to keep hearing that giggle.’

A tear slips out of your eye, but it’s quickly wiped off with his thumb.

‘And when I woke up sober the next morning, I got so fucking scared that I’d mess it up if we were together, and that I couldn’t hear you laugh anymore. So I shoved it all down.’

His chest is a breath away from yours, this time you can’t stop your eyes looking to his lips. 

You think to yourself I’ve kissed Eren before. We’re literally talking about the time we kissed. Why am I so nervous?

His voice, breathy and hushed brings you back from your thoughts.

‘Y/N.’

‘Eren?’

‘I love you.’

‘Really?’

His forehead falls against yours as a laugh escapes him, shaking his head before pressing his warm lips to yours. Your arms are like magnets to wrap around his neck and drag him impossibly closer.

And just like always you fall in sync, jumping into his arms as they wrap around your thighs.

A giggle escapes you as he carries you off towards your bedroom. Eren’s insides light up again, like the first time, like every time.

[waveypedia]

Leaving the Nest

Companion piece to The Family We Make (can be read in any order)

Ao3

Granny’s posture is as immaculate as always, but her knuckles grip the pan just a little too tight. To an outsider, she would seem the perfect picture of serenity, but Webby knows the tells that give her away too well.

Of course she does. Granny is Webby’s favorite person in the entire world.

Webby’s family has grown and grown over the last few years, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world. But if it came down to it, Granny is more her family than anyone else. Even the boys. Even Dad.

“Dear, I think we should talk about… the other day,” Granny trails off, awkward and lame. It would be disorienting to see Granny, normally so put-together and articulate, struggling with words. But a couple days ago, Webby saw her chained and captured, crying and beaten, forced to spill her darkest secrets and then knocked out. Manipulated. Nothing Granny does can faze her in quite the same way.

Webby takes a deep breath. “I… I think so too,” she says. “But, honestly, I don’t have anything to say. You’re my Granny.”

Granny’s shoulders slump in relief before she catches herself, her decades of SHUSH training snapping in, and she reorients herself to her ever-present poker face. 

“I’m not, you know,” Granny says quietly, her voice full of shame. Webby stiffens, and glances away before Granny can see the tears pooling in her eyes. “I- I stole you from a SHUSH compound. The photos you have of your parents were a lie. Just another lie among many.”

“I don’t care,” Webby snaps, with more anger in her voice than she intended. But as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes that she truly does feel that anger. Not towards Granny herself, but towards the notion that Granny isn’t her grandmother.

“You’re my grandmother,” Webby declares passionately. “I don’t care if you’re not related to me. I don’t care if I’m a clone of Dad. You stole me from a FOWL compound because you cared about me from the moment we met. You gave up your entire life and a career you’d been working towards for decades for me. You raised me. You locked yourself in the mansion to keep me safe. You’re my grandmother.”

“I’m happy to hear that, dear,” Granny says in the softest of whispers. “More than you could ever know.” Webby thinks she hears Granny’s voice catch, but she can’t be certain. 

“But I lied to you, even after I promised I wouldn’t,” Granny continues, her tone more subdued. She crosses her hands in her lap, making a controlled effort to smooth them out. “You have every right to be angry with me.”

Webby reaches forward and takes her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. “I do,” she agrees. Granny’s head snaps up and she stares at Webby, eyes wide. Webby shrugs nonchalantly, shoulders loose, emulating Louie’s calculated facade of easy calm without realizing it. “But that’s not the kind of person I am, Granny.”

Webby glances away, pursuing her lips. She can’t bear to watch Granny’s face twist in pain. “I… I am frustrated that you lied to me and broke your promise,” she says slowly, haltingly, choosing her words carefully. She’s walking a thin line, basically a tightrope with no net, of expressing her feelings and not upsetting her Granny. “Just don’t do it again, please.”

Granny’s face softens. “Of course, Webby dear. No more secrets.” 

She reaches out to hug Webby, and Webby obliges, but she says stiff. “That’s what you said last time,” Webby mutters into Granny’s shoulder. Her words are almost too soft to be heard, but judging by the way Granny stiffens, she does.

Granny pulls back, her hands still on Webby’s shoulders. She opens her mouth a few times, frantically searching for words, some kind of placating promise that she didn’t already break.

 “You’re right. Of course,” Granny acquiesces at last, hanging her head. Strands of grey hair drip out of her bun by the pull of gravity. Webby swallows thickly, bile pooling in her throat. Granny is reacting perfectly, yet all she does is remind Webby of when they were stuck together in a dark FOWL interrogation room, a wall of pain and deception painfully thick between them.

Webby reaches out a small hand to touch Granny’s shoulder. “Granny, please,” she whispers. She’s not sure if Granny understands the true meaning behind her plea in its entirety, but she pulls herself back together nonetheless. For a few minutes, silence hangs between them. It’s not a comfortable silence, but it’s not stifling, either. It’s just… anticipatory.

“I can’t simply promise that I won’t lie to you anymore,” Granny says at last. Her voice is quiet and subdued, but honest and vulnerable. It’s open in a way Granny rarely is. “But I will do better from now on. I’ll prove my sentiments through actions, not empty promises.”

Webby smiles gratefully. It’s not her usual wide, face-splitting grin, but it’s soft and vulnerable, with layers and meaning behind it. “Thanks. I… I want to know things. About SHUSH. Classified things. The parts of my past you could never tell me, and new information, too.”

Granny’s gaze shoots away. “I-I can’t,” she replies immediately, and Webby’s heart drops. It must show in her face, because Granny’s own twists with guilt. 

“I- Well- I suppose I did just promise to, didn’t I,” Granny says, half to herself, with a small chuckle. There’s little humor behind it, but it’s fond. “I will do my best, Webbigail. But please understand that there is some SHUSH information that is simply beyond my classification to give you.”

“I understand,” Webby says simply. “But the information you can give me… I want to know, Granny.”

Granny’s fists clench and unclench in her lap. Webby knows how uncomfortable and out of her depth she must feel. She protected Webby with her life for years by hiding these secrets, and it takes time to undo such habits. But she’s trying, and that’s all that Webby cares about. 

“Do you remember the day I met the boys?” Webby asks, her voice lighter and more casual than she feels. There’s a pit of fear steadily growing in her stomach, but her voice is blessedly steady. 

Granny’s smile is small but fond. “You snuck out,” she replies, a hint of reproach in her voice, but no malice. It’s a wound long since healed, leaving only a soft scar as a reminder that it existed at all. “You ignored my number one rule and left the mansion for the very first time.”

“Yeah, and it was new and scary,” Webby replies lightly, ignoring the jab. “But you let me go, because you knew it was for the best. Because I was growing up.”

“Because Mr. McDuck could keep you safe,” Granny adds pointedly, but she’s smiling, if a bit pained.

“Yeah, and he did! I’m fine, Granny. Besides, I can keep myself safe.”

“Tell that to the you that landed yourself in FOWL headquarters with all your allies captured and no real clue what was in store for you,” Granny quips. “My worst nightmare, come alive right in front of my eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” Webby mutters, dropping her gaze to her feet. “But hey, if you’d told me the truth, maybe I wouldn’t have been so misinformed.”

Granny dips her head. “You make a good point. I concede that one.”

“Anyway, that’s just what this is like,” Webby continues. “It’s a big change. But it’s a necessary one. I’m ready for this, Granny.  You are too. And in time, this’ll feel completely normal, and we’ll have forgotten what it was like to live like we are.”

Granny is silent for a few moments. Webby glances up, nervous, only to find Granny smiling proudly, and wiping a small tear away under her glasses.

“Webby, dear, you are so wise,” she says, her voice thick. Webby’s heart clenches. “Aren’t I the one supposed to give you the deep, heartfelt talks and inspire you, and not the other way around?”

Webby gives her a small smile. “You’ve done it before, Granny. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Granny sniffles rather uncharacteristically. Without warning, she lunges forward and scoops Webby up in a tight hug. “Oh, my dear,” Granny says, her voice choked with tears. “You are just lovely, you know that? How did I ever get so lucky to have you for a granddaughter?”

“Well, it’s partly because of you,” Webby says, smiling into her grandmother’s back. “You raised me.”

Granny nods into Webby’s shoulder. “And it was lovely.”

When Granny finally pulls back, she tugs Webby back to face her, her hands on Webby’s shoulders. “You’re growing up,” she says thickly. “Oh, Webbigail, I am so proud of you.”

Webby beams at her grandmother. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Oh,” Granny says thickly, and hugs her again.

~

HEY REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE CONVERSATION WITH WEBBY AND BEAKLEY WELL HERE IT IS :D (rip my poor math homework i’ll be up all night finishing that ugh)

i wrote this in like,, 45 minutes because i had to get the few sentences i was thinking about down before i forgot them and just,, kept going lmao. rip the webby & lena convo story i’ve been chipping away at that is going absolutely nowhere rn. i’ll get to it

webby and beakley’s relationship is SO important to me. beakley literally gave up everything for webby. it’s so obvious how much beakley cares about her, but also,,, they had this entire episode about trusting each other and then beakley promises not to keep any more secrets from webby and she has absolutely zero intention of keeping it. that always gets me. especially since webby is one of the most trusting characters of all time and would never doubt her grandmother of all people after they made up. i’m not salting on beakley or anything, but it’s very interesting to think about going forward since beakley will obviously try to do better, especially once the major factor keeping her quiet is gone, but she really doesn’t have a leg to stand on since she broke her promise. definitely an interesting concept we should talk about more

we talk a lot about how scrooge never apologized to webby after telling her she wasn’t family in last crash of the sunchaser and she immediately forgave him. scrooge def should’ve apologized but it’s interesting to note that webby basically can’t and won’t hold a grudge for the life of her, at least when it comes to the people she cares about (she definitely can with goldie DJDFKLSLDF). it’s sweet. i imagine beakley feels incredibly guilty after the finale but webby’s just ready to move on and to enter a new chapter of their lives where they’re completely honest and open with each other. i don’t imagine she’s not upset at the deception, but she’s not mad.

also man that interrogation scene? that probably traumatized webby. man. what a shitty situation to be in i can’t even imagine.

beakley and webby’s relationship will always mean the world to me, especially with the added context of their backstory. beakley literally saw one (1) baby and was like i’m about to end this man’s (me) whole career LMAO. it’s incredible.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Five: The Something In His Eyes

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,963

MASTERLIST

~

Over the next few days, you fell into a rhythm. You’d work on schoolwork remotely from your room. It was pretty easy to keep up with all the free time you had. 

So, obviously, the remaining time off was spent getting to know the enigma of a man 

that was Spencer Reid. You formed a rather strange acquaintanceship with him, not quite friends but more than a protector and protectee. The real question was who was protecting who?

You discovered many things about him, some quite apparent, others not. For example, you assumed he was very into technology as most nerdy types were. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He despised all things electronic, from e-books to computers themselves.

“Do you even own a cell phone?”

“Yes!” he insisted, driving you to work for the third day in a row. “Sure, it’s not a fancy smartphone, but I can dial numbers so much easier, anyway.” He handed you his old-school flip-phone.

“How do you text people on this thing?”

He laughed politely.

“I don’t.”

You took the time to interrogate him on the nuances of text language, something he lovingly referred to as ‘dreadfully impractical’.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Being constantly watched wasn’t as disconcerting as you’d expected. Well, being watched by Spencer wasn’t. You pretended you didn’t notice the dark blue honda with the tinted windows following you all the way to work and parking nearby. Strange that the FBI seems to need lessons in being covert.

Fortunately, rude customers and the smell of books managed to take your mind off your current situation.

What didn’t help was having to constantly stop Spencer from rearranging all the books in the shop.

“They’re categorized by the Dewey Decimal System,” he said, disgust in his tone making you stifle a giggle. “What? Everyone knows that the Library of Congress Classification System is far superior.”

“Maybe, but my workers have memorized the Dewey Decimal System. It’s easier.”

“But it’s too vague! When you’re categorizing books you need to work from all sorts of classifications. For example . . .”

It was amazing to see how passionate he was about sorting books. You’d never met a man that didn’t just throw a novel (or, more realistically, a comic book) back anywhere on the shelf when he’d finished it. Spencer treated each book like a separate piece of artwork, carefully placing them back in the correct spot without fail. He’d run his hands over the leather bound covers, caressing them as delicately as possible. You couldn’t help but notice the swiftness and gracefulness at which his hands moved.

“You okay?” you snapped out of your stupor and found him standing much closer, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Yes, ahem, sorry. I need to get back to work.”

Quickly, you walked back over to the front desk, starting to update the book index.

Maybe I should have requested Emily as my protector, you thought to yourself, dusting off a returned copy of Fahrenheit 451. Spencer was super nice and a huge dork. Maybe that was the problem. It was easy to start to think of him as a friend rather than someone just doing his job. Maybe if you’d met under different circumstances you might have been . . . friends. 

But that wasn’t the case. Spencer was there to protect you. Any teasing or joking around was just a formality. But why did he have to be so damn enticing?

Around nine o’clock, customers started to peter out. Soon, the only people left in the shop were you, Caleb, your co-worker, and Spencer, who’d been sitting on the window sill reading book after book.

“Hey, I’m gonna clock out,” Caleb said, stripping out of his work shirt. God, that man took any excuse to take his shirt off. You didn’t blame him all that much. D.C, even in the dead of winter, was hot as hell. And when you had a chest like that, one couldn’t be blamed for showing it off.

“Okay, be in tomorrow at ten. I don’t trust Claire to come in on time.”

“No prob,” he waltzed out the front door into the illuminated street, the bell tinkling lightly.

You stood and stretched, glancing over to the windowsill Spencer had been sitting in.

Shocked, you saw Spencer exactly where he’d been about an hour ago, slumped up on the windowsill, fast asleep, using a book as a pillow.

Strange, though it was, that this man was an FBI agent, you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of him sacked out like a toddler.

“Spencer?” you hated to disturb him but you knew that he’d want you to wake him up. “Spencer, wake up.”

He moaned uncomfortably and stretched, jumper lifting up slightly to expose his lean stomach. It took all the self control you had not to stare.

“Whasitgonon?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“You fell asleep,” you walked over to the loveseat in the center of the store and plopped down, sighing.

“Oh god. Sorry,” he stood, shaking himself awake and walking over to you, staring at the pile of books he’d devoured. “I guess I over-exerted myself.”

You scoffed. 

“Oh, come on. I thought you were a genius,” you teased, tossing a pillow at him.

With a little fumble, he caught it and sat down next to you, smiling.

“Yeah, but after a night of restlessness, anyone’s an idiot.” 

He said it with a sad smile, looking straight ahead. You decided not to ask about the restlessness.

“‘Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges—“

“—sleep will never lie,’” Spencer finished the quote for you. “Shakespeare.”

Without thinking, you looked at him, shocked to find he was already looking at you. There was something behind his eyes that made you freeze. Something curious. 

And suddenly, in that moment, that split second, something shifted. You knew it and Spencer did too. You could tell by the sudden dilation of his eyes and the sharp intake of breath he let slip.

He recognized his mistake and broke eye contact, glancing away and clearing his throat.

“What, uh, what time is it?” he said, looking for a clock while nonchalantly moving farther away on the loveseat.

“Nearly eleven,” you said, glancing at the grandfather clock, smiling at the fact he didn’t wear a watch. Why is that so endearing? “We can leave now if you like?” You grabbed your purse and started locking up.

“Isn’t it closing time?” 

“Well, usually customers stop coming in at around ten, but we close officially at eleven.”

“Then why stay? Why not just leave at ten?”

