I don't really talk about it but scrolling around today I was reminded that I (inhales) really love characters that are complex and messy and maybe meant well but fucked up and hurt people and their motivations might not be right but make sense given their background and

I know this is SUCH a controversial take on Tumblr.com where we love to reduce characters to 2 dimensional fandom versions but I had to say it

Hello you just get disjointed Haven thoughts today. It’s funny how so much of my analysis on Shaw is so structured whereas with Haven it gets more emotional, but I guess that fits? This rant is really like THREE rants, the first one is about how difficult it is the handle a character like Haven without being Problematic and how I do my best to steer through these while staying IC too, then to thoughts about her relationship to the Adversary and its memory, then her child, her real one that never was, and likening her to figures that admittedly don’t really work for her as a non-Christian but that personally do remind me of her because I was raised Catholic THERE’S A LOT HERE

Anyway, I used to think the worst thing about Haven being brought back in the modern era would be the inevitable sexualization and whitewashing and so on, and probably more racist writing. But I’ve now decided the worst thing about it would be that she’d probably be a Girlboss, because that seems to be the shortcut that so many writers now are taking for a Strong Female Character or to right wrongs that have been done to them. And I get this is coming from good desires but it’s so inevitably bad , almost always OOC, and usually does more harm than good to the character’s portrayal. And for Haven, the reason I get why you’d want to do it (not that anyone at Marvel does, I’d put down good money, and thank goodness, but IF SOMEONE DID) is the same reasons I just don’t think it would work for her. And no one suggested it would, I am just arguing against hypothetical situations in my head, because I am like that. Anyway, a big component of the Girlboss is she’s right about everything and knows it and she’s very determined in making sure other characters and the readers know it and she will call out and shoot down every real and imagined slight against her, often violently. But Haven, though WE know she was treated terribly by the narrative and frankly also by the heroes, died with the horrible knowledge that SHE WAS WRONG and that her mistake, whether her fault or not, doomed the world (as far as she knew) She died knowing all the horrible things she did and caused with the belief it was all for a greater end that would justify the means, was actually FOR NOTHING. That her greatest and most deeply held convictions were nothing but a joke by a demon to pass the time, and she had made so many others SUFFER for that. It had to be a hideous experience, one of incredibly crushing pain, but also a HUMBLING one. On a meta level we’re all in Haven’s corner (OR DAMN WELL SHOULD BE) but in-universe she has to face she was as wrong as anyone could be and it had massive consequences. So what sense would it make for her to swagger back into the story calling out all the “good guys” for being shitty to her when it turns out they were retroactively justified and it would have undeniably been BETTER if they’d stopped her? I guess you could justify it in that she’s angry at their treatment nonetheless because it was BEFORE they knew her Evil Plans, or being angry at Xavier because she canonically knows that he sensed another mind inside her, so why didn’t he do anything? But I don’t think that makes sense for her character either. We know she’s not the type to blame others even when they have done her LEGITIMATE WRONG. When she talks to Xavier about the man she loved and who abandoned her pregnant, she has no animosity in her phrasing towards him, just shame and reprimand at HERSELF for being “selfish” in that she abandoned her work and the children in order to have a love affair. She’s not mad at HIM even NOW. And she’s very obviously quick to forgive others; when she flees from Xavier because he kept essentially ASSAULTING her by going into her mind past what she was comfortable with and she KEPT ASKING HIM TO STOP, afterwards she doesn’t think of him with ANY animosity. Quite the reverse, actually. She thinks about how she still does love and respect him. She intends to kill him, because she now knows she has to as he stands in opposition to her, but she’s very sad about it, thinking how she will be sure to slay him with compassion and will weep for him after, and then prays with her “child”. So like, god, if she did come back? She’d probably be so painfully repentant and apologetic, especially to him and X-Factor, and god that is SO UNCOMFY given the racial dynamics here. Which…tracks, because Haven’s whole story is very uncomfy in terms of the intersections of racism, misogyny, and xenophobia. But I also don’t think making her an aggro unrepentant Girlboss would be the answer either. Myself, I DO make her very often unsure and demurring and Taking A Lot of Shit but I also try to be conscious in portraying this as an aspect of trauma, that we have SEEN in canon is HOW she reacts to trauma, and not Just How Brown Women Are since the passive submissive brown woman is SUCH a thing and like, I’m a white Western woman, it’s a dicey thing to handle and I’m not even gonna pretend I get it right all the time—-which is, thank god I’m not actually writing her for Marvel, even if I want to. If I ever was, I’d only take the offer if I could work with a South Asian co-author, I don’t wanna fuck this up in a PUBLISHED WORK. But rest assured I’m not fetishizing this, or holding it up as a Good Thing on her part to be this way, or doing it thoughtlessly, I think about this a lot. And of course her developing from this WOULD BE GREAT AND END GOAL but also real development cannot be rushed. I hate quick fixes in canon, I hate them so much. It’s so cheap and not reflective of reality OR satisfying as an escape. Coming back to stereotypes, there’s also the worry about casting a WOC as a helper and caregiver and like. . .she is, she absolutely is. But I also always have worry about that for obvious reasons. And like. . .so I think Haven is this way because she is a truly good person who canonically has despised the inequality and suffering in the world since childhood and been trying to stop it since she was a kid. As a little she’s said she was tormented by knowing that beyond her privileged world there was so much pain, and tormented by her inability to stop it, and she prayed to God every night to do something. And as an adult—a teen, actually–she went out and did it HER DAMN SELF. And that’s…GREAT. I would never take that away, it’s a key aspect of her character. And alas, as mentioned, she also thinks HAVING ANYTHING FOR HERSELF and taking a break to FALL IN LOVE is SELFISH OF HER and then canon validated that by PUNISHING HER IN THE WORST WAY FOR IT. Again, thorny as hell character here. But I also think, while this is natural for her, it’s also firstly more comforting for her to be the caregiver and in that role because it means the focus is off HER trauma, the acknowledgement is not on HER pain, so she can ignore it too. It gives her control, keeps her in a role that is comforting to HER too. And lbr, she’s societally rewarded by conforming to this role, and would probably face societal consequences if she deviated from it. It’s like how I’m a very naturally feminine person, I think that’s just how I am, but it’s also delusional to think that the fact I’m societally valued and benefitted for this as a cis woman isn’t a factor in this. It’s like that. Like how I’ve also noticed how SUPER FEMME she is and I think she IS JUST LIKE THAT but also she’s a dark-skinned WOC who is six feet tall, so like she probably does have to be Extra Gender Conforming just to get treated like a proper woman. Like Mommy Fortuna putting a false horn on a real unicorn to make people see a unicorn who didn’t believe in them. That’s the angle I try to approach things from, that it’s not simply that she isn’t anything more than a caretaker, but she IS sincerely one BUT also that she locks herself into that box due to societal pressure AND trauma, and all three things can be true at once. Speaking of The Last Unicorn, I couldn’t tell you WHY but I tend to associate it with Haven. In particular, the bit where the Unicorn says “I am no longer like the others. I have been mortal, and part of me is mortal yet” but in reverse. She held a cosmic entity within her body for twenty years and she is fundamentally separate from humanity for that, even though she’s functionally once more a normal human again as she always really was. She cannot go back from that. And in some sick way, she misses the Adversary. I’ve written about this before, but for 20 years she believed this was her divine unborn child talking to her, a constant companion she looked at with love and trust. It’s hard not to miss that lie, even knowing what it was now. I usually think of “Not once did the beast look back before leaving me behind” from Petshop of Horrors and “ I’ve never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. ❞ from Life of Pi with regards to this, but I also think “.and to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to mind with ambiguous alterations--sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the light step of Carmilla at the drawing room door.” from Carmilla is good too. Her relationship with the Adversary was not romantic but the sentiment is the same, of knowing what a monster this was now, of knowing how you were preyed on, yet unable to stop missing the good times too, even though you KNOW. It reminds me a lot of how many abuse survivors remember their abusers. I think she thinks of it a lot like that. And god it just always kills me how, on top of everything, she lost her child. It was a new meat suit for the Adversary before it was even through her first trimester. I think you can mourn something that never existed, something you only thought existed, something that could have existed but failed to. I think she does. And speaking of the Adversary taking twenty years of her life, ultimately her life itself, and everything she stood for, and then her baby too. . .that’s why I’m always reminded of the Biblical woman clothed with the sun, and the dragon lying in wait to devour her child. Haven wore shining armor, and her child WAS devoured by the great dragon (which obviously represents Satan, which is a word that LITERALLY translates to “Adversary”), and it didn’t even need to wait til birth. And I wouldn’t actually use this metaphor for her if I was writing for canon, because it’s very Christian and Haven is not, but it’s what comes to MY mind as someone raised Catholic and whom this image very much scared when I was little, and I always mentally conflated the woman with Mary whom I also tend to think of in conflation with Haven even if, again, not something I’d write. But like I said, raised Catholic, so that imagery is very much ingrained in my consciousness. And probably why I gravitate so hard towards mother goddess figures. Anyway I’ll stop with the stream of consciousness now and go draw dgjsj

Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something. 

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

 Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

this undeniable irritable space

spencer reid x reader 

this is part 2 to space, which is about a “clingy” reader and a spencer with a need for “space”

and you should probably read that first.. but um you dont have to i guess? if you dont want to? 

warnings: angst. lots of angst. spencers really angsty. really really. um.. theres a panic attack so if thats triggering please dont read please. its really rushed, and a lot longer than planned. so? sorry if it sucks. enjoy.

“I love her.” 

Insecurities were hard to shake. 

Y/N had always had that problem. The things that she despised about herself stuck to her skin like germs. Germs that crawled up her neck and into her mouth and under her skin until they were so far back, so deep inside that she couldn't reach them. 

She couldn't get Spencer's words out of her head. 

They had talked it out. Spencer reassured her that he loved touching her, that he wanted to feel her hand in his, any opportunity he got. They had decided that what had happened turned out to be a miracle in disguise because now neither of them were afraid. Touching was the way they loved each other, and there weren't any boundaries left. 

That didn't mean that Spencer's words just drifted off into the abyss. 

Now they seemed even more stuck to Y/N skin, implanted into her thoughts. Y/N knew that she shouldn't care about what he said, he had repeatedly shown her how much he loved touching her in the couple of days that had passed. He made sure to kiss her any opportunity he could, they were constantly cuddling, whether that be in bed while making dinner, on the couch watching a movie, in the shower. There were no limits to their constant clinginess. Both of them loved it, and they couldn't get enough. 

But that didn't mean that there wasn't any fear. 

Y/N worried that Spencer had just said all of that as to not hurt her feelings, that in reality he didn't like touching her, and he just wanted to make her happy because that's who he is, he never wanted to disappoint anyone, always wanted the best for the people he loved. 

It was one of the things Y/N loved most about him, one of the things that drew her to him in the first place, she could see how much he loved all his teammates just by the way he paid attention to them, by the way, he knew exactly how everyone liked their coffee, by the way, he always made sure to thank Garcia anytime she did anything to help, by the way, he always checked on Derek after a case, to make sure it hasn't affected him too badly. Spencer showed it by loving JJ and Henry constantly, he showed it by making sure Hotch wasn’t the last one in the office every night, by listening to Rossi and adding on when he thought it was appropriate. Spencer showed his constant love for everyone around him every day. It was what made him so approachable. 

But it also caused Y/N a lot of worries. 

She was worried he was so focused on making everyone- making her- happy that he wasn't giving himself the things he needed. She didn't want Spencer to let her cuddle him and kiss him and love him just to make her happy, she didn't want him to pretend to be comfortable even if he wasn't. 

So she watched him.

She hoped he didn't notice the way she watched him. 

She was constantly looking for a wince, a little second glance, an uncomfortable smile, an irritated look, anything that would prove that what she was doing was wrong. 

Apparently, her profiling skills aren't up to scratch though because she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. 

Though there was still a tiny part of her that couldn't believe it, just couldn't accept it, she had to keep searching, she wasn't going to miss anything like she did the last time. 

“Sometimes though- I just- I want some space”

***

Spencer wasn't oblivious. 

Obviously. 

He was a genius, and he was prone to remembering things. Which means he noticed when Y/N started watching him. He saw the way she was more cautious in touching him, the way she watched his face more, the way she closed her eyes every time he held her like she was afraid it would be the last time. 

He felt terrible. 

The things he had said should have never affected their relationship, they were never meant to affect their relationship. In all honesty, he had only said them as a way to vent, as a way to blame something about how stressed he was feeling. And Y/N should have never heard any of it. 

It was a ridiculous thing to say anyway as if Spencer could ever live without constantly feeling the warmth and reassurance in Y/N touch. 

She wasn't mad, she had made that much clear, but Spencer still couldn't help but worry that she was still upset about what he had said. He was still upset about it so how couldn’t she be? 

The hesitation, the crease in her brows when they were millimeters apart, the way she was trying to find the truth in his eyes every time she looked at him, it all made him feel a million times worse. 

But there was something about tonight. Tonight was making it worse. 

The team had decided to go out together, happy to have a break from dead bodies and insane people. It wasn't rare for them to go out, especially after a hard case, it was strange though that they’d had multiple days off in a row. When Emily had suggested going to one of the bars close to the office as a way to keep the streak going, no one had protested. They all seemed a bit happier. 

Of course, the night had been spent checking their phones constantly and talking about their jobs, but that also wasn't unusual. 

Spencer was having a difficult time though. Y/N and he had spent their days at the office going over paperwork and sneaking glances at each other from their desks and spent their nights cuddling and making out, laughing while making dinner and savoring as much time together as possible. In some weird way they seemed closer now, but even more afraid. Neither of them mentioned it though, both of them trying to avoid as much confrontation as possible. 

But what made Spencer's night difficult was touching. 

Derek, Penelope, and Y/N had all decided to make their way to the small makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room- after a few drinks of course- and while Y/N had dragged Spencer out too because there was no way she was going to let him just sit back and watch, he had eventually made his way back to the table where Emily, JJ, Hotch, and Rossi were sat content. 

But he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, the way she laughed at both Derek and Garcia, the way her eyes were lit up in happiness, the gentle sway of her hips as she danced to the beat... And the way her face was thrown back and glowing under the dimmed lights of the Bar. 

She was beautiful. 

There were lots of other eyes on her as well, both men and women staring directly at her, all of them never wanting to look away. It didn't seem like she noticed or she just didn't care, because usually, she wasn't prone to direct spotlight. Either way, she was the catch of the night. 

Spencer didn't care about the eyes on her, while he was known to get jealous from time to time, he didn't mind the eyes, they only proved that she was gorgeous, and all his. He knew that. 

What Spencer did mind though, was the touching. Both, Derek and Garcia, touching her, freely, her touching back, freely. It wasn't jealousy, Spencer was well aware that neither Derek nor Garcia had any interest in being with Y/N, and even if they did Spencer knew that Y/N was happy with him. It was the way she didn't mind touching them, and they didn't mind touching her. 

