#which leads me to wonder how exactly they managed to get a copy of the film

[saltyfilmmajor]

The Bronx library managing to get the only copy for detective Conan 27 in North America is actually insane

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 2

Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words: 7k

Masterlist

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Monday, October 5th, 6:00 PM - Ona's Room

I groan in displeasure upon hearing a door slam. I take off my headphones, which are no longer playing music. I realize I’ve managed to fall asleep again, and someone has just woken me up. How do I sleep so much? I sometimes wonder. A girl with perfect brown hair has just entered the room. I guess she’s the roommate I was told about.

-  "Oh, sorry if I woke you," she says. "I didn't know you were already here! You're the new one, right?"

-  "Hmm." I make the effort to get up after stretching well. This girl isn't to blame for my bad mood, so I’ll try to be nice for our first meeting. She gives me a smile that shows her perfectly aligned white teeth. I briefly look her over. She seems nice, that's something. She’s not a bimbo, and she’s rather pretty. Probably a girl who turns many heads.

-  « Alexia Putellas" she introduces herself, holding out her hand.

-  « Ona Batlle" I reply, shaking it.

-  "They gave me your stuff," she informs me.

-  "Really?" I look at the clothes I’ve just received, frowning. There are different outfits, each given in triple copies. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is... I look at her to be sure. She’s wearing exactly one of the outfits I’m holding.

-  "No way am I wearing this."

-  "Sorry," she grimaces. "It's in the rules. You'll get used to it quickly, you'll see."

-  "I don't think so, no. I don’t plan on staying."

-  "Oh... I see." I feel like she’s mocking me. She’s immediately less friendly than I thought. I prefer not to comment on her attitude so we don’t start off on the wrong foot. Instead, I focus on what I have in my hands. I observe the set with a look of disgust. Uniforms, seriously! That’s not going to work for me. They’re all in khaki, black, or gray. As dull as this place. It seems like they do everything to demoralize us.

-  "Did they tell you that you have a supervisor or something like that?"

-  "I think so, yes. They mentioned something like that."

-  "Oh, and do you know the person’s name?"

-  "No, they didn't tell me anything," I say, shrugging.

-  "You'll find out tomorrow, I guess. Well, I was going to see some friends before dinner. Do you want to come with me? I'll introduce you."

- "Why not, yes," I reply after hesitating.

It’s not necessarily a good idea, but I’m here now. Might as well try to fit in until I leave. I don’t plan on staying alone either, and making new friends shouldn’t be a bad thing. I just need to be pleasant, but that might be complicated given my mood. Alexia smiles broadly, showing her pleasure. I put the uniforms she brought me into my wardrobe. If there’s one thing I can't stand, it’s people touching my stuff. Thanks to that, I’ve gotten used to putting everything away instantly. Alexia patiently waits for me to finish before we go downstairs. She talks to me about a room I don’t know yet. We reach the ground floor. I thought we’d go outside, but she leads me to an old wooden double door to the left of the stairs. I hadn’t even noticed it when I arrived, which shows how much attention I paid. I was probably too busy being angry with my mother.

-  "Here we are. This is the students’ common room."

-  "The students’ common room?" I repeat.

-  "Yeah, it’s a large break room where we can do whatever we want during our free time."

-  "I thought it was a prison and we had to go back to our rooms..."

-  "Oh no," she giggles. "You’ll see, it’s not that bad in the end. Just stay out of trouble and they leave us alone."

-  "Hmm..." She opens the wooden door, which seems heavy and rusty given how it creaks. It’s impossible to enter unnoticed.

She gives me yet another smile before entering the room first. I discover a large furnished room. Alexia is probably right. The camp might not be as terrible as it looks. There’s a TV, foosball tables, sofas, tables... Basically, a place to hang out. I think I’m going to like this place. I’m surprised people don’t care about our arrival. I expected to be the center of attention for being the new one arriving in the middle of the year, but apparently not. Everyone continues their activities as if nothing happened. There are bursts of laughter, conversations coming from everywhere, and even people with their noses in their books. I don’t know how they can study in this atmosphere. It’s impossible for me. I need calm to concentrate. The room must be well insulated because I didn’t hear anything from the outside. I come back to reality when Alexia stops in front of already occupied sofas. These must be the friends she talked about. The sofas are arranged facing each other with a small table serving as a footrest. I feel uneasy imagining that this group must have known each other for years.

-  "Hola chicas ! I brought some company!"

-  "Hi," I say timidly.

-  "Hey! You must be the new one? Alba, Alexia’s sister. »

OK, that’s clear. I didn’t expect such a warm welcome. They don’t seem at all bothered to see me, on the contrary. Irene smiles just as much as her sister, it seems. I stop analyzing and give a small smile back, introducing myself. I turn to the other two, who seem just as nice at first glance. According to Alexia, they are two inseparable best friends. Their names are Patri Guijarro and Claudia Pina. I learn that the group isn’t complete and that two more people will join us for dinner. I hope they’ll be as nice as these guys. Alexia sits next to her sister on the couch and pats the last spot beside her. I join her, and what I feared quickly happens. I’m subjected to a real interrogation about my city, my age, my class, and more. I answer vaguely to the last questions that became too personal. I don’t like revealing myself. They’ll have to be content with my answers. I’m not very brave, especially with strangers. They seem to understand because they go back to normal conversations. I don’t understand much, but at least they stop asking me questions. Alexia takes the trouble to explain some things so I can follow along a bit. It’s a quarter to six when we head to the cafeteria. We have to walk behind the administration building to get there. The cafeteria is a stone building that has been renovated. It looks like a café with its bay windows and a few tables at the entrance. It’s just a dream scene once you go through the second door. Reality hits with a cafeteria more in line with the school’s image. There are many tables and perfectly aligned chairs. I follow my new friends to the left of the room where a line has formed in front of a large buffet with staff to serve us. It’s early, yet there are already some people. I imitate Alexia by taking a tray and cutlery. She explains the process as we go. It’s similar to the canteen I had in high school, but she seems to enjoy explaining it so much that I don’t dare say anything. When our trays are full, I follow her to a table where two people are already seated. I recognize the principal’s daughter, Lotte, I think. I don’t know the other person, who introduces hermself as Leah Williamson. I sit across from Alexia and the girls quickly join us to start a conversation with the two new people. I’m reassured to see that the atmosphere remains the same as before.

-  "You got caught again Leah, ?" Alba mocks.

-  "Yeah... I got more laps around the field."

-  "That’s what happens when you try to skip out," Alexia laughs.

-  "Laps around the field?"

-  "Oh, yeah! Don’t try to defy the instructors," she warns me. "You’ll regret it quickly!"

-  "Hmm, we’ll see."

-  "Do we have a little rebel here?" Leah comments.

-  "No. I just don’t plan on staying locked up here."

-  "Trust me, I’ve tried everything! There’s no way out," she tells me.

-  "I’m sure," I sigh. This school looks like a prison to me, and Leah, seems to share my opinion. She tells me about all the infractions she's committed. She's the rebel of the group. I finally feel understood by someone. She wants the same thing as I do, and yet she's been here for three years. My dismissal might be more complicated than I hoped. She teaches me a lot by sharing all her crazy ideas for driving the instructors mad. She seems pretty funny. I appreciate that they've integrated me into their group so easily. It's as if I've been with them from the beginning. I even find myself feeling sad when it's time to go back to the room. Alexia is an easy-going girl. I shouldn't have any trouble getting along with her, just like her friends. I hope I won't ruin everything by shutting myself off. I answered many questions tonight, but none about my arrival. It must be a taboo subject because no one mentioned their reasons for being here when it was their turn to talk about themselves. At least I didn't shut down during the evening. I feel better than when I arrived since meeting them. I even continue talking with Alexia on our way back to our room when we discover that we are in the same class. It's good news; at least I won't be alone. She's the only one from the group with me, but it's convenient since we share the same room. I'm sure I'll never get lost at least. It's a bit before ten o'clock when Alexia decides it's time to go to bed. I'm disappointed and far from tired since I slept half the day. I try to change her mind until she mentions the word "curfew." I thought this school couldn't get any worse... That's the last straw. If it were up to me, I'd keep chatting, but Alexia has already turned her back in bed. I resign myself to doing the same, turning off the last light in the room. I try to fall asleep, but it's impossible. I turn countless times in my bed, trying to get there. I feel like the night is going to be long...

Tuesday, October 6; 06:00 - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I jump when the alarm goes off. Well, more like the alarm clock. Damn! I thank Joan at this moment for training me to wake up energetically. I grumble and pull the blanket over my head when the daylight blinds me. It wasn't there a second ago. I guess it's the work of my roommate who is shaking me energetically.

"Move your ass, Ona! Or you'll get busted!" "Hmm."

I don't even know what time it is, but it's way too early for my little body, especially since I fell asleep at two in the morning. She gives up on getting me out of bed and starts moving around farther away. As for me, I can't react. I'm so exhausted that my body doesn't want to move. I even curl up to try and get my sleep back, which isn't hard to return.

Tuesday, October 6 ; 06:30 - Ona and Alexia's Room.

"GET UP, BATLLE!"

I groan, sinking into my pillow. What's with that voice? It could have been very pleasant to my ears if she hadn't raised her tone like that. I tighten the blanket against my face. Whoever it is, I just want to fall back asleep one more time, but I doubt they'll let me do that.

"You have three seconds. ONE," she starts counting down. "TWO. THREE."

Go to hell. This thought comes straight from my heart, if only she knew. She'll have to lift me if she wants me to get up. It only took a fraction of a second for me to feel a draft followed by a wet sensation. I scream in surprise as water runs down my face. I inwardly call my unknown assailant every name I can think of, never imagining I could think such things about anyone. I don't have time to reply verbally before the mattress I was lying on is yanked out from under me, sending my body crashing to the floor. She dared! She dared to throw me out of bed to get me up! I never thought that phrase I was thinking would take on a literal meaning. I violently extricate myself from the situation to stand up. Now I'm wide awake and she's going to regret her actions.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!" I shout. "WHO SAYS I'M NOT CARDIAC!"

A pair of emerald eyes I wasn't expecting is fixed on me. I had already prepared a long speech to unleash, but I'm frozen. Who is this girl? She looks so young. I have to look away to hide my discomfort. I take the opportunity to analyze the room. Alexia is no longer there, and her bed is perfectly made. I think I'm in deep trouble. Maybe I should have listened to Alexia when she shook me awake. I turn my attention back to the only person present. She took advantage of my distraction to move closer. She looks angry while I am completely lost. I can't seem to organize my thoughts in the face of her imposing presence and unwavering gaze. I back away to escape her, but an obstacle prevents me. I look down to find the mattress she overturned earlier. I come back down from my emotional high, remembering her actions. The witch!

"So you're the new one," she begins in a surprisingly calm voice. "Know that if you were cardiac, you wouldn't be here."

"What do you know?" I retort bluntly. "And who are you anyway?"

"Your supervisor," she states sternly. "Keep defying me like that, and you'll be doing ten laps around the field."

I start to laugh nervously. I dare to look her up and down to muster some courage. Her, my supervisor? This must be a joke! She's barely older than me. They seriously put a young girl like her in charge of me? They really underestimate me. This girl is going to crack first. She'll soon regret having me under her care, given the hard time I plan to give her. I'll never manage to address her formally, and I sense it's these little details that will irritate her. She furrows her brows and yanks my arm with a sharp gesture, forcing me to follow her. I almost trip over the mattress in the process. She opens my wardrobe without any shame while I watch her, unable to move. I hate it when people rummage through my stuff. She glances through until she finds what she's looking for. She grabs a pair of black jogging pants and a gray T-shirt that's half too big for me and thrusts them against my chest. I catch them with a grunt. She continues searching lower this time to pull out the black combat boots brought with my uniforms. She places them on top of the pile with a khaki jacket with a military pattern. It's a really awful outfit. I grimace just looking at it. I look like I'm in the army.

"I'm not wearing that!"

"Yes, you are. It's in the regulations," she retorts coldly. "I'll give you five minutes to get ready. Then you'll make your bed properly."

"Dream on! I'm not a maid."

"And do you think I am?!" she snaps. "We're not at your service, Batlle. Here, I'm the one in charge. I give an order, and you follow it, period. Is that clear? So now you will listen to me."

I stay silent, taken aback by her tone. I didn't expect to be dealing with this kind of character. She's more authoritative than she appears, or maybe I just didn't see it coming. She yanks my arm again to drag me to the bathroom door. I reluctantly step inside. I'm going to have a bruise soon if she keeps holding me so firmly every time.

"Hurry up. I don't have all day," she snaps.

I slam the door in her face as a response and even go so far as to lock it for some peace. It's the only door with a lock. Maybe I'm annoying her, but she's annoying me even more. She splashed me with water, threw me on the floor, and keeps yelling at me. I get my revenge by taking my time getting ready. If she thinks I'm going to let her push me around! I start by fixing the mess the water made on my face, then brush my teeth. I then put on eyeliner and mascara after applying some cream and foundation. I finish with the hideous sports outfit. I mustn't let myself be intimidated, or I'm done for. I want to get out of here, and I will succeed, even if it means driving her crazy. I take a deep breath while looking at myself in the mirror. I smile, realizing I was right. My T-shirt under the military jacket is slightly too big. They're lucky I like large T-shirts; otherwise, I would have made a fuss. Time to face the tyrant now. If I could, I'd stay locked in. She might be a more formidable enemy than I initially thought. I gather my courage and unlock the door, putting my hands in my pockets. It's not my usual style, but I want to show her I don't care to irritate her further. My plan seems to be working judging by her tense expression.

-  Fifteen minutes for that? Seriously?! she scolds me in a bored tone.

-  I can take more time if you want... Shall I go back? I suggest mockingly.

-  No way, I must be dreaming, she mutters. Hurry up and clean up this mess instead of mocking me! Bingo, I've managed to irritate the little brunette. I hold back my laughter seeing her like this. It's simpler than I thought. Her finger points towards my bed. Now that I pay attention, there's a huge mess. My mattress is on the floor next to my wardrobe, while my quilt is on the other side.

-  You did this, and I have to clean it up?

-  As far as I know, you didn't get up. I wouldn't have done anything if you had followed the rules. And there she goes again. Does she only know that word? No one ever told me anything. I wasn't even informed there was a curfew and uniforms. So I'm definitely not going to know this damn rule.

-  Rules, rules, I mutter. You only have that word in your mouth. How am I supposed to know if no one tells me anything about these damn rules?!

-  What do you mean, you don't know anything?

-  No one ever told me the rules here. I just arrived yesterday! She remains stoic at my revelation. She seems to be thinking before running her hand through her hair with a sigh.

-  Fine, we'll deal with this problem later. In the meantime, keep a low profile and stop talking back.

-  I'm not talking back.

-  Yes, you are. You just did, and it won't go without consequence. Now, stop being smart and clean up this mess. I won't repeat myself. She points to my bed again with a stern look that doesn't make me want to listen to her at all. Yet she seemed friendly for a second, wanting to help me. Her threats seem serious, so I resign myself to follow her orders, starting with putting the mattress back. I then deal with the quilt, quickly making my bed to get rid of her.

-  There. Happy now?

-  No. She messes up my bed with a brusque gesture. I can't believe it. She must be messing with me; it can't be otherwise.

- Why did you do that? What's your problem?! I made your damn bed!

- Firstly, as far as I know, it's your bed. Secondly, I told you to make it square, and it was far from it. Thirdly, I've already told you to stop talking back, and especially, don't address me informally! Now do it again.

She doesn't bat an eye. She has incredibly controlled coldness. I regret listening to her. Now she knows she can do it again. I've lost this first battle, but my next attack will be even more terrible. For now, I show her my obedience and remake the bed. It doesn't look much different from before. I just tried to make the quilt neater by smoothing it out. I stand up to show her I'm done. She doesn't even bother to examine it before messing it up again.

-  No, stop! It was fine!

-  No, I said square. You will redo it until you get it right.

-  Damn it! I don't even know what a square bed is!

-  That's enough. I've warned you enough. You will immediately tone it down, or things will go very badly between us! A palpable tension arises. She is very intimidating in her stance and severe expressions. I promised myself I would stand up to her, so I must do everything not to look away. I'm supposed to be the queen of the staring contest, but it's hard to hold out against her.

-  Do it again, Batlle, she orders.

-  But I'm telling you I can't do it! I get angry. If it's just for you to ruin my work again, it's out of the question!

-  Then all you need to do is ask. I remain incredulous. I expected a sharp retort. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. Is she mocking me? No way I'm asking her for help! I've never asked anyone for anything, and I'm not starting with her. I've always been free to do as I please. I'm not used to being given orders, let alone asking for help. I quickly had to learn to manage on my own. I bite my cheek as I look at the quilt on the floor. This time it's different. I have no choice but to ask. I don't know how to do it, and she has remarkable composure and patience. She will certainly not be the first to give up. My throat tightens just thinking about the words I'm going to have to say to her.

-  Help me...

-  Can you teach me how to make a square bed, please? she reformulates.

-  Can you teach me how to make a square bed, please? I repeat.

-  Come here, she says. I approach her to reach the foot of the bed.

- Redo it. I look at her incredulously. She rolls her eyes at my immobility.