“I guess I like to think that if someone has a book emergency, it’s comforting to know that I’m here.”

You blushed. You’d never really told anyone that. Claire and Caleb probably had no idea that you stayed as late as you did. What was it that made you tell Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything so you looked at him.

The darkness of the shop made it so you could only see his silhouette. A tall figure against the light of the street lamps, he was poised and solid, staring out into the empty street. 

“Spencer?”

“Get behind me,” his tone scared you. He spoke with urgency and you could see his hand on his hip where he’d concealed his gun.

Without hesitation, you stepped behind a bookshelf, slightly peeking around it so you could see what he was doing.

He moved like a shadow, slipping out of the shop and moving onto the street, towards the dark blue honda down the road.

Why is he sneaking up on the undercover car?

There was a screech and the car zoomed off and Spencer leaped into a sprint, running after it.

It finally clicked in your brain and you scolded yourself for not realizing it earlier.

That wasn’t an FBI car.

Becoming quickly aware of the danger you were in, you moved from behind the bookshelf to behind the loveseat, crouching as low as you could and trying to slow your breathing.

Your breath froze in your lungs as the soft sound of the bell by the door tinkled, alerting you that someone had entered the store. You snapped your hand over your mouth.

Praying it was Spencer but not actively believing it was, you stayed silent, waiting for the person to make themselves known.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you here?”

It was Spencer.

You stood up from behind the sofa and ran to him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight and finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

Feeling Spencer tense against you wasn’t the best feeling, but it was worth it for the way he melted into you after a moment, sliding his hands around your waist.

Breathing in deeply against his chest, you started to relax. His chest was harder than you’d thought. There were definitely some muscles he was keeping hidden.

Before you could enjoy the embrace too much, Spencer pulled back and looked at you.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes when you separated, but it was gone before you could analyze it, turning back to his professional demeanor.

“M-nine-L-D-G-seven,” he said robotically.

“What?” you said, removing your arms from around his neck and wiped the tears from your eyes, worrying that your brain had just short circuited.

“I got the plate but i’m sure he’ll replace it. It’s unlikely he’ll use that car again but I still need to report it.”

“I should have said something,” you murmured to yourself.

“What do you mean?” he said, whipping out his phone and typing rapidly.

“I saw the car following us earlier today. I assumed it was the protective detail.” Then, upon seeing the shocked look on his face: “I’m sorry, Spencer, I should have—“

His phone started to buzz and he answered it.

“Hotch? . . . Yeah just now. . . . Okay, I'll bring her in. . . . Yep, see you soon.”

He hung up and looked at you, a guilty expression on his face.

“I have to take you back to Quantico — uh — headquarters.”

“Okay.”

You stayed quiet the whole car ride. Spencer kept looking over at you, trying to be casual. Nothing felt casual. The way he held you in the bookstore wasn’t casual. The way he ran after a speeding car to protect you wasn’t casual. The way he’d stared into your eyes not long ago was . . . well, something, but not casual. You weren’t quite ready to explore that something yet. 

The ride up in the elevator to the BAU was dead silent. Another instance where elevator music would come in handy. 

Your reflection in the elevator doors was strange. Alien. It wasn’t you. It was as though a ghost was in your body, keeping you upright as you watched from behind your eyes, unable to do anything. It was terrifying.

Then, warmth flooded your hand, Spencer’s fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing gently.

Without turning your head, you glanced at his reflection. He was staring straight ahead, no expression, but his thumb was drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Before the doors opened and Spencer’s hand slipped out of yours, you caught a glimpse of yourself again in the reflection, only for a split second. It was still not a you that you’d ever seen before, but for an entirely different reason. There wasn’t fear or worry in your eyes, but something more. The same something you’d seen earlier in the bookstore in Spencer’s. 

Stepping out of the elevator and into the bullpen, you found yourself wondering when this would all be over with.

And definitely, totally, not wishing it might never end.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup

[captain-cerrillo]

(its all a set up for smut don't let me deceive you lol)

It was weird to be at the point in his career where he was beginning to spend more time behind a screen than on the ground. Though, it had always been the ultimate goal. The Paladin and the Captain were almost like two different people inside of him. He thought of blue eyes and wondered how many other selves he had tucked away inside.

Eva appeared in his office not nearly as much as he wanted her to but, infinitely more than he had expected. It was a jolt to the heart every time. He wanted to see her forever. He smiled at her expressions as she took in the large glowing datamap projected from the holotable between them.

“Not a scientist.” Isaac huffed a breathy chuckle, gesturing lightly between them. “Just a bit of a nerd.” The corners of his eyes crinkled.

He made a few shorthand gestures to navigate the hundreds of datapoints mapped in a three-dimensional landscape of information. With a thematic swooshing motion, it jumped to a close-up view of a section of ranges in blue. A cluster of particular points made what looked like a mountaintop in the pixelated scenery. Isaac gestured lightly. “Here’s you.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed and she bent to study the chart more closely. Telekinesis, kinetic fields, and spatial distortion - the Alliance’s golden trifecta of biotic classification. “Are we being studied?”

The thought surprised him and he shifted his weight, suddenly unsure. “Honestly? Probably.” He watched the weight of it settle over her, although he got the distinct impression that she was neither surprised or particularly concerned. “Officially, I don’t have any reason to say yes. Unofficially, I know the people that I work with.” He gestured to the map of data in front of him.

"You know.” He glanced to her, hesitating as he considered. “Sometimes the soldiers call biotics wizards and, while maybe insensitive, I'm not sure it's wrong." He gestured again to move the datamap to a wider section.

"This is the little one." In a sea of blue, a line of teal green spikes stood out. Eva looked away from the landscape only to take in the way he put his hands on his hips, brown eyes heavy and far away in thought. "These are just the base readings that the shuttle picked up on our last run.”

Eva watched his face as he studied the mountain of information, wondering what he was looking for. “Isaac.”

His eyes lifted to hers and he didn’t want to talk about the data anymore.

“Here.” He activated his omnitool and Eva watched it glow softly, casting shades of orange across his face as he tapped a quick input and then extended an open hand to her across the table.

Eva returned the motion to let her ‘tool capture whatever he’d transferred, then studied the small display. A line of characters from different languages - common, binary, and foreign all mixed together – danced across the screen.

“What is this?”

“An access code.”

“An access code to?”

“My quarters,” he replied quickly, coolly and confidently, just before he realized, once again and way behind schedule, that normal people would automatically assume that was a sexual proposition. He panicked.

“But not for- To talk!" He blurted, almost sputtering the words before pausing to breathe, allowing himself a heartbeat to collect his thoughts. “I just meant to talk. I just want to talk to you...” He gestured to the sterile, accessible office around them. “…comfortably.”

Eva’s eyes sparkled and Isaac’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. “Only if you want to. Eva, I-”

Eva's mouth had just fallen open to respond when the door behind her slid open. Luca, Davis, and then Harris almost fell through.

"Captain!"

Luca always started with an exclamation so Isaac waited for the spiel, genuinely curious about what could have sent the entertaining trio running to his office. His posture quickly stiffened, brows knitting tightly together when he realized, realistically, what sorts of shenanigans could have sent them running to his office.

"Is this a one or two door problem?" Isaac asked, referencing an old conversation.

(Isaac had pulled Luca aside early on to share a situational assessment technique his mentor had taught him years before – a solid, reliable, and easy way to distinguish true emergencies from the multitudes of mundane would-be stressors that were bound to come up on a spaceship in the middle of a war.)

"Um." Luca shook his hair out of his face as he considered. "Two."

"Okay. Good.” The captain felt genuine relief and his curiosity bubbled. He’d apparently lost every bit of necessary emotional distance, he mused as he watched the trio bumble over themselves and wondered what he was about to agree to.

"What were you- were you busy?" Harris asked – interrupting but, as innocent in intent as she was emotionally intrusive. Her big brown eyes studied Eva, who only stared her down in silence.

Isaac tried not to smile. "Almost always. But how can I help?" His eyes smiled for him.

“Luca tinkered with the projector in the conference room trying to set up a stupid Blasto-fest date night with that Phoe-” Harris’ eyes widened at Isaac as her mouth snapped shut, suddenly remembering all of the times the captain had specifically asked to never hear the word Phoenix in reference to a request.

Luca turned three shades of red and squealed a little, realizing he really needed to get better at learning to hide.

“And he broke it and you need to approve the replacement requisition before the meeting with Captain Sharon from the SSV Belgrade next week,” Ensign Davis chimed in with refreshing practicality, holding her ever-present datapad.

“Hey!” Luca whined. He reminded Isaac of a puppy. “That’s not exactly what-”

“Requisition. On it. Anything else?”

Harris and Luca shared a heavy look that made Isaac furrow his brow. They both looked to Davis who shook her head NO and the pair visibly deflated.

“I don’t even want to know.” He cast a weary glance between them. “Anything else?”

-

Isaac thought of Marie as he pressed a selection of shining buttons on his shower wall to start the steaming hot stream. He’d always been fond of the Sentinel in an abstract, if not brotherly way, but it was newly heartwarming to see her come into her own as a Commander on the Berlin.

He peeled his crisp blue shirt from his shoulders and tossed it to the corner of the room’s wide bed before working on his belt buckle as he toed off his shoes next to a small closet. While it would have been ridiculous to say that the Captain’s Quarters almost made the whole job worth it, it wasn’t too untrue, he thought with a small smile when he finally slipped under the hot water.

Isaac’s career gave him enough variety that he preferred to keep his personal routines the same. He used the same soap he’d grown up with – handmade with rosemary, black pepper and goat’s milk from a local farmer on Terra Nova – because it smelled like home for as long as the fresh shower scent lasted. It was one of the few things he’d made a point to ask of the Requisitions Officer before disembarking.

The scent carried on the shower’s thick steam air out of the little metal bathroom and into the open space of the bedroom. Eva noticed that first as she stepped across the threshold into a place she probably should not have been. Isaac rounded the little bathroom’s corner and they both froze.

“Is this a bad time? I can go-“

“Maybe… don’t?” Isaac blurted, grateful for the fact that his loose grey shorts were already on as he finished pulling a plain black t shirt over his damp skin. He slicked his wet hair back with a self-conscious smile. He couldn’t tell her what to do but he really hoped she’d want to stay.

-

He’d noticed her absentmindedly trying to stretch her sore legs and her eyes twinkled when he sat his datapad down to clap his hands against his lap in invitation. Although it had seemed perfectly natural and not at all blatantly inappropriate in the moment, the feel of her skin and the slight shifts of her weight against his lap betrayed him.

“It’s not too different from Earth,” Isaac said seriously, brows knit together as his hands worked. “There’s a desert around the equator but the poles are pretty lush. There’s a waterfall with a pink sand beach called Moonmoor – which is kind of funny because Terra Nova doesn’t actually have any natural satellites.”

He paused, glancing at Eva when she hissed as he worked at a particularly stubborn knot in her lower calf. She sensed his concern through her closed eyes and waved him off with a smile while she breathed through the waves.

Even though he wasn’t sure why, she seemed to enjoy his ramblings. He rambled mostly to keep his mind distracted as she stretched next to him on the lounge, shifting her slim legs across his lap to give him better reach.

Isaac couldn’t believe how soft and smooth she was under his battle worn hands. It was hard to believe she was the same Fury that inspired so much curiosity, awe, and even fear among the scattered crew. He fretted, internally, about all the ways his lack of biotic ability made parts of her feel inaccessible. It didn’t matter.

“What’s your home like?” Her voice was soft and her eyes traced the lines of his face as he considered how to answer.

“Wheat fields and cows. The closet neighbor a klick and a half away. People leave their doors unlocked at night.” He smiled at the memories, more aware of the homesickness deep in his bones than he’d ever noticed before. “The colony is huge overall but, my home is just a little village in the southern valley.”

“That sounds nice.” Eva’s eyes drifted shut again as Isaac’s hands worked over her lower legs, coaxing the tension from her tired muscles.

“I miss it,” he said quietly, serious and half-lost to old memory. “And peanut butter jelly sandwiches,” he admitted with a genuine despair. “What do you miss?”

Eva smiled with her eyes closed, surfing her own memories in her mind. “Elyssian sunsets. Eletania’s mountains. Nodacrux’s lightning storms. The way eezo sings on Thessia. Peace and quiet. Organic broccoli.” Her laughter almost twinkled and he couldn’t help but join her. “My life is kind of a tornado.” She gestured lightly to the iconic red stripe that flowed down the shoulder of her oversized hoodie. “Too much of a disaster to miss much.”

“You're not a disaster.” Isaac’s voice was warm and sure but, he didn’t meet her eyes because he was afraid she would see. “You're a miracle.” He could feel the heat from his flushed face again and let his eyes trace the lines of the interlocking metal plates that made up the quarter’s floor. Her body stilled under his hands and he swallowed but, continued.

“Eva, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” He said it so matter-of-factly, almost as if it were just another immutable statistic, burned into his brain. “And I’ve seen a lot of things.”

The tension of all the unspoken crested between them when she laid her small hand over his and whispered his name.

He marveled at the way his hands found her body as she closed the space between them, crawling into his lap and settling over him with an unmistakable hunger in her perfect eyes. He was rigid before her lips crashed into his but, he was throbbing by the time she rolled her hips. She ground herself into his lap as they tasted each other with warm, open mouthed kisses and gentle slips of tongue.

Every movement one of them made escalated the desire of the other. His fingertips found the skin of her upper thighs and he tried not to groan at the feel of her lithe muscle under his palms as she moved against him, working for delicious friction. Her hands went under his loose shirt and the tickle of her nails across his ribs almost made him giggle. She swallowed it.

“Eva,” he pleaded against her lips, his hands cupping her breasts under the oversized hoodie as she squirmed on his lap, moving her hips to increase the friction. “Eva, please.”

She stilled only enough to look at him with eyes full of questions and he could only beam a shy smile. He wrapped his arms around her folded body, already scooping her against his chest. “Can I take you to bed?”

-

His mouth caught a nipple, rolling the sensitive bud against his tongue before his lips slid down her body, savoring her supple curves. One hand worked between her thighs as he kissed the planes of her soft belly. He hummed against her skin as she reacted to his touch, arching to feel more of his body against her.

His fingers alternated between dipping into her wetness, rubbing his thick fingers against her slick walls and swirling tiny circles on her sensitive clit. He took his cues from the way she breathed, gasped, moaned, and strained under his attentions.

He used his free arm to support his weight as he shifted up to kiss her again. He moaned against her mouth when she tangled her fingers into his thick, damp hair and tried to pull his body closer with the sweetest whine falling from her open lips.

“Hey.” He whispered, pecking her smooth cheeks to try to bring the temperature down. His body surged at the idea of discovering all of her other sounds.

“Hi,” she whispered back, eyes twinkling in the dark. She squeezed her thighs around his hand, still steadily stroking as he nuzzled against her neck, trailing kisses to her shoulder.

“I just want you to know its not that I don’t want to know what you feel like. On the inside.” His eyes shuttered, a micromovement betraying his need. Eva moved her hip against his tented shorts knowingly and he fought the urge to hump against her - if only for the fact that he was certain he’d cum. He blinked back to reality and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “But there’s a whole lot of other things I want to know about you first.”

He kissed her deeply, slipping his fingers from her aching body only to spread her thighs for his descent. More than anything he just wanted to fall asleep in her puddle.