There was no hesitation in her eyes when she threw her arms around Derek's neck and swayed her hips with him. There wasn't any searching when she looked him in the eyes, just laughter, and joy. When Garcia wrapped her arms around Y/N waist and bopped her head with her, Y/N didn't make any move to check to see if Garcia's body language was off. 

She was so carefree with them, so happy, never scared. 

It only seemed to make Spencer feel worse. Because she wasn't carefree like that with him, she had to check to make sure he was comfortable with her wrapping her arms around him, she had to check his eyes for any hint of anything but happiness, she couldn't just touch him without checking first. And it was all his fault. 

He wished there was a way to take back his words, to simply erase them from existing. He wished she hadn't heard him, he wished that he could have said anything else. Because touching was her way of loving, and he knew that. He knew that she showed her passion and appreciation with her body, with her warm hands, and strong arms, with her legs that were never too far from his. He’d always known that she loved touching others. And the words that came out of his mouth, the stupid words he’d blurted out about space, they were untrue, they were just an attack on her and himself. And they had ruined the carefree way she loved him. 

He wished she wasn't afraid to show her love for him. 

Spencer sat back in his chair with a glare in his eyes and a frown on his face, angry at himself, but never angry at her. 

“Reid?!” Rossi said, louder than the first two times he had called his name and Spencer didn't seem to notice. 

Spencer looked over at the four of them his face not wavering from the angry expression he had. 

“Woah, Kid. You alright? With the look on your face, we might be profiling you as our next unsub.” 

Spencer could tell they were profiling him, and he could see Emily look behind him as if she knew something he didn't. “Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking did you know that around 1.7 million people visit the emergency room due to assault and-” 

It seemed that the only thing he could do was take his mind off of it. And annoy his coworkers. 

***

There was something off with Spencer. Y/N had noticed it yesterday, after leaving with Penelope to get lunch. She couldn't tell what was wrong, but he seemed to have a frown on his face more often than not. And she figured she could just be blowing it out of proportion, maybe she had just seen him smiling so much in the last couple of days she wasn't used to seeing him without a grin or a smirk or a genuine smile. 

Still, something seemed off. 

He was mostly fine at home, he never looked upset when they were doing something, but as soon as she left the room and came back the frown was there. It always disappeared quickly, but it still concerned her. 

She asked him about it before they had left for the bar, “Is something up baby?” she had said, but he just shook his head and turned around so she couldn't see his face. She tried to pretend that was a normal answer. 

Now usually they talked out their problems, usually, they didn't have any problems at all. But not having problems means you don't stay used to talking them out, and it seemed that both of them were out of practice. 

When they got to the bar, both of them were happy, hand in hand sitting down with their friends and enjoying yet another night off. The bar was warm and familiar to all of them, and they were all perfectly comfortable. 

As the night when on Spencer seemed more and more upset. He never said anything weird, never did anything unusual that tipped Y/N off. But that small frown was still on his face, and he seemed less and less inclined to join in the conversation with all of them. 

It wasn't really bad until Y/N had come back from dancing with Penelope and Derek, all of them sweaty and exhausted, ready to down another beer or two. Spencer had tried to smile at Y/N but knowing him as well as she did, it was clearly forced. And she could see the closed-off look in his eyes, almost as if he was looking right through her.

She patted his leg and offered him a hesitant smile, hoping her eyes were conveying the message she was trying to send to him. He only looked at her though, still wearing the same fake smile. 

Y/N wondered if something had happened while she was on the other side of the bar if someone had said something, or he had remembered something. But Spencer never said anything so neither did she. 

The rest of the team were smiling and laughing, and none of them seemed to notice Spencer's closed-off body language and the look in his eyes, and the small frown, so Y/N figured she was just making it up. Her insecurities were just getting the best of her and telling her there was something wrong. 

Like they always did. 

Though she did try to keep the touching to a limit, if Spencer was feeling off there was more of a chance he didn't want to be bothered or touched. The insecurity telling her he didn't want to be touched, only seemed to get louder, voicing its opinion, and making her sit her legs leaning away from him, her thoughts filled with not making him uncomfortable. 

***

As the night went on Spencer was the same, frowning, distant, and closed off, And as the night went on Y/N stayed the same, cautious, worried, insecure. 

Their moods seemed to compliment each other, almost as if one of them was upset the other one had to be as well. 

Both of them hoped everything would be fine when they got home. 

Clearly, the entire team was trying to keep in their yawns, trying to keep the conversation alive, but Garcia looked practically dead, and everyone was speaking in a whisper. 

The bar had cleared out, with only some young college kids still out at two in the morning. When Hotch pointed that out and then said that they all looked too old to be counted as a college kid- which Rossi took offense to making the rest of the team laugh- they decided to call it a night. 

Derek had to practically drag Garcia off of the table she was drooling on, and Y/N helped him get her in the car. JJ and Emily decided to share a cab home, both of them waving everyone goodbye before heading off. Rossi and Hotch both reassured that everyone would be alright before getting into their cars and going home. Derek kissed Y/N on the cheek and pretended to kiss Spencer before driving Garcia home. 

When it was just Spencer and Y/N, Y/N looked at him and asked “Are you going to drive, or am I?” Spencer, whose eyes looked even more tired than usual, smiled at her- for real this time which Y/N noted- and said, 

“Legally I don't think you’re allowed to drive.” 

Y/N yawned and handed him the keys, too tired to come up with a snarky response. 

They both got in the car, basking in the warmth the heater provided on a cold night. Y/N laid her head against the seat while Spencer put the car in drive, so they could head home. 

It wasn't long before Y/N fell asleep. Lulled by the quiet engine and dark night. 

Spencer fonded at her, listening to her soft breathing and smiling silently to himself. Sometimes, he thought, he wished it was just the two of them forever. It seemed that if he could just spend the rest of his life alone with her everything would be alright. Everything was always alright when he was alone with her. 

It was a short drive to their apartment, and while Spencer was hesitant to wake her, he knew that sleeping in the car wasn't good for avoiding exhaustion, and he wanted to know she was safe in bed with him. 

He carefully opened her door, running his thumb over her cheek, before gently picking her up bridal style, and feeling thankful they lived on the first floor of the apartment complex so he didn't have to carry her up the stairs. 

It was hard for him to keep his eyes off her sweet face as he walked to their door, but he didn't want to drop her so he managed to. He unlocked the door, surprised he could even do it with her in his arms. What he didn't notice was her eyes carefully opening and staring at him. 

“You’re so striking.” 

Spencer quickly looked down at her, his steps halted in their living room, shaking her only slightly, he was surprised by her words, he was surprised that she was even awake. 

He cleared his throat trying to not look so surprised, while she giggled at him. “T-thank you, I didn't realize you were awake, I wanted to let you sleep.” 

Y/N yawned, bringing her hand to her mouth, then looked back up at him smiling while he opened the door to their room, “I know” she said, keeping her eyes on his soft face. 

He gently laid her down in bed, gestured for her to stay there while he headed to their closet. Y/N thought about the way he was so gentle with her, and the way he didn't look as upset as earlier. 

Spencer brought her some pajamas and helped her change into them, having already changed into his, Y/N couldn't help but almost fall asleep while he did this, she knew that he would take care of her, and she felt so safe with him and so tired. 

Spencer smiled at her, kissed her forehead before moving around the bed to get to his side. 

“Spencer?” he heard softly from three feet away. 

“Yes?” he said only slightly louder than Y/N. 

There was a slight pause before she said “I missed you tonight.” in only a whisper. 