- Come on, do it. I'll guide you. Understanding better, I comply. She takes her time explaining each fold to make and corrects me when I'm wrong. Finally, I realize it's not that complicated. It's just going to be annoying to have to

do it every morning as she just announced. I stand up and proudly observe my work when I'm done. It was short-lived as she undoes it again without hesitation. My blood boils quickly.

-  You had no right! It was just how you wanted it!

-  I want you to do it all by yourself, she says calmly. I just told you you'll have to do it every morning, so I want to make sure you can do it without my help. It's by doing it again that you learn, right? I roll my eyes. At least she didn't yell at me this time. I control myself and redo my bed the same way. I succeeded, but it's not as perfect as before. I look at her, waiting for her opinion. She doesn't seem angry or anything.

- There you go. I sigh in relief. Phew! I would have been very upset if she had undone it again.

-  Can I go eat now?

-  You should have gotten up in time for that. The service time is over.

-  You're not going to do this to me? It's not my fault I barely slept last night! Breakfast is sacred; you can't take it away from me!

-  I will, believe me. Think about it tomorrow morning; it might motivate you to get up. In the meantime, I have other plans for you anyway.

-  Oh yeah...? I ask, uncertain.

-  Yes. You and I won't be parting ways this morning.

-  Aren't I supposed to go to class?

-  I'm excusing you. I'm your supervisor, which means I have full authority over you. If I decide you're not going to class, that's my prerogative.

-  Basically, you're my hierarchical priority.

-  Exactly. Me and, of course, the principal. Other instructors are instructed to send you to me in case of any issues with you. I'm going to be the person you'll spend the most time with in the coming days.

-  What luck, I say ironically.

-  I think so too. Follow me now, we're going out. I miss classes, what more could I ask for? I'm wary of her intentions. I don't know her yet, but I've already seen her capabilities, and she's not one to joke around. I follow her through the hallways and stairs. She seems to know exactly where we're going. I understand the need for the jacket once outside. It's much colder than in Miami. I must not be used to it because my supervisor doesn't seem bothered by the weather. Her accent doesn't come from here, though. We're heading away from the dorms. I slow down when I realize her intentions at the sight of the gymnasium and sports fields. I don't think and turn around behind her back. I thought I could sneak away until a firm hand catches me in my tracks. I instinctively close my eyes at the contact. Damn! I should have left when I had

the chance! I try to struggle, but it's no use. She increases the pressure on my arm and drags me with her by force.

-  You won't escape, Batlle.

-  Damn it! I did everything you asked! She stops suddenly, making me bump into her before she turns around. I look up to meet her eyes. Bad idea... She scares me even more than before. I can't step back more than a step due to her grip.

-  Yes, you did, but you mostly talked back and addressed me informally. I'm not your friend, okay? I warned you to stop, and you didn't listen.

-  I won't do it again...

-  Oh no, that's too easy! We both know you'll do it again. If I punish you, it's so you'll think twice next time.

-  I promise I won't do it again! I say in a too confident tone.

-  And yet you're continuing, she raises an eyebrow. I want to retort, but I have no argument. I'm talking back and addressing her informally. Damn, she annoys me! It's not my fault she's young and beautiful! I would have preferred to deal with someone ugly and old. At least I wouldn't have trouble seeing her as my supervisor.

-  Okay, the informal address is going to be tough, but-

-  But what? she cuts me off. You're breaking both things I just told you. Not only are you addressing me informally, but you're also talking back and now negotiating?

-  Sorry, I grumble, powerless.

-  When I tell you to do something, you do it and stay quiet, period. Do we agree?

-  I guess, since I have no choice.

-  Fine. She continues on her way, still dragging me along. If it were up to me, I would break free, but I'm not sure she would appreciate that. At least she's loosened her grip. Just enough that I can't escape. She must be the devil incarnate to be ready to do what she's about to do! She makes me lose all my means and defenses. She's trying to unsettle me with her harsh, angry voice. It will be difficult to contradict her because her tactic is working. She will eat me alive and win if I let her. This wasn't at all in my plans. All I want is to get out of here. I fully intend to do so, with or without her on my back. She won't stop me from going home. We're approaching the grassy field. Doesn't she know it's cold? She releases me once we reach the middle of the field. I look around us. From here, you can see the entire camp space until it's bordered by the stone walls. On the other side, the gym blocks the view of the back. I wanted to turn around to see the buildings behind me, but the snap of fingers in front of my nose dissuades me and brings me back to reality. I refocus my gaze on my supervisor, who is waiting for me.

- You are going to do ten laps of the field.

-  Ten laps of the field? Are you kidding me? I scoff.

-  Hurry up. We'll stay here until you've done them all. Don't even think about leaving; I'll catch you before you make it.

-  That's way too much, ten laps! Do you want my death on your conscience or what?

-  Do you want fifteen maybe? I stay silent. She is capable of increasing the amount if I continue. I head to the edge of the field she indicates, not forgetting to sigh and drag my feet. I can't believe what I'm about to do, but I have no choice. She made it clear that there's no way out. If I start running, there's a good chance she'll catch me in no time if she's a bit enduring. I'm far from being an athlete, and on top of that, she has the home advantage. I don't know the camp well enough to hide somewhere. I could get lost or end up in a dead end by mistake. The worst part of this punishment is that she's watching me from her spot with her arms crossed. As if it wasn't already humiliating enough, she has to supervise me, showing her superiority. I stop after half a lap. I'm completely out of breath. I'm not enduring; it was to be expected. I haven't exercised in at least three years. I try to walk, but even that is difficult.

-  Hey, don't stop, she yells from the middle of the field. I said run, not walk!

-  Let me breathe, damn it! I manage to shout between breaths. This time I stop. I bend forward to rest my hands on my thighs. It's so cold that steam is coming out of my mouth. I thought it couldn't get worse, but I start feeling raindrops. This is hell! I will never get used to Manchester. I'm almost sure it's sunny in Barcelona. Plus, I'm certain she'll make me keep running in the rain. She made it clear we won't move until I'm done. We might be here for a long time given how long I'll take. My breathing is far from normal. My heart is pounding, I have a stitch in my side, and to top it all, I'm sleep-deprived, which doesn't help. When I open my eyes, I see a second pair of combat boots in front of me. A few seconds later, a hand rests on my shoulder.

Straighten up. What now? I manage to say. Can't I even breathe? She places her other hand on my other shoulder. I'm so weak that I don't resist when she pulls me up. Her green eyes are examining me. My condition hasn't improved, and I can't change it. Don't expect better from a former smoker.

- Calm down. Of course you can breathe, but not by bending over. Your body needs to be straight to catch your breath better.

Her hand touches my skin above my chest. It's warm, unlike my body. Her other hand still holds me so I don't literally collapse on her. I close my eyes to enjoy this moment of respite and regain my strength. My supervisor asks me to focus on my breathing and her hand following my body's movements. Then she sets a rhythm of inhaling and exhaling out loud. I focus solely on her voice, and I must admit it's effective. She only lets go once she's sure I'm better.-  Good, now keep running.

-  Can't you see I'm not able to? And it's starting to rain!

-  Of course you can, and it's just a few drops. The cloud is already passing.

-  Please, I barely did half a lap, and I'm completely dead! How do you expect me to do ten? At least lower the number!

-  No, I stick to ten. We have all the time, you have until noon. Stop when you can't go on, and I'll help you. You'll face this sanction more than once from me, so you might as well get used to it now. I grumble to myself at the edge of the field while she returns to her spot. To think I'll have to deal with her in the coming days. I'll die if she orders me to do laps every time. I'm already at the end of my rope now. What will it be like in the end? I sigh before forcing myself to resume running to get this nonsense over with as quickly as possible.

Tuesday, October 6; 12:30 PM - Cafeteria

I'm sprawled out like a pancake on the table. I finished my entire meal. It wasn't very good, but I needed it. My stomach was growling from my punishment and my missed breakfast. At least my supervisor was a bit kind. After my laps around the field, she took me to the cafeteria and got us each a chocolate croissant. I think she felt sorry for my stomach, which was growling loudly after my exercise that ended around nine. We stayed on the field for two hours because of me. I'm exhausted; she completely wore me out. "Are you going to be okay?" Pina asks me. "You don't look well." "Yeah," I mumble into my arms. I lift my head to see that I'm the focus of the table's attention. Do I look so terrible that they have to stare at me like that? I don't need their pity; I hate it. "What?" I snap, more sharply than I intended. "You haven't said anything since we started, and you weren't even in class this morning... It's enough to make anyone worry!" Alexia says. "Where were you this morning, anyway?" I ask. "You weren't in the room when I woke up." "Engen sent me to eat after I told her you were the new girl. She said she'd take care of you; there wasn't much else I could do," she explains. "I'm sorry, but I tried shaking you awake and you wouldn't budge!" I can't blame her. She did her best to wake me up. I sleep heavily, and I'm stubborn when it comes to getting out of bed. If I don't wake up on my own, someone has to jump on me like Joan does, or they have to use the radical method my supervisor employs. I realize that Alexia finally gave me her name. So, she's called Engen? She's a real viper. Speaking of her, she passes by the table right now. I glare at her. I follow her with my eyes as she heads to the line to dispose of her tray. I absolutely have to find a way to get back at her. If I don't, she'll eat me alive, and that's not what I want. I don't want to become a well-behaved student who follows all the rules. That's not me. "Is she one of your supervisors?" Patri asks me. "Yeah, the one on the right," I reply, turning back to the table. "Why?" "Ouch, you hit the jackpot," Leah laughs. "Why?"

"Let's just say she's the worst instructor here. You must have quite a file if Wiegman assigned her to you!" Alba comments.

Her, the worst? She's the youngest employee I've seen so far! Her and her companion. Given what happened this morning, I can believe it. I turn to look at her again. I underestimated her. She's not just some young, insignificant staff member... She's the worst. My mother is certainly behind this. She finishes placing her tray and our eyes meet while she waits for her colleague. Oh, the bitch! She smiles at me! She's mocking me! She must be proud to see me crumpled on the table. If she wants a war, she’ll get one! I let her win one battle, but I won’t let her win the next ones. I turn back to the table. I need to know more about her. I need to know everything, or I'm in big trouble.

"What do you know about her?" I ask.

"Her name is Bronze," Lotte informs me.

"I thought it was Engen? At least, that's who woke me up this morning!"

"No," Alexia laughs. "Engen is the one who accompanies her. She’s in charge of checking the senior floor in the morning. They’re partners, so they’re almost always together."

I try to process this new information. I saw Engen this morning. They share an office for the two of them. It makes more sense now that I know they’re partners.

"If Bronze was assigned as your supervisor, Engen probably called her," Leah says. "Everyone gets an assigned supervisor when they arrive. They’re the only person who takes care of us until we adjust," she explains. "Unless they're not available, which is very rare."

"Let me guess... Bronze is never absent?"

"Very rarely," Patri laughs. "I think it happened once in the three years we've been here."

"Great..." I sigh. "So, you all had a supervisor?"

"When we arrived two and a half years ago, yes," Alba responds. "I had Bright. She’s the second partner who supervises our year along with White."

"I don't know them," I admit.

"It’s our third and final year here, so it’s normal that we know all the rules and people," Lotte says. "You’ll get used to it, don’t worry."

"I don’t plan on getting used to it."

"You won’t have a choice with Bronze," Leah chuckles. "I told you we could outwit the instructors, but not the Commander."

"The Commander?" "That's her nickname here," she tells me. "No one can contradict her, not even me." "Well, I'll be the first then."

"Impossible, I’m telling you! Every trick I've found for the others doesn’t work with her! She always... I mean always, has a move ahead of us."

I groan in frustration, letting myself fall back onto the table. Bronze is indeed a demon incarnate. I need to be even more cunning than Leah. It’s very complicated, maybe even impossible.

"Is there anything else I need to know about her, besides the fact that she’s going to make my life a living hell?" I grumble.

"I don't think so," Alba replies. "The instructors don’t talk about their lives. They’re very secretive about it. We don't even know the first names of the new ones."

"Why is that?" "The rules were tightened two years before we arrived." "Okay. So Bronze is the worst?" "The worst of all," Pina confirms. "If we get stuck with her, it’s never a good sign."

So, they’ve figured out that I'm not here for nothing. Fortunately, it’s a taboo topic here. At least I won't be pressured to open up. I like them, but not enough to confide in them when I barely do that with my best friend. I hate my mother, I hate this place. She managed to cut me off from the world. She doesn't understand that I don't want to be anyone's puppet. I just want to be left alone, but that seems like too much to ask. We leave when we’re all done. The stress starts to build as I realize that my first day is approaching. Bronze kept me with her to help with the archiving. I had to go up and down stairs with her, carrying big cardboard boxes. As if the field laps weren’t enough. My legs are jelly because of her. I hope she at least made arrangements with the teachers for this morning. I think she did, but who knows. I sigh as the bell rings. I barely had time to recover from my morning, and now the afternoon is starting. Here’s hoping everything goes well this time.

[purple-crusader]

SOOO IT'S TIME!!! Stephcass Week is here!! I'm both excited and scared since this is the first time I'm posting my writing online and idk how people may respond.

There was no beta reader and English is not my first language, so you may correct me if you notice anything wrong. I'm gonna focus on one prompt per day, because writing all fourteen would be too much.

Anyway I hope you enjoy 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

STEPHCASS WEEK Day 1: Sparring

Word count: 1,014

@stephcassweek

Stephanie looked at her in complete awe sometimes. All her moves seemed both perfectly calculated and graceful, like a ballerina's (she should definitely try that some day). She knew exactly when to expect the enemy to punch, so she could dodge it. She was the one leading in a fight, proloning it sometimes so that it looked like a dance or just a play between her and the opponent. Ever since she joined the family, she begun to shape the way she fought into something embedded with grace. She didn't want to take down enemies from the get-go, hit them in their weakest spots, even if she could perfectly locate them. That's what she was trained for in her childhood by her father, to be a weapon of death. But she turned out to be much more, a true person and her fighting style could also be a vessel to show that.

There was something soothing and stimulating for Steph in the way Cassandra fought. To an extent that at times she would just look at her during trainings with other members of the family. She trained most with Dick, wiping the floor with him by the end of their 'dance', but that never really discouraged him. She trained with the blonde's boyfriend Tim sometimes, especially now, since his father made him give up the Robin mantle. It didn't stop him from coming down to the Bat-Cave and developing his fighting skills through Cass, if he couldn't do it on the rooftops. She saw her fight with Batman once, she almost thought he would win, but it was all part of Cass' plan.

She didn't ever volunteer to fight with her herself though. If anyone asked her why, she would say that she's just not as good. You might say that no one was on Cass' level, but her brothers at least trained for years, while she was just starting her Bat-training, so she stood out. Subconsciously though, Steph felt... overwhelmed? She couldn't quite put a finger on it. Cass was just amazing at everything. She was a great fighter, had a beautiful body, a fast lerner, incredibly resilient. Steph would get clumsy around her sometimes, not really sure what to say. Or she would stare at her during her training like at the moment...

Steph was taken out of her numb state, as Cass put Tim down on the mat and then looked at her and waved. A little blush got onto the girl's face, hoping the other one didn't notice how long she was observing her (she totally did), but she waved back. In response Cass did the hand move indicating she wanted the other woman to join her on the mat.

"W-what? Me? Pfft, oh- come on, Cassie! What am I gonna do to you?" Steph started, "Just look at what you did to Boyfriend Wonder, I'm gonna end up a puddle." She let out a forced laugh. "'m totally fine..." Tim muttered from his splattered position on the ground.

"I'll be gentle." Cass signed. She was learning to speak quite fast for a seventeen year old who was never taught that, but she preffered that form of communication sometimes. "Well shit." Steph thought to herself. "You only die once." She went to the mat, as Tim managed to get himself off it. She tried to take on some kung-fu fighting stance, that she would see in those Bruce Lee movies that she liked to copy so much, but she got kinda wobbly and it turned out awkward. Cass chuckled happily at that.

"I lead or do you?" Cass said it vocally this time. "I do?" Steph said unconvinced and the other girl nodded. The blonde decided to start with a simple punch to get things in motion, that Cass unsurprisingly dodged. Steph moved quickly to not lose her from sight, which went surprisingly well. Maybe she really was going easy on her. She tried to reach her with another punch, then a kick, a low kick, but Batgirl dodged them all. Finally the dark-haired woman caught Steph's fist and then moved her hand to the blonde's wrist. It caught the girl off guard and before she saw it, Cass pulled her closer trying to catch her. She couldn't let that happen.

The women begun moving around each other, throwing punches, dodging them, parring, pulling closer. Steph was too focused on the thing to notice Cass started the whole "dance with her enemy" thing with her. They moved graciously and in sync, as if they done that a thousand times before.

Eventually Cass must've lost herself in the little game she orchestrated, as Steph pulled a move that Tim taught her, that would put Cass to the ground. The girl took the control back from her blonde opponent and she ended up laying on top of her after their ill-considered crash on the mat.

"You OK?" Cass asked her opponent with some worry in her voice, when she saw Steph was laying completely still. Meanwhile in Steph's head a hundred different emotions were mixing at the same time, which resulted in a feeling as if a ton of butterflies scattered around her body. When she realized she was like that a good few seconds she pulled herself from the floor as fast as possible.