[ultsoobins]

chemistry - CYJ

requested:

no. well. kind of? y’all asked me to write again. this isn’t the fic i was talking about when i mentioned writing something yesterday, but this is something i pulled out of my ass tonight for fun so. lol

notes:

it’s not very good i started this in mid 2019 or so and came back to it tonight and just wrote whatever! it’s very mundane and actually very short (only like 1.3k words)

summary:

yeonjun teaches physics and you teach biology but you guys definitely have chemistry

your students start snickering the moment yeonjun walks in the door, arms laden with packages of bound papers. he ignores them entirely - very professionally, he would say so himself - and shoots you a smile instead, face clear of strain even as he drops all six bundles onto your desk with a resounding thwack. there’s a bright red spot of ink on the corner of his shirt collar, and your eyes hone in on it, though he doesn’t notice. there’s a slightly less bright but no less red blush on your face. 

this does not escape your sophomores, who burst into a second round of barely concealed laughter at your expense. 

luckily for you, neither does your sharp glare at the class. 

“print shop sent our orders in,” yeonjun gestures easily at the towering pile on your desk. you shoot him a sly grin before turning back to your class - who are watching your interaction with your fellow teacher with bated breath - and mouthing ‘these are your next test packets’ at them. they don’t need to know that half of the stack is actually comprised of field trip forms you haven’t talked to them about yet. this finally does the trick, forcing your students - most of them, at least - to turn back to their exit ticket, losing interest in whatever conspires between you and yeonjun. 

both you and your colleague are relaxed by this; after all, teenagers crush on anyone and everyone, and it doesn’t help that he’s almost fresh out of college. he still feels the occasional mildly longing stare from a student or two, but he’s learned to ignore it. you do your best to follow suit.

“thanks, mr. choi,” you finally give him a response, mirroring his laid-back grin. “grading got the better of you?” you wave one hand towards his collar before finally getting up from your seat to inspect the print shop’s work for yourself. 

“huh?” he asks, before tugging his collar away from his neck slightly to get a better look. realization dawns on him as his gaze settles on the red dot, and he scratches at the back of his neck habitually once he’s taken it in. 

“first quiz on circular motion,” he explains, and you wince in sympathy for the students. “it felt kind of like wielding a chainsaw, to be honest.”

“blood of their hard work, torn to shreds,” you nod sagely, and he laughs genuinely while nodding.

“something like that. are these really all tests?” he gestures vaguely towards the stack that now rules your desk space. you quirk an eyebrow at him before chancing another glance towards your students. once you’re sure the coast is clear, you motion for him to move slightly closer to you while shaking your head almost imperceptibly.

“most of these are actually field trip forms,” you whisper conspiratorially, and this time, he raises his eyebrow at you. you know that he realizes you haven’t surprised your students with the news yet from the way the corners of his mouth turn up. he says nothing, and you continue speaking. “what better way to learn about taxonomy and classification than by spending a day at the conservation zoo past I-85?” 

yeonjun’s eyes widen in surprise, and you can’t help the proud smile that crosses your face. 

“mr. bang let you go ahead with it?” his voice is incredulous, if not slightly jealous, and you can’t help but almost giggle of all things at his tone. you’re sure that your department head tore down yeonjun’s idea of a physics trip to an amusement park in the same fell swoop he took to allow your trip to the zoo. your friend recognizes your mild mockery and furrows his brow.

“maybe he’d approve your ideas too if you didn’t actively do an impression of him at department meetings,” you point out, and he winces at the reminder of his career sins. you try to ignore how even his falsified annoyance has your heart beating out of your chest. your stifled laughter continues, and he cracks another smile upon seeing yours. it’s always been easy to laugh with yeonjun. 

he’s about to retort when his eyes meet yours in a well-timed instant, and you’re suddenly not even able to try anymore. you find yourself blinking rapidly, tearing your eyes away from his as quickly as possible. before either of you can say anything else, a harsh ringing sound interrupts your almost-conversation. your students, none-the-wiser, begin packing up immediately, and you don’t have the heart to tell them that nothing dismisses them but you.

seems like everyone’s saved by the bell. 

you lean across yeonjun to push the stack of papers all the way to a corner of your desk, doing your best not to focus on how his gaze rests gently on the back of your head. you wave to all of your students as they pass you to get to the door, chatting shortly with a few of them while yeonjun cracks jokes and acknowledges the others. before either of you know it, your room is empty save for the two of you. 

silence befalls both of you, though you notice that he doesn’t make a move to leave your room. yeonjun’s been your closest coworker - maybe even one of your closest friends - since you started working at the academy, so you’re not sure why you’re both suddenly at a loss for words. after all, you’d been making easy small talk not minutes earlier. 

you ignore the voice in your head that keeps bringing up the tiny, absolutely miniscule crush you might have on yeonjun. 

on that thought, you turn to him, ready to ask him about the most mundane thing you can think of. his stance is slightly less relaxed than before, back suddenly ramrod straight and hand back on the nape of his neck. the smile he gives you is sheepish at best when he catches you looking at him again. he’s more beautiful than he has to be, and your mind scrambles to find lesson plans so boring and unnecessary that they’re not truly worth discussing. 

before you can get a word out, however, yeonjun is speaking. 

“look, i know i might sound completely insane, and i know we’re on school time so i won’t ask much, but it would be cool if we could maybe, possibly, maybe get lunch together sometime during the weekend?” 

his words come out in a rush, and he almost stumbles over his thoughts. yeonjun can be suave at his best, but you realize for the millionth time that he can be downright adorable on accident, too. in seeing his nervousness, all the yeonjun-related tension you’ve ever felt slips right out of your grasp. he keeps scratching at his neck, eyes expectantly trained on yours now.

you respond in the only way you know how. 

“you said maybe twice, fool.”

“wh-” he starts, incredulous at your reaction. you burst into laughter, and after a beat he follows suit, albeit more confused than amused. once you both die down with only slight awkwardness, you throw him a genuine smile. 

“i’m messing with you. i’d love that,  yeonjun,” you say, eyes bright. “you can choose the restaurant as long as you pick me up at 8 on saturday.” 

“that’s fine by me,” he answers, his grin spreading across his face. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen a more brilliant smile. before you can reply, though, the clock on the wall behind you catches your eye. your expression drops, and, seeing it, yeonjun follows your gaze on his own. 

you can almost feel the color drain from his face as he seizes as if he’s about to bolt out the door, but you say what’s on both of your minds anyways. 

“shit, yeonjun, you have a class this period, don’t you?” 

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (19) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hi pals! so this was probs one of my top 3 fav chapters to write out of the whole fic. it’s got so many things that i just love, and i so hope u will love it too. i should probs make it clear that this isn’t the end of the fic! it’s going to have 21 chapters, so there’s two more to come after this (omg only 2????? bitch wtf???? WTF???). thank u guys for all the love my ask box gets flooded with after every chapter, i’m always so so excited when i see it so thank u so much, i really appreciate it!! here we go with n19f19 xoxo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: there were confessions of love in a karaoke bar.

this chapter: a month on from the events of last chapter and with final exams and dissertations looming, Brooke thinks she can avoid Vanessa until graduation without having to confront anything that’s happened between them. this proves difficult when she’s trapped in the library with her.

***

Brooke was fine. She was more than fine, actually, she was good. She was calm, serene, fucking zen. If it wasn’t for the dissertation she had to hand in a week from now she would have ascended to Buddha-like status, doling out study tips to her friends like proverbs.

Brooke had always been good at exams. She’d been a straight-A student back in Canada, the whole process of revision coming naturally to her. She’d bought designated ringbinders for every subject, poring over textbooks and copying information out in messy cursive until she’d filled her whole refill pad. When she’d walked into the big assembly hall on exam day, she didn’t get the usual churning of her stomach or shaky hands that her friends had always described. It was almost as if the hall reminded her of taking ballet exams when she was a girl- she knew what to do, she had all the information in her head somewhere, and all that was required of her was to think and write.

Essays, however, had never come easy, which was a shame as they essentially formed the basis of Brooke’s degree. There wasn’t the fast-paced element to essays as there were to exams, and lengthy deadlines gave Brooke time to overthink, redraft, panic, delete, then do the whole process over again. She’d never fully got the hang of them; add in the fact a different tutor marked what she’d written every time and her grades were practically a lottery. She knew this element would follow her throughout her career- writing, fashion design, God even her ballet exams from years ago- it was all a form of art, and art was subjective. She knew there were designers out there that were universally respected, but none were universally liked. Nothing was universally liked. In an exam, there was a set of right or wrong answers, but essays were open to interpretation. An interpretation that her degree classification depended on.

Stretching and feeling her spine bump against the hard plastic chair, Brooke let out a huge breath. She could still see her Mum’s face if she remembered hard enough, when she’d told her her very first mark on her very first uni assignment back in first year; the way the woman’s face had faltered a little but forced a smile and a congratulations. It was the first mark below 70% Brooke could remember in a long time, and her Mum’s disappointment still stung. Brooke was currently sitting on a 2:1, but only just. Her dissertation was going to cement what degree she received and Christ, Brooke would be lying if she said the pressure wasn’t getting to her ever so slightly. It was at the stage where she was taking a beta blocker each morning before spending most of the day in the library. Sometimes she’d take another in the afternoon if she felt herself starting to panic. Maybe that was the reason she was so chill.

Looking at her laptop and the block of black text against white digital paper, she rubbed her eyes and glanced through the huge floor-to-ceiling pane of glass to her left. Her own sleepy face gazed back at her, the view rendered invisible due to the pitch black outside. Brooke didn’t dare look at the time, but she knew it had to be late if it was this dark at the end of April. Casting her eyes to Nina, she couldn’t help but give a snort of a laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brooke asked, looking at the exploded rainbow of colour-coded flash cards that were strewn across the girl’s desk and spilling out onto the floor. There were scribbly neon post-it notes stuck all over her laptop screen and Nina probably had half the library stacked up in high-rise tower blocks on her desk. A quick glance at her screen showed Brooke that Nina had roughly sixty tabs open.

“My goddamn best.”

Brooke let out another laugh as Nina gestured helplessly at the mess in front of her. “Jesus Christ, Brooke, how the hell am I going to be a teacher if I’m this disorganised?”

Brooke gave a little shrug and raised her eyebrows. “I dread to think what your classroom desk is going to be like.”

“Probably going to accidentally kill a child on my first day. Nudge over a big pile of papers on my desk, boof. Dead,” Nina giggled, then let out a huge laugh and instantly clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. The action made Brooke laugh out loud too until the pair were having a silent laughing fit in the exact place they weren’t supposed to be making any noise.

To be fair, the top floor was pretty empty given the late hour they were there. The few people that were left were already packing up their things and leaving, laptops shut in a manner of resignation. The yellow strobe lights that hung above gave the whole place a clinical glow, and the patterns on the fuzzy green carpet all seemed to merge into one. As Brooke ran a hand through her hair and was about to check the time on her phone, loud chimes rang out over the speakers built into the ceiling.

“Would all students please be aware that the library will be closing in ten minutes, that’s ten minutes. Thank you.”

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin. She blinked, then looked at the four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of her screen. “Nina. No way is it almost midnight.”

“God. I’m not even surprised anymore. At this point it feels like we live here,” Nina groaned, cracking her back in a way that made Brooke wince then rolling her shoulders. “I guess we should head back to the flat.”

Brooke’s ears pricked as she heard a commotion from the other end of the floor. It sounded like a thunder of footsteps and a hissed argument. Turning slowly, Brooke’s heart sank as she saw exactly who she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid until graduation day.

Silky and Vanessa were standing at the printer a mere two sets of desks away from her and Nina. Silky seemed to be printing something out and insisting she wouldn’t be long as Vanessa tapped her heel against the carpeted floor impatiently, her Converse almost wearing a hole in the floor. Despite the late hour her makeup was still perfectly applied, and her hair was half hanging loose over her shoulders and half swept up into a haphazard topknot. Brooke pictured Vanessa growing frustrated at her desk, fretting over some form of past paper and tearing her hands through her hair, tugging her brown locks up and securing them with a hair tie. Brooke hoped she wasn’t too stressed about her finals. She remembered that when they were together Vanessa had had some form of big essay due, and she’d sat up in bed exhaling and worrying, typing furiously with her long nails crashing against the keyboard of her laptop like angry waves. Brooke had quietly brought her tea, wordlessly pressed a kiss to her temple, and Vanessa had cast her a soft smile that had made Brooke’s heart set alight.

Just then Silky looked across the room, saw her, and began to wave. Fuck. Brooke watched as Vanessa cast her gaze over to where she sat. Her eyes widened when she laid them on Brooke and she tilted her head to the sky, barely hiding a gigantic roll of her eyes as she followed Silky over to Brooke and Nina. Brooke had in the time it took for the girls to reach their desk to decide how she wanted to play this. It was a tough decision. Because in the month-and-a-bit since their dalliance in the hot tub, and an even shorter time since her crying meltdown to Scarlet in the Swan toilets, Brooke had developed a hard, harsh exoskeleton for herself that involved channeling all the love and regret she felt for Vanessa into venom, poison and dislike. If Vanessa wanted to be petty and unkind and rude to her, then fuck it. Brooke would be the exact same back. She’d tried it out already- responding to thinly-veiled barbs in the groupchat, ignoring her if they saw each other. Brooke didn’t want to act that way, didn’t want to do any of it, but she forced herself to do it in the way a small child had to be forced to eat vegetables; it was what was good for her. Good for them both. It was better that Vanessa hated her. She’d tried loving her and look where the fuck that had ended up.

The issue was, the frosty behaviour she’d return to Vanessa was uncontrollable. She knew it was causing vibes and tension in the group, splitting them all up and causing cracks and fractures in a time where they were meant to be closer than ever. Yvie had had words with her, as had Nina. It hadn’t got them anywhere. Brooke had tried to reach out to Vanessa, offered her so many olive branches that Vanessa had just started beating Brooke black and blue with them. Brooke knew it was for the best if she acted like the complete bitch that Vanessa thought she was.

“Hey, sisters! What you both doin’ here so late?” Silky asked cheerfully as she reached the girls. Brooke stuck a smile on her face, tried not to look at Vanessa and then failed. Her thick eyelashes were cast to the floor as she scuffed the carpet with her shoe. Brooke felt a stab at her heart. Luckily, Nina took over.

“Christ, I was just saying to Brooke it feels like we’ve moved in here. My diss is due on Friday and I’m stressed out of my mind. What’re you guys up to?”

Silky waved a thick stack of paper at Nina as if she was showing her evidence. “We were down on floor one but the janitor’s chucking people out. I needed some readings and figured he’d get up here last, so I just came to the top floor to use the printer.”

“Yeah, and we’re done now, so let’s go. I need to pee before we leave,” Vanessa muttered to her flatmate, her voice dull as she still didn’t tear her gaze from the floor.

Nina’s cheerful smile faltered. Silky, to her credit, looked embarrassed by Vanessa’s sulky behaviour. To Brooke’s dismay, Nina shoved all of her index cards onto her laptop keyboard and slammed it closed. “Well, hey! We were just leaving. We’ll come with you.”

Vanessa’s face twisted into one of discomfort. “Nah, Nina, really, it’s fine. I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway-”

“We can wait for you! It’s no big deal!”

Brooke’s heart sank. Great. An excruciating walk back outside with the girl that hated her most in the world. Just as she was about to bullshit a reason why they couldn’t, Silky enthusiastically agreed. Brooke watched Vanessa bite her lip in frustration, give a forced fake smile and nod. They were both united in the fact that it was a situation neither of them wanted to be in. It was the closest Brooke had felt to Vanessa in a while.