“I was with you Y/N…” Spencer felt her move closer to him, cuddling into him and resting her cheek on his arm as to use it as a pillow. He almost thought she was asleep before she made a quiet sound and shook her head, her breathing slowing down and her face blank. 

Watching her, Spencer knew that, even if he didn't want to, he needed to talk to her. 

***

The next morning, Y/N had slept amazing, and Spencer had only gotten a few hours. 

He couldn't stop thinking about what to say to Y/N without making her feel bad or making himself seem like the victim. 

For a genius, he was terrible at being in a relationship. 

When he wasn't thinking he was staring at Y/N cuddled upon his arm, her breaths constantly reminding him how much he needed and appreciated her. 

And when Y/N woke up she could tell there was still something off. There was a feeling in the room, a feeling she didn't like. The anxiety that was building up in her chest was causing her to panic, it felt like a rope was being tied over her lungs getting pulled tighter and tighter the longer the silence went on. Spencer wasn't in the room, his side of the bed wasn't made, and there was something wrong. 

This time Y/N knew there was something wrong, she could feel it when she breathed in trying to provide any relief to her chest. She could feel it when she stood up and felt her body sway, her eyes going blurry then black and when she had to sit back down. She could feel it again when she stood up without feeling lightheaded and felt goosebumps all over her skin. She felt it when she stepped out of their room, not finding Spencer in the bathroom, and saw him sitting down at the table. 

Everything was fine yesterday she thought, why was she freaking out, everything was fine yesterday they were smiling and laughing and they cuddled. Everything was fine yesterday she couldn't be freaking out today because everything was still fine. 

She couldn't get the air to her lungs. 

Spencer didn't notice her. 

She could feel the tears pricking in her eyes, reminding her how weak she was, reminding her of all the panic attacking her body. She could felt the rope get tighter. 

Her eyes got blurry as the tears she tried hard to keep in got bigger. 

She was standing in the middle of the room, freaking out, trying so hard to be quiet, trying so hard to not cry, trying so hard to just breathe. She just needed to breathe. If she could breathe she would be fine. 

And that was when Spencer noticed her. 

He figured she wouldn't be up for a couple more hours at least, while he knew he wasn't going to get much sleep, he knew that she would need a lot more than him. So he got up, he didn't want to wake her up with his relentless moving, and his restless thoughts. 

He thought she’d be asleep for a couple more hours. 

But his girlfriend was standing in the doorway of their room, her face frozen her eyes wide, her entire body looked like it was closing in on itself, and she was desperately holding on to the doorway like it was the only way to keep herself up. 

She looked terrified. 

He had no idea what had happened. 

Spencer got up, almost knocking the chair over with how quickly he moved, and going over to her, trying to take in everything that was in front of him. 

Y/N couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face, and as Spencer grabbed her face, she gasped trying to grab onto the air she knew was right in front of her face. It didn't work. She tried again, and again and again, she was breathing in and out with so much force Spencer could hear her voice catch every time. 

She was having a panic attack. 

She couldn't breathe. 

Y/N could see Spencer's lips moving, but the rope was pulling tighter and tighter and all she wanted was to breathe, she just wanted to feel the air in her lungs, she just wanted the rope to stop pulling, to stop pulling pulling her away and she just wanted to listen to Spencer, and she didn't know what was wrong with her but she couldn't 

breathe 

And everything was blurry, and she could feel the tears running down her face, and she felt like she was suffocating from the inside out and suddenly she was on the floor. 

Spencer helped her sit down, trying to talk to her, trying to figure out what was wrong, trying to understand.

He moved her head between her knees, needing her to stop hyperventilating, if he could get her breathing then he could figure out how to help her more. 

It broke his heart to see her so scared, to see her eyes look so terrified, to feel so helpless with no way to help. He watched the tears run down her face over and over, and he tried to wipe them away but it was pointless because she couldn't stop crying. 

She was still hyperventilating, still trying to breathe, still trying to listen, still still still

And then she was asleep. 

***

Y/N was fine when she woke up. Spencer had freaked out when she went unconscious, had checked her pulse over and over again looking for any sign that something was wrong. 

But within a minute her heart had slowed down and her body had stopped shaking. 

She was fine. 

When she woke up, her eyes were sore and everything seemed loud. 

Spencer explained to her that she had had a panic attack, he explained that she had fainted, but she was alright, you’re alright he assured her. 

“I think your body was building up stress, I think you needed some sort of release from all the stress, I’m not really sure but everything is normal now, do you feel alright? Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital? I need you to tell me you’re alright-”

This went on for a while, and Y/N told Spencer she was okay over and over again until he finally stopped freaking out. 

They sat in silence for a while. 

It was silent until Spencer decided to speak up again. 

“Y/N... What happened?”

That was a loaded question. And it took her a minute to answer, Spencer watched as she stared at the wall before finally speaking. 

“I could feel something wrong when I woke up. And- and-” she paused and swallowed trying not to cry at the memory “You were gone, and I just could feel something wrong and so I started worrying- and… I’m not really sure what happened after that.” 

As soon as she was finished Spencer intervened. 

“I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep last night and I didn't want to wake you so I went to go think somewhere else. I’m sorry I wasn't there.” 

“No Spence, it's not your fault, just a lot of anxiety is all.” 

Spencer's eyes were on her face, his hands holding hers, trying to make her feel better, trying to make it all better. They both knew there was something wrong. 

“Anxiety about what?” He asked quietly, only a whisper, still looking right at her.

“I-” Y/N tried to think, tried to come up with a good way to explain, tried to come up with something that would help him understand. And eventually, she decided to just tell him the truth. “There's been something wrong, yesterday, I could tell there was something wrong, and when I woke up and I felt bad, I was worried, mostly about you and I just” she paused, finally looking at Spencer, “I think we need to talk.” 

Spencer swallowed hard, and nodded, looking down at the floor. They both just sat there for a minute, thinking, just thinking. Neither of them knew how to start but they both knew someone had to. 

Eventually, Spencer took the risk. “I don't think we talked enough last week… about what happened. I think we both just- decided? That everything was alright but I think we need to talk some more?” 

“Yeah- yes. We do.” 

Spencer got up off the bed, pulled her hand up gently and, moved her with him to the couch. He said he was going to make some tea, and get her some pain medication, and then they would finally talk. 

***

“I’m- I’m not really sure where to start.” Y/N said looking down at her coffee mug. 

Spencer sighed “I think I need to start with I’m sorry.” Y/N made a noise and started to talk but Spencer interrupted “No, really Y/N. What I said wasn't meant to hurt you, I never want to hurt you, but I did. And I’m sorry.” 

“Spence, it's not your fault, honestly I know I wasn't supposed to hear, and I know you didn't actually mean it, we talked about it last week-” 

“But that's the thing, if we had really talked about it last week like actually talked about it, you wouldn't be scared to touch me.” He looked at Y/N, almost as if he was daring her to disagree. 

Y/N was surprised, and she stammered out “I’m- I'm not scared to touch you!”. 

Spencer stared at her, his face blank and unmoving. Y/N started to get even more nervous and her hand came up to mess with her hair, a clear tell to her lying. 

“Well, not really scared,” Y/N looked down feeling guilty, “I- I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.” She said softly, making Spencer smile at her shy voice. 