"I'M FINE! I'm great! Wow! Oh my God. It was amazing! We're so good at this! We must do that more often, huh." Steph was shooting words at a speed which has been a bit too fast for Cassandra, but she was glad her colleague was alright. She gently smiled at her and the butterflies came back to Steph's body.

"Welll... I'm gonna just... Go find Tim maybe... Or shower. Or shower with Tim- or no, not shower with Tim- anyway I need to go, catch you later!" And Steph left her sparring partner in the training hall. As she was walking through the corridor she calmed herself down and got her mind working properly again. One thought was left in her head.

What just happened?

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

Yet again I hope you enjoyed it and see you in the next days!!

[whisperofsong]

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Female Reader

Summary: The story of how your friendship with Bradley came to fruition.

Note: I realize I haven’t written about our beloved Bradley in a while, so I wanted to show him some love. Thank you for reading my work!

____________________________________________

The professor’s voice drones on and you feel your hand cramping, but push through the pain despite the ache radiating from your wrist to your hand. You’ve only been in class for a half hour with another thirty minutes to go and have already managed to fill up four pages with notes. If it weren’t a requirement, you would have dropped this course weeks ago.

Once the professor reminds you of the readings due next class and wishes everyone a smooth remainder of the week, you quickly gather your belongings and head out of the rustic building. You’re hoping your preferred seat in the library will be available. Even though there are plenty of seats to choose from, you’ve become quite fond of this particular seat because it’s close to the vending machines and isolated from the entrance, providing you with enough quiet to concentrate on your studies.

Before you’ve reached the door that leads outside, you hear labored breathing behind you followed by a deep voice. “You’re tough to catch up to.”

When you turn your head, you realize the comment is directed at you and give the guy who you recognize from your class a quizzical look. “Uh…yeah. I’m not much for leisurely strolls,” you explain.

“I gathered that.” He matches your pace so that the two of you are walking in sync and you can’t help but wonder why he’s walking with you. Almost as if he’s a mind reader, he answers your unspoken question.

“I’m actually in your class and wanted to know if you’d be willing to share your notes from the lecture.”

As a result of being a diligent student and taking meticulous notes, you’re not surprised to receive such a question. Word gets around…or he happened to notice the ridiculous speed at which your hand was moving throughout class. “I’m heading to the library right now, so if you have another class-“

“My next class isn’t until later this afternoon,” he interjects. “I’ll join you.”

“That’s pretty presumptuous considering I didn’t agree to letting you use my notes.” When you glance at him, you notice his reddened cheeks and hold in laughter at the fact that he’s embarrassed easily. You walk in silence for a few more seconds until you decide you’ve tortured this guy enough. “Follow me,” you tell him and proceed to pick up your pace, causing him to do the same.

You’re pleased to find your favorite seat unoccupied and pull your notebook out from your worn backpack. Once you’ve opened up to the first page of notes, you hand them to the guy with a smile.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely as he takes it from you. “I’m Bradley, by the way.”

“Really? You don’t look like a Bradley,” you comment.

This takes him by surprise and an amused smirk appears. “What exactly does a Bradley look like?” he inquires.

“More distinguished,” you answer breezily without looking up from your laptop.

He laughs and you look up at the sound of it, its heartiness warming your insides. You feel yourself laughing a little, too.

“Didn’t take you long to answer that one.” Bradley chuckles while pulling out the chair across from you.

You return to a paper you were working on last night and begin typing furiously. Without glancing up from your current task, you reply, “It doesn’t take me long to answer much. I like to think I have an answer for everything.”

“Can I get your name?”

“Y/N.”

“That suits you,” he answers. He begins copying your notes before he reengages you in conversation. “How’d you end up at UVA?” His eyes remain on his notebook, but it’s clear he’s capable of multitasking as he waits for your response.

“It’s far enough from home that I can have some autonomy, but close enough that I can go home on weekends. It also happens to have a renowned business program and I’ve wanted to major in business for as long as I can remember.”

“I can see that,” he says thoughtfully as he stares at you.

You cock your head to the side and shoot him a skeptical look. “Considering that you just met me, you’re likely to believe anything I tell you.”

He purses his lips, momentarily glancing down. “Maybe so. But you wouldn’t lie.”

“What makes you so sure?” you challenge him.

“Your alarming honesty a few minutes ago convinced me of that.” A slow smile forms on his face and you feel one tug at your lips, too.

For the next couple of hours, you and Bradley converse effortlessly and you find yourself enjoying his company. He reveals that he’s majoring in political science and has an ardent desire to follow in his father’s footsteps by joining the Navy. Beyond this, he’s tight lipped about his home life, but you don’t pry. That’s his business, not yours.

You two find some common ground in the movies you watch and the music you listen to, but you scoff when he mentions Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Great Balls of Fire.”

“You’re not serious.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Great Balls of Fire?’ It’s insanely catchy.”

“We can agree to disagree,” you sigh.

“Not until you tell me why you don’t like it,” Bradley continues, twirling the pencil in his hand and staring at you intently.

You look up and stare back, hoping he’ll relent and move on to a different subject. However, it’s clear he’s not going to surrender and after another minute of staring him down, you give into his demand.

“Ugh, fine. There’s nothing thrilling about loving someone so much that it turns your brain to complete mush and affects your ability to function,” you declare sourly. His eyes are still locked on you, but he’s quiet. You suddenly feel somewhat embarrassed, so you clear your throat and return your attention to your paper.

“That’s definitely…a unique take,” he muses.

“Like I said, I have an answer for everything.”

____________________________________________

Several days later, you’re rifling through your drawers as you search for something suitable to wear to the party. Before leaving the library the other day, Bradley invited you to a party his friend’s fraternity is hosting and while that wouldn’t typically be your scene, you decided to live a little. Besides, isn’t that what college is all about?

You settle on a black lace top with spaghetti straps, jeans, and knee high black boots. You pull your hair back with a clip and after putting on some mascara and lipstick, you head out the door and walk a few short blocks to the fraternity house.

When you walk in, your nostrils are met with the smell of cheap alcohol and marijuana. You scrunch up your nose and weave your way through the tight crowd in search of an alcoholic beverage to get you through the evening. Your body slightly relaxes upon seeing a table lined with various options and as you grab a cup, someone moves next to you.

“What’s your drink of choice?”

“Whatever will get me buzzed the fastest,” you quip.

“I like that.” You glance up to find a tall guy with sandy blond hair and an evergreen flannel shirt peering down at you with a Cheshire Cat smile. He’s cute enough, but you’re not in the mood to interact with a guy right now.

“I haven’t seen you before. What brings you to our humble abode?”

“Someone invited me,” you answer while taking a big sip of your drink.

“Remind me to thank them later,” he winks before taking a few sips from his own cup.

You choose not to respond and are about to make an excuse so you can exit, but he starts talking again. “Listen, would you ever be willing to hang out? You know, just the two of us?”

You raise your eyebrows, stunned by this guy’s boldness. You don’t know if you’re more outraged by his lack of effort to get to know you or by his assumption that you’d want to spend alone time with him when you know so little about him. He’s licking his lips while staring directly at your chest and you couldn’t be more opposed to his offer if you tried. “Actually, I-“

“Sorry about that, babe. The bathroom line was longer than I expected.” Bradley sidles up next to you and wraps his arm loosely around your shoulders. You’re momentarily startled and perplexed by his abrupt appearance…until you realize what he’s doing. He’s saving you.

You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his and gaze at him sweetly. “No worries. It’s not the first time you’ve kept me waiting.” You give him a playful look before turning back to face flannel guy.

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Girlfriend?”

“That’s right,” you affirm, placing your palm on Bradley’s broad chest. “It’s only been a few months, but it feels longer.”

“Never enough time with you, babe,” Bradley retorts.

“Yeah…well, I should, uh, get back to the party.”

“You do that, Russell,” Bradley answers and you hold back laughter upon learning the name of the guy who never stood a chance with you.

After he awkwardly walks away, you look up at Bradley and giggle. “That was pretty smooth.”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “You looked like you could use the help.” He smiles down at you and realizes his arm is still draped around your shoulder. When he removes it, you find yourself disappointed at the loss of contact. As he surveys the crowd, your eyes move up and down, taking in his appearance. He’s dressed in a snug black t-shirt and jeans. It’s a simple look that does him wonders.

The volume of the music increases, causing the floor to vibrate, so you lean up on your tiptoes in order to get close to his ear. “Thank you,” you shout. “For saving me. I guess even I need to be rescued sometimes.”

“And you’re admitting that to me of all people?” he questions with a smirk.

You shrug, but maintain eye contact. When the music is lowered once again, you’re grateful.

“I thought you have an answer for everything?” he prompts teasingly.

“I guess I don’t,” you say honestly before turning away and looking straight ahead. What Bradley doesn’t realize is you’re reliving the sensation of his arm wrapped around you and wondering how you can get him to do it again. What you don’t realize is Bradley currently watching you and hoping he’ll be seeing a lot more of you in the future.

@bradshawsbaby @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @bratshaws @sebsxphia @theforgottenmcrmy

[pookacangetit]

Disney Song!Yuu [Cult Edition: The Council]

Asides from Jamil who swears up and down that the prefect managed to attract the attention of mad genies and some shadow resembling santa boogie man. The cult has its fair share of... eccentric figures who no one knows how they got into the cult, much less the school.

MASTERLIST

Technically speaking no one is leading the cult, but if you asked around half of the people there they would tell you there's a council

Who's in the council? No one knows. Rule one of the council: you don't talk about the council

That rule would've applied to the cult but it's too big and too popular for anyone to mind

I can't tell you that there are approximately seven people in the council, and I definitely can't tell you whose the token straight man in terms of sanity in the council

Idia was pretty sure the only reason he was in the council was because he handled and sponsered the merch of the great one other than Mr. Sam who appears and disappears whenever he feels like it.

He wasn't arguing of his placement though, there were some sweet benefits that comes from being in the council. -is he going to tell anyone of his dorm's gift system with the SSR Tier Prefect of Ramshackle who got the premium treatment? Fucking sike.-

No, what he was more concerned about was the rest of the council.

He's absolutely positive more than half of them weren't even students of NRC, which begs the question where they got the uniforms from and how did they get in?

"We need to make an altar for our great friend." Gene, the Scarabia student- who Jamil swears upon his truce with Kalim is not a Scarabia student Idia- deadpanned to the council. "An altar with lots of gold and drawings of magic lamps."

Beau, the RSA bastard, stood up and slammed his hands down upon the circular table, "I object. We already have one back at school- I mean, back at home. Yeah, home. The home I share with Adam, isn't that right my beloved?"

Adam gave a thumbs up, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room except Beau.

Idia stood up this time, not one for confrontation but definitely one for frustration and drama. "Exactly how did you get in again??? I swear I had security banned you two from invading NRC twice." They had made wanted posters saying no entry allowed. Posters.

Beau smugly smirked, Idia was damm sure he'll get to smack that princely brat's smirk off one day. "I had my cousin lend me his staff card to copy alongside his old uniform."

Idia blinked, "Your cousin- cousin?? COACH VARGAS?!?!"

Gene raised an eyebrow, "While that's boring mortal news. We need AN ALTAR FOR MY GREAT FRIEND-" Something bounced off his head and landed on the floor with a squeak. Idia didn't get to see what it was before it disappeared like it never existed.

Bob, the generic background Diasomnia student -who Jamil swears once again, which was highly amusing but also highly alarming, that is not a generic background Diasomnia student stop treating people like NPCs goddammit Idia- smirked, "You're thinking too small for a large man, you gotta go bigger and better than an altar to jam."

No generic charas rhymes, Idia ranted internally, what kind of chara rhymes when they speak??

Little did Idia know Bob was not a person.

Before anyone could speak further the door to the room burst open and Mr. Sam stumbled in. Idia raised an eyebrow at the man's odd way walking, he looked close to hitting the ground at any moment like he'd forgotten how legs work.

Is he drunk? Idia wondered.

"Mr. Sam, are you alright?" Beau questioned.

Mr. Sam merely gave two wonky thumbs up like he didn't know how fingers functioned before realising in a range of five seconds that he does.

Definitely drunk, Idia concluded.

Gene and Bob were just grinning like they knew something the rest didn't.

Idia watched as Mr. Sam fell into a free seat before he turned towards the others, "Asides from Gene's... idea, exactly why were we gathered here today?"

"... oopsie daisy, I lost the keys to the mighty?" Bob shrugged his shoulders in a what can you do motion.

Beau blinked, "You lost the keys to the mighty?- wait a second, you lost the keys to our secret STASH OF YUU RECORDINGS?!"

Idia choked. Mr. Sam flailed his arms around like a limbless chicken-shaped air dancer in his panic.

"How?" Gene asked in disbelief. "Can't you just- you know, defend yourself? Attack your enemies? Bob??" He stressed the last sentence as though he was trying to point out the obvious.

Bob raised his arms to the air as though he was about to be arrested, "I was stealthily attacked! Ok?! By my friends too no doubt. They wanted the recordings 'cause they were never let in to be about."

Idia frowned, "You have friends?"

Bob gave him an offended look, "At least I thought they were untik they threatened to tickle me nonstop. If they did I will surely pop."

Beau sighed, massaging the bridge between his nose, "Who were these friends of yours?"

"The Diasomnia leader and his inner court of fae. For they surely want the recordings for a play."

The cult and the other, other list are not the only factions following the godly prefect of Ramshackle inside NRC

There's a lot of chinese inner court worthy drama going on behind the scenes as though the factions are the wives and Yuu is the emperor but we'll get to the attempted poisoning attempts some time in the future (σ`∀´)σ

How they got in:

Adam & Beau: Beau's cousin let us in :) *somewhere in NRC Vargas sneezed*

Gene who is totally not Genie: I had helpful friends *simply hypnotized a majority of the school to think he's part of NRC*

Bob who is totally not Oogie: my body's a shadow, everything is a shadow *please handle with care, he's fragile and will combust into a mass of darkness*

The Shadows: Sam is a friend, friends share bodies :D *they said what they said*

Idia: I'm rich

[littlemissnoname13]

Hello can I request where draco in fourth year having a crush on a hufflepuff reader but acts as arsehole cuz he doesn’t know how to show affection , leading it to her avoiding him which makes him depressed about what did he do wrong ?

Hi love. Thanks for the request.💕

I love writing Draco x hufflepuff!reader stories! I am a sucker for a slytherin x hufflepuff pairing.

I added a few extra details here and here. Hope you like it. X

Hopeful (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Word count: 2100 sorry got a bit carried away. 😅

Warnings: None. Soft!Draco being an absolute blubbering idiot.

Draco’s thoughts are written in green

Spring had arrived. 

It could be felt in the cool and gentle zephyr that made the shiny new leaves on top of the once barren and dead trees rustle. 

Daisies were in full bloom and the wind had managed to carry some of the petals away—making them fall to the ground, acting like a harbinger of the fast approaching summer. 

Draco couldn’t be bothered if it was spring, or autumn or winter. 

In that particular moment, all he wanted to do was get away from the Slytherin common room and Pansy Parkinson. 

He had taken her to the Yule ball and things had sort of fizzled out afterwards. He couldn’t get himself to see her as anything other than a friend. 

Having ran all the way to a far and secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, Draco leaned against a tree trunk and panted heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. 

“Are you—are you alright?” 

Your voice startled him and he quickly stood up straight to look around. 

You were sitting criss-crossed on the grass with your transfigurations textbook opened on your lap. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up and your yellow and black tie hugged very loosely around your neck. 

“Fine.” He muttered as he slowly sat down noticing a single daisy tucked behind your ears. 

After sitting there in complete silence for the next few minutes, he finally spoke up. 

“What are you even doing here anyway?” 

“Just wanted some peace and quiet to be honest.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day.” 

Draco just hummed in response and kept staring at the daisy in your hair that swayed lightly with the breeze. 

“What?” You asked when you noticed. 

“You have—you have a twig stuck in your hair.” 

“A daisy.” You corrected him as you closed your book and moved a bit closer to where he was sitting. “It’s a daisy.” 

“Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” He said quickly. “But why?” 

"Well, Daisies are essentially two flowers blended together in complete harmony." You said pulling the daisy out of your free falling hair before putting your hand forward to hand it to him. 

“And?” Draco reluctantly took the flower from you and blinked his eyes in confusion. 

“They are said to resemble innocence—true love even.”  You explained getting comfortable next to him.

“You believe in all that?” Draco scoffed, twirling the flower between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t tell if the floral fragrance was coming from you or the air but it made him slightly queasy nonetheless. 

“Merlin. No.” You scrunched up your nose. “It just gives me hope I guess.” 

Draco gave you another hum in response. For someone who came up with snarky and sometimes witty comments on the spot, he found himself weirdly tongue tied. 

“I know you were hiding from Pansy by the way.” You remarked, making a small smile pull at his lips. 

“How come?”