Nina and Silky filled the silence on their way to the library toilets. They were only beside the lifts so not that far away, but every step felt as if it lasted a million years. Finally, mercifully, the girls came to the toilets and Vanessa ducked inside. As they waited, Brooke just wished and hoped she’d be quick so the awkward situation would be over sooner rather than later. One minute turned into two, and Silky became impatient. Brooke watched as she wrenched open the door and yelled inside.

“VANJ, C’MON! THE PLACE IS CLOSING SOON!” she shouted into the room, muttering under her breath something about Vanessa having a bladder like the Hindenburg. Brooke tried to be patient and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. Looking back into the floor of the library, she was alarmed to find it completely empty, void of people. It could have been that she was startled, but she gave a shout into the bathroom too.

“Vanjie, hurry up! Jesus!”

At this point Vanessa was standing blasting her hands with air from the dryer. She shouted something back at Brooke that Brooke couldn’t hear over the air jets, but she could hazard a guess as to what it was. Finally, Vanessa stormed out.

“Fuck me, will you girls hop off my dick? Can I not pee in peace without you rushing me along? We’ve got ages! It’s fine!”

And then everything was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Brooke gave an involuntary cry of fear, felt someone grab her hand. Looking down at her interlocked fingers and then up to who it was connected to, she was shocked to see Vanessa, her face illuminated in the green fire escape sign and completely petrified. All at once she seemed to realise what she’d done and dropped Brooke’s hand like it was made of hot metal. Nina had fallen silent, her expression one of shock, and Silky was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Fuck,” Brooke found herself saying. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, they’ll just be turning off the lights before they lock up. Let’s just hurry up and get the lift,” Silky reassured them, but Brooke didn’t miss the worried frown that was set on her face as the four of them walked quickly. Vanessa reached the button first, scrabbled at it with her fingers. The little white light that usually illuminated the panel didn’t turn on.

“Oh my God this can’t be happening,” Nina whispered, her voice panicked and fast. Silky rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but the frown on her face was deepening. Reaching out, she pressed the same button firmly, jamming it into its little metal pad. Nothing. The girls stood in silence for only a few seconds, listening for the metal whirrs and clunks that the lift usually made on its way up or down the building. Nothing came.

“Stairs,” Vanessa said simply, her voice full of worry as she suddenly dashed in the direction of the stairwell. The three other girls followed and all pretence of remaining calm and walking was truly out the window as their trainers squeaked over the linoleum, feet thumping harshly against the steps as they tore down flight after flight. Brooke’s pulse was speeding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack, and the bones of her feet began to hurt more with every step she launched herself down two-at-a-time. Breathless and frantic, they finally reached the bottom floor, Vanessa crashing through the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell and speeding across the lobby to the main entrance. Brooke was hot on her heels, her heart now painful in her chest and her breath coming in thick, uncomfortable wheezes. Any hope she’d had sank to the floor with her gut as Vanessa pounded the automatic doors and almost wrenched the fire door off its hinges in an attempt to get out. It was to no avail.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Nina repeated, her hands flying to her face as it blanched in fear.

“Fucking shit- HELLO? HELLO? WE’RE STILL IN HERE!” Silky yelled at the top of her lungs to nobody in particular.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” Brooke said, hearing the shake in her own voice as her eyes darted around the huge, dark building frantically.

“No shit, really? I’m having a fuckin’ whale of a time, personally,” Vanessa hissed, casting a glare her way before going back to shaking the doorhandles in a futile attempt to open them. Brooke felt her face curl up in a sneer, all the fear she’d felt previously moved into a convenient little box and replaced with all-consuming anger.

“Ugh, JESUS, Vanessa, of course, of fucking course, we’re literally locked in a uni building with no way out and you choose to start picking a fight with me. Big fucking-”

“ENOUGH!” Nina shouted, Brooke taken aback. She had known Nina for almost three years now, and in that time she’d never heard her shout. Well, she’d heard her shout with happiness or joy or fear, but never anger like this. She felt like one of her primary school kids as Nina continued. “Both of you just shut the fuck up for one fucking minute! Can we at least just find a way out of here before you start a fucking domestic?”

“I’ll take the cafe,” Silky said decisively, shouting to the others as she ran in the opposite direction. “Nina go right, Brooke and Vanjie go left.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes, looking again at Vanessa whose gaze mirrored Brooke’s. Relenting and not wanting to risk another telling-off from Nina, Brooke obediently tore off in the direction Silky had told her to go. She weaved her way through desks and bookshelves, checking every window only to find them all locked. As she was losing hope, the dull, green light of a fire escape sign caught her eye. Brooke sighed with relief as she tore towards it. This was surely a guaranteed way out. Reaching the tall door, Brooke slammed her hands on the cold, metal bar that lay across it, pushed down, and waited for the cold night air to hit her face and calm down her panic.

Nothing.

Brooke frowned, trying again and pushing harder at the bar. This time she got her shoulder involved, leaning all her weight against it. It didn’t so much as budge.

“We’re outta luck. They’re all locked from the outside.”

Brooke turned to see Vanessa walking purposefully towards her. Her tone was frustrated, but not towards her at least. Brooke felt relieved. She was beginning to regret snapping at Vanessa earlier, even if she was meant to dislike her. She wondered if she felt as scared as she did. Brooke thought about how Vanessa always hid her fear, remembered the time they watched some shit, gory horror movie at hers when they were together. Brooke had flinched and squealed and buried her face in Vanessa’s hoodie every two seconds while Vanessa had laughed at her, told her it was all fine and fake, but Brooke could feel Vanessa’s heart beat fast in her chest and her stomach muscles tensing every time a new horrific sight appeared on screen.

Vanessa leant against the bar that Brooke had tried, punctuating it with an angry kick of her foot. “That shit’s illegal, you know. Locking a fire door. We could sue fuck outta them.”

Brooke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah I’m sure we, twentysomething students with collectively hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of debt, have both the resources and the influence to sue the university. They’d shit themselves.”

She watched as Vanessa looked at her, a glare about to appear in her dark eyes, then disappearing as she allowed herself a small smile and a single snort of laughter. There was a pause of silence. Brooke decided to fill it. “Let’s find the girls, maybe they found a way out.”

As they passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows again, Vanessa suddenly gasped and tore off to bang on the glass. Brooke followed her eyeline and was overjoyed to find what looked to be a janitor, finishing up and walking away from the building. She joined Vanessa and pounded her fists against the window, shouting randomly if only just to make a noise. Her hope began to die, however, when instead of noticing the absolute cacophony of noise the girls created, the man simply got further and further away. Brooke watched as he got his phone out, a long earphone cord attached to it. She slumped against the glass and let out a helpless moan.

“Fucking shit bitch ass motherfucker!” Vanessa hissed in anger, pounding on the glass with her knuckles one last time. Brooke watched as she took a step back from the window, flexed her fingers and gave a hiss.

“You okay?” Brooke found herself asking. She could already feel herself frowning in concern as Vanessa nodded briskly, shaking her hand out and sticking the knuckle of one finger in her mouth.

“Fine. Just got a lil’ over-enthusiastic, cut my finger,” she spoke around her knuckle. Brooke felt a pang at her heart. She took a step towards Vanessa.

“Let’s see?”

Vanessa gave another laugh, harsher and more sardonic than her first had been. “It’s fine, Brooke, I don’t need you to kiss it better.”

Brooke held her hands up, unable to help the way her eyebrows flew up her face. “Okay, I’ll just go fuck myself!“

“Yeah, do that,” Vanessa muttered quietly, sitting on a desk beside the window and pulling her legs up to cross them. Brooke, in lieu of snapping back at the girl she’d once called her friend but had never called her girlfriend, did the same. They sat in a hostile silence, thoughts running around Brooke’s mind as to what she could do or say. So many options flooded her head that it was hard to see any of them clearly for what they were. It turned out she didn’t need to give any of them that much thought, however, as Nina and Silky soon appeared from the other end of the building.

“Oh, good! You’ve not killed each other,” Nina said brightly upon her return. Brooke snuck a quick look at Vanessa, then rolled her eyes.

“Guess you’re as shit out of luck as we are?” Silky asked, her voice quieter than usual by at least a few dozen decibels.

“Can you believe they locked the fire doors? Fuck them, man, imagine there was a real fire?” Vanessa spat bitterly. Nina sighed heavily and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“We could try calling someone?”

Brooke frowned. “Who could we call?”

“The police?” Nina said immediately, her naivety causing the others to burst out laughing.

“And say what?! Hey listen, we know you’ve got murderers to catch but we’re locked in a uni building, could you bring round a big battering ram and knock the door down?” Brooke laughed, not missing the way Vanessa laughed in response and feeling a twinkle of pride light up in her heart.

“Well, could the fire brigade get us out?” Nina suggested, Silky groaning and pulling her hands down her face.

“Nina, you need to lower your expectations of what an emergency is. Four dumb uni students trapped in the library is not gonna be considered an emergency. We’re not in danger, we’re all breathing, and none of us have been set alight. That counts the big three out immediately.”

“What about a locksmith?” Vanessa shrugged. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Ah, for those locks that automatic doors have on them,” Silky deadpanned. Brooke laughed at the comment, clearly a little too loudly because Vanessa was back scowling at her again.

“Hey, they do so have locks, bitch.”

“I don’t think you can ask a locksmith to open a house that isn’t yours,” Nina frowned. Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“I love my house, the university library.”

“Shut up! You knew what I meant,” Nina protested, as the other girls gave a laugh again.

“Surely there’ll be some phone number online for the janitor or something?” Brooke thought suddenly, Silky quickly taking out her phone to check. There was a moment of silence as the girls held their breath in hope. Finally, Silky let out an overjoyed cry.

“Cleaning supervisor main area- based in central library! Yes ladies! We’re fucking outta here!”

Brooke smiled so hard that her face hurt as Silky held her phone to her ear. Thank God. The nightmare was over, she could go back to her flat and not be literally trapped in a building with her ex. She would soon be-

The four girls jumped as a faint ringing of a phone could be heard from out in the lobby. For the hundredth time that night, Brooke felt her heart sink.

“I don’t really know what we expected from that,” Vanessa sighed, looking every inch the kicked puppy.  

It was quickly decided that their last hope were the girls who weren’t in the library, although this went down the drain fast as it was discovered that Yvie was over at Scarlet’s flat and they were both asleep, neither Akeria nor Monet were picking up, and Plastique had gone home to revise.

“What about Monique, Vanj? Could we try her?” Nina asked. Brooke was confused at the way Vanessa’s face twisted in discomfort, a little line setting deep on her forehead.

“Nah, she, uh…she won’t pick up,” she said simply, Nina nodding quickly and neglecting to ask any more about it. It didn’t stop Brooke from being intrigued.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, then? We can’t just spend the night here,” Silky’s voice was disbelieving. Brooke gave a resigned shrug.

“Silk, I don’t think there’s any alternative. It’s only a few hours, the place’ll open up again at six. We can go upstairs and sleep in those little pods they have for group projects. Then by the time we wake up again, it’ll be morning and we can all go back to the flat,” Brooke explained calmly, although inside she still had a lot of anxiety rattling about and the dark of the library wasn’t helping.

The girls reluctantly agreed that it was probably the only thing that was left for them to do. In nervous silence they climbed the stairs to the first floor, where Silky immediately set up camp in one of the pods, stretching herself out along the seats that had once been cushioned but had been flattened by hundreds and thousands of sets of bums over the years. Nina took one and set her laptop back up again, arguing that she’d actually been on a pretty good streak before she’d had to pack up and wanted to see if she could churn out another thousand words before she went to sleep. Brooke peeled off from the girls and took her own pod, her tall body unable to fully fit along the seats. As she attempted to sleep, one thing kept stopping her as it usually seemed to around this time of day. She sighed, tossed and turned as she thought about Vanessa. It had all gone so badly wrong. The more she tried to get her off her mind, the more memories she was reminded of. Hurting Vanessa was easier than loving her; snapping at her and being snarky made Brooke feel bad and a bit of a bitch, but loving her and torturing herself for what an idiot she’d been made her feel ten times worse, as if her heart had been removed from its sheath in her ribcage and been stomped on, kicked about, stabbed with a blunt knife and dragged through broken glass. Any attempt to sleep was futile. Brooke’s eyes hurt with fatigue as she sat up, rubbed them and stretched. She would go and see if Nina was still awake, maybe sit up and annoy her for a while.

As she crossed the floor she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa was sitting on the floor by the window, her legs crossed and eating a packet of crisps she’d managed to procure from somewhere. Brooke thought she looked so tiny compared to the huge pane of glass and the world that sat outside of it. Now that the lights were off, Brooke could see every detail that lay beyond the window- the soft yellow glow of the streetlights that faintly illuminated the park beside the library, the pink and white marshmallow cherry blossom trees that lined each path. A memory shot through Brooke’s mind like a lightning bolt- the eight of them in second year after their exams had all finished, having a barbecue in the park as the sun beat down and frazzled them all to a crisp, the smell of sausages and weed carried on the light breeze and the warmth in Brooke’s heart as Vanessa had teased her about something, the girls all laughing at Brooke’s embarrassment and protests.

God, they’d all been so happy.

Without really knowing what her plan was, Brooke walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and sat down cautiously beside her. The other girl looked at her, as if she was deciding whether to glare or smile. She ended up doing neither.

“Can’t sleep either?” Brooke chose as her opener, immediately regretting it for the cheesy line from a film it was. Vanessa gave a sarcastic chuckle, gestured around her.

“Apparently,” she said simply, Brooke looking at the carpet and kicking herself. There was a moment where the cogs in her brain whirred quickly, trying to come up with something else to say. Vanessa surprised her by speaking again. “I ain’t been sleeping too good lately anyway, though, so. I guess it don’t matter.”

“Me neither,” Brooke felt something click inside her, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke again. “Vanessa, we need to talk.”

Vanessa kept her eyes trained on the pane of glass in front of her. “We are talking.”

“God, Ness, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Brooke sighed, her face pleading. Vanessa’s head snapped round to face her and her eyes were what could only be described as murderous.

“Hard? Don’t fucking dare talk to me about hard,” she said, slowly and carefully and causing Brooke’s heart to frost over in fear. “This year has been shit, absolute shit, the shittest year of my life. You broke my heart- no, fuck that. You broke me. I had to take my goddamn feelings and put them all back together again, start from scratch while you swanned about absolutely fine. I am having to fight to get my average up because of the days I spent in my flat crying instead of going to lectures. Do you have any idea, Brooke, what this has been like for me?”

Brooke was silent as Vanessa continued relentlessly. “And then I finally got myself to a place where, hey, maybe I could be friends with you again! Then what happened? All the old feelings came back, didn’t they, and then we fucking…slept with each other and-”

“Hey, no,” Brooke jumped in, frowning and unable to listen to what was to come. “Don’t try to pin that on me, Vanessa, that was all you. It wasn’t me that fucking…straddled you in the hot tub and stripped off and talked about the sex I was having with other girls, was it?”

“Oh, no! You’re right. You’re correct,” Vanessa smiled sarcastically, soon getting replaced with a scowl. “You only got with me incredibly intensely in front of seven of our closest friends, who knew all the shit that’s gone down between us and watched like a fucking soap opera.”

“Well I didn’t hear you complaining at the time!” Brooke bit back, causing Vanessa to fall silent and play with a thread of her ripped jeans. Brooke let out a breath she’d been holding, took in a huge gulp of air. “Look, this is…this is off to a bad start.”

Brooke watched Vanessa’s throat move as she swallowed, her eyes cast downwards. Brooke was good at holding in her feelings, bottling them up like her life depended on it. She was terrified of feeling too much. She had no idea how this conversation was meant to start, but she knew she had to have it.