“You don't make me uncomfortable Y/N.” He said, grabbing one of her hands, the other lifting her chin so she would look at him, he gave her a sad smile looking into her eyes. “I wish I had made that clear, you don't make me uncomfortable. You never ever have. What I said was a lie, that's all it was, a lie.” Y/N almost interrupted him but he moved his hand from her chin to her cheek causing her to go silent before continuing “If I could go back and take back those words, and tell myself how much of an idiot I was-” she almost interrupted him again before she put his hand jokingly on her mouth and stopped her once again “I am a genius, but I was an idiot. You’re my entire world, your hands provide me with more light than the sun ever could. And I promise, hey look at me” he said when she looked down flustered at his words, “I promise what I said was a lie.” 

He stopped to smile at her, finally feeling her relax under his hand. Spencer leaned in to slowly kiss her, to slowly show her that he meant what he was saying. 

When they broke apart Y/N felt breathless. 

“Spencer, it's not that I didn't believe you..” Y/N saw the look Spencer gave her and sighed “exactly.” she emphasized “I believed you, but I was worried that maybe you were just saying those things to make me feel better- hey” she said when Spencer tried to interrupt her. “You got to speak now it's my turn. I just I’ve never wanted to make you uncomfortable. And I was worried that you would be, if I- I don't know- like? Touched you too much? If that makes any sense..” she shook her head trying to come up with a better way to explain to him how she felt. 

And Spencer waited, holding her hands and waiting to hear exactly what she had to say. 

“I didn't want you to feel like you needed space again. And I know you say that you never actually needed space, but I just wanted to be sure. So I paid more attention and I was hesitant because I wanted to make sure you were actually okay with it- and why are you looking at me like that?!” 

Spencer smiled at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead, “You’re rambling sweetie.” he said softly, still looking at her like she was the world. 

Y/N felt trapped in his gaze, it was so strange to her that she could be crying and passing out and then completely fine a half an hour later all because of him. It was so strange that he had so much power over her emotions. It was so strange that he could look at her like that and make her feel as shiny and bright as the sun. 

It made her scared and so so excited, and she was lost for a moment.

They both stared at each other, almost like it was the first time in days. 

“Hey wait-” Y/N said suddenly knocked out of her lovesick gaze “What was wrong yesterday? You were acting strange, and that's why I was so worried in the first place.” 

Spencer sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes, he felt ridiculous just thinking of how he felt yesterday at the bar, but he was going, to be honest with her. 

“When you were dancing with Derek and Garcia, I just- I felt uh angry?” Spencer said, sounding embarrassed, and closing his eyes as to not see her reaction. 

“Were you jealous?” Y/N asked, and Spencer opened his eyes to see her brow furrowed and confused. 

“Not exactly, I just felt angry that you weren't scared to touch them... Like you never hesitated with them. And I just was wishing you were still like that with me, and there was a lot of anger directed at my stupid-” 

Y/N stopped him with a kiss, not wanting to hear anything else about the way he felt about himself. She thought it was crazy he was angry at himself for just feeling. 

“You shouldn't be angry, and you shouldn't feel bad. You’re allowed to feel uncomfortable- you’re allowed to just feel things, Spencer.” Y/N said in a small outburst. 

“I know. It's just ridiculous that I’d ever think I felt like that. And anyway, you believe me now right?” He asked looking right at Y/N making sure whatever she replied with was truthful.

“Yes, I know I’m the sun blah blah blah-” 

Spencer stopped her by throwing her back against the couch. 

Y/N squealed as he tickled her, straddling her so she wouldn't let go. 

“You are the sun, you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen-” 

“Stop stop! That-” Y/N gasped “that tickles!” she said laughing, as Spencer continued to torture her. 

“That's kind of the point sweetheart” 

“Stop Spencer! Uncle! Uncle! I believe you- just-” she giggled squirming under him “stop!”.

They were both breathless and laughing by the time Spencer was finally done. 

Smiles were permanently stuck to their face as they looked at each other, as they finally felt like they were finished with their problem, as they finally talked. 

The way they solved their problems wasn't ideal, and they were going to have to practice and learn. But they loved each other, and that was enough to keep them both going. 

“Y/N you are the most beautiful thing ever. And now that I’ve known you, I don't think I could ever live without you. I hope to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.” 

Y/N smiled at Spencer's words, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on top of the world. 

“Well Spencer, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I know I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of my life…” she stopped and smiled at him teasingly “unless of course, you need space..” 

Spencer stared at her shocked for a moment, before picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, as she squealed and laughed for what felt like the 10th time today. 

“What are you doing?!?” Y/N shrieked, mock hitting him on the back. 

“Oh don't worry my dear, I’m just going to show you how much space I really need..” 

A/N: 

I: am open for requests :) 

thank you for reading. i think you’re so beautiful. take care of yourself lovie.

Hii! From Prompt List 1 can u do number 3,51 and 243 w javier peña please ✨

Also i love ur writings so much ⭐

3. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

51. "Go on them, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

243. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!"

Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Tell me," there was nothing but venom lacing your voice as you stared at Javier. Your face was slick with tears as you tried to keep your lips from trembling. You wanted to break down, gods knew you did, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You would do that as soon as he walked out of your apartment for what would be the last time, "go on then, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

"Don't do this cariño," the bastard had the audacity to try and call you by your pet name, "you know this is the way. The only way."

"You're such a damn liar," you hissed at him. You should have seen this coming. You should have known. 

You shouldn't have fallen in love with Javier Peña.

"We always knew what we were doing was wrong," it was a meek insistence, hollow and empty and neither of you quite believed it, "it was never supposed to go this far."

"This far? This far?" you wanted to scream, to grab his shoulders and shake him, to knock some sort of sense into him, but instead you just stared at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, "did you think we would fuck and that’s it? I told you it was never going to be just that. And you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You need to stop," this time it was more firm and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the hit of rage that had seemed into his bones, "we both knew what this was from the start. It was just sex."

"You're here, in my apartment, lying to my face," you sniffled as you dabbed at your eyes and wished you would wake up to find this was a horrible dream. You wished you'd wake up, wrapped in his arms while he slept soundly, like you had so many other times. You wished, you wished, you wished. But that didn't change the reality of the situation, nor the gravitas of it, "if you can look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me - never loved me - do it. If you can do it, I'll let this go."

"You're being ridiculous," he huffed and rolled his eyes ever so slightly as his hands went to his hips. 

"I'm being ridiculous?" your voice rose up about two octaves as you realized just how hysterical you did sound. But it didn't matter - once Javier had made up his mind, he was a stubborn piece of work. But you refused to let this go, "I'm not the grown man that won't even admit his own feelings. That runs every time something comes up. That shuts out everyone and everything anytime it gets real."

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this!" and there it was - the fiery temper that he was famous for. It wasn't shocking because it had suddenly jumped out; it was shocking because he'd never raised his voice at you, "maybe you just want to make something out of nothing! It was never anything - it was just sex. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" you raised your voice and yelled back with just as much as anger and spite as he spit at you, "you're a liar and a coward. You can't even look at me - if you don't love me fucking tell me!"

"I'm not doing this right now," he huffed as stepped over the threshold, shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements as tired to control his anger, "I'm done - whatever we had, its over now."

"Javier," you tried to reach for his hand, but he was quick to pull out of your grasp, causing you to sigh heavily, "don't walk away - not like this."

"There's nothing left to say," he insisted quietly, staring at the floor, rather than daring to look in your eyes, "I'll see you at work and that's that. Everything else is done. Obviously you cannot handle this."

"You're just going to walk away," you were incredulous as a few tears of grief and anger rolled down your cheeks, "fuck you, Javier. I hate you." 

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. Tears were heavily pouring down your cheeks and spilling onto the cool slide as you sank to the floor. Small ugly little sobs racked your body as you gave up and in to your pathetic inner, upset self. You loved him, you really, really did. You knew that. 