“What do you mean how come?” You rolled your eyes. “Everyone can see that she is obsessed with you for some reason that I personally can't seem to comprehend.” 

~~~~~

The next day during potions class, Draco slowly opened his book and started to absently doodle on it with his quill while Snape talked about the upcoming potions essay that had to be done in pairs. 

Draco knew he should be paying attention but he just couldn’t get the interaction between you two out of his head. 

And just when he took a deep breath and decided to focus, a familiar scent started to fill his lungs up. 

Fruity, almost spicy notes of strawberry and pink grapefruit mixed with gardenias, vanilla and musk. It felt like someone had tossed a huge bouquet into the room. 

He knew it was you without even bothering to look up from my book. 

"Ah, Miss y/l/n. Late again." Snape muttered. “Five points from Hufflepuff house.” 

You quietly sat down next to your friend with your head hung low and Draco fought an unexplainable urge to give you a hug. 

"The essay must be done in pairs.." Snape said.

Great. 

"Ronald Weasley and Gregory Goyle." 

This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks Snape. 

"Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abott." 

The last thing I need is someone weighing my essay down. 

"Draco Malfoy and y/n y/l/n." 

What? 

You turned back to look at Draco and gave him  an apologetic smile and he didn't understand why you kept smiling at him. It's not like the both of you had suddenly formed an unlikely bond with each other. 

Draco scowled at you in return and quickly raised his hand. "May I work on my essay alone?" 

"No. You may not Mr. Malfoy."

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

You and Draco had been studying in the library for almost an hour. Because you were quietly sitting next to him, his elbows and knees slightly brushed yours every few seconds and as much as he hated to admit it, He secretly enjoyed it. 

Contrary to yesterday, Draco was trying very hard to make a conversation with you. You seemed somewhat offended that he had asked Snape to work on the essay alone. 

“I am happy to do most of the writing if you can look up all the ingredients.” You offered.

You don’t have to do all of that yourself. I am happy to help with the writing too. Is what he should have said. 

“Fine whatever.” He said instead as he reached for a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

That night, Draco stayed up tossing and turning in his bed before giving up on getting any sleep for the night. 

He lethargically walked towards his dresser and put his hands in his blazer pocket pulling out the now dried and pressed daisy from the other day. 

Taking a deep breath, he put the flower in between the pages of his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

You were drawing him in, undoing him, unraveling him even. 

He knew that. 

But did you?

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

"Draco! Open up." 

His head jolted towards the door and He quickly walked over to open it. 

You stood on the other end with books tucked in your arms, wearing your denim shorts and a plain white tank top—looking like summer personified. 

The more time he spent with you, the more he started to notice your quirks. Like that the way your skin glowed as the days got warmer. 

Compliment her. Do it. It’s not Difficult. 

“Did you do something different to your hair?” 

“Uh—no why are you asking.” 

“It just looks a bit strange.” He commented wanting to slap himself. 

"Okay, well are you going to let me in?" You questioned, wondering why he was blocking the way and asking you about your hair. 

Why did you have to wear that God damned tank top-

"Sorry?" You asked stepping inside making his cheeks burn when he realized he wasn’t meaning to say that out loud. 

"Just shut up and get back to working in the essay or whatever it is that you were doing." Draco grumbled feeling embarrassed as he grabbed some fresh parchment. 

Okay. Focus. The Strengthening solution requires...

You stretched a little and pushed your hair away from your face. 

several days to mature...

"Staring is rude Draco." You suddenly interrupted his thoughts as you set your eyes on his—peering right into his soul.

Draco felt like he was giving you some sort of power over him and the possibility of you using that power and leaving him heartbroken made him feel so very vulnerable.

He couldn't take the vulnerability a second longer.

 "I don't think we should study together anymore." He blurted quickly standing up. “It's for the best.”

"Huh?" You stood up contorting your face in total confusion—wondering just what you had done to piss him off. "What's wrong Draco? Did I do something wrong?" 

"Leave. Now." He muttered with his teeth clenched. 

Please don’t go.

"Just go—leave please."

You couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting burning your insides as you gathered all the books that were on the floor and ran made your way towards hufflepuff dormitories with tears threatening to flood your eyes. 

As soon as you ran off, he punched his wall and muttered out the plethora of angry curses when the impact bruised his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following week, Draco failed to show up to any of your shared classes after you had refused to talk to him after what happened. 

Even if you did manage to see him walking down the halls or walking with Crabbe and Goyle, you noticed that he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. 

On a Tuesday, Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast and when you caught his eye, all you did was look away. 

Everyone at school had their opinions about him—most of them weren’t good opinions. 

But when you were with him under that tree, he seemed different. His smirk was more playful than condescending. It managed to charm you in a way. 

You took a final bite of your toast and gathered all your books, walking to your Potions class. 

His seat still remained empty and you shook your head, trying to snap away from the thoughts of him as you flipped open your book. 

Only it wasn’t your book. 

You didn’t remember writing on the margins and making annotations on your book. 

Running your fingertips along the pages, you flipped to the very first page of the book. 

D. Malfoy was written in ridiculously neat handwriting and you shook your head when you realized that you had grabbed his book with you that day by mistake. 

And just when you were about to put his book away, something fell from in between the pages and fell onto your desk. 

It was the daisy you had woven into your hair the other day. Even in its dried state, the petals remained intact like her had done something to keep them that way.

When class was finally over, you made a quick beeline towards the slytherin dungeons, bumping into people along the way. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Some hufflepuff girl is standing outside the dungeons asking to see you.” Theo shrugged when he saw Draco at the common room sofa. “Says it's urgent.” 

He felt terrified yet so elated as he quickly stood up and made his way outside. 

“Here’s your book.” You said taking a step towards him. “You never told me what’s wrong by the way.” 

“Thank you.” Draco quickly took his book from you and stared at the ground. 

“Why did you stop talking to me y/n?”

“You told me to go away—If I remember correctly.” You said shaking your head at him. “Tell me Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He said quietly, meeting your gaze. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You make me feel all weak.....and smiley...and I hate it." He looked at you with agitation.

"Weak?" You ran your  fingers through your hair in confusion. 

"And your ridiculous white tank top." Draco half yelled. 

"What's wrong with my top?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as if you had had enough of this. 

"Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you look stunning in it.” He blurted involuntarily. "It is absolutely distracting when one is trying to study!." 

He watched you open your mouth in shock and close it. Before he could spend another minute trying to solve the riddle that was your expression, you grabbed him by his tie and placed your lips on his. 

His brows furrowed as he kissed you back tenderly. Tasting the sweetness of your lips—pouring out every bit of suppressed passion and adoration he felt for you with his lips.

There was something so strange and euphoric about finally kissing someone he had been longing to kiss for so long. 

Something so magical about holding the person that fits perfectly into his arms. 

Freaking Finally. 

He was slightly disappointed when you slowly backed away, but the glow on your skin and the glossy ness in your eyes made him smile. 

"I guess I'll leave before I realize the consequences of what I have just done." You said softly as you held his face and placed a small peck on his lips.

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

The next day, you found a tiny box and an envelope on your desk when you woke up. Your roommate let you know that Draco Malfoy had stopped by late last night when you were asleep and half begged and half threatened her to leave the box on your desk. 

You slowly opened the box and found a bedazzled and whimsical looking daisy necklace, encrusted with gems.  

A Daisy for my daisy. 

You give me hope.

- D.M

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

Draco Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon @the-bisexual-bitch

Love you all sm. (if i was unable to tag you, please look into your privacy settings)

Fell free to send me reuests. My other stories can be found here.

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- violet-Anne

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[prose-for-hire]

Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger. 

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

[kayxleeee]

Tony Stark: Are We Fighting?(Tony x Reader)

Tony Stark: Are We Fighting?(Tony x Reader)

Warning: Sexual implying if you squint.  Tony being cute and you being mad at him for a second.

A/N: Y’all this is my favorite, I love Tony fluff.

Summary: Tony’s in deep water after you notice the “head of security” watching your every move for an entire week straight. The only problem is, it’s date night, and can you really stay mad at someone with that face? 

Word Count: 2k+

*NOT MY GIF* Don’t copy my work !

The aroma of tomato sauce and Italian herbs wafted the air around you immediately as you swung the large front door open, walking in. Tonight was date night, you were starving, but you had a serious bone to pick with the conniving genius. You kick your heels off and make your way through the foyer greeted by dimmed lights, a candle lit living room, soft romantic music playing, and an excessive amount of rose peddles leading up the grand staircase.

Nice touch Stark.

You look at it all in awe, but try to snap out of it, because you meant business tonight.

“Tony?!” You call out wondering where he was.

“In here.” He says peaking his head through the kitchen entry way, wiping his hands dry on a dish towel. “You look ravishing.” He says as he makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist giving you a quick hug and kiss on your forehead. “This isn’t too much is it?”

This was probably the best one yet. You were delighted at his efforts to make date nights memorable, especially since you hardly saw him. He had either been busy being an avenger or down in his lab working his life away. You were also very busy yourself running Stark Industries. Between the meetings and work related calls, it was a very rare occasion when you and Tony could just enjoy each others company. So this was when weekly date nights were born; Just a time to catch up and be together and have unadulterated quality time. You sigh taking it all in. Tony always does them well, especially when he is trying to make up for something. The dimmed lights, roses, music, candles, even his cologne— god, did his cologne smell good, intoxicating even. You could swoon right then and there the atmosphere was the definition of romantic and relaxing and here you are ready to uproar it all.

Damn, right.

“Told you date night would be extraordinary tonight.” He smirks taking your silence as a sign that you were pleased, while wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Be back in a sec, get comfy.” He says giving you a wink before turning away.

He makes his way back into the kitchen to finish up whatever he had been doing previous and you follow him. He turns around and gives you a weird look, scrunching his face as he sees you following behind him. Those dazzling brown eyes weren’t going to get you this time, you were still mad— Maybe not as mad as you were before coming through that front door, but still upset enough to confront the issue right now.

“So something interesting happened to me today.” You say setting your purse on the kitchen counter as Tony strategically plates the pasta he made.

“Oh yeah?” He says maneuvering through the kitchen. “And what might that be kitten?” After he’s done, he turns to you popping an olive into his mouth, as he leans against the counter behind, ready listen attentively.

“Well I was ya know working my little ass off, minding my business… Ya know as I do every single day. When I noticed a very attentive Happy Hogan, watching my every move.” You say eyeing him suspiciously as he smiled innocently. “I thought to myself, now I’ve been seeing Happy in all sorts of wacky places this week, why would he do something like that?”

“I donno, why babe?” He says dusting his hands together for no particular reason looking everywhere else, but your face.

“Mmmh- maybe he’s just being his old paranoid, overbearing self this week. Watching my every move for no apparent reason.” You say testily, you already know Stark put him up to it. 

“Happy is very dedicated to his new position. Didn’t you hear? He’s head of security, babe. He’s gotta be eyes and ears.” He sighs, now moving from his leaning position to begin pouring two glasses of bubbly. “That’s our Happy for ya."

Of course you heard, and of course Tony was the one who appointed him, and of course Stark Industries did not need that.

“Oh jeez golly! Eyes and ears on little ol me?” You say in a fake sarcastic souther bell accent. 

He raises his eyebrows, and gives you a well justified laugh, because that accent was horrendous.

“Did you send happy to spy on me or what Tony?” You say getting to the point.

“No.” He says shaking his head from side to side frantically like a child who’s just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Nope, I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall?” You scoff. “It’s a very simple thing to remember doing Tony. Did you say oh Happy please spy on my faithful, loyal, beautiful, loving, girlfriend?”

“Um— are we fighting?” We're not fighting are we?” He sighs genuinely unsure.

You didn’t want to fight or argue either, but he was getting on your nerves beating around the bush. You already knew he did it, you just needed to know why.

“Sure, we aren’t fighting Tony.” You say annoyance booming through, hoping he would just come out with it. He was definitely pushing your buttons. “Now did you send him?” 

“ I don’t recall.” He says again now putting on a fake ‘thinking’ face.

“You don’t recall asking him?! Okay, well I am sure if we give him a call that might jog your little memory.” You grab your phone out of your purse quickly dialing his number. “Mmmh I think you’ve been hit on the head entirely way too many times, ya know since you can’t recall events.”

Before you can press the dial button to call Happy, Tony swiftly reaches over the counter where you are standing and snatches the phone from your grip, ending the call before it’s made. 

“Okay, listen baby, I think we’re fighting, and I don’t want to fight tonight.” He says with pleading eyes putting his hands up in defense.

“Tony!” You yell at him going to where he is standing in the spacious kitchen. “You're not answering my question and you should have thought about that before asking Happy to spy on me!” Which I’m not understanding what for! Just say you don’t trust me and leave it at that, why play all these games?!”

His face flattened.

“Okay, kitten, listen it wasn’t like that. I do too trust you.”

So he did put Happy up to it— of course he did.

“You better explain or I’m Leaving Tony.”

He sighs heavily, shame settling on his features. 

“Happy brought up this guy? Aldrich Killian, said you dated him a while back?" “Oh my go- you don’t trust me!” You exhaust throwing your hands up and turning on the heels of your feet ready to retreat out of the kitchen.

“No!” Tony quickly follows behind you. Come on babe, let’s talk about this!” He says grabbing you by your shoulder gently spinning you around.

“Tony you’re doing a lot of the talking, and only digging yourself in a deeper hole.” You say crossing your arms. 

“Okay, let’s back track, I trust you, with everything I own, my life even. I’ve just been overwhelmed and overthinking recently. I can’t say what I did was right, but in the moment I didn’t feel it was exactly wrong either.”

“In the moment Tony really? What moment did you realize I needed to be spied on like some convict? What moment did you realize you didn’t trust me alone at work with some guy, I hardly ever dated by the way!”

“Okay, okay! I did not send him to spy on you, I sent him to keep an eye on you.”

“Same shit Sherlock and I don’t appreciate it ! You say you trust me but tis is definitely not how it’s coming off.” You huff in annoyance, trying to grab your phone from him again, in which he manages to keep it away from you snacking his free arm around you. “Give it back now, I’m leaving Tony!”

“Would you stop getting mad?!” He huffs. “Just- it’s not a trust thing baby. It’s a safety thing.”

“I wouldn’t be getting mad if you’d just tell me the truth and stop beating around the damn bush. I’m over it anyways, I’m going to be leaving now, so give me my phone and let me go.” He rolls his eyes and pulls you into him closer. “No you’re not leaving , stop being dramatic.” He says holding onto you tight, still holding the phone away from your grasp with his other hand. You scrunch up your face about to say something,  about his remark, but he quickly says. “And don’t be mad that I think you’re being dramatic about this.” He says to ensure he digs himself out of being in trouble over that stupid comment.

He continues, “You already know I trust you so don’t give me that. I did all of this because I love you.” He says holding you close and swaying the two of you slightly to the music that is still playing softly in the background.

“Not the because I love you speech.” You say rolling your eyes, hands resting on his chest trying to create distance between the two of you, but he just pulls you back into him. “You are so annoying.” You comment on the action, surrendering to his grasp.

“No it’s not like that, I just needed to make sure you were safe. No malicious thought behind it or intent, I swear. I just wanted to make name you are safe at all times.” He says softly with a sigh as he feels that you’ve calmed down.

“Why wouldn’t I be safe at work?” You say looking up at him. He now sets your phone down on the near by counter and places the hand to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Anyone can be in danger anywhere honey, I’ve learned that the hard way— and if I were to loose you? Well let’s just say for my sake and peace of mind, I might of let fear cloud my judgment and asked Happy to keep an eye on you. No spying, just an eye. You know how he gets.” He looks deeply into your eyes and you could tell he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry, okay?” He leans into you just enough to rub his nose against yours playfully. “Do you accept my apology?” He says in a child like voice, giving you puppy dogs eyes.

He was so cute.

“Okay fine, I’m hearing you.” You say caving in. “But you’ve gotta stop him from following my every move— if I’m going to the bathroom, I don’t need him right out the door.” You huff.

“Done, you got it, Happy is officially barred off of bathroom duties. Can we kiss and make up now?” He says this as his lips ghost over yours and you happily lean into the kiss, knowing full well it was long overdue after how hard he worked to impress you tonight. This kiss was sweet and sincere, while also deep and romantic. 

“I love you.” He says after breaking the kiss.

“You're a pain, but I love you too.” You both laugh before you give him another kiss. 

“Now are we still fighting?” He smirks after pulling away a second time. “Just wanna double check before I invest.”

“You're so annoying.” You laugh rolling your eyes playfully. “No we aren’t.”