“Vanessa, I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am. I’m sorry for going about everything the wrong way. I’d never…done anything like this before, never properly seen anyone like I was seeing you, so I didn’t know how to behave. And fuck, maybe I was leading you on, and I’m sorry for that too. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Well, I thought I knew what I wanted but then I just…didn’t any more. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realise how much you liked me until it was too late,” Brooke cut herself off, sighing and feeling a bubble of sadness rise up in her throat. “Fuck, I’m trying to put it all the way I want it but nothing’s coming out right.”

Vanessa was looking at her, she knew it, but Brooke’s gaze had dropped to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest. There was so much she wanted to say to Vanessa but none of the sentences she constructed in her head seemed to be sufficient.

“That night. You said that you missed me,” Vanessa’s voice was soft and small as she spoke, stripped from all the venom it had held before. “Did you mean it?”

Brooke jumped in instantly. “Yes.”

Vanessa was now looking at the floor, picking at her shoelace. “And did you mean…as a friend, or…just the sex, or…”

Brooke took a deep breath. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. The words were so close to coming out, but she stopped them. Now wasn’t the right time, nowhere near the right time. She tried to think about what the perfect response would be, sighed, scrapped it, and decided to just simply speak. “I miss you as…everything. I miss you as whatever you want to be to me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I just miss you for all that you are, the person you are. I miss us,” Brooke paused, realised her last remark was slightly risky. “Interpret that…however you want.”

Brooke snuck a gaze at Vanessa. A thought struck her as memories ran round her mind, and now she had started talking it seemed she couldn’t stop. “Do you remember after we…after lazerquest. Yvie’s birthday. We met up and we spoke about things and you said something. That whatever happens, we’d be friends always. Do you remember?”

Vanessa gave a little laugh. “You can wear a set of armbands in a current, don’t mean you won’t drown.”

She saw Brooke’s confused look, shot her a bashful smile. “I never expected to…end up feeling so strongly for you at the start. Didn’t expect to get as crazy about you as I got. Man…I wish you could turn feelings off.”

Brooke felt herself frown, a deep regret settling in the pit of her stomach. “I wish that too.”

She didn’t miss the brief look of surprise that flashed across Vanessa’s face. In the lull in conversation that followed, Vanessa wordlessly pushed the packet of crisps towards Brooke. She took one. Chilli heatwave wasn’t her favourite flavour, but it was a peace offering, and she’d take what she could get.

"So I stopped sleeping with Monique,” Vanessa commented, shrugging a little. Brooke blinked, almost choked on her crisp as she raced to get a reply out.

“Uh, yeah, I did notice you were a bit weird about things when Nina said you should call her.”

Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face, puffed her cheeks up with air and blew out harshly. “Monet kinda told me…she was catching feelings, and obviously I wasn’t there for that. So I said to her we shouldn’t keep going.”

Brooke felt a little twinge of pain for Monique. The poor girl had a crush and was just caught in the crossfire. “And how did she take it?”

Vanessa stared through the glass, her gaze steadfast. “I could tell she was sad. Disappointed. She didn’t start cryin’ or nothing, but…God, I still felt bad. I liked her, you know, she was a great girl. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where she took my heart and patched it all up again and we ended up together but…that’s not what it was for me. And the more she said she understood and that she hoped I’d find happiness, the worse I felt for having to tell her I wanted something different.”

Brooke nodded. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she knew the feeling all too well, but she didn’t want to interrupt her. Vanessa turned her head slowly, finally making eye contact with Brooke, and her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I know now what it must have been like for you to break it off with me. And yeah, it completely fuckin’ wrecked me but…you did what you had to do. So…I forgive you, Brooke Lynn.”

Brooke couldn’t quite believe Vanessa was in front of her saying all this. Instinctively she wanted to launch herself forward and hug her, thanking her for her change of heart. Just as she’d convinced herself she was almost going to do it, Vanessa spoke again. Her voice held a slightly more steely note to it now. “But I don’t forgive you for kissing me or for that night in the hot tub. That really fucked with me.”

Brooke fought the urge to snap a childish you started it at her and instead said a soft okay. She also fought the urge to reach out and place a hand on top of Vanessa’s. The building was still pitch black and silent and the girls had reached a conversational purgatory. Vanessa had forgiven her for some of her mistakes at least. This was the closure Brooke had wanted. Despite herself, she found herself opening her mouth. There was so much still unresolved.

“You must kind of hate me for that."

Vanessa snorted, tilted her head to the sky. "I do and I don’t.”

A small silence. Brooke knew what she wanted to say, knew what topic she wanted to breach, but it meant plunging head first into the icy chill of the great unknown, and as much as she wanted to talk about it she was terrified of doing so.

“Is that because part of you loves me?”

It was out before Brooke knew it. Vanessa had frozen, her body unmoving with her head still positioned towards the ceiling like a terrifying Exorcist yoga pose. Brooke could immediately predict it, could practically hear it- Vanessa’s quick, sarcastic response, don’t flatter yourself, her getting up and thundering away to another part of the building in some angry game of hide and seek. She couldn’t face any of those options, so Brooke continued talking. “I was in the bathroom at the same time. In the next stall along from you and the girls. I heard you say that you never got to tell me. Did you mean it?”

“Why are you asking me this, Brooke? Is it to add insult to injury? Is it not enough knowing that the girl you broke it off with can still come crawling back into bed with you so easily, you have to rub salt into the wound by getting me to fucking…” Brooke heard Vanessa take a big deep, shaky breath, felt the tears prick at the corners of her own eyes. “…admit that I’m in love with you, yes, okay? I love you. What’s the reason?”

“Because I…fuck,” Brooke jumped in then immediately stopped. She felt her jaw wire itself shut, almost paralysed with fear. She didn’t know if she could verbalise everything she was feeling. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”

“No shit, Miss Marple,” Vanessa quipped bitterly, her eyes back looking at the carpet and avoiding Brooke’s gaze. The lack of eye contact helped Brooke. She carried on.

“You know, I used to lie in bed before I went to sleep and rehearse what I would say to you to tell you I liked you,” Brooke gave a laugh, remembering when things were more simple. “Except none of it worked out that way. And now I’ve actually got a second chance at it, I’m almost too frightened to say it. I completely fucked it with you, Vanessa. You’re an absolute one of a kind person. Your smile just makes me happy whether or not it’s directed at me. The love and loyalty you have for your friends makes me proud of you. You’re so determined and hard working and you’re smashing your degree. And you’re kind. You see the good in everyone and you’re not afraid to feel and tell the world all about it. All these things that I just…love about you. It took me being away from you and making the biggest mistake of my life, and that night when we were together like everything was back to normal, it took all of that to make me realise that I’m…fuck..”

Brooke almost hadn’t realised she was crying until a sob bubbled up in her throat, almost choking her. It was almost like her body’s survival mechanism, trying to save her from the potential rejection she might face once the words were out.

Fuck it.

“I’m in love with you. I love you so much that it scares me. It scares me more than being fucking…trapped in the library in the pitch black with no way out,” Brooke let out a hybrid of a laugh and a sob. By now, Vanessa had lifted her gaze to look at Brooke, and Brooke had shifted hers so she could protect herself from Vanessa’s reaction. “Because I don’t want to hurt you again, and you deserve better than someone like me.”

“Then don’t,” Vanessa said quietly.

“What?” Brooke whispered, confused. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and jammed them under her eyes, used them to stop the tears from escaping.

“You said you don’t want to hurt me again. Then don’t,” Vanessa repeated patiently. Brooke blinked. She had no idea what that meant, so she went with the knowledge she had at hand.

“I love you, and you love me,” Brooke said softly, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “Can we…do something with that information?”

Vanessa let out a loud blast of a laugh, making Brooke giggle even though she didn’t know what was funny. “God, that’s the most Brooke Lynn Hytes way of asking me out ever. Can we do something with that information.”

Vanessa’s smile was infectious. It lit up Brooke’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her gently, to make Vanessa hers properly this time. As her smile faded though, Brooke felt her hope fade too. Vanessa let out a world-weary sigh. “Brooke, I don’t…I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”

Brooke’s heart dropped to the floor and shattered. She wanted to say something, fill the silence and reassure her, but nothing came out. She had opened up, and it had all been for nothing. This was her karma- she had broken Vanessa’s heart and now here was Vanessa breaking hers. She felt crushed. Lacking the energy to do it properly, she nodded her head once, the action small and probably barely noticeable.

It was so quiet that Brooke could hear Vanessa swallow beside her, hear her breathing deeply to calm herself down before she spoke. “You never hear it in the movies but sometimes…sometimes love isn’t enough, you know, sometimes you need to put yourself first, and sometimes the person you love ain’t necessarily the one who ends up making you happiest.”

Brooke felt her chest grow tight, felt ashamed as her head hung to the floor. She saw two tears fall from her eyes and drop onto the carpet, making identical, miniscule ponds.

“But then also,” Vanessa continued, the but aspect causing Brooke’s heart to dip and soar upwards as if it was on a rollercoaster. “I love you for a reason, don’t I? The way that you say shit that’s all sarcastic and funny. The way you make me laugh. The way you’re always blunt and truthful, and when you say nice things to me it feels like you’re just saying a fact. The way you got this childish, immature streak to you that makes everything feel like an adventure when I’m with you. You listen in the best way, ‘cause you never try an’ force advice down anyone’s throat. You’re always so concerned about everyone you care for and want them to be happy…and even though you ain’t good at expressin’ it, I know you have feelings and I know they scare you. You’re like a fuckin…model, you’re so beautiful and perfect. So that’s as simple as it has to be, right?”

Brooke looked up and saw tears in Vanessa’s own eyes. All the honesty was so raw and painful, like burnt or grazed skin, and it hurt and stung as if it was real. It was real. Brooke hid a sob, took a deep breath. “I don’t, uh. I don’t know where we take this.”

“I want to be with you. I want to love and be loved, feel my heart fuckin’…burst like it’s made of confetti,” Vanessa continued, letting out what could have been a sob or a laugh. “But I want to be happy. I don’t want to be hurt again. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” Brooke nodded, feeling the tracks the tears were making down her face. She sighed, the pain in her heart too heavy for her to carry. “Fuck, maybe we’re just not meant for each other, maybe we got our chance already. Maybe nothing should come of this-”

“But, fuck, I love you, Brooke! And you love me,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, her mascara collecting under her eyes as her own tears continued to fall. “And that…that means something.”

“I love you,” Brooke repeated, in case it counted for anything. It meant the world to her. Vanessa gave a sad smile, reached out and took Brooke’s hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Brooke’s hand twice, and the simple gesture made Brooke hopeful that everything was going to be okay.

“Shit, I waited so long to hear you say that and now it’s like…” Vanessa began sadly, trailing off. Brooke didn’t push her to finish her sentence. Instead, she squeezed her hand like Vanessa had done with hers. The action seemed to work as a prompt, because she spoke again, tilting her head with curiosity. “What do you want outta all this?”

Brooke knew immediately. “I want you. I want us to be us again.”

Vanessa let out a soft sigh, paused. “Okay, well. I don’t know what I want right now, Brooke. An’ it’s gonna be hard to start again. So you’re gonna need to give me time to decide.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you. You can take all the time you need,” Brooke reassured her instantly. “I’ll still be here.”

Vanessa’s hand shifted in her own. Brooke watched as she frowned a little, cast her gaze her way again. "You mean that?”

“I mean it. Whatever you decide. Whether we’re worth an extra chance or not. I’ll wait for you.”

A small smile crept onto Vanessa’s face as Brooke waited for her reply. “That’s the most romantic shit anyone ever said to me.”

“Well, it’s just the truth,” Brooke muttered, feeling her cheeks grow hot and glad that the dark room would hide her pink blush. Then, getting an idea and feeling a little spark of that childishness and immaturity Vanessa seemed to love so much, Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand and held out her other one for her to shake. The other girl looked at her, a funny, confused smile on her face as she took her hand and shook it obediently.

“Hey. I’m Brooke Lynn,” she began, trying to suppress her smile as she spoke. Vanessa giggled, falling back a little then leaning forward.

“What are you…”

“Starting again. What’s your name, beautiful?” Brooke teased, all the darkness somehow bursting into colour as Vanessa laughed beside her, swatting her on her arm with her hand. She hadn’t seen this Vanessa in so long; happy, laughing, cheerful and playful. Brooke could’ve cried with how much she’d missed her.

“This is some dumbass shit, you know that?” Vanessa giggled, but Brooke could see the blush on her own cheeks illuminated by the streetlamps outside. Vanessa appeared to see her expectant face, laughed a resigned laugh and indulged her. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa, but everyone calls me Vanjie.”

“Can I call you Vanessa? It’s pretty. It suits you.”

Vanessa laughed again, making Brooke give a chuckle too. “Bitch! You never flirted with me this hard the first time.”

“Well the first time we were friends, so I couldn’t flirt with you. Not properly like I wanted to anyway,” Brooke laughed, taking a Dorito and throwing it at her playfully. Vanessa squealed, toppling herself out of the way. “You, on the other hand, flirted all the time.”

“I’m a flirtatious person! You shouldn’t have taken that shit personal,” Vanessa protested, attempting to look offended but unable to wipe the smile off her face.

“So Vanessa,” Brooke carried on, trying to stop herself smiling as she carried on with the charade. “What are you studying?”

They carried on like that all through the night, being silly and getting to know each other again right from the very beginning. They had missed out on so much conversation over the past few months that it was actually nice to catch up, to re-establish herself in Vanessa’s life. She was looking at graduate jobs in events management for after uni and thinking of moving home to save money. For a fleeting moment Brooke almost suggested that they move in together but she was glad she had the sense not to verbalise that, a thought that was perhaps better bottled up and saved for another time. After all, Vanessa hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with Brooke or not yet. Brooke had to cling on to the hope that maybe she would, because she had nothing else. Well, that was a lie. She had Vanessa’s smile and her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes when Brooke made a deadpan comment. She had the way Vanessa opened up to her, told her how scared she was of trying to navigate the world on her own after she graduated. She had the way that Vanessa shuffled close to her when the sun eventually began to rise, its glow a burnt orange ombre into a soft yellow which faded into the gentle blue of the morning sky. She had the way Vanessa’s head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck as, worn out and exhausted, she closed her eyes and dozed off in Brooke’s tentative arms.

Most of all, she had the fact that Vanessa loved her, and Brooke loved her back. And even though it hadn’t been the movie scene confession Brooke had been expecting, that fact, the sunrise, and Vanessa sleeping softly against her chest was enough for her for the moment.  

[sahbibabe]

Ignoring The Obvious

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

Part Eleven

Your hospital stay is short. Your training commences. Reno has serious problems with being... well, helpful. Or encouraging. Especially with a giant Shinra dog chasing you through vents.

THE BED WAS HARD, YOUR knees were killing you, your abdomen was on fire, and the nurse was steadily refusing to give you morphine no matter how much you begged. You had spent the better part of two days as high as a kite, blissfully unaware of the train wreck of memories about to hit you the moment you were weaned off of your medication. The file─your unfiltered, raw test subject notes and classifications─sat innocently on the nightstand as if it was completely separate from the emotional turmoil you were facing.

       It would be easy, so easy to slip into the mercenary's mindset and ignore the pain. To shove the emotions aside and bury them so deep you didn't even have to acknowledge their existence. All you had to do was will them away, and they would be gone. But that was unhealthy and the moment you did that, all of your progress would be ruined forever and you would start from scratch once more.