You knew he loved you too. You knew he was scared. Damn scared. And it was okay - if he would have opened up to you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You look like shit,” Steve barely looked up from his coffee and morning review of documents as Javier stormed in, practically slamming himself down in his chair. He groaned and flipped Steve the middle finger before reaching for his cigarettes, effortlessly lighting it up and leaning back, “what happened to you?”

Javier closed his eyes but remained silent, a vain attempt at letting his mind wander too far. He hadn’t slept the night before, mind and thoughts racing over and over with snippets of his conversation with you. Your words had stuck in his mind all night: coward, coward, coward. And you had been right. 

He was a coward; pathetic and scared all because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Or hurting you. And in the end he had managed to do both. It was never supposed to go this far, it was never supposed to be anything more than sex, but the lines had become so blurred and so fast, and before he knew - he was in love.

And that terrified the shit out of him. 

So he reacted how he tended to do; to push you away. To isolate himself. It was supposed to be easy, supposed to work. All it had down was leave him with regret eating him up alive. He should have admitted you were right, he should have confessed. If there was anyone worth taking a chance on - it was you. He’d known it was you from the first time you’d had sex it was just...different. Different from every other experience he’d had. And gods, how he’d slowly fallen for all the little things you did, all your little quirks. 

Your smile, that laugh, those eyes that seemed to convey a million emotions at once. Your steadfast stubbornness, the fact that you always called him on his bullshit, how you never backed down from confrontation, how you gave so much to others and asked for so little. How you’d chide him for getting even a papercut, and how you’d love him, even when he didn’t ask you to. How you;d take him in your arms, wordlessly, and give him everything he needed and then some, how you’d chase away his fears and pain. How - 

Everything. 

He was in deep, and when it came down to the wire, he’d run. Like a liar and a coward. 

His eyes snapped open and landed on the desk, the spot you normally occupied and found it empty. A scowl tugged on his features as his brows knitted together, “where is she?”

“Hmm?” Steve looked back up and followed Javi’s line of sight before he shrugged lightly, “I talked to her this morning, said she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed under his breath, just enough for Steve to hear, “did she say when she’s coming back?”

“I dunno, Javi,” Steve sighed heavily, “she’s a grown woman, if she’s not feeling well, she’s not feeling well. She’ll be back when she’s better. Calm down.”

“Steve-”

“Oh god - you’re in love with her. Aren’t you?” the smirk tugging on his features was undeniable as Javier rolled his eyes but refused to look over, “I knew it - everyone knew it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his mouth went dry as he looked at his partner and felt like slamming his head against the wall. Of course. It’s so obvious.

“I mean...it’s just...everyone’s known, Javi,” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, “it’s so obvious. You’re different because of her - for her. You might be the last person to know. Shit...you haven’t told her, have you?”

Javier made a small sound in his throat but otherwise remained silent as he stared at your desk. Not feeling well my ass, he thought to himself before running a hand over his tired face. 

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or - 

Shit. He had really messed up. 

You were all he could think about, plaguing his waking and sleeping hours as he tried to figure out what to do. His mind was on you as he sat in the office and smoked cigarette after cigarette and glossed over paperwork. You were in his every thought as he and Steve chased after some of Escobar’s men; so much that he almost slipped up and let them get away. 

By Friday afternoon, he couldn’t handle it any longer. This was ridiculous and he was going to put an end to it all, one way or another.

Javier almost jumped out of his seat, grabbing his leather jacket and half empty pack of cigarettes without a word as he stormed out of the office. Steve barely looked up in time to catch him, his question dying on his tongue as he watched his partner storm out. He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was going on.

Finally, he thought to himself shaking his head, finally. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Open the door," Javier's voice was commanding but it still managed to shake as he rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint of your door, "cariño, I know you're in there…"

And you were. You were curled up on the couch in your pajamas, an empty bottle of wine on the table as an old, cheesy romance movie played in the background. The lights were off and you were tired, but you still couldn't manage to find sleep. 

You'd avoided going into the office for the last couple of days, feigning illness and earning a scoff from the ambassador, but nothing else was said. In the time you'd been in Colombia, you'd never so much as used a single sick day, so they didn't question you. But of course your partners did. Well, one of them. The other had known exactly what was going and it had been eating him up inside, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

But his little heart to heart with Steve had inspired him - practically shoved him in the right direction. You'd been on his mind rent free since he'd left. Hell - for much longer than that.

"Go away," you managed to croak out before burrowing further into your pillow, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks at his presence. Knowing you almost had him but didn't was heartbreaking, "you made it clear we have nothing, Javier.”

“Open the damn door,” there was a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard before - was that...desperation? Javier paused and sighed heavily, “please. I-I...fuck, I fucked up.”

“If you’re going to play some sort of cruel joke, save your breath,” you huffed, “like you said, we are nothing. We’ll be work partners and that’s it.”

There was a beat of silence and a part of you thought he left, you were almost relieved at the thought. But before you knew it, you heard the keys jingling in the lock and the door opened; you cursed yourself for giving him a spare set. Either way, he probably could have figured out how to get in anyways. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Cariño,” he came and swiftly made his way over to you, frowning when he saw you all curled up and the discarded mess around you, "I-"

"Go away, Javi," it was a pathetic plea as you glanced up at him. His heart felt it was going to shatter and break at the sight of your red, glossy eyes as you sniffled at him, "haven't you done enough? Or should I be apologizing for having feelings and being honest about them?"

"I should be begging you for forgiveness," he dropped to his knees beside you, a hand tentatively reaching out to you, as he tried to see if you would pull away. Despite wanting to, instead wishing you could yell and scream, you stay rooted in position as he gently pushed your hair out of your hair. He brushed his thumb gently over your cheek as your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar touch, "I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" your brow furrowed at his words, "you made yourself very clear."

"I fucked up - you're right. I am a liar and a coward," he confessed as your eyes snapped back open to meet his. They were gentle, softened in the corners with the crinkles that you adored so much, "I realized I had feelings and I panicked. I shut you out and hurt you."

"My head hurts, Javier," you sighed slightly, "just get to the point."

"I love you," he admitted and suddenly it felt your heart had dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He was sure you must have heard the wild beating of his heart as he tried to anticipate your reaction, "I-I'm in love with you."

"If this is your idea of a joke," you moved his hand away and sat up, trying to prepare yourself for any possibility, "its even more fucked up than just breaking my heart. I knew what this started this and I should have stopped it when I started to catch feelings but I-"

But Javier didn't let you say anything further. Instead, he cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply - slowly and with meaning. It was an easy dance, one you'd done hundreds of times before. But this time just felt...different.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, and yours wound around his neck. Effortless and easy, just like everything with him was. It was anything frenzied or hurried, but slow and gentle as he tried to convey his every thought and feeling through his touch. He thought his heart might burst when he felt your smile whilst his lips, as you carded a hand through his dark locks.

Only when you were both breathless and drunk off of each other did you pull apart. He stared at you, his gaze soft as you grabbed his face and delicately cradled it before pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I hope this means what I think it means or I'm going to have to murder you," you whispered against his lips, as his own tugged into a smile, "because I am in love you and I don't know if I can ever change that."

"It means I'm an idiot," he admitted, "a cowardly fool that ran when things got real - although they were always real. Its obvious, isn't it? I just never realized."

"That's because you gave a thick skull, Peña," you gently tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, "and you need to learn to be more open - with me anyway. You don't have to be afraid, Javi. Not with me; I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I know you - the real you - and nothing about you scares me or whatever you think it is. I love you and that means every little bit of you."