“Good because our spaghetti is getting cold and our chardonnay is getting flat.” He says intertwining your fingers and spinning you around to walk into the living room. “And you look entirely too good to keep this on all night.” He says referring to your outfit. “I can’t believe you were going to call Happy.”

“Well how about next time, you don’t play with me.” You laugh ready to enjoy your dinner.

“Oh, but honey, playing with you is my favorite thing to do. I especially love it when you scream my name.” He smirks giving you a wink.

Comments, Questions, Opinions :)

See more of what I have written so far: Masterlist

[treesnutsandleaveswrites]

Rescue Mission

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: The Batch agrees to help Hera save her parents; you encounter a familiar face

Warning: angst, TW: PTSD episode, TW: panic/anxiety attack, mentions of shooting and violence

Word Count: 2048

A/N: Won't be updating constantly, but sorry for keeping you all waiting

pt xvi, pt xviii

XXXXXXX

You and the Batch were looking over the city's capitol, trying to figure out what’s going on. You looked through one of your sniper scopes, having detached it from your rifle, and observed the heavily guarded area. Some people started to gather as Admiral Rampart made an announcement, which you listened to through Chopper’s satellite.

“Citizens of Ryloth, the shocking attack of your beloved Senator has left you shaken, but Orn Free Taa’s condition continues to improve and he will make a full recovery. The perpetrators of this heinous assasination attempt have been captured…”

Hunter looked up from his binoculars and over to Hera, “Assasination attempt?”

Hera shook her head, “That’s not what happened.”

You looked at Hunter for a moment before Omega spoke up.

“Hunter… Crosshair’s here.”

You took in a sharp breath as you looked through your scope and saw his familiar baster rifle and him in his new Imperial armor.

“Great. Just what we need!” Wrecker grumbled.

Hunter then gestured for the boys to huddle, so you took a bit to watch Crosshair before turning the girls.

“Keep an eye on the Capitol.” You ordered Omega and Hera, then put on your helmet before joining the boys.

“Ryloth’s not a separatist planet.” Echo said mid-coversation.

“Exactly my point.” Tech stated and went on about who knows what. You tried to listen to him, but you could see a change in Hunter’s demeanor.

“Wait here.” Hunter ordered as he rushed off.

You waited with the others before an Imperial probe droid came crashing down near all of you.

“Oh good… a probe droid.” Tech sighed.

“The Empire will know we’re here.” Echo announced.

“And so will Crosshair.” You said in unison with Hunter.

“Let’s move.” Hunter ordered, so everyone started following. Hera took a moment before being pulled by Omega with Chopper behind them. You were near frozen in your spot due to the thought of possibly reuniting with Crosshair. Echo was near the back, trying to make sure no one was left behind. He turned and saw you still in your place, then he went to you before grasping your hand tight.

“We can’t stay, mesh’la.” He insisted, which caused you to nod and follow him back to the Marauder.

You sat of the Marauder’s steps as the Batch talked with Hera.

“I told you… no guarantees. We’ll get you off world and take you somewhere safe.”

“Wait! Please!” Hera pulled at Hunter, “I’ll pay you double!”

“No money in the galaxy will matter if we’re dead! What you’re asking us to do is not worth the risk.”

Hera took a moment to look at him, “Not to you.” She rushed off. The boys started to head to the Marauder, but Omega stayed back.

“You shouldn’t have said that!”

“Being strategic means knowing your limitations, Omega.”

“She’s trying to save her family! I would do the same for you.” Omega retorted before following Hera. Hunter took a moment to process her words before turning towards the ship and seeing you still sitting on the steps. You hadn’t taken off your helmet since you got back to the base, but Hunter could sense the rigidness of your stature. He crouched down in front of you and placed his hands on either side of your helmet before gently lifting it from your head. You were pale and had tear streaks staining your cheeks. Hunter was surprised at first, but came to realise what was wrong. It was similar to your small episode in the fresher just recently. You were suffering from plasma shock… Hunter placed your helmet to the side and carefully caressed your wet skin.

“I know, cyare… I know…” He whispered before picking up your helmet, then hooking an arm around your waist to help you onto the cruiser. He sat you down and stood between your legs with his face in your hands. He did his best to coax you through the process of a plasma shock episode and made sure his attention was undivided just in case anything else happened. Once he sensed your calm breathing and heart rate, he moved away.

“I’ll be right back… just take your time, my love.” He hooked your chin endearingly before heading to the cockpit. You stay seated for a bit before Omega and Hera rushed onto the ship, straight into the cockpit. You were about the get up to see what was happening, but then D-5 rolled over to you quickly and bumped your foot.

“Star! S-s-s-star!”

You smiled weakly before picking him up and looking at him, “You haven’t broken anything have you?”

“All-all better!”

You hummed before placing him down and following his trail as he rolled into the cockpit. Yo stood at the threshold as Hunter spoke.

“Alright, you two go with Chopper as back up, but at a distance.”

The girls got excited, which caused Tech to speak up.

“By themselves?”

“Tech, Wrecker, wait until those canons are down, then move in. Echo and I will scale the Capitol wall and free Hera’s parents.” He looked down at Hera, “I guess we’re following your lead!”

Omega saw you at the threshold and grinned, “Did you hear that, Lodestar?”

You nodded with a smile, “Yeah. I know you’re just getting started with this mission stuff, but you’ve got clone blood in you. Just be careful, okay?” You approached her and cupped her face.

“Where will you be?” Hera wondered with excitement in her eyes.

“I’ll join Hunter and Echo at the Capitol. Freeing people is my thing, remember?”

Everyone looked to each other before dispersing to prepare.

*******

You walked cautiously with Hunter and Echo, approaching the walls of the Capitol. You nodded to Hunter as you all readied to scale the wall. Hunter crouched, offering you a boost before helping Echo and then jumping up himself. It was a fairly quick process and you climbed over the dursateel parapet as Hunter took out one of the guards. The other looked over the wall at Echo.

“A little help?”

Hunter got his attention as you looked at the small map of the Capitol you had downloaded through your holopad connected to your armor on your wrist. The others looked over to you before you nodded and gestured to the direction you should be going. The three of you arrived to the detention level and took out the guards then you found the cells before freeing those enclosed in them.

“What are you doing here?” Gobi Glie asked as he looked at all of you.

“Breaking you out.” Hunter explained.

“You know them?” Another male twi’lek asked who must have been Hera’s father.

“They are mercenaries, but I did not hire them for this.”

“Hera did.” Hunter stated.

“Hera? Where is she? Is she safe?” Her father asked.

Echo chuckled, “With Omega and Chopper? Let’s hope so.”

You were looking through your map again, “We should go soon, troops will be heading to the refinery by now.”

Hunter nodded before following you away from the detention level to find a safe exit. Everyone rushed down the halls but you stopped.

“What is it, Lodestar?”

“This… this is too easy.” You whispered.

“We have to go.” Cham insisted.

“No, no, I’m going to double back… see if the courtyard is clear.”

“That’s not the plan.” Hunter said sternly.

“Crosshair knows we’re here. He knows how we think. He isn’t a fool.” You argued, “I’d rather have one of us caught or killed than these innocent people we’re helping. I’m going to check the courtyard.”

You rushed away from the group before taking a detour for the upper wall again. There were troopers scouting out the exit, so you pulled out your blaster and stunned them before making your way around to get a better look. There was an overhead view on the farside of the courtyard where you could use your rifle just in case things went south. As you rushed over, you could see troopers lining up with shields and blasters, ready to attack the front gates.

“Hunter, do you copy?”

“I copy. We were just warned, we’re heading for Senator Taa’s private quarters. There’s a ship waiting there. Rendezvous back with the group.”

You stopped, eyeing a figure at the overview, “Go on without me. I’ll meet you back at the base.”

“Lode-”

You silenced your comm before pulling out the dagger you had sheathed in an underarm leather pocket. You approached carefully, trying not to make any noise. As you were getting past them, a shot near misses you. They approached out of the shadows and your heart froze. The person waiting there was Crosshair himself.

“So… Hunter has found another replacement.” He sneered through the modulator of his helmet. Your heart was pounding in your ears as he stopped just a few feet away.

“Silent too… How original.”

You gripped your dagger before sheathing it and standing there looking at him through the dark visor of your helmet.

“However, fairly stupid. Nothing like me.”

Says the one doing the Empire’s dirty work.

You took a step back as he raised his rifle again.

“At least give me a challenge.” He groaned, “You have no idea how good I am with a moving target.”

But you do…

You clenched your fist before rushing towards him and knocking the rifle out of his hands. He grunted before grasping your shoulders and tossing you into the wall. He approached you, looming over your body before pulling you by a piece of your armor and leaning you over the ledge, looking over you.

“You’re holding back… some soldier you are.” He commented quietly before taking your blaster from your belt and raising it up to the side of your helmet. Your breathing was fast and your whole body was shaking, but you still managed to raise your arm and take off your helmet quickly. Everything grew silent as he looked at you through the tinted green visor of his Imperial helmet. He dropped the arm holding your blaster and loosened his grip.

“How…”

You shoved him away forcefully before kicking the blaster out of his hands and picking it up, then shooting his rifle so it couldn’t fire. You then rushed away as he was down, making your way back to the base.

*******

It was nearly sun up when you arrived back to the valley where the base was. Omega was waiting with the Batch and Hera when she saw you. She ran up to you and hugged your midriff tight.

“I was scared you got captured by the Empire.” She admitted.

“I’m alright. Just had to make sure everyone was safe…” You replied before looking up at the others.

“We’re heading south to another city, away from Imperial scanners.” Tech explained as you approached the Marauder with her. You nodded, avoiding Hunter’s eyes and following Omega as she and Hera pulled you onto the ship.

You all arrived at the hangar of the small city before Hunter talked with Hera’s parents and the Batch was gathered around with Hera, occupying themselves. You stood to the side, still thinking about Crosshair.

“Lodestar.” Cham called and you looked up before approaching, “It has been an honor finally meeting you and working alongside you. We are all familiar with the work you have done.”

You nodded politely before Hera was called, so you walked away towards the Marauder. It was only a few minutes before the others joined you. You all filed onto the ship, but before Tech and Echo could go to the cockpit, Hunter stopped them and they all turned to you.

“What were you thinking?” Hunter pressed, crossing his arms over his chest, “You almost sabotaged the whole mission.”

You didn’t say anything, looking at him while he talked.

“You risked being caught by the Empire, Lodestar, don’t you understand that?”

You gave him a curt nod, seeing Omega’s worried eyes in your peripherals.

“Next mission, you’re staying on the ship--maybe even stay behind on Ord Mantell.” He ordered, before walking back to the cockpit. His brothers protested while following after him, but Omega stayed with you in the main Hangar.

“Lodestar? Are you alright?”

You looked at her with a nod before she went to sit as the ship started to take off.

XXXXXXX

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[abybweisse]

Hello, O!Ciel is said to be very intelligent but he never seems to ask the right question. One example is not asking the UT how he could afford the Aurora society membership….

Sorry for the delay!

Not asking the right questions

This is a serious issue that repeats throughout the series, leading to many of the later problems and delaying their quest.

Like you say, our earl could have asked Undertaker some leading questions. Not that Undertaker would have told the truth. Or, more likely, his answers would be true but still misleading.

Our earl asks Tanaka if he recognizes the attackers on December 14, 1885… but here are some things he’s failed to ask him:

What might have been the reason for the attack? Who would have had the best reasons for doing so (or ordering it)? Tanaka might have mentioned a particular assignment as watchdog, a new or particularly strong enemy that had been made, or some special project (like Tower Bridge) that the Phantomhives somehow got involved with (or tried to avoid involvement with).

What watchdog duties or assignment was Vincent working on at the time? What were some major assignments or projects over the past few years leading up to the attack? Tanaka might have mentioned the “Windsor incident” that Vincent and Diedrich dealt with two or three years before. There also could have been assignments or other watchdog duties (not mentioned before in the manga) that could have led to this attack, like as a form of retaliation. For example, Haku was already operating the British branch of Qīng Bāng out of Limehouse by then. I don’t think it was Haku… which makes me wonder exactly how Lau and our earl started writing to each other…. 🤔 Anyway, I digress; I don’t actually think Qīng Bāng ordered the attack… unless Yana-san wants to not just break but crush the real Ronald Knox’s commandment that “ no Chinaman must figure in the story”.

He didn’t recognize the attackers, but could he at least describe them?

How did Tanaka survive the attack long enough to get to the hospital? Who took him… Madam Red?

Madam Red said one signet ring survived the fire, and that’s all she found… but we now know that even some papers survived, like the collection of family recipes and the ledger of previous servants. Tanaka would have been able to show our earl where those things had been kept safe. Might be an actual safe. What else was saved? Apparently, there also might have been various ledgers and other important documents.

It’s possible that Tanaka does share a lot of information with our earl and Sebastian when he finally reports back for duty, but our best chance of learning that is from a major flashback from Tanaka. Plus, if he does tell our earl and Sebastian about various events leading up to the attack, why has there been no mention of anyone investigating these things? Not even Sebastian giving us a “well, Tanaka’s leads didn’t pan out, so what’s next, Young Master?” The other possibility is that Tanaka didn’t say much of anything, and what they did manage to find was by Sebastian searching the manor for places where things might have been kept safe from the fire.

What about Madam Red? Did our earl ever ask her what she knew of Vincent’s activities? Did Rachel ever confide her fears or worries to her sister?

Francis/Frances definitely had some knowledge of her brother’s activities, even if he kept most of that away from her, particularly the “dirtiest” activities.

Diedrich knew/knows a lot. So should Chlaus. Did our earl ever ask them about the attack or what might have led to it?

Mr. Pitt might also be full of information. More importantly, our earl should ask what’s being stored at Lark Photography studio! Since it belonged to Vincent, and Mr. Pitt is familiar with some secret codes (that might go back to when Vincent was watchdog), I’m sure that studio is a treasure trove of evidence. Damning evidence. Might not all be photographed, of course. I imagine it’s a good place to store not just glass plates and copies of photos but also dossiers and other various forms of evidence collected during numerous assignments and other activities.

Did our earl ever ask Undertaker about the attack? Yes, Undertaker showed up too late to save Vincent or to even collect his body (all ashes by then), but was there anything he’d learned from his own investigation of the crime scene?

And there’s Queen Victoria. Since she controlled the Phantomhive earldom for roughly three months, from as soon as the attack occurred until she restored the earldom to the Phantomhive family, she might have known something about the attack itself. Honestly, she’s still my prime suspect, her and John Brown. It would have been interesting to see what kinds of answers she gave to any questions our earl might have posed to her. Would there have been hints she was lying or misdirecting him? We will only learn about this, if she gives flashbacks… or admits to ordering the attack.

Also…. What happened to the other Aristocrats of Evil who are shown in the panel, around the pool table? The guy with the large facial scar and the well-dressed woman with the fan? Are they dead, or did they scamper off into hiding…?

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hi, ik you said you request are closed, but you said that comfort request are always welcome. Ive be stressing out lately due to Scholl work and everything, I litterly on the verge of have a panic attack and was wondering if I could request, if you haven't already, write something for atsushi ❤️, dazai,chuyya, and akutagawa comforting ready with that? Plz feel free to ignore, I don't want ya to feel the same way I do😂 love ya!

Sorry about the wait on this piece. I’m only now getting school work up-to-date (After missing 5 days T_T) and getting free time to do things. I hope that isn't too late! Hope HC’s are alright!

Comfort for panic attacks |Atsushi, Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa x reader | HC

Atsushi- 

He’s familiar with what’s happening

His own memories sometimes lead him into a similar state, so he knows what to do.

He’ll try and bring you as close to him as possible.

He’ll likely snuggle your neck and let his breaths send shivers down your spine.

He’s a huge fan of counting your breaths with your eyes closed.

He gets you to join him in the mediation in hopes it works to calm you down.

If it doesn't, he’ll go in for distracting your senses from thinking.

Either kissing you lightly on the neck

Blowing air at your ear

Or tickling you.

When you're out of the panicked state, he’ll try to get you to open up.

If you do, he’ll make sure you know he’s very clearly paying attention.

After he runs off to make you a nice cup of tea/coffee

While you're drinking, he gets a warm bubble bath ready for you.

The rest of the day, and some days after, is all him taking care of you to relieve that stress and make sure you aren't overwhelmed. 

If you ask about work, he shakes his head and tells you he has everything under control and there won’t be a pile of missed work on your hands.

Dazai-

He knows exactly what to do

He knows what to do because he’s been in your shoes before, stressed, panicking, he knows the feeling even though he hides it well.

He’ll likely grab your hand in his and run his thumb over the back softly. 

He gets all serious, which may be a bit surprising

He whispers little things to hopefully help. “It’s alright” “I love you” “can you try and breathe slowly, mhm like that, in and out.” 

He’s really careful not to say anything that could imply he’s downplaying your feelings.

When you’re calm, he’ll likely kiss your cheek softly and smile for you.

Then he asks questions. “Is there something overwhelming?” he asks, but doesn't expect an actual answer.

He’ll try to accommodate whatever it is you want.

If that’s ranting about the stress you're under, then he’ll let you.

He’ll try to lift some of that stress for you, help you in any way he can.

Chuuya-

He freaks out internally for a few moments

When he collects himself, he sits next to you and does this weird half cuddle half-hug thing.

He has his arms around you, but his head on your shoulder, so he’s cuddling while also hugging you.

It’s a weird position, but it’s calming for the both of you.