      But did it really matter? You asked yourself the same question over and over again as you watched the Chocobo documentary on the one-channel television network. You would be going back to that life anyways, with that same mindset and habits, without anyone to stop you from doing otherwise. You would be killing people for Rufus Shinra in the name of eliminating competition; a petty game was what it all came down to.

        And you were the knight who guarded the King.

       You looked away from the television to your food. It was plain hospital food, rich in protein to help you replace all of the blood you had supposedly lost while you fought the doctor tooth and nail when he tried to get a needle in your arm for an IV. Reno had laughed when he told you about the resident's injuries, but it only made you feel sick to your stomach when the nurses had to strap you down like a wild animal.

      Other than Reno, your only other visitor was Rude, and he had been thoughtful enough to bring you a bouquet of real flowers. He wouldn't say where he had gotten them from when you asked, just sat in silence, so you asked him instead how Hojo was doing with that stab wound, as smug as you might have sounded.

       "You didn't stab Hojo," Rude told you bluntly, a slight hint of confusion in his voice. Your smugness was wiped from your face. "You stabbed an assistant doctor who had come in to check your new vitals."

        "No," you had whispered,"no, that… That was Hojo. I remember it like it happened seconds ago…"

       "It doesn't matter. The doctor has been treated and compensated out of your salary. You'll be fifty thousand gil short."

     And that had been the end of that.

     Now, you picked at the cheap, plasticky roast beef on your plate and pushed your asparagus around in circles. You weren't getting anywhere without the alarms sounding on your bed, so you were effectively a prisoner until they turned them off. Add that to the iron they were slowly feeding into your IV and you felt like a rabbit confined in a small cage, pacing a few steps at a time.

       Out of the corner of your eye, sitting right beside the file you were desperately trying to avoid reading, sat the Book of Colors: a book that translated all of the different colors soulmates might see, their specific combinations, and surprisingly, origins.

       The strings felt snug against your fingers as you weighed your options, kneading your fingers into your palm. There was a lot you could learn about the authenticity of soulmate bonds through that book. People followed it like gospel, spoke of it as something holy. You had never had a reason to read it until now, or the money to, but now you had prime opportunity and the eyesight to help you do it.

      You picked up the book and pushed your lunch tray away from the bed.

       It was a hefty leather thing, dyed black and sewn with gold thread to display the title: The Book of Colors. One could easily take it for a children's book, but it was so much more than that. A quick glance at the spine showed it was the newest edition.

       The first page you opened it to described the various types of soulmate bonds, everywhere from bonds to the literal soul to telepathic communication. It depended heavily on the people bound to determine what kind of bonds they got. Cynical, unfair people walked around without color vision until they met their soulmate; quiet, shy people got telepathy; and people like you, a mercenary gone civilian, got strings.

       "Strings guide the lost home," you mumbled, tracing your finger over the plain description beneath the header,"and return hearts to where they belong."

       One of the authors theorized heavily that strings meant involvement with the lifestream personally, or some kind of way to identify past soulmates with one another.

       "It's a very unique thing, the strings," the author wrote,"just like anyone else's, but this means that the two souls have already connected before in the past. Eons or two hundred years ago, who can say?"

      You skimmed over the rest and flipped over to the colors, the part you had been dreading and also curiously dying to read. There were sections to different soulmate types, some colors meaning different things, so you found your section and settled down in your springy hospital bed.

       "Identify the weave of your strings," the book told you. It offered a small chart of different weave types. "You may have two types or you may have four. Find yours and look at the pairing chart to determine the intent of your bond."

       That was easy enough. You shook the threads out and looked closely at their weave; there was a single double braid, what looked like a dutch braid, and an elaborately woven pattern that repeated halfway through the string on each one.

       "The double braid signifies a union between two people," you read, following the lines with your finger. "If there is a child born from that union, two becomes three on this specific line."

        You didn't have a third thread, like you expected, so you moved on.

      "The dutch braid signifies a match with power and darkness. Don't worry yourself, though! Darkness can be equated to many things, such as self conflict, a trouble within the body, or even a mental disconnection from stress."

      Sephiroth didn't seem to be mentally disconnected, but you didn't even know him that well. You messed with the threads for a few moments, stuck on that phrasing, before finding the last section where the more elaborate braids were.

       "This gorgeous flower patterned weave means that you have reunited with your soulmate several times in various past lives. Much like additional colors to the vision discussed in the previous soulmate identification, the different petals on it connote just how many times you have been with your soulmate in past lives. Count them! How many do you have?"

         You raised an eyebrow and counted the individual petals. One, two, three, four, five, six, and… just burgeoning on the final petal, weaving itself before your eyes, was seven.

         But there wasn't a number for that─there wasn't even a color combination or weave combination for the mess around your hand. You checked several times, but to no avail; no one had ever had gold, purple, and green and black threads.

       You slammed the book shut and tossed it back on the nightstand just as the door handle turned and popped open. Reno sauntered past the threshold and made himself at home in the guest chair, eating popcorn and humming an odd tune.

       "So, how's the chocobo documentary doing?" His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Making you bored yet?"

       "Sure. If you count restlessness as bored." You crossed your arms and fixed him with a hard stare. "When can I get out and do my job?"

        "In an hour." Reno threw a handful of popcorn in his mouth dismissively. "Doc says you're cleared to start training and work off that excessive energy you have."

        "Good." You ripped your blankets back and hopped out of the bed. The floor was still cold beneath the cheap socks the hospital had given you. The world swam around you for a moment and you steadied yourself against the nightstand. "Good. That means I didn't pass the exam?"

        Reno shrugged. "You never finished it. Tseng pulled some strings. As long as you pass training you should be fine."

       "Why do you sound like you doubt me?"

       "You'll find out in… oh, about an hour."

      And oh, find out you did.

      "Reno, I'm going to murder you for this."

       Sweat traced rivers down your face as you shimmied your way through the ventilation system of the training barracks, a guard dog snapping at your heels. He didn't answer over the comms system, but you knew he had to be laughing at you somehow.

       "Shit," you yelped, feeling the dog's teeth sink down into your shoe. You kicked back on reflex and it cried out, releasing you instantly. You moved a little faster, relieved at the sight of a vent, and slammed your elbow down on the grate. It didn't budge and there was a very pissed off hound breathing down your neck. "Oh, fuck me."

       "Keep on moving, [Name]!" Reno chortled. You scowled and got on your knees, moving as fast as you could given the cramped space. "Three minutes left!"

        "You and your three minutes can go to hell!"

       "Yeah, but then who would sic hounds on you then? You'd fail your training no problem."

      "Reno," you growled, shoving your fingers into another grate just ahead and pushing down hard. It swung open. The dog got closer. "I'm going to kick your ass."

       "Get out of the vents and then we can talk!"

        You dropped neatly onto a bench, the leatherwork groaning beneath your feet. You hopped off and opened the door right as the dog dropped out behind you, hightailing it down the hall at full speed.

        "Gotta take out the dog, too, [Name]!" Reno reminded you.

        Feet skidding into the marble floor, you whirled around, cursing Reno for his snarky reminders and tackled the dog head on. It flailed as you wrapped your arms around its neck and cut off its breathing, barely keeping purchase by pinning your knees to the over muscled thighs. It growled and tried to bite you, the struggle slowing second by second, until it flopped down on the floor, tongue hanging.

         Unconcious, but not dead.

      You reclined back on your haunches with a sigh, wiping sweat from your forehead, and when you opened your eyes, you found the full brunt of Reeve Tuesti's gaze staring you down.

       Your hand dropped from your forehead. Not even your labored breathing helped you forget that you had somehow ended up in a completely different building than Reno had told you to go to.

       "Damnit."

[razieltwelve]

Job Interview (RWBY AU Snippet)

Ruby tried very, very hard not to stare at the very, very pretty goddess who would be deciding the fate of her immortal soul and failed miserably. The goddess in question noticed her staring and raised one perfect eyebrow. 

“Must you stare?”

Ruby would have died of embarrassment except, well, she was already dead. “I’m so sorry. It’s just I only died a few days ago, and then I ended up here, and now you’re reviewing my file, and I’m kind of scared I’ll end up in -"

The goddess held up one hand. “Please, remain quiet while I assess your file.”

“Sorry -”

The goddess raise that perfect eyebrow again, and Ruby clamped her mouth shut. The next four minutes and forty seconds were the most uncomfortable of her entire life. She knew because there was a clock on the wall behind the goddess that made it excruciatingly clear how slowly time was passing. 

Finally, the goddess closed Ruby’s file and spoke. “I must say, Ms Rose, I have rarely come across someone so foolish.”

“...”

“It is one thing to be choke on a cookie. You’re hardly the first person to manage that. You are, however, the first person to ever choke on a cookie twice. One would think that after your first cookie-related mishap landed you in the hospital that you would show some degree of caution instead of simply shoving as many cookies as possible into your mouth. You do know that breathing is mandatory, don’t you? You don’t get to not breathe just so you can eat cookies faster.”

Ruby covered her face with her hands. “Do you have to say it like that? I already feel bad enough.”

“As well you should. You have left behind your father, your sister, and an unusually adorable dog.”

“Why are you so mean?” Ruby whined. “I’m dead because I’m an idiot. I get it. Okay. Fine. Just... where am I going to go now?”

“You are indeed dead because you are an idiot.” The goddess folded her hands together on the table. “However, you are in luck. The universe currently has an excess of dead idiots. For reasons I won’t be getting into, having too many idiots in the afterlife can cause serious issues. To avoid that problem, a rehabilitation program has been established.”

“A rehabilitation program?” Ruby looked up. “What... what would that mean?”

“Should you successfully complete the program, you would be brought back to life.”

“But wouldn’t people think that was weird? I mean... they must have buried me by now, right?”

“Who do you think we are, Ruby? We created the universe. It is trivially easy for us to not only bring you back to life but also change everyone’s memories so that nobody even remembers you dying in the first place. You will, of course, keep your memories to minimise the risk of you repeating your mistakes.”

“I can go back?” Ruby leaned forward. “How? What do I have to do?”

“When the afterlife was first designed, there was a small... issue with capacity. We greatly underestimated the human capacity for stupidity and evil. As a result, it has been... overflowing. Now, the escape of stupid souls is something we can manage. The escape of evil souls is somewhat more of a problem. For various reasons, it would be more efficient for us to send mortals after these escaped souls.”

“Okay...”

“You would be sent back as a reaper, and your task would be to capture these escaped souls and return them to the afterlife.”

“That... that doesn’t sound too bad...” Ruby made a face. “I’ll be getting training and stuff, right?”

“Of course. We’ll even give you a weapon. However, you should realise that some of these souls are more powerful than others. You know all those stories of monsters, apocalyptic disasters, and so on? Almost ninety percent of those can be attributed to escaped souls. That is what you will have to face.”

“Oh.” Ruby gulped. “How many... how many would I have to bring back?”

The goddess smiled. It was not a nice smile. “Ms Rose, we like to rank files based on the number of souls they need to return before they can be considered rehabilitated. These ranks go from E to A and then S. At least, they did. We had to add a whole new classification just for you. Rejoice, Ms Rose, you are the first and currently only EX file. At a bare minimum, you will have to return a million souls.”

“A million?” Ruby screeched. “That’s impossible!”

“It would take you a long time to do that if you were to focus exclusively on what we term regular escaped souls. Such souls are worth a single soul. But the more powerful an escaped soul is, the more souls it is worth. If, by some miracle, you can bring back an Apocalypse Class escaped soul, that would be worth at least five hundred thousand souls.”

“So two of those...?”

“Two of those would be sufficient. Naturally, such souls are the most difficult to claim, and you won’t stand a chance against them without sufficient training and experience. Failure is not an option for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, Ms Rose, are already dead. What do you think happens if you ‘die’ on one of the missions we’ll be giving you?”

“Uh... something really bad?”

“Oblivion awaits you if you fail,” the goddess said. “Not death. Oblivion. You will cease to be. Your immortal soul will be completely destroyed, torn from the cycle of death and rebirth. It is the surest, most complete form of annihilation possible for a mortal soul.”

“...”

“So...” The goddess pushed a form across the table. “This is where you sign.”

Ruby signed.

“What’s... what’s your name?” Ruby asked.

“I suppose it is only appropriate that I tell you since I will be in charge of your rehabilitation.” The goddess stood and gestured for Ruby to follow her through a door that appeared out of thin air. “Call me Weiss.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Good, old Ruby. When she’s not Death, she’s dead. In this case, she’s really, really got her work cut out for her. On the upside, if anyone can pull this off, it’s Ruby.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

[lblb-actuallywrites]

Mistletoe Confessions

I wrote this for the Edens Zero Secret Santa Exchange on Discord. Here’s some EZ Crew Christmas Shenanigans!

“I know! We can do Secret Santa!” Rebecca suggested. “It’ll be fun!”

“Woahhh,” Shiki muttered, eyes growing wide. “Rebecca, what’s a Secret Santa?”

She gasped dramatically. Weisz rolled his eyes at her antics.

Shiki, Rebecca, Homura, Pino, and Happy were sitting on the couch in Edens Zero’s game room, with Weisz leaning against the arm, debating what to do for the upcoming holiday.

“I am also curious, but I won’t say that out loud.”

“Secret Santa is where everyone picks one person and gets that person a gift.”

“Ooh, I pick Rebecca!” Shiki shouted with his trademark enthusiasm.

“It’s supposed to be secret, idiot,” Weisz said. “And why do you not know, Homura?”

“We did not celebrate this ‘Christmas’ on Odeo.”

“So each person gets one gift?” Pino asked, her antennae wiggling in budding excitement.

“Yeah. Instead of everyone getting a bunch of presents, we each get one present that’s more personal,” Happy explained.

“How exciting!”

“Sounds like a shitty deal if you ask me.”

“Oh come on, Weisz, don’t be such a Grinch,” Rebecca teased.

“I am not a Grinch.”

“You’re totally a Grinch,” Shiki said.

“You don’t even know what that is!”

“It is decided,” Homura said, nodding solemnly. “Weisz is a Grinch.”

“Neither do you! Ugh, you guys suck.”

“What is a Grinch?”

‘Of course only Pino would have the decency to ask first,’ Weisz thought.

“A Grinch is a grump with a shriveled up heart who hates Christmas, gift giving, and cheer,” Rebecca explained, almost like she was giving a lecture to a group of kindergartners.

“Hm,” Pino said as she processed the new information. “The definition does seem to fit Mr. Weisz rather well.”

“What are we shitting on Weisz for this time?” Ivry asked as she, Hermit, and Witch entered into the madness.

“Weisz is being a total Grinch about doing Secret Santa,” Rebecca said.

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.”

“Why is everyone ganging up on me?” Weisz grumbled.

“Oh, are we celebrating Christmas, Lord Shiki?”

“Yeah! Rebecca just told me about it. It sounds like fun! She also told me about Santa and his spaceship that can travel across the entire cosmos in a day!”

“Santa’s not even-”

Before Weisz could finish his sentence, he was staring down the barrel of Rebecca’s spare pistol.

“Don’t even think of spoiling this for Shiki and Pino,” she threatened quietly.

Weisz held up his hands in surrender. Rebecca slowly lowered her gun, eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

“If it is secret, then how are the recipients chosen?” Homura asked.

“Everyone writes their name on a piece of paper, and then we each take turns picking one out of a hat,” Hermit said, not looking up from her handheld game. “And then you keep who you’re buying a present for a secret until you give them their gift.”

Homura put her hand over her mouth at Hermit’s pointed comment, but said nothing.

“Couldn’t you just write a program or something that pairs us up randomly?” Weisz asked.

“I could, very easily. But I won’t.”

“Why not?” He was nearly whining.