"I…" he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as your words washed over him. His heart had never felt warmer or more light as he realized the immense weight your words held. He closed his eyes and nodded, gently pressing his forehead against yours, "I love you. Fully and completely cariño. Even if I am an idiot."

"My idiot," you promised softly, "just talk to me next time, okay? Don't run and hide - stay with me. It'll be okay, you will always have me."

"Fuck," he whispered as he pulled you into his arms and wrapped you up in the tightest hug possible, "I'm sorry - so sorry. I love you."

"I love you, Javier," you whispered, "stay with me?"

"Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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The Significance of Elain and a Cup of Tea 🍵

Do not screenshot this post.

Disclaimer: these are my own interpretations, and obviously not canon - though I do think that the text supports Elain and Azriel ending up together. I'm sure I'm not the first to see this connection, but I had fun writing it, so... here you go.

It's another long one, sorry. Again, maybe go and make yourself a cuppa first.

In stories that involve Seers, they often read tea leaves, using the patterns they leave at the bottom of a tea cup to predict the future.

Elain, a Seer Made by the Cauldron, seems to have an interesting relationship with tea - it symbolises her/her life, and her reactions to her surroundings while she's written with a cup of tea appear to predict her own future.

The tea predicted Elain being Made

Elain lifted her teacup. “Whatever the reason, Feyre, we are happy to see you. Alive. We thought you were—” I pulled my hood back before she could go on. Elain’s teacup rattled in its saucer as she noticed my ears. My longer, slender hands—the face that was undeniably Fae. “I was dead,” I said roughly. “I was dead, and then I was reborn—remade.” Elain set her shivering teacup onto the low-lying table between us. Amber liquid splashed over the side, pooling in the saucer.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 23

When Feyre, together with Rhys, Azriel and Cassian, visited her family's estate in the human lands, Elain (and Nesta) discovered that Feyre had been Made into a high fae after she died at Amarantha's hands. They are grateful that she's alive - they'd understandably thought otherwise, but rattled by her transformation.

More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live— Elain sucked in a breath...

Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair.

Elain was still shivering on the wet stones...

From however Elain had been Made… Nesta was different.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 65

Later on in ACOMAF, after it is revealed that Elain and Nesta were kidnapped by the King of Hybern, Elain is lifted into the Cauldron by the Hybern soldiers, then washed over the edge a Made being, left shivering on the stone floor; in her relief that Elain was alive, Feyre noticed her newly pointed ears - a direct call back to Elain's reaction to seeing Feyre for the first time since she was Made. Feyre was shocked, this time around, and Elain was shivering on the stone ground, as opposed to her tea cup on the low-lying table.

The tea predicted Elain's failed engagement to Graysen

Nesta looked to Elain, still silent and wide-eyed. The tea she’d prepared—the finest, most exotic tea money could buy—sat undisturbed on the table. Elain thumbed the iron ring on her finger. “It is your choice,” Nesta said with unusual gentleness. For her, Nesta would go to Prythian. Elain swallowed, a doe caught in a snare. “I—I can’t. I …”

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 57

Elain, raised to be a fine lady, the prettiest (most exotic) of the Archeron sisters, will eventually lose the life for which she was "prepared," and is left "undisturbed on the table," i.e. Graysen, represented here by the iron engagement ring that he gave to Elain, refused to marry her after she was Made against her will. The ring is also important in that Elain spends a lot of her time in ACOWAR touching it, while she mourned what she lost with Graysen.

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Here Elain predicted, heartbreakingly, that Graysen would refuse to See her again - that her being Made fae would prevent him from not just loving her, but identifying with her. There are a couple of great analyses out there that discuss whether and why Elain truly loved Graysen, but what we cannot deny is that they shared a goal, and that goal gave her purpose.

All of that aside, I think we can all agree - his loss!

The tea predicted that there was nothing wrong with Elain

Nesta, sharp-eyed in the corner, had kept quiet. After a long minute, Madja asked us to join her in fetching Elain a cup of tea—with a pointed glance to the door. We both took the invitation and left our sister in her sunlit room.

“What do you mean, nothing is wrong with her?” Nesta hissed under her breath as the ancient female braced a hand on the stair railing to help herself down. I kept beside the healer, a hand in easy reach of her elbow, should she need it.

“What I mean,” Madja said at last, sizing up Nesta, then me, “is that I can find nothing wrong with her. Her body is fine—too thin and in need of more food and fresh air, but nothing amiss. And as for her mind … I cannot enter it.”

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

Madja, the Night Court's chief healer, informed Feyre and Nesta that there is nothing she can find wrong with Elain, other than a lack of food, which she is still refusing at this time. Nesta's words, to me, symbolised the concern that the IC and Lucien have for Elain - they're not 100% sure that she came out of the Cauldron with a sound mind - but Madja reiterated her point: there is nothing medically wrong with Elain, and she cannot enter her mind.

Is it because Madja is not a daemati, or something else entirely?

The tea appears to predict a failed relationship - and potentially a false bond - with Lucien

She’d [Jesminda] seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been… thrown at him. He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby.

Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one.

For a long moment, Elain’s face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Lucien,” she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth.

But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride. A mortal man’s wife. Or she would have been.

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

The only time we've had Lucien’s POV (so far) in this series is significant, in that he almost immediately compared Elain to Jesminda, his late first love, and he mused that, while Jesminda had chosen him, had loved him without hesitation, Elain had been thrown at him - very romantic - and she certainly goes on to hesitate in any interactions she has with him. It follows, then, that Elain might not choose Lucien.

Additionally, Lucien forcing his hands to remain steady while pouring the tea, then clenching the tea cup (read: dealing with Elain), could be read as symbolic of the bond between them restricting them both. Lucien then went on to call Elain "another male's bride," which is (potentially, of course) Very Important.

Who might that other male be? We have our suspicions. 🦇

When discussing Elain's health, Madja said the following:

The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

The beginning of chapter 29 in ACOWAR had Feyre experiencing "the most uncomfortable thirty minutes" that she could recall; Elain and Lucien were having tea, so that he could attempt to sense if "anything was amiss" - as Madja had instructed.

Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them. I didn’t dare ask if he was trying to get into her head, or if he was feeling a bond similar to that black adamant bridge between Rhys’s mind and my own. If a normal mating bond felt wholly different.

A teacup rattled and rasped against a saucer, and Mor and I glanced over. Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him. In the dining room across the hall, I knew Nesta was craning her neck to look.

*

The sound [Amren in the other room] seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” Mor put a hand on my knee to keep me from rising, too. “It—it was a tug. On the bond.”

Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt… strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.”

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us.

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 29

The words that signify what is between Lucien and Elain here seem quite telling - stilted, dim, untouched - a call back to the "undisturbed" tea service that Elain laid out for their meeting with the queens, which foreshadowed the end of her relationship with Graysen.

The stilted silence and dim fireplace suggest that there is no communication down their "bond," and that they lack the fire of other truly mated couples. More specifically, they could be referring to Feyre/Rhys (bond communication) and Nesta/Cassian (fire between them). Will touch play an important role in Elain's eventual romance?

Elain sipped her tea - read: will live her life - without looking to Lucien at all, while Nesta, Feyre and Mor all watched her/them. Feyre took a moment to wonder if a "normal mating bond" felt different to what she shares with Rhys, not knowing that what Elain and Lucien have may not be normal at all.