He attempts to get you to do breathing exercises, or just starts talking about things you like, and interrupts that with something to make you laugh.

When he sees you’re relaxed, he keeps the relaxed atmosphere going.

He manages to get you laughing and smiling and forgetting the stress and whatever else was making you panic.

When the moment closes, he’ll ask you subtly. “Was there anything you wanted to talk about?” If you shrug it off, he doesn't press on. 

If you tell him work is stressful or there's just too much going on in your life to handle, he's already taking away work and offering a daily routine of cuddles and dedicating time every day for relaxation to help.

This man has got money, so he buys you whatever it is you need, including several spa trips.

Akutagawa-

He has no idea what’s going on or how to help

It takes maybe a bit too long to realize you're about to have /having a panic attack.

He’ll try to comfort you, but he’s not the best at it

He taps your shoulder and mumbles things at first.

He’s not really the affectionate type, but he can be.

He might lean his head on your shoulder and try to get you to copy how he’s breathing

He’ll talk to you about things that he hopes will take your mind off whatever is causing you the pain.

Afterward, he’ll demand to know what happened.

If you refuse to answer, he’ll sigh, but shrug and continue staying with you, his head on your shoulder.

If you tell him what’s bothering you, he does try to help.

In subtle ways, like stealing away your workload and handing it off to another, or taking you to eat out.

He’ll also make plans for you to have a day without work that won’t pile up because you took the day off 

| If you want to be tagged (@ ) when i post a new work, shoot me an ask/comment |

[mindofasupernova]

The Inventor Part 2

Kaz Brekker x reader

Description: A killer is on the loose, eliminating Kaz's informants. In a desperate attempt, Kaz meets a certain inventor that has his mind racing, trying to figure out the complex puzzle she is.

Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

Kaz

A corpse? That's what she wanted? Did she think that he just kept all the bodies of his deceased workers in his room? How the hell was he supposed to get his hands on the corpse of one of his poisoned informants?

One day after meeting the young inventor, Kaz had sent Inej to gather answers to the Y/LN Manor. And just as promised, the girl had already identified most of the compounds, but due to "careless and messy manipulation", clearly referring to Kaz's pouch, she had been unable to determine a specific substance that acted as a catalyst. Inej returned to the Slat with Y/N's message asking for a meeting and a request Kaz wasn't exactly expecting.

According to Y/N, it was of the utmost importance for her to examine the body if she hoped to pinpoint the missing compound not to mention it provided a perfect opportunity for Kaz to tell her about how the poison had captured his attention.

Inej had returned later than usual, smiling and carrying a small brown bag that wafted a sweet and delicious scent. When Kaz had raised his eyebrows in question, Inej had told him Y/N had given her some recently baked cookies. He grunted in response and kept working, but his mind kept drifting back to the cookie bag and what that small act meant.

Inej was cautious but he also knew that she always searched for kindness in people. That snack could have been simply just a gift but Kaz wouldn't have made it this far if he considered all people as kind-hearted. Y/N was a stranger, a rich stranger from the highest of ranks of society who probably didn't care if Barrel rats like him lived or not. Y/N hadn't asked for a favor nor did she need money, she just wanted to know, that unsettled Kaz more than he liked to admit.

He had spent the day gathering information about her, her personal life, hobbies, and all the rumors he could find. He had found absolutely nothing that could give him an insight into the girl's intentions, he had finished empty-handed with the information he already knew: she was the only daughter of one of the richest men in Ketterdam, the perfect personification of a wealthy royal daughter, an innocent and pious little thing that went to Church with her family. Kaz scoffed at that, the defying look she gave her at their secret rendezvous accompanied with her enthusiasm for carving a corpse open proved she was far from innocent.

No, until he had more facts he wouldn't let his guard down. And yet, a small part of him yearned for her actions to be good-intentioned. Stop, hope is a dangerous thing. He had already made the mistake of hoping when he was nine and look where it got him.

Kaz returned his gaze to the papers in front of him, huffing in annoyance, he started writing down orders to get a corpse for Y/N.

_______________

Y/N : One day after the meeting

Y/N was quietly sitting at her vanity, a soft smile adorned her face, gaze completely lost on her new device when Inej, soundlessly crept inside her bedroom.

After Kaz Brekker had left the shop near the Church of Barter, she no longer felt the giddy spark she had when she left her manor. She couldn't blame Mr. Zhang for telling Mr. Brekker about their association, he was an old jumpy man who wished no trouble upon no one. She had left all the concoctions that Mr. Zhang had order, but she didn't show him her latest joy, she no longer felt as excited.

This new invention she had come up with consisted of a music box. But it was no ordinary music box, far from it. Y/N had noticed how most of the music boxes got damaged with time when the metal rusted and the music no longer sounded like a melody but more like a haunted house. So, instead of depending on metal to play music, why not use water vapor. Yes, she had spent four days perfecting the pressure at which each piston released the water so it was a perfect copy of one of the melodies in the Komedie Brute. Four days making sure that the amount of heat the flame distributed was enough to transform the water into vapor but not so fast it was gone before the song ended. And now, here it was, a vapor-based music box with a decorative firebird in the center that literally caught fire, warming the water below.

Mind too caught up on the mechanics of her own work, that, when the Wraith materialized from the shadows behind her, Y/N sent a rain of screws and nuts toppling down the floor when Inej's hand landed on her shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Y/N turned around to face the apparition in her room. The Suli girl raised her hands, to show she intended no harm and in a kind voice spoke:

"I'm not here to hurt you. Kaz Brekker sent me to check up on your progress."

With a sigh of relief, Y/N straightened relaxed her posture. "Why, of course, should have assumed Mr. Brekker would send someone. Please, take a seat. " with a small smile, she gestured to a plush burgundy armchair.

"As promised, I have successfully identified most of the compounds. However, I fear identifying the catalyst agent won't be possible unless I conduct a thorough autopsy on the unfortunate victim. The needle I was given was in an atrocious condition, too many foreign compounds had already interacted with it." Y/N answered, finishing with a hopeful tone.

Inej nodded her head and responded, "I'll let Kaz know, thank you Marchioness Y/LN." Inej turned around, making a bee-line for the window.

"You must not be thinking of going out in this beastly weather. Please, stay until this horrendous downpour ceases." Y/N quickly called back, wrapping her silk shawl around her petite frame, as if the thought of stepping outside was enough to send a chill running down her spine.

Inej hesitated, directing a fleeting glance at the crying sky outside, she resumed to her previous seat.

"Would you like a piece of Cinamon-coated Pavlova? I guarantee you won't regret it, the caramelized peaches are sinfully appetizing!" and before the Suli girl could respond, Y/N was rushing out of her room, the dainty patter of her heels clicking down the stairs.

Her room was exactly what Inej had expected: luxurious and overly grand. But there was something about it that Inej couldn't quite place, her room was tidy to the extreme, all the expensive perfume bottles lined up, gaps between that appeared as if they had been measured with a ruler. Nothing in her room showed a preference or indication of what she truly liked, at first sight, the room would have seemed like the perfect fairytale but now, upon close observation, the room looked generic, hollow, and cold. The spy wondered if all the riches were worth living into a life as impersonal as hers.

Y/N returned, carrying a tray full of fancy desserts Inej couldn't even pronounce.

"The baker proclaims himself a master of crème brûlées. I prefer his fruit-stuffed truffles, though. Mouthwatering" Y/N commented, gingerly placing the tray on her small mahogany table.

Y/N waited for Inej to take a bite out of the coffee tiramisu, after the Suli girl let a soft hum of appreciation, Y/N smiled and questioned: "I hope I'm not being too invasive, but how did you manage to climb all the way to my window? There are no nooks where you could have possibly held onto, you must have an incredible balance to perform such a feat."

And that's how Inej told her about her life as an acrobat, proudly sharing brief glimpses to her past, seeing no harm in the girl next to her. Y/N was more than happy when Inej started talking, she was glad the bronzed-skinned girl didn't treat her with timid whispers afraid of offending her royal title. It felt nice to have a normal conversation, being able to share honest opinions instead fake smiles and condescending words at galas, afraid that if the wrong statement slipped they'll become the next party gossip.

____________________

The morning after, Inej returned bearing Mr. Brekker's message agreeing to a nightly meeting where she'll be able to examine the corpse.

Saying that Y/N was thrilled, was an understatement, apart from a chance to put her brain to good use, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try a device she had specifically designed for creating an alibi while she was sneaking outside at unlikely hours.

Y/N hated piano. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't the instrument, it was the music, her music. Because for an unknown reason, her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own whenever she tried to. She admired the focus and dedication of musicians, she really did, but her mind easily got distracted thinking about her latest reading material instead of focusing on the notes. So, she had created a system capable of pushing the tiles as if her own fingers played the music. She knew it was wrong to fool her parents in such a way but it gave her a perfect cover to go in secret missions her parents would never approve of.

Proper ladies don't get excited over knowledge, much less probe in repulsive matters such as corpses. Look at you, Y/N, what would future suitors think if they discover you all cheerful over someone´s murder? The scandal! Zia Francesca's reprimanding voice resonated inside Y/N´s head. But she could care less about what the whole Ketterdam thought about her, science was her passion, and she would abandon it until the day she died.

Already outside, a navy blue scarf wrapped around her head to shield her delicate features against unwanted attention, Y/N waited for Inej at their chosen meeting point.

The sly girl slipped into view, with a grace greater than the one of a feline, leaving the shadows as if she and the night were one. With a brief nod, Y/N followed the girl into the awaiting hands of darkness. Leading her towards the Barrel, a place where monsters lurked behind every corner impatiently waiting to pounce any minute. Nonetheless, Y/N felt ecstatic, warm excitement pulsing through her veins, a river waiting in anticipation to break the thin modest facade she kept up to let her curiosity resurface in search of enigmas to solve.

When they arrived at a place named "The Crow Club", Inej went to get Kaz and some "others" and told her to wait. Y/N observed the lively atmosphere, seeing customers from different countries around the world when her eyes landed on a familiar head with wild red curls.

"Mr. Van Eck?" Y/N questioned in disbelief, the boy perked up at the sound of his last name, locking eyes with the hooded girl.

Never would she have imagined finding Wylan Van Eck down in the Barrel. She was shocked, Wylan supposedly should be in a music school outside of Ketterdam. Both belonging to affluent families, Y/N had met Wylan Van Eck at several parties. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but she liked the quiet boy who shared the same look of misfortune Y/N had every time they were thrown into a classy social event. When his father had announced he was leaving to study abroad, Y/N was happy for him although she would miss being silently miserable together. But it appeared Wylan had been doing something far from studying, now sitting next to a tall Zemeni boy with his arm slung around his shoulder.

"Marchioness Y/N, I never imagined...W-What brings you here?" replied round-eyed Wylan, confusion, and astonishment written all over his features.

But before Y/N could respond, steps and the tapping of a cane interrupted their little meeting, Inej small silhouette trailing behind Mr. Brekker.

"So, you know Wylan?" he interrogated in that characteristic rasp, coffee eyes scrutinizing Y/N's form.

"Yes, Mr. Van Eck used to come to our social gatherings."

Wylan just nodded shyly while his long-limbed companion kept drowning shot like they were water.

Dirtyhands humphed in acknowledgment "Nice, know that we are all together let's go to...Jesper, I don't pay you to drink the bar dry. Get your ass down here and let's get moving so our dear inventor can examine the body, shall we?

"Wait, she is the contact you talked about?" the Zemeni, Jesper, questioned. Eyes going from Kaz Brekker to Y/N, as if this was some kind of joke.

"Wylan called her Marchioness? You asked for a royal's help?" Jesper asked, an incredulous mocking smile on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz?"

Mr. Brekker scowled at him and without another word turned around not even waiting for them to follow.

"Well, nice to meet you, my lady. The name's Jesper Fahey," he said, bowing down and kissing her hand, sending her a mischievous wink.

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fahey. And please, there's no need for formalities, just call me Y/N." she comforted, as they finally reached the others. Glancing at the rest while finishing her last statement, prompting the rest to call her by her first name.

________

Kaz

Y/N radiated waves of elation, her whole face lighting up at the thought of an adventure, a star amid the tumultuous dark waters of Ketterdam helping him find his way to the shore.

Kaz wore an amused expression at Y/N's amused gaze roaming the dirty streets of the Barrel, a new unknown world full of carnage and sins. She isn't fit for the Barrel thought Kaz, her eyes dancing in amusement at every little detail that caught her interest despite her efforts to put on a serious face and regal posture. She probably saw wonderous adventures while Kaz saw the Barrel for what it really was: a ravenous, savage beast waiting to swallow the weakest whole and drain the lives of the ones who survived its ghastly bites. And somehow the concept that she didn't belong in this world, his world, made Kaz's heart wrenched a little.

During their walk, Kaz shared the details about the latest killer on the loose and his dead informants, all the while, Y/N remained quiet, evaluating every one of his words.

When they arrived at an abandoned building, a single man was stationed outside, leaning on the tainted wall with a tired look in his eyes. Kaz nodded at the guard who gave him a set of keys and trotted out of sight. Kaz guided them inside, careful no prying eyes had followed them. Kaz turned on the lights, briefly disconcerting his companions, and pointed to a table with a big bulk covered by a dirty cloth.

"As you requested, the unfortunate victim" announced Kaz as Y/N placed a small suitcase she'd brought with her forensic equipment and tenderly pried the cloth covering the thing that once had been alive.

Y/N didn't bat an eyelash when she saw the corpse's face, not even when Jesper started gagging or when Inej turned around and started quietly mumbling prayers to her saints. Kaz focused on her face, the calm inquisitive look of a scientist, he had expected a gasp at least. Kaz was impressed by her cool analytical demeanor when a simple glimpse of the man was enough to send Kaz back to the ocean, rotting flesh beneath his fingertips. Kaz shuddered at the thought, forcing down the vomit rising in his throat.

"If you need an assistant, Jesper is willing to help" Kaz stated, stabilizing his voice so it wouldn't show his true feelings.

"What?! Me? Umm..no...I...Helping isn't a Jesper talent." Mr. Fahey said, a fearful look in his eyes, face white as a sheet. Kaz hoped he didn't look as terrified as him.

Y/N stopped her scan, looked up at the two boys, and with a small smile spoke: "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."

Quickly discarding her coat and scarf, pushing back the sleeves of her rouge-colored blouse, and pulling long laboratory gloves over her hands along with a white apron over her head, she set up to work.

Kaz stared at her features, as she transformed into an eager forensic, light illuminating her face, falling in the right places giving her an otherwordly glow. Rebellious strands of hair framing her forehead, a pink hue staining her cheeks indicating her joyous state. The sight before him would have put any masterpiece to shame, Kaz wondered how she could stare at a corpse and find glee in such a morbid image. But Kaz liked it, the brilliant gleam her eyes portrayed, her childish joy at the promise of adventure.

The spell was broken when she started pulling out scalpels, syringes, and other items Dirtyhands couldn't bother to learn the name of. Pulling the flesh taught beneath her fingers, Y/N made a Y incision, skin splaying open.

Cold lifeless hands gripped Kaz's throat. his brother's icy whispers brushing his skin. He turned his head away and as if perceiving his discomfort, Y/N's bewitching doe eyes stared back at him.

"You can wait outside if you prefer to, I'll notify you when I'm done." her gentle voice reached and Kaz couldn't have been more grateful.

With a sharp shake of his head, Kaz limped towards the exit, Jesper, and Inej quickly following his movements.

--------

After Y/N finished, she eagerly started explaining her findings, a prideful gleam emanating from her.

"Well, Mr. Brekker I must admit this case is a peculiar one. The simplest ones always prove to be the most challenging."

"Here I thought that after years of fancy tea reunions you'd know the meaning of a vast number of words. I'll be sure to buy you a thesaurus." mocked Kaz, a wolfish smirk creeping onto his face.

The inventor frowned at his comment, racing her chin higher, and started her rant, thoughts racing to prove her point.

"Oh no, Mr. Brekker do not confuse simple and easy. Simple is straightforward, plain facts to the observer. Ordinary details are hard to pinpoint, effortlessly found everywhere, which makes it harder to find unique characteristics that could serve as means of identification since their nature is so elementary." Y/N spoke swiftly, pacing around the room, eyes never faltering from Kaz's.

"And that's exactly what happened in this case. As I had mentioned, my extraction wasn't entirely successful, for an essential reactant was missing. However, it wasn't the only reason why I insisted on examining the body, no, a very simple and ordinary substance appeared when I separated the poison: Helianthus annuus or more commonly known as sunflowers." Y/N paused glancing at their surprised faces, clearly pleased with their reactions, she continued, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found sunflower pollen as the main component of the poisonous agent. I ran several more tests and the result remains the same, our killer is using these lovely flowers as a weapon. Now, back to the catalyst, the easy part of the equation. This component isn't as fastidious as the previous one, why, you may ask. Well, its vast majority consists of average materials but a small percentage of it contains alloys that are only produced in Ketterdam, that combined with the peculiar way they were fused, suggests a Grisha alkemi made this solution." Y/N concluded, grabbing a piece of paper and hastily writing before she handed it to Kaz.

"There are no signs of struggle, meaning either they knew the attacker or they were taken by surprise. A swift prick to the femoral artery, a clear pathway for the poison to reach the bloodstream, infecting the body within seconds."