“I’m keeping in the spirit of Christmas. Also, to piss you off, specifically.”

“Why does everyone want to bother me today?” Weisz grumbled under his breath.

“Cause you’re an easy target as long as you keep bitchin’,” Ivry said, punctuated by flicking Weisz’s ear as she strode past.

“Why do you not like Christmas, Mr. Weisz?” Pino asked.

Weisz shrugged. “It’s not like I hate Christmas, I just don’t care one way or the other about it. And it never made sense to me why so many people act like it’s such a big deal. It’s just another day.”

“It’s a holiday. That’s like saying your birthday is just another day!” Rebecca said.

“It is.”

Rebecca gasped again.

“Can you stop being so dramatic?”

“I have paper and pencils for everyone,” Witch called as she walked back into the game room.

Weisz blinked, not having realized that Witch left the room to begin with, but still taking the paper and pencil when she handed it to him.

The room fell mostly silent, with only the scratching of pencil on paper as everyone scribbled their names down.

���What about the hat?” Shiki asked.

Ivry snatched the sorceress hat off of Witch’s head and handed it to him, putting her slip of paper in. “Here ya go, Shiki. There’s your hat.”

“Awesome!” he said as he enthusiastically shoved his own paper in it.

The hat was passed around the room and everyone put their names in, though Weisz did it with extreme reluctance.

“Alright! I wanna pick first!”

Shiki nearly punched the hat out of his own grip with his zealousness as he reached in to pick his Secret Santa recipient.

“Remember, you’re not supposed to say who you got. It’s supposed to be a surprise to the person you’re giving the gift to,” Rebecca said.

Shiki handed the hat off to her as he read the name on the paper he picked. To Weisz’s surprise, he managed to keep quiet about who he drew.

As the hat made its way around the room, Weisz vaguely wondered who he’d get.

‘If I had to choose, I guess it wouldn’t be too hard to get a gift for Shiki. That idiot would be excited by actual coal,’ he thought, chuckling quietly to himself.

When the hat finally made it to him, there was only one piece of paper left inside.

Homura Kougetsu

‘Damn.’

He left the game room, wondering what in the cosmos Homura would want for Christmas.

‘Even if I asked, she probably wouldn’t know herself, since she’s never celebrated Christmas before.’

He groaned, dreading the task ahead.

~~~~~~~~

“Okay, we’re off! We’ll be back soon!” Rebecca called out to Witch as everyone piled into the Aqua Wing to venture down to Blue Garden to shop for their gifts.

“I apologize for not being able to go with you. Unfortunately, as you know, I cannot leave the ship.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Witch!” Pino said. “Miss Rebecca and I will help you get your present!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We’ll be in constant contact, it’ll be just like you’re there with us.”

Witch smiled, but Weisz could see that she was a little disappointed.

“In the meantime, I will plan out the decorations.”

Weisz put his new earbuds in to shut out his crewmates’ yammering. He’d taken to listening to music a bit more recently, even if the only songs he listened to were considered “old” by everyone else’s standards.

Though he’d never admit it, sometimes he did miss Norma. Even if it was only a longing for the simplicity of his time compared to the future he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet.

‘I still have no idea what Homura could possibly want as a present. I can’t remember her ever wanting anything since I met her, except..’

Weisz cracked his neck, shaking away the thought. ‘That’s not gonna help.’

~~~~~~~~

As soon as Rebecca led them to what had to be the biggest outdoor mall Weisz had ever seen in his life, everyone ran in different directions. Or in Shiki’s case, floated.

Weisz walked slowly, looking at all the shops around him. This part of the mall was mostly clothing stores, which would be useless, as he could make any kind of clothes he wanted in the Dress Factory on the ship.

One shop in particular caught his eye, however.

‘Heh. Christmas-themed lingerie? That’s worth buying.’

He was halfway across the court when he remembered that they’d be giving their presents in front of everyone else. And that Homura probably wasn’t one for lingerie in the first place.

‘I might be shameless, but even I’m not that shameless.’

He grumbled, but kept walking.

He passed by clothing stores, jewelry stores, and sports stores, all of which he doubted would carry anything that Homura could be remotely interested in owning. With each store he passed, his annoyance grew.

’What kind of gift do you give a swordswoman who says everything, but doesn’t seem to want anything material?’

His friends had long since ditched him, but even if he asked everyone on their crew, he doubted any of them could come up with a concrete answer as to what Homura would actually like. Though she said everything that came to her mind, she’d somehow never mentioned her interests, besides…

As Weisz rounded the corner, he finally saw a shop that he could work with.

‘What do you get a swordswoman? A decorative blade,’ he thought. ‘Even though her Ether Gear means she’s literally never without one, and I doubt she’d have a use for a blade that’s not meant to be, well, used, it’s as good a place as any to start.’

A bell rang as he walked into the shop, and almost immediately after stepping through the doorway, the noise from outside seemed impossibly distant. Weisz’s ears started to ring faintly in the sudden silence, one that even the dust seemed afraid to break.

The broad-shouldered clerk at the counter looked up, but didn’t say anything as Weisz began to wander around the shop. The sheer number of pointy-death-sticks hanging on the walls made him a little uneasy.

Guns have a safety function, after all, and knives and swords do not.

‘Zweihänder, Broadsword, Rapier, Dao, Katana, how many fucking ways can you make steel sharp enough to kill someone?’ he thought.

The man at the counter seemed to be the only employee in the shop, and he watched as Weisz navigated all the complicated classifications that he never even knew existed.

‘Well, a big sword is out of the question,’ he thought. ‘I don’t know if I can even lift it, let alone…’

He blanched as he noticed the price on a nearby Claymore.

‘..Afford it. A smaller knife will be fine. I think.’

The employee never spoke, but Weisz could feel his stare as he moved through the shop.

‘I know I’m a thief, but he can’t possibly know that, and I sure as hell can’t steal anything from here if I can’t even carry it.’

The silence was nearly unbearable, and as he came around to the back of the shop, Weisz was seriously tempted to just leave and get a generic Christmas gift that no one could dislike.

‘It’s not like someone who’s never celebrated Christmas before would know the difference, right?’

He shook his head. Homura couldn’t lie, and he- and everyone else- was sure to hear how much or how little she liked his gift. And he refused to be the only one unsuccessful in their Secret Santa charades.

Out of the corner of his eye, he just barely caught part of the description of a small dagger.

Valkyrie.

He nearly gave himself whiplash with his double-take.

Valkyrie Wingblade Dagger.

Even Weisz could admit that it was a beautiful work of art. The blade itself was somewhere around six to eight inches and two-pronged, but that wasn’t the most impressive thing about it.

Spreading out from the handle was a set of wings. Each individual feather had been meticulously crafted, and the wings formed a hand-guard of sorts. The handle itself was simple, yet elegant, and there were two little things jutting out from the bottom of it.

‘Maybe that’s for hanging it?’

“Find something that interests you?”

Weisz jumped as the employee’s deep voice boomed in the silent shop. He could hear his accelerated heartbeat in his ears.

“Uh.. yeah, maybe.”

“The Valkyrie dagger, huh? It’s a fine choice. Who’s it for?”

“A friend. She.. likes swords, and her teacher’s name was Valkyrie.”

“...Interestin’.  I heard stories about some warrior single-handedly changing the tide of the war on Odeo about ten years ago now. Some of ‘em put ‘er name as ‘Valkyrie,’ but I thought that was just hearsay. It is an ancient name, after all. Didn’t think anyone besides historians and sword experts knew about it.. Wonder if it’s the same person.”

Weisz blinked at the history lesson. “Valkyrie Yuna. That’s her name. And she’s definitely the same person as my friend’s teacher.”

“Yer friend must be one hell of a fighter, then.”

“Yeah..”

“You gonna get that one, or keep lookin’?”

Weisz glanced down at the dagger’s price tag, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief to find that it was reasonable.

“Sure, I’ll get this one.”

The clerk reached into the display case to grab it. “If you want, you can get it engraved. It’ll cost a little extra, and take a bit of time, but it’s a common option this time of year.”