"It shouldn't be very hard to find the alkemi. They aren't very popular and most of them are indentured. Here is the list of all the reactants, the specifics, and where I believe you might find them. " finished the girl, looking at the trio expectantly.

"If you don't mind, I have taken a sample to examine more carefully at my house. I'll try to find any details I might have overlooked."

Briskly reading the list, Kaz frowned and then pocketed the small scrap of paper. "First thing tomorrow morning, ask around for an alkemi who might have bought these materials. "

Kaz turned to look at his fellow crows, content with their nods of approval, grabbed his cane, and sauntered towards the door. Her chemistry knowledge was astounding, a marvelous domain of anatomy, and an even more gifted engineer from what he had heard. Hers was an indeed beautiful mind, not that he would ever tell her.

"Mr. Brekker?" her light voice shattered through the gloomy night. Kaz craned his neck, gaping back at her in question.

"Is there perhaps a place where I might be able to tidy myself up?" Y/N questioned, Kaz finally looking at her messy red-stained apron and her exposed arms displaying strokes of red all over them.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring the girl back to their home. "You can use the restroom back at the Slat." The girl had risked her reputation sneaking out on ill-advised affairs to help them, it was the least he could do.

"Thank you" Y/N replied as she carefully peeled her apron, attentive at not brushing her arms against her blouse.

___________

Once she had freshened up, Y/N stumbled upon the young Van Eck talking with a couple. The green-eyed girl was about Y/N's age, a generously carved complexion, holding the hand of a tall Fjerdan.

Y/N inclined her head as a form of salute, "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Mr. Van Eck. I never thought you hated music lessons that much to run away." she told him in a joking tone.

"And I never thought you were the type to sneak out at ungodly hours just to play detective. " Wylan replied, a grin beginning to form on his face.

"Well, I suppose everyone has secrets."

"You must be Y/N, Inej told me you were the help Kaz so desperetly needed. I'm Nina, he's Matthias and well you already know Wylan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Inej had briefly mentioned them, she knew now that Nina loved food, maybe next time she'll bring those exquisite truffles she had so eagerly talked about. If there is a next time Y/N reminded herself, she desperately hoped so, but now that her work was done she wasn't so sure Kaz Brekker would ever seek her again.

"Well, you have saved me the introductions." Kaz sarcastically glowered at the green-eyed girl, Nina kept talking as if she hadn't heard him.

It was one thing for Kaz to admire her intelligence, it did not mean he trusted her, though. Pieces were still missing to the intricate puzzle she was and until that changed Kaz did not like the way she rapidly befriended his crows, her intentions were still blurry to Kaz, and even though he would never admit it he cared deeply about their well-being.

"You should stay a little longer, we could go for waffles as a way of thank you." prompted Nina.

"Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I should be returning home." Y/N declined, grinning at Nina, blissful someone had invited her for waffles.

Kaz stared at her and wondered how many times someone had done something similar, not to thank her but rather to use her, so that such a simple gesture put her in a joyful state.

"Scared of what your parents may do if they found out the truth?" Kaz quipped once his crows had left the two of them alone. A teasing tone masking true concern.

"Terrified. Someone may notice I've been playing the same four songs for the last couple of hours, always missing the same notes every time and they might get ideas of checking up on me," she confessed, mischief coating her features.

"Good night, Mr. Brekker. I'm happy I could be of assistance. Please, let me know if you find your killer or if my experience is needed again."

Kaz just bowed, signaling for his Wraith to get Y/N back to her manor in one piece.

Both girls disappeared into the night, leaving Kaz pondering what the hell she had meant with playing the piano.

___________

Y/N

Almost two weeks had passed, no signs of Kaz and no visits from the Wraith, well not that she was aware of. Y/N caught herself glaring at no point in particular, she readjusted her expression and plastered a well-practiced look of keen interest, trying to focus on Lady Stathos' rant about the attractiveness of the Viscount of Chagny.

Y/N politely excused herself, with no intention of making a fool of herself if Lady Stathos posed a question related to her gossip.

Too busy drowning in her own sorrow, knowing that Kaz had probably captured the culprit and was happily celebrating his success and no longer needing Y/N's help, that she stumbled forward, barely catching herself when someone bumped her from behind.

When Y/N turned back around, searching for that someone, she was met with a sight she had only seen once in an abandoned warehouse late at night. One that made her mind scream: Helianthus annuus.

Mercher Dupont's eyes were deranged, veins gruesomely popping and blood spilling from his lips, before toppling in the middle of the dance floor, taking his final breath.

[writersmorgue]

Something Immortal

word count - 3k

warnings: suicide attempt, drug use, addiction, cursing, teenagers being gross

pairing: model!Todoroki x canon!Bakugo

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

"Holy shit guys he posted!!" Mina squeals, vaulting herself over the couch to reach the rest of the Bakusquad sitting on the common room carpet. An old original copy of Monopoly splayed out in the center of their group.

"Ooh, show us! Show us!" Kaminari leans forward, swiping half of the properties off the board in the process.

Sero groans, "Dude you do this every time!!"

The blond pouts, "Hey it's your fault I was losing."

Kirishima just chuckles, picking up his dog piece from jail and throwing it into the box.

"Your smart people game can wait," Mina tugs on Sero's ponytail, "He hasn't posted in weeks."

"Oh my god he's so fucking hot," Kaminari's knee-jerk reaction is whispered as soon as he sees the post.

Todoroki Shouto, one of Japan- and America's- most well-known models. The teenager, who happens to be their age, regularly models for magazines like Vogue, Joker, and Elle. The teenager who has starred in countless American and Japanese short and independent films. The teenager who just so happens to be the son of the number one hero, Endeavor.

No one knows his quirk, but it just adds to the mystery. Some people theorize he's quirkless, but others think he's got a crazy dangerous quirk, which is why he's a model instead of an aspiring hero. Not like he's not perfect for the job, with his gorgeous bi-colored hair and heterochromatic eyes. The scar on his left side somehow only adds to his beauty. It doesn't matter what your sexuality is, you simp for Todoroki Shouto.

But that's the obvious, now this photo- this photo.

"It's ethereal, I've never seen him look so serene before."

"He's an actual angel."

"How is he only eighteen?!"

Mina nods as Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima go through the seven stages of grief just looking at the photo.

Kirishima's eyes dart to Todoroki's username... which is just Shouto. In fact, the Todoroki name isn't mentioned once on his account, a fact that has hundreds of conspiracy theories on its own.

"Hey Meens, can we stalk him real quick? I wanna see who he's following."

She grins, "Well anything for you, munchkin."

Sero snorts. Their couple nicknames never fail to amuse anyone within hearing range.

"Ugh gross," Kaminari gags as Mina giggles, swiping off of the picture (which already has over 600,000) and onto his main page.

It's simple, plain yet elegant in the way only a PR manager could manage.

The bio is a link to his most recent shoot with some magazine that Kirishima doesn't recognize, the profile picture is a rare shot of him smiling, a blue checkmark, and a follower count of over four million.

His following count, however, is the shocker.

"He only follows fourteen people?" Sero whispers, clicking on the number.

"Huh," Mina turns the phone slightly so she can see, "Who is he following?"

"Let's see," Sero squints, eyes scrolling down the list, "Hawks... his siblings... Mirko... some American models... his agency's profile... and- wait, isn't that Bakugo?"

"HAH?" Mina yells, whipping the phone around and clicking on the profile.

Sure enough, a slew of photos shows up on her screen, all of their resident blond pomeranian glaring at the camera in various locations.

"He- WHAT?? It must be a glitch!" Mina scrambles frantically, eyes darting across the screen.

"Uh, yeah," Kirishima chuckles, "a glitch."

Mina scrolls up numerous times as if refreshing the page will help.

"I mean what other explanation can you think of?! It's not like Thee Todoroki Shouto would know our Bakugou, they're totally in different leagues." Mina sounds absolutely scandalized, causing Sero to laugh.

"I don't know, Meens, the proof is right there. We should ask him about it!"

"And what- DIE?" Kaminari reasons.

Sero nods, "Fair point."

"Pussies." Mina stands, planting her manicured hands on the edge of the couch, "I'll ask him myself."

-

"I REFUSE." A fourteen-year-old Shouto screams at his father.

"what do you mean you refuse? Shouto she's a lovely girl, and you need to procreate while you're still young if you're not going to become a hero like I want. You get one or the other." Todoroki Enji grabs his youngest child by the arm to lead him out of the kitchen, but Shouto jerks out of his grip. "Wh- SHOUTO."

"I'm going to live with Fuyumi. She'll take care of me." He holds his ground, shaking his father off when he tries once again to physically lead him out of the room.

"OH?" Enji bellows a laugh, "And how do you expect she'll find the money to take you in? Raising a teenager is expensive, you know, and she's only a simple school teacher."

"She's not a simple anything. And I- I'll find a way. We'll be fine. I already talked to several agencies."

"...agencies?"

-

"Wait, Mina!!" Kaminari calls after the girl, but she's a woman on a mission and there's no stopping her.

They arrive at Bakugo's door in a heap, Kaminari clawing at Mina while she knocks calmly. Kirishima and Sero stand to watch because they have no idea what else to do. (They're just as nervous as Kaminari but they're more afraid of Mina if they're being honest.)

A crash comes from inside the room, but soon their resident angry boy is slamming open his door and glaring at them. The normalcy is comforting.

"Do you fuckers realize what fucking time it is?"

"Yes~" Mina coos sweetly, "I know old men need their sleep but it's only 8:30 and we have a question."

He sighs aggressively and stretches his arms behind his back, cracking his shoulders and then his neck, Kaminari whimpers in fear.

"Alright, what do you want pinky?"

She's practically vibrating with excitement at this point.

"Why is Todoroki Shouto following you on Instagram?"

Bakugo seems to mull over this for a moment, and then he just shrugs.

Mina nods like this answers any part of her question, "That's what I thought, funny glitch. He's pretty hot though, right?"

The rest of the group nods emphatically.

Bakugo scratches his leg with his other heel, "He's not ugly, I guess."

Mina waves her arms around in Bakugo's general direction, "See!!? Even the straight guy agrees!!"

"No one was disagreeing with you, Mina." Sero snickers.

Bakugo grunts, then promptly slams the door in their faces.

"Well I guess that was more than he'd usually do at this time, we're lucky we didn't get exploded." Kirishima muses.

Kaminari nods, shuddering at the thought.

"Welp! That answers our question!" Although it really didn't, no one was about to argue with Mina, "Anyway I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to your vibe for me!" Sero whispers after her.

She waves as she marches away, humming to herself.

-

Shouto stares at the street below.

He wonders if he'd die falling from a height like this. He hopes he doesn't hit anyone.

Slowly, he removes his expensive sneakers, dropping them on the modelling agency's roof beside him. It's breezy tonight, and Shouto, freshly sixteen, has nothing to live for anymore. So he won't.

Stepping carefully over the guardrail, not sure why since he's about to jump. Maybe part of him is still afraid.

Whatever he can get over it.

His thin frame wobbles in the wind, and he breathes deeply, too focused on relaxing to notice the roof door opening, and hurried steps coming up behind him.

A warm hand grabs him, almost startling him off the side of the building.

The interruption heaves heavy breaths in his ear as they both topple down onto the concrete floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Oh, it's Bakugo.

The only child of his manager, Mitsuki Bakugo, who happens to be a nosy little shit who can't stay out of other people's business.

"Get OFF" Shouto shoves him, frantically scrambling toward the railing again. He needs this.

"NO! Todoroki get the fuck back-"

"It's SHOUTO." blood spurts onto his gray sweater and he realizes with muted horror that he just elbowed his employer's son in the nose.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He bends down, removing his trashed pullover, and holds it to his friend's nose.

Bakugo snorts, "Sorry- Shouto I mean." He winces when Shouto presses harder into his face, "I'll forgive you if you don't jump."

Shouto sighs, "You know why I was going to."

Bakugo visibly calms at the use of past tense, the outburst must have snapped him out of it.

"Your mom, right?" Shouto tenses.

"Yeah I- he barred me from ever seeing her again and I- I don't know what to do." He shudders and pulls his pills from his pants pocket.

He wonders what his mom would say if she found out her baby was addicted to drugs.

Bakugou frowns but lets his friend take the pill, not sure what to say.

"Fucking piece of shit. Is that even legal?"

"Legally the number two hero can do whatever the fuck he wants. We live in a flawed world, Bakugo.

"I- Shouto."

"Hmm?" Shouto collapses onto the ground, crunching the pill and sighing as he feels the effects start to take almost immediately.

"I care- I care about you, okay? So please let me help you. Let me get you help."

A tear slips down to Shouto's ear without his permission, he wipes it away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know, Bakugo. You haven't exactly seemed to like me in the past. Even though I like to think we're friends I know you don't feel the same." He frowns, admiring the shine of wetness on his palm in the moonlight.

Bakugo grumbles, "Don't fuckin' tell me what I do and don't feel. I really fuckin' care about you even though I'm an ass about it, okay? I'm not good with emotions so don't expect much from me. But I do want you to be happy and I don't think the uh- the pills are helping."

The blond holds out a hand and reluctantly Shouto slaps the container into it.

"Fine," he mumbles, "you're uh- not as bad as I thought."

Bakugo snorts, "You're just as bad as I thought, but I like you anyway."

Against his will, Shouto finds himself blushing, thankful that it's mostly hidden in the dark.

"C'mon," Bakugo gestures to his own chest, "I know you could use one."

Shouto whimpers as he curls himself into the blond's strong frame. He's built a lot of muscle since starting at UA this year.

A strong hand rubs along his back and Shouto finds he can't hold back his tears any longer as the shock starts to set in.

Fuck he almost just killed himself.

"Thanks, Bakugo."

"I almost just watched you die, you can call me Katsuki."

"Thanks, Katsuki."

"No problem, Shouto."

-

The Bakusquad once again finds themselves playing a game on the common room floor, this time Sorry, much to Sero's chagrin.

"Sorry!" Kirishima grins cheekily as he kicks Sero's piece back to his home base.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you guys-" He groans, flopping back onto the loveseat behind him, only to get an eyeful of Bakugo Katsuki's ass, "Oh hey Bakugou!"

"Wh- OI TAPE FACE WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE LOOKING-"

Sero snickers, patting Bakugou on the hip, "Sorry dude, it was literally right there."

Small explosions popped from Bakugo's hands as he growled down at Sero.

"Aw come on blasty he's just playing and WHERE are you going dressed like that???!!!"

Bakugo blushes and tugs his light blue blazer down farther.

"I have a date." He mutters, tugging his sleeves.

“Sorry,” Kaminari laughs, “I think I misheard you. Sounded like you said ‘I have a date.’”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “Because I do, dipshit.” He sighs, checking his -expensive-looking- watch, “Just watch the independent film awards when they’re on. I think it’s like four hours from now that it starts.”

“Whyyyy would you have anything to do with that?” Kirishima groans, very lost.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo grunts, digging his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates and checking something before humming and striding towards the front door.

He looks unusually elegant, hair slicked back probably as well as Bakugo’s hair can be, shirt tucked in, a few rings on his fingers, barely visible and yet beautifully drawn eyeliner. He’s… pretty.

The three remaining members of the Bakusquad, as well as the rest of the common room, sit there in awe as he shoves a permission slip in Iida’s blubbering face.

“I- Wh- Bakugo is this from Aizawa? You cannot just leave!!”

“Fuck off glasses, I have his fuckin’ blessing or whatever.”

“Bakugo!”

The blond shoots a middle finger off behind him and slams the door shut, leaving a stunned common room in his wake.

“Uh, well, that happened.” Jirou drones blandly from her place on the couch with Momo.

“Awards show watch party, anyone?!” Uraraka grins, standing, “I’ll get the mochi!!”

“I’ll make tea,” Momo stands as well, dusting off her perfectly clean jeans. Jirou groans at the loss of her girlfriend’s warmth and flops over on the couch.

“This is stupid, he probably got invited by some pro hero and he’s just going to yell at the paparazzi if he’s even gonna be there.” She pouts.

“Well,” Sero grins, “anyone wanna play Monopoly while we wait?”

Kaminari throws the Sorry board at his head.

-

“Alright, is everyone ready!!? The red carpet is about to start!!” Hagakure squeals, even though the entirety of class 3-A (minus Bakugo) is there.

“So… what exactly are we watching this for?” Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Bakugo’s going to be in it apparently, the study group earlier saw him in the common room wearing a suit.” Ojiro answers.

“Not just a suit!!” Mina holds her hands out as if to deliver groundbreaking news, “A fancy suit.”

“Aren’t all suits fancy?”

“Shut up.”

“OOH LOOK there’s Arai Itō and Chiba Yoshida!! Aww, they’re so cute!” Uraraka swoons, clasping her hands together.

“I wonder when Kacchan is gonna come out, these things can take a while.”

“I honestly don’t even care, I heard Todoroki Shouto is nominated for an award this year!! Do you remember that really sad short film he was in about having an overdose? Gosh, I hope he wins.” Hagakure’s hair bow vibrates excitedly.

“THERE HE IS THERE HE IS!!!!!” She points at the bottom of the screen where a man in a pale blue dress has stepped out of a limo and onto the carpet, a heeled foot gracefully raising him to his full 6’2”.

“Holy shit he’s gorgeous.” Sero breathes, the reporters on screen basically saying the same thing.

Shouto reaches behind him and holds out a hand for the second person stepping out of the limo, broad shoulders, a shorter stature than Shouto especially with the heels, spiky blond hair, piercing red eyes-

…

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BAKUGOU??”

The aerial camera pans down toward the blond, showing off his suit- which matches Shouto’s dress perfectly- and his, what appears to be professionally done hair.

“Holy shit does he have an undercut now!!?? We just saw him a few hours ago!” Mina screeches.

Momo shrugs, “They do that sort of thing for celebrities.” She sips her tea, unphased.

“Okay okay, we’re all ignoring the most important part. Kacchan is Todoroki’s date.” Izuku frantically waves his arms around.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tokoyami muses.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sero asks no one in particular.

“Wait everyone SHUT UP they’re announcing awards!!!! Todoroki might win one! We can ask Bakugo about this when he gets back. Surely there’s an interesting story.” Uraraka chimes in, handing out mochi and popcorn.

The tv’s voice is muffled under the muttering of several class 3-A members, but Mina turns it up as the male announcer reads the winners of the award Todoroki is nominated for.

“AAAAAAAAND THE WINNER FOR BEST ACTOR IN A DRAMA SHORT ISSSSSSSSS…

TODOROKI SHOUTO!!! For his work in The End of Me and the incredible performance that shocked-”

Cheers ring through the dorms, popcorn goes flying, and Mina frantically shushes everyone as Shouto makes his way gracefully onto the stage. He accepts the award from the previous winner, bowing elegantly and stepping up to the mic.

“Hello everyone,” He begins, shooting a shy smile directly into the camera. It has always perplexed his fans how nervous he can be in real life compared to in his photoshoots. “This is a really important award to me, not only am I incredibly grateful to the panel for gracing this title upon me, but as of yesterday,” He smiles at the ground, taking a deep breath, “I’m two years clean.”

Shocked gasps ricochet through the award hall as well as through the crowd gathered around the tv.

“He did drugs, kero?” Tsu whispers.

“Mon dieux,” Aoyama shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest, “how brave.”

Shouto clears his breath and continues, “In fact, that wasn’t the worst of it at the time, and I’m incredibly grateful to all who have supported me through my career. You keep me sane, and you keep me going. But especially, I’d like to thank my sister, brother, and my wonderful boyfriend-”

He holds an arm out to someone in the audience, and the camera pans to none other than Bakugou Katsuki, “who quite literally saved my life, and helped me drive myself back on track. I love you Katsuki, and you continue to improve my life every second that you’re in it.”

Most of 3-A are in tears at this point, and as Bakugo half-heartedly scowls into the camera, they can tell his eyes are shining too.

Shouto glances back at the camera as if directing his words to someone in particular.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s walking back down to his seat as the audience provides him with a standing ovation.

“THEY’RE DATING,” Mina sobs, shaking Kirishima’s shoulders as he sits, staring slack-jawed at the television.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

-

Katsuki does NOT wipe tears from his eyes as he helps Shouto sit back down in his seat, but his boyfriend definitely does. His mascara, thankfully waterproof, still holds strong.

Shouto shoots him a watery smile, rubbing his arm as he pulls the blond into a hug.

“Happy two years, Katsuki.”

[yyxgin]

— FROM HOME || LEE MINHO

PAIRING: neighbour! minho x gn reader

GENRE: fluff + angst

WORD COUNT: 3.4 k

WARNINGS: eating behaviours, sad ending aaand I can't really think of anything else

this is a part of the @districtninewriters dear skz, with love event !! make sure to read all the other wonderful stories other members wrote for this !!

You studied the envelope you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands. The quality of the paper was nicer than normal, almost like whatever inside was more important than just a regular letter. You weren’t expecting anything, let alone anything important or special.

But it was definitely your name on the front.

The handwriting was oddly familiar-- the loopy curves and edges of your name bringing you the so well known feeling of longing as you recognised the owner of the handwriting, making your heart thump with the black ink on the envelope. You quickly opened it, revealing what was inside-- a letter written on a piece of lined paper you were so sure he tore out of the notebook you gave him a few months ago. 

Your eyes skim over the sentences, making your eyes well up with tears. You curse at Lee Minho under your breath, because how dare he say those things to you over a letter? Did he really have to be such a coward not to tell you to your eyes? 

You throw the letter back to the floor of your hall-- to the place where you first found it, concluding he must have slipped it under your door when you were still asleep, opening the door and sprinting down the staircase leading to his floor. 

You weren’t going to let him leave like this.

Your eyes skim over his room-- the room you’ve been to multiple times before, but now it looks a little different when it’s half-empty and the posters that were hanging on his walls were taken down into a big cardboard box. You hear his feet shuffling around the bedroom, making you look up from your place on the dark gray rug he had placed in front of his bed, locking eyes with the owner of the apartment-- your neighbour, Lee Minho.

You’ve met him the first week you moved into the apartment. It wasn’t anything romantic, how the teenage books always used to say, he didn’t even help you with the oh so heavy boxes you carried into your apartment all by yourself because the elevator just had to be broken the same week when you decided to move in, hell, he didn’t even take out his mail without a shirt on like the movies used to show. No. The way you met Lee Minho was kind of unpleasant and you’d be more happy to meet him any other way but this, but it seems like god had different plans for the two of you.

You met Lee Minho under bad circumstances, and those were that your washing machine broke exactly the first time you tried to use it. Well, it didn’t even break, to be exact, it just wasn’t really plugged well into the canalisation, as your neighbour himself told you when he paid you a visit after you managed to successfully be unaware of the whole thing and accidentally flood out his apartment with it. 

His face was scrunched up in frustration back then, yet he still acted polite and explained the matter to you in a calm way. When you let him into your apartment, shocked, he not only fixed your washing machine, but managed to steal your heart right there and then-- in his grey sweatpants, crouching on your wet floor. 

“I am so sorry, I really had no idea it wasn’t done properly… my cousin did it for me, since I’m totally useless and I just trusted him with it, but it turns out that I really shouldn’t have…” you mumbled, hands shaking and your lower lip nervously trapped in between your teeth. You wanted to give off the best first impression you could, yet all you managed to do was embarrass yourself in front of your neighbour and on top of that, flood his entire bathroom, which meant he had to get the walls repainted.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Let’s hope it won’t happen again.” he smiled, the frustration leaving his face in the instance, the furrowed eyebrows replaced by a welcoming glint in his eye instead.

“I will pay you for the paint you’re going to use for this-” you gestured to the wet spots on his walls. He managed to invite you over to his apartment that was situated exactly below yours to show you the damage, which you accepted, because it was your fault, after all. You felt terribly bad and embarrassed to be the cause of his trouble.

“No! It’s okay,” he smiled again, subconsciously squeezing your shoulder, “you don’t have to. You can… come help me repaint it and then we’ll be even.” he grinned at you. 

And that’s how you ended up at his apartment a few days later, a paintbrush sitting in your hand and a paper hat made of newspaper decorating your head made by your neighbour so you wouldn’t dirty your hair with the white slicking off the ceiling. See, Minho told you he knew how to do it himself, but the truth is, the renovation of his bathroom was clearly all just improvisation and neither of you knew how to do such a thing, but it only made it more fun for the two of you. 

You bonded over your shared frustration when trying to keep his three cats out of the small room that day. I mean, he couldn’t thank you enough when you saved Dori from drinking up the paint he left opened on the floor, a relieved sigh escaping his lips being all you needed to hear to make your heart burst with adoration.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho tears you out of your reminiscing, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumble, drifting your eyes to your hands in your lap, sighing, “I just remembered how the two of us met. I’m surprised you even wanted to be friends with me after I flooded your bathroom back then.” you grin, hearing him giggle.

“I was so mad that day I seriously thought I was going to throw a fit, but when I saw your scared eyes, I just couldn’t do that to you.” he laughs, sitting next to you and offering you a glass of orange juice. He discovered your addiction for it when you bought a whole carton of it last winter and managed to drop it on the stairs, making it spill everywhere with a loud curse leaving your lips, resonating through the whole apartment complex. 

You take a sip from the glass, smiling at him and looking him in the eye again. “I would have cried if you threw a fit.” you snort.

“Oh I know, I could tell, trust me.” he laughs. It seems like Minho always knew what was the right thing to say in moments like these. Over the past few months, Lee Minho grew into your best friend. There is only so much stuff you can hide from your neighbour-- with the walls being thin and rumours spreading quickly from the elderly ladies living in your apartment complex, but to be honest, after all this time, you would trust him with your whole life.

You can’t even count the times he must have heard you crying in the middle of the night, or the times when he made the effort to go up the stairs and knock on your door when he did just so you didn’t have to cry alone. You felt a little embarrassed the first time he did it, but after a while, it was nice to have somebody to lean on when things got rough. He was always there-- exactly 20 stairs below you-- and you knew you could always count on him with everything.

“You knew me too well even back then,” you roll your eyes at him, catching the playful glint in his eye once again. 

“I wish I could un-know some things though, you know-”

“Don’t even start-”

“-like the time when you ran out of toilet paper and called me to bring some in, like seriously, Y/N?” he glares at you, teasing even the last bit of you in his so familiar nature. Yes, this was the Lee Minho you knew.

“Not my fault you used it all up the evening before when you came over! It was totally not my fault!” you yell out, accusing him.

“Not my fault your cooking made me sit on the toilet for 30 minutes-”

“Let’s just stop talking about this.” you cut him off, laughing to yourself.

It felt kind of pathetic, but he really knew every bit of you. He knew every centimeter of your apartment, and it wasn’t just because it was the exact copy of his-- just decorated differently-- it was mainly because he’s spent so much time in it. Minho was your neighbour, your first friend in this big town, he was your closest friend and your companion. You felt connected to him on a whole another level you never knew even existed before. It was crazy.

“Right. I still have to pack these things,” he nods, motioning to a few of his books sitting on his bed-side table and the cat toys laying in the corner of his bedroom. Soonie, Doongie and Dori were at his parent’s house for the time being and the apartment without them seemed even more empty now that the tree creatures weren’t walking around the rooms and jumping into your lap. 

You sigh, nodding along with him. You get up, bringing the cardboard box closer to your feet and start carefully placing the books into it, avoiding eye contact with him at all cost. With every item disappearing into the boxes and bags sitting by the door in his hall just waiting to be moved, you feel like a bit of your soul is leaving, bit by bit. It doesn’t feel right.

“Thanks for coming to help, by the way,” Minho cuts through the silence, making you look at him. His eyes look at you with sincerity and longing in them and maybe you understand the feeling way too well, but neither of you dare to act up on it. Not now, that he’s not going to be your neighbour anymore.

“It’s nothing, really,” you mumble, “that’s what friends do. Besides, I doubt you’d be able to do it all on your own, since you clearly need my help with everything in your life.” you tease, grinning at him.

He shakes his head in disbelief, poking your side. “Yeah, you’re right,” he laughs out, “but really, I mean it. It’s hard enough for me to… you know… leave… but you helped me so much with sorting out my feelings and the mess in my apartment as well, so I’m really thankful.” he nods, giving you a warm smile that always used to leave you breathless.

“It’s okay. I know it must be hard for you.” you say, closing the box and moving it to the door of his apartment. You look back to the room-- the only thing left in the small space was his grey rug you used to lay on more times than you can count, staring into the ceiling as you listened to your friend rambling about his day next to you, and his bed you, admittedly, slept a little too many times in for the fact that your own bed was literally 20 stairs away. 

“And you?” he asks, voice small and hazy.

“Me? What about me?” you furrow your eyebrows, taking a seat back next to him.

“Is it hard for you too?” he repeats.

When he first told you about the job offer he got from the other side of the state, you were a tornado of emotions. You felt lost and terrified of being lonely, but the emotion overtaking all of it was joy-- pure joy and pride that your friend was finally being recognised for his hard work and skills. You hugged him tight that day, leaving a shy peck on his cheek you regretted in the instance when you saw his reddened cheeks, telling him how proud of him you were and how he should definitely take the chance. 

It was the best thing that could ever happen to him-- and that is exactly what you told him back then. 

“Do you think I should go?” he asked, voice unclear and coated in nerves.

“Do what your heart desires.” you told him. Although you never wanted him to leave, to move out of the safe space he created for you in the apartment below yours, you never wanted him to miss the great opportunity he just had. His career and his well-being meant so much more to you than your own happiness.

And so he took the job offer and here you were, almost two weeks later, helping him move out to the other side of the country, and it hurt you, it hurt you so damn much, but there’s nothing you would have done differently.

“This isn’t about me,” you mumble, staring into his eyes. You wonder if they tell on you-- if he sees the sadness in them, the fear of losing him forever. They say your eyes are the window to your soul and you wonder if Minho sees inside, because you are inviting him in. You’re going to miss him, but you will probably never tell him. Because that would only make it harder for the two of you.

“Tell me.” he insists, taking in your emotions, his voice barely louder than a whisper in your ear as he comes closer to you, intertwining your legs on the fuzzy rug.

You scoff, shaking your head. “What do you think?” you ask.

There’s no way he doesn’t see the state you’re in. You haven’t slept in days, your dark circles making their visit under your eyes ever so often since you discovered the possibility of losing the person that is the closest to you. You tried to put a happy face in front of him, you really did, but Lee Minho knows you too well. You know he knows. You both just pretend he does not.

He rests his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing. The closeness of your bodies makes your heart race. Sure, you’ve been this close before, but it has never felt as intimate as now. You stare into his eyes for a moment before you let your eyes instinctively close on themselves just so you don’t let them wander to his lips, because that would surely let him know a little too much about the feelings you have for him. 

“It’s hard to let you go, but I know you’ll truly shine there, you know?” you let out, whispering. You open your eyes to find him staring at you, eyes filled with sadness and fear, flicking in between your eyes and your lips, just how you were scared of doing a few seconds ago. You wonder if he’s going to kiss you, if he’s going to give you the last goodbye, but he doesn’t.

His lips reach your forehead instead, placing a loving kiss onto your skin, but the butterflies in your stomach act on it with the same intensity as if it was a real kiss.

“You’re going to do amazing, Minho. Don’t be afraid. I believe in you.” 

And with that, you pay your goodbyes. Neither of you say it, but the both of you know that it might be for the last time. It feels like an end-- maybe because it is, but hell, you still treasure these moments just as much. You really did have fun with Lee Minho in your life.

Your feet reach the bottom floor, hands hurriedly banging onto the wooden door. Your breathing is quick, hands shaking from nerves. There’s no way you’re letting him leave like that. You know you already said your goodbyes at his doorstep yesterday, but after reading the letter, things were put into a whole different perspective.

You recall the words on the paper, the sentences running through your head like a broken record as you continue to bang on the door.

Dear Y/N,

I know we already said our goodbyes, but I can’t sleep and I feel like I have to write you this letter. There are so many things I want to tell you, but can’t, simply because I am a big coward and I’m also, coincidentally, bad with words, but I guess… here goes nothing.

I know you felt it last night. I regret not kissing you on my crusty grey rug you love so much (you can keep it if you want), but at the same time, I regret nothing. Perhaps ending it all with a kiss would make it only harder for me us.

From the day I met you, I knew you were going to be someone special. And not like, special in a way that you are special, because we are all just ordinary normal people, but special to me. You stole a big chunk of my heart and you never gave it back, so I guess I’ll just let you keep it haha. I know I told you I didn’t yell at you for the washing machine because I didn’t want you to cry, but it was mainly because you were too beautiful and I got nervous, so…

You told me to do what my heart desires when I first told you the news. I know it sounds cheesy, but what my heart desires the most has always been you. I know you’d feel bad for keeping me here, though. We have always been dreaming together and my dream has finally come true. It hurts me to know you won’t be there by my side to live it with me and it hurts me to know your dream hasn't come true yet, but I am rooting for you. You know that.

Anyways, I am spiraling a little. I wish this wasn’t so hard for me. 

I should have asked you out on a date long, long ago. I missed out big time. But I guess it’s too late to do that now. 

It hurts me to know I won’t be just a floor away from you now. It hurts to know there will probably be another dude moving in in a few days that will get to live though your first meeting (and I hope it won’t be as disastrous as ours was), but at the same time, I don’t want you to be hanging on me. 

Promise me to be happy. Promise me to never change. 

And the most important thing I wanted to tell you is that I love you. I’ve always had and maybe I always will, who knows. I know it changes nothing. I guess I just selfishly, desperately wanted you to know. In case you didn’t know it already.

Oh, and your cooking’s actually nice. 

I love you. 

I’m going to I miss you already. 

— sincerely, your favorite neighbour, partner in crime, washing machine repairer, pain in the ass, and the most fabulous best friend,

Minho. ♡

Once you finally realise you own a spare key you were supposed to return to your best friend last night before saying goodbye, your hands instinctively take it out from the huddle of keys from your own apartment and unlock his front door. 

Your feet dash through his apartment, reaching his bedroom, but finding it empty. 

You nervously turn around, seeing the boxes from next to his door had disappeared, just like his suitcase had, when it truly hits you one last time-- he is gone.

He is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it now. You loved each other, but now, it’s too late.

You reach his bedroom and find the grey rug still there, waiting for you. Your feet wobbly meet the middle, letting you fall to the floor as you hug yourself on the floor, laying in the emptiness of his room, missing the way he’d always lay next to you and his cats crawled on top of your body. 

And you finally let yourself cry-- you let it all out, because the truth is, even though you never said it to him, it is so damn hard for you. It feels like a piece of you left with him.

But perhaps, what hurts you the most about it all is, that it’s never coming back. 

You didn’t even get to tell him you love him.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...