“How much more?” Weisz asked hesitantly. “And how long will it take?”

~~~~~~~~

Edens Kitchen looked nearly unrecognizable. Witch had gone far beyond what Weisz had expected in turning it into a winter wonderland; Color-changing lights and garland criss-crossed the room, and fake snowflakes that he suspected Witch had cut out herself all hung from the ceiling. Christmas tree and gingerbread man cutouts decorated the bottom two feet of the walls, red and green ribbons were wrapped artfully around each of the tables and chairs, and fake snow covered the floor. There was even a real Christmas tree in the corner that was so picturesque, he vaguely wondered what movie it was stolen from.

Not to mention the mistletoe that was hanging in just about every doorway in and around the kitchen, which he took careful measures to avoid meeting anyone under.

Pino had frozen in excitement for a solid twenty seconds when she saw the decorations, to the point that Weisz was nearly concerned Hermit would have to reboot her. Shiki was equally excited, temporarily losing control over his Ether Gear in the process. Witch and Rebecca had to weigh him down so he wouldn’t ruin the decorations on the ceiling.

Weisz was impressed. Witch’s decorations almost put him in a festive mood, which was more than he could say for any other Christmas celebration he’d been to in his life. Even the food was festive, with holiday staples like mashed potatoes, turkey, and stuffing all decked out in red and green embellishments wherever possible. Even the eggnog and hot chocolate had red and green shavings in them, which Witch had assured all of them were just pieces of chocolate and sprinkles.

What she missed in Secret Santa shopping, she more than made up for with the decor.

“It’s beautiful, Miss Witch!” Pino’s antennae were nearly invisible with how fast they were wagging.

“Yeah, you really went all out! It looks amazing!” Rebecca said, trying to pull Shiki away from getting tangled in the lights.

“I must agree,” Homura said from behind her hand. “I feel as if I am in that Christmas-themed village from that movie Rebecca spoke of.”

“Thank you. I wanted to make our first Christmas together truly special,” Witch said, blushing. She’d replaced her sorceress hat with a Santa one, and her staff with a giant candy cane. “I even made everyone a Santa hat to really get in the spirit!”

“Everyone meaning everyone,” Ivry said, with a pointed look at Weisz. “And you gotta wear it. Ship rules.”

Weisz grumbled, but Witch looked so happy with herself and her efforts that he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wear the damn hat.”

‘I guess it won’t kill me, it’ll just do significant psychological damage.’

After an hour of partying, eating, drinking eggnog, and watching Pino try to meet everyone, including him, under the mistletoe- which he reluctantly agreed to, letting her give him a cold kiss on the cheek, both because he feared he might be staring down Rebecca’s pistol again if he didn’t, and she was just too adorable for words while asking(though he’d never admit it)- it was time for Secret Santa.

“It’s time for presents!” Rebecca sang.

Everyone scrambled to the pile of presents under the tree, rushing to give theirs first.

“Here,” a dry voice spoke beside him.

He turned to find Hermit presenting him with a small box.

“Thanks,” he said, opening it slowly. He wouldn’t put it past the little troll of a Shining Star to give him a gag gift that would blow up in his face.

He was pleasantly surprised to find a real present in the box, but also a bit confused by it. “Is this just the Arsenal Suit?”

“More specifically, Arsenal Suit Mark One-Point-Five. I spent two days slaving over the formulas to make it more cost effective. Plus a couple of other special features. We can test it out tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Hermit.”

“Of course,” she said coolly.

As he looked around, he saw Pino giving Witch a box that was bigger than the little bot was- or, more accurately, Pino was sitting on top of the box, and Rebecca was handing it over- Ivry standing behind them, a gift he assumed was for Rebecca in hand, and Shiki giving Happy a candy cane colored bag.

He found Homura standing in the doorway under the mistletoe. As Weisz walked over, he made sure not to step under it.

“Here,” he said, suddenly embarrassed as he handed the long box over to her.

“Thank you, Weisz.”

As she moved to open it, Weisz was struck with sudden anxiety.

‘If she doesn’t like it, no one will let me live it down for who knows how long,’ he thought. ‘And I actually tried with this. She has to like it.’

He briefly wondered why he was so concerned about her reaction now, when he hadn’t been before.

‘Is it really only because this is the first time I’m giving a gift to someone who’s opinion really matters to me? Or is it because this is the first swordmaster I’ve tried to give a gift to?’

She stared into the box silently. And somehow, her silence was worse than her outright saying that it was horrible. He’d never seen Homura speechless before.

Slowly, she reached in and pulled out the blade, examining it carefully.

“Valkyrie wings…” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, unsure of what else he could say.

He watched as her eyes roamed over the dagger, taking in every detail. Her eyes widened when she noticed the engraving.

“So, what did you want the engraving to say?” the clerk asked.

“Valkyrie Homura.”

Finally, Homura looked up at him, her mouth slightly open and eyes widened a bit in shock. Then, she pressed her lips together as tears welled up in her eyes.

‘Son of a-’

“Thank you.” She interrupted his train of thought, a smile spreading across her face.

“Y- you like it?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Immensely so.”

Putting the dagger back in the box and closing it, she looked back up at him and smiled again. A genuine smile, one that Weisz had never seen on her face before.

‘She looks really pretty smiling like that.’

His shoulders scrunched up in embarrassment as he realized what he was thinking, and he looked away in an attempt to hide the blush he was sure was spreading across his face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I would not have expected something so thoughtful from you,” she said, immediately covering her mouth as she realized what she said. “Oh, I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. My apologies.”

“No, I’m with you on this one. I wasn’t expecting it, either.”

She giggled behind her hand.

“So, why are you standing over here?”

“I was hoping to meet Shiki under the mistletoe.”

“I- a- .. oh. Really?” he asked, ten kinds of confused all at once.

“Yes, I was hoping to challenge him to a duel.”

“A- uh, what?”

“Ivry explained mistletoe to me. If two are caught under it, they must duel. She called it ‘mistlefoe.’ She said it was a time-honored tradition.”

Weisz burst out laughing so hard that he had to lean against the doorway so he didn’t fall over completely.

“What is so funny?” she asked, her hand coming back up to cover her mouth again, this time out of embarrassment.

“That’s not what mistletoe is for,” he said after he managed to calm down enough to be understood.

“Then what is it for?”

Now completely calm, he stood up straight. “The point of mistletoe is that you’re supposed to kiss whoever you meet under it.”

They both froze as they realized that Weisz had stepped underneath said mistletoe without realizing it. Matching blushes sprung up on their faces as they struggled to speak.

“W-well, I suppose I would not mind it so much,” Homura said, slapping both hands over her mouth with a high-pitched squeak.

His shoulders scrunched up even further at her confession.

“Y-... you wouldn’t?”

“I-... I, umm..” her voice was almost a full octave higher than normal. “Sister Ivry!”

“Oh, shit,” the wicked nun cackled, hiding behind Witch as Homura stormed over to her.

Weisz stayed frozen, staring at the now empty space in front of him, his heart racing.

~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, everyone was passed out in the game room. Rebecca demanded they have a “Christmas Movie Marathon” after their Secret Santa shenanigans, and of course Shiki agreed.

Now, both of them were asleep on top of each other, drunk off their asses from Ivry’s spiked eggnog. The nun in question was also drunk, sprawled out on the floor.

‘I didn’t know Ivry could get drunk, seeing as she drinks all the time. And she’s an android.’

Hermit was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, with Pino and Happy curled up in her lap, all of them asleep.

‘Apparently, androids sleep, too.’

Weisz shook his head, stretching his neck out and looking at the other side of the couch where Homura had been sitting. She left an hour ago, citing wanting to go to bed as the reason, but she left with both hands forcefully covering her mouth, and he had a sinking feeling it was because of him.

When they came in for the movie marathon, they sat on opposite sides of the couch and didn’t look at each other the entire time. Their earlier conversation crept, unbidden, into his mind again.

‘I wouldn’t mind kissing Homura, either, I guess. She’s beautiful, strong, kind-’

He considered it nothing short of a Christmas miracle that his stomach growled at that moment, interrupting his train of thought.

On his walk to the kitchen, he tried overthinking about what to eat, so as to keep thoughts of Homura and kissing out of his mind. It was easier to just brush off that conversation as the holiday spirit affecting her in an odd way than to think about wanting to kiss her and the ramifications of doing so.

‘For one, she can’t keep a secret to save her life, so everyone else would know within twenty-four hours,’ he thought. ‘She’s probably never even- Why am I still thinking about this?!’

He almost forgot about the decoration explosion in the kitchen. Walking into it was a decent enough distraction as he forced himself to change the subject in his mind.

The leftover food from their party hadn’t been put away yet; The bowl of mashed potatoes was nearly empty, both of the pies and the cheesecake were completely gone- most likely courtesy of Rebecca’s bottomless pit of a stomach- and the turkey was split down the middle almost perfectly, with one half picked at and the other untouched.

Weisz tore off a small piece of turkey and tossed it into his mouth. None of the party food really interested him, so he pulled up the holographic menu to skim through. But it didn’t do as much as he’d hoped in terms of distracting him. After five minutes of mindless scrolling where his mind wasn’t really on the food, he gave up and ordered a glass of water.

‘Do I really want to kiss Homura, or did that damn Santa hat do more damage than I thought it would?’

The kitchen slid his glass of water over to him, and he sipped on it slowly.

‘Is this what it’s like to doubt yourself? Have I really never doubted myself in my entire life? I probably should’ve.’

“Wow, I’m a selfish prick,” he muttered.

No longer hungry, he finished off his water, deciding to just go to bed.

‘Hopefully I’ll wake up and be able to convince myself that all of the “Kissing Homura” business was just a dream.’

As the kitchen door slid open, he ran into someone coming in. That someone being Homura.

‘Either the universe hates me, or it just likes laughing at me.’

“Weisz,” she said quietly.

“Homura,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I was just going to get some water.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to do.

They stared at each other for a few moments until Homura nodded and moved to walk past him. He was content to just let her pass him by- at least, he thought he was. But somehow, his mind and his arm weren’t on the same page, because he found himself reaching out to stop her walking away.

“Hey.”

She turned to face him, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Yes?”

‘Fuck it.’

“Did… did you mean it? What you said earlier?” he forced out.

“A-about.. kissing?” her voice was unnaturally high again.

He sighed heavily, suddenly very aware of his racing heartbeat. “Y- yeah.”

“I… yes,” she whispered, her cheeks a fiery red.

His shoulders scrunched up far enough that he felt like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. His pulse pounded in his ears, and suddenly it seemed as though his entire torso was burning in embarrassment.

Of course it was only then that both of them looked up and noticed that they were right back where they were before: under the mistletoe.

Homura took a deep breath, straightening up. Her confident posture only lasted a couple of seconds before she spoke. “What about you?”

His eyes widened in shock. “Do I… wanna kiss you?”

She nodded, refusing to look at him.

“I, um… Well… You’re not drunk, are you?”

“W- what?” she asked, shocked. “No. In truth, I do not like alcohol. Not its taste, nor its effects.”

“...Okay.”

“Why?”

“It’s a weird day,” he said, shaking his head.

“Are you?”

“Stone cold sober,” he said. ‘Though this conversation is making me feel like I’m drunk,’ he thought. ‘Either that, or I’m in a fever dream.’

Homura paused, eyes darting back and forth. “You never answered my question.”

Weisz breathed in, then out slowly. “... Yeah,” he said, surprising both of them with his answer. “Yeah, I- I.. want to kiss you.”

Both of them were silent for a moment, uncertain of what to do.

“I have… never actually kissed anyone before. Is it like a battle?”

The noise he made was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “No, it’s not that complicated. It’s pretty easy, actually. Haven’t you ever seen a movie or read a book with a kiss in it?”

“Well, yes, but how can I know how much of that is fiction, and how much is accurate to reality?”

Weisz tilted his head to the side. “Fair point. But it’s basically the same, for the most part. It’s, well.. I mean, it’s just something you learn by doing.”

“Then let me learn. Or teach me, rather.”

“O-okay.” For the first time ever, Weisz hesitated to kiss her. Not even his first kiss was this drawn out.

He rolled his shoulders, projecting a calm he didn’t feel, and brought his hand up to her cheek. Without giving himself time to overthink, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

The first couple of seconds were awkward. Homura stood still, not quite grasping how to respond. But she proved herself a quick learner when she started kissing back.

Weisz brought his other hand to her waist, pulling her closer. Homura covered his hand on her cheek with her own, resting the other on his arm.

He ended their kiss sooner than he would have liked, but he didn’t want to overstep with a too-intense one. Resting his forehead on hers, Weisz still kept close to her lips, torn between wanting another kiss and wondering if Homura did.

At this distance, it was hard to not look at each other, but they both tried.

“That… was nice.”

He nodded slightly. “Mhm.”

“Weisz,” she whispered, finally looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah?”

She gulped. “...Teach me again?”

The corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. “Okay,” he said, leaning in again.

“Wait.”

He stopped. “Hm?”

Homura moved the hand that was resting on his arm to instead lay on his cheek. Then, she leaned forward and reconnected their lips.

Weisz’s hand on her waist slid around to the small of her back, pulling her even closer than before. His hand resting on her cheek slid down to join the other. He allowed himself to kiss her a little harder, nearly losing himself in the moment.

When they pulled apart again, they were breathless.

“Well… You’re definitely a fast learner,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Thank you, I pride myself on it.”

Weisz chuckled, which set Homura off giggling before taking a step back. Neither of them took their hands off the other.

“Thank you… for teaching me.. about mistletoe. It was…-”

“Yeah, it was good for me, too.”

Homura nodded, a small smile growing on her face. She looked away from him.

“Well, it has certainly been… an interesting first Christmas,” she said, stepping away slowly. “Goodnight, Weisz.”

“Night.”

She turned her head away, hiding her smile as she walked past him.

Weisz touched his lips lightly. “Yeah,” he said to himself. “Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad.”

[mulderbabe77]

You’ll Feel Better Soon

Author: mulderbabe77  Summary: Pure fluff. Brennan gets her period on their way home from interviewing a suspect. She feels like crap, Booth helps her feel better. Some cute conversation and caretaking. Nothing but fluff really. Sorry! Length: 2174 words Classification: Fluff, Caretaking, Sickfic Rating: G Spoilers: None really, as long as you’ve seen season 1, this is set around early season 2 sometime 

Has not really been proof read very well, just kind of threw it together as it was running around my head.

 **********************

Dr. Temperance Brennan shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the SUV for the sixth time in just a few short minutes. Something that did not go unnoticed by her partner, Seeley Booth, as he drove. In fact, he was now keeping a mental tally of how many times she squirmed in her seat since they started driving. She had been unusually quiet the last hour or so, as they ate lunch and drove home from questioning a suspect in rural Virginia. They were still a couple hours from home. She shifted in her seat again and Booth’s eyes flitted over to his partner. “You ok, Bones?” “Of course,” she replied, though he could swear he detected a slight grimace on her face and an edge to her voice that he had never heard before. Booth and Brennan had been partnered together now for a little over a year and though they certainly had their moments here and there of getting on each others nerves or disagreeing, this was certainly unusual behavior for her. She wasn’t one to give the silent treatment, usually preferring to speak her mind, quite loudly and quite forcefully. And he couldn’t think of anything she would be angry about, they hadn’t argued and he didn’t think he’d done anything that would upset her.

 She turned to the backseat and pulled her large messenger style bag into her lap and began digging through it.

 “Damn,” she muttered to herself after a few minutes of frantically looking and finally coming up empty-handed. She tossed her bag rather haphazardly into the backseat and leaned her head heavily onto the passenger window, closing her eyes.

 Booth glanced to his partner again, then back to the road. Something was definitely up and his curiosity had been piqued. He stole a few more glances at her - she didn’t look well. He hoped she wasn’t getting sick.

 In the 13 months that they had worked together, he had never seen her sick. She had never taken so much as even one sick day. Not even a sniffle or sneeze, save for this past Christmas when they were quarantined in the lab, and she had surprised him with those two quick sneezes and nearly gave him a heart attack thinking she had valley fever. Other than that she was always healthy as a horse. Always. He suspected she had a very strong immune system.

 “Bones, are you sure you’re ok? I think I know when something is bothering you. What can I do to help?”

She gave him a small smile, appreciating his perceptiveness.

 “I need painkillers,” she sighed.

 “You have a headache?”

 “Something like that.” He wasn’t sure what to think of that response.

 “Want me to pull off at a gas station? You can grab some Tylenol,” he offered.

 “I’m afraid that won’t cut it.”

 “Why? What’s wrong?” He felt the beginnings of panic begin to creep around his heart, worrying that she was about to tell him something horrible was wrong.

 “It’s fine, Booth,” she reassured. “I’m merely experiencing dysmenorrhea,” she said matter-of-factly.

 “Dysmeno- what?”

 “Dysmenorrhea, also known as painful cramping brought on by the monthly shedding of my uterine lining.”

 He still gave her a puzzled look. “Layman’s terms, Bones?”

 “Menstrual cramps.”

 “Oh. Sorry Bones. You going to be ok?”

 She pressed a hand to her abdomen and grimaced as another cramp ripped through her.

 “Yes, although I usually take prescription medication, but I seem to have forgotten it at home today,” she sighed. “The pain can get quite intense and we’re still a long way from home. It’s possible I may vomit if the pain gets bad enough. Please be prepared to stop the car if that happens.”

 Even though she explained everything very matter of factly, Booth still noticed a hint of blush to her cheeks and she looked out her window as she spoke, instead of looking at him, almost as if she was embarrassed. He’d never seen her embarrassed about anything before.

 “Sure Bones. I’m sorry you’re in pain,” he said, reaching his hand out and giving her forearm a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, you know. It’s natural.”

 “Logically I know that. Women have experienced menstruation since the beginning of time, Booth. Though I have no idea how prehistoric women survived without modern day painkillers. Still, it’s not something I usually discuss, especially with the opposite sex,” she looked towards him for a minute before turning back to look out the window.

“I get it. I’m just saying, I’m not going to get all weirded out, ok? You’re a woman, and it’s a natural bodily function. We’ve been partners for a while now so I know you have periods, obviously but I’ve never seen you like this before Bones,” he said, and their eyes met and locked - his shining full of empathy for his hurting partner. He was truly worried about her and this stirred something deep down in her heart. Something she’d never felt for a man before. She shook her head, trying to quiet her thoughts before answering.

“I’m intentionally very discreet. Plus I usually always keep my prescription medication in my bag. It really helps. I must have run out and forgotten to refill it. I don’t know how I could be so careless.”

“We’ve been really busy lately, it’s understandable,” he noted. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Anyway, please tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Bones nodded, “Thanks,” and gave him a small smile. “I’m going to try to sleep for a little bit, sometimes that helps.” She rested her head against the window and shut her eyes.

 Booth drove on and Bones did eventually drift off to sleep.

 They were still about an hour away from home when Bones started to lightly moan in her sleep. Her brow was creased and he could tell she was in a lot of pain.

 Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she leaned forward holding her stomach.

 “Booth?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Stop the car, I’m going to be sick,” she held a hand over her mouth.

He was already prepared for what she was about to say.

 “Stopping, just one sec,” he said, pulling off the road quickly, into some gravely dirt. They were on a nearly abandoned country road.

 Brennan jumped from the car the second it came to a stop, stumbling a bit on the gravel and falling to her knees just a few feet from the car as her stomach violently emptied itself onto the ground.

 Booth jumped out of his side of the car and hovered nearby, close, but not too close as to make her feel uncomfortable by invading her personal space.

 Brennan retched again before trying to climb too quickly back to her feet. She swayed a bit and Booth stepped up from behind and grabbed her elbow before she took a tumble.

 “Whoah, take it easy, Bones. Just breathe for a minute.”

He handed her his handkerchief from inside his suit jacket which she gratefully accepted and wiped at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Booth. I’m humiliated,” he heard her voice crack on the last word and then saw the tears begin to fall.

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, “Temperance, it’s fine, you’re human. People throw up.”

“I don’t,” she hiccuped into his shoulder, feeling like a complete fool, not only for throwing up in front of her partner, but now also for crying about it. “I don’t get sick, Booth. And I certainly don’t usually cry about it.”

She pulled away and wiped her nose with the handkerchief, trying to compose herself, smoothing out her suit which after the whole ordeal was looking quite a mess.

“Everyone gets sick now and then, Bones and I would never think any less of you because of that. How are you feeling now?”

“A little bit better, but still in pain. Maybe we can find a gas station for some Advil and a bathroom?”

“Sure thing, Bones,” he said, guiding her by the arm over to the car and opening the door for her.

“Thank you,” she gave him a small smile and climbed into the SUV. Once inside she folded herself up into the seat and pulled her knees up to her chest.

Booth kept his eyes peeled for the closest gas station but they were still in the middle of nowhere, so he knew it might be a while before they found one.

Brennan has curled herself up into a little ball in the seat. He couldn’t help but think how tiny and helpless she looked there, all curled up, face still scrunched up in pain. He would do anything to take that feeling away for her. He pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas pedal.

He thought she had fallen back to sleep when her tiny voice floated through the air.

“This used to happen to me in high school. Before my parents disappeared,” she sighed, thinking back.

“Every month when I would get my period it was like hell for me. I would feel awful, be in so much pain crying on the bathroom floor at school. My dad,” she started, and he could hear her struggling to get the words out, fighting back tears as she said his name. “My Dad would come pick me up from school every time it happened. He would bring me home, bring some Advil and a glass of water and tuck me into my bed. He never talked about what was wrong, knowing I was too embarrassed to talk about it. But he would pull the blankets up to my chin,” a tear streaked down her face and she quickly swiped it away, but he saw. “And then he would kiss me on the cheek and say ‘Sleep sweetheart, you’ll feel better soon’ before he left the room,”

“He sounds like a great dad, aside from the whole criminal secret life thing, of course,” Booth noted and Brennan laughed out loud.

“He was,” she smiled. “I’ve never had that feeling since. That feeling of being really cared for…. not until I met you,” she said the last part so quietly he almost thought he imagined it.

“I’ll always be here for you, Bones. I promise.”

“Hey look, a gas station!” she pointed up the road, interrupting their moment rather abruptly.

He filled up the tank while she went inside to use the restroom and grab a bottle of Advil.

It was about an hour later, and the sun had already set when they were pulling up to her apartment. He helped carry her bag inside along with some pieces of scientific equipment she had brought along to collect evidence.

“I think I’m going to lie down, I’m still not feeling great.”

“Come on,” he said pulling her hand towards the bedroom. “I’ll tuck you in.”

She kicked her shoes off and climbed under the covers, not even caring that she was still wearing her dress clothes. Booth disappeared in the bathroom for a minute and returned with a glass of water and two more Advil.

“Here,” he said, placing them on her nightstand, “In case you need them in the night.”

“Thanks Booth,” she smiled sleepily and then let out a yawn.

He pulled the covers up to her chin, leaned down, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Sleep, you’ll feel better soon,” before letting himself out of her apartment.

She fell into a mostly pain free sleep and when she woke in the morning, she felt much better. Ready to face another day with her partner.