Not long after this, Lucien attemped to reach Elain down the "thread" (singular) of their bond and startled her; Elain quickly stood up, then shared that her bond felt strange - almost as if she was answering Feyre's thought. A "normal" mating bond should not feel "strange." What is wrong with the bond between Lucien and Elain? He was unable to sense anything, as Madja said a true mate would, and a little later on, Azriel figured out that Elain was a Seer.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said. No sign of Nuala or Cerridwen. Elain simply removed the kettle from the heat.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?”

Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter.

“He brought you a present.”

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” She wanted a human man.

- Feyre, ACOFAS, chapter 18

I felt like this passage is partly prediction, and partly a way for SJM to let us into Elain's head; for Elain to speak her truths. A couple of lines did stand out to me, though:

I read Elain "watching the kettle scream" as synonymous with what must have been going on in her head at the time. Scream is an odd choice of word, as most would describe a kettle as whistling. As an aside, there is an interesting parallel that exists with Azriel, in his bonus chapter of ACOSF, where being with Elain makes the noise in his head quiet down.

Elain staring at the steaming kettle seemed to indicate that she might be evaluating her life - could the steam be a metaphor for the mist she will have to See through to find the fourth Dread Trove item? Lucien "not staying for tea" (read: Elain's life) sounded like confirmation (to me, of course) that they will not pursue a romantic relationship together.

Elain’s declaration that Lucien doesn't know her, and that he cannot buy her time or affection with gifts is *chef's kiss* good, though please don't read this as anti Lucien - it's more anti Feyre's poor choice of words.

I have discussed '"I don't want a mate. I don’t want a male.” She wanted a human man.' here, in depth, but a quick summary is that I think Elain wants someone to See all of her, including her humanity, and that her humanity will probably be helpful with her future love interest.

The tea appears to predict Elain's eventual relationship with Azriel, and maybe even a mating bond

She looked away [from Lucien]—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Firstly, and so significantly, Elain looked away from Lucien, and towards the windows, instead. We know that, earlier in that scene, Elain was talking to Feyre about being able to see the sea from where she sat, but I think that when Elain is mentioned as being around tea, her words tend to take on a deeper meaning - I interpreted this as Elain removing herself from the conversation she'd been having with Lucien. The next words out of her mouth, then - that "In my sleep, I hear your heart beating through the stone," appear to be spoken not to Lucien, but someone else.

Who do we know who always seems to be looking out windows to the garden, in search of Elain? Who could potentially be flying over Velaris, to or from the House of Wind? It looks like our flower grower might have started the trend!

Who sleeps at the House of Wind, where Elain and Nesta also stay? Aside from Lucien as a guest, there are two longterm residents. One of them is mated to Nesta, while the other one displays some strikingly familiar behaviour towards the middle Archeron sister.

Secondly, the tea burnt Lucien's mouth, then he thought to himself that there's a good chance Elain might not have been addressing him, may have intended to say that to someone else.

Lucien himself told us what was happening, which brings us to:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

- Feyre and Rhys, ACOWAR, chapter 24

In direct contrast to the tea that Elain and Lucien shared - stilted silence, dim fireplace, untouched tea service (i.e. their bond) - Elain and Azriel sit comfortably - we can assume, due to the lack of negative adjectives - in the sun, a cup of tea (read, once more: her life) "before her." The wrought iron table could potentially be symbolic; that Elain will be hammered into shape by the events of her life, ultimately becoming strong.

Elain is, however, "silent," which may have been indicating that she will spend some time not voicing her own wishes/being passive in her life - we have seen this throughout ACOWAR and ACOFAS, until ACOSF, where she finally started to speak up. It might also mean something else, which I mention further down.

Azriel is even sunning his wings. If you haven't seen it, this is how birds sun their wings - and they look hilariously comfy as they do.

Image source. Can someone please draw the Rhys/Cass/Az version of this?!). 😅

The pose makes them vulnerable; we know exactly how sensitive and possessive Illyrians are about their wings, and how private Azriel is in general, but he trusted Elain enough to expose himself (figuratively - and also, sort of literally) right from the start, just as Elain trusted his reactions at the first "family dinner," back in ACOMAF.

I discussed the relevance of how Elain, the sun, lays bare Azriel's shadows in this post, but the mutual trust and comfort here is, in my opinion, more evidence that Elain and Az share some sort of bond, be that mate or other, that makes him feel innately secure around her. Outside the Night Court, Rhys only ever showed his wings to Feyre, and while Azriel's wings can't be summoned at will like Rhys' can, the same principle stands - protect at all costs, so the parallel is there.

I also think Az may have been showing off his wings - just a wee bit. This is when Feyre uttered her iconic - and maybe prophetic - line, "Why not make them mates?" Feyre, who had thought from the start that Elain and Azriel would make a handsome pair. This is yet another parallel to a canonically mated pair, as we saw Cassian (not so) subtly showing off his wings to Nesta in chapter 29 of ACOWAR.

Oh, and Azriel knew Feyre was watching. So did Cassian. Perhaps they didn't care?

I know Elain x Azriel is not the most popular ship for either of them, but the evidence, to me, has been here all along - not just for a chosen relationship, but also a potential bond. Of course, this shouldn't stop people from shipping who they want. 🖤

The tea predicts that Feyre will become too overprotective of Elain

Rhys smiled at me over his shoulder. Enjoy your tea, you overbearing chaperone.

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 29

" You think I stifle her?"

- Feyre (in response to Rhys), ACOSF, Feyre's bonus chapter

No matter who you ship, the one thing that almost everyone can agree on is that ACOSF demonstrated that Elain is frustrated with being coddled, protected, and not seen; she wants to grow, to come into her own and to have her help be both welcomed and valued.

Unresolved/potential predictions

The following are just bits of text that jumped out at me, that could hint at future events (or could end up being nothing, of course).

Elain thumbed the iron ring on her finger. “It is your choice,” Nesta said with unusual gentleness.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 57

A hint that Elain's story will be revolve around her making her own choices, both in terms of her love interest and role within the Night Court.

"And as for her mind… I cannot enter it.”

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

Elain apparently has an impenetrable mind - will this be important when she deals with Koschei, the queens and other future enemies? Is she an anti-daemati?

But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Future foreshadowing?! I really, really hope not.

Slow blinkers tend to have quick reflexes, let's hope that this is suggesting Elain will be quick on her feet.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports...

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Will Elain become involved with Azriel's spy service, or work with him in some capacity? Spies must be able to stay silent, to keep secrets - and we know from ACOSF that Elain is adept at secret keeping.

I have never asked for anything before and I don't know if this where I request. But uh can we have some fluffy yandereiplier x gender neutral reader? Like yandere gets jealous but instead of killing the person, Yandere just like, gets protective in a soft way? I don't know.

This sounds so cute :3 Thank's for the request!!

Fluffy Jealous Yandereiplier x Reader

* (y/n) = your name

*(y/f/n) = your friend's name

A/N: I'm not sure I did it right so if you have any constructive criticism or want it to be fluffier feel free to tell me and you can request something more!

• You two had been friends for a long time, you'd recently moved house and schools so you were new to the area and prepared to make new friends and Yanderipier loved every second of it, he loved you completely.

• Yandereiplier didn't love you at first sight. Looking back on it he thought he did but in all honesty? no • There was no "love-at-first-glance" or romantic music swelling or cherry blossom petals falling around you, none of that.

• Instead, it was a buildup, it was a quiet but undeniable build-up.

• He fell in love with your jokes he'd hear when he was walking by With the way he'd see you handle yourself in front of others while he was across the classroom, with the way you looked at him always so kindly when you spoke to him in class, with the way you were nice to him no matter what. And he began to get infatuated with the way he'd see your smile stretch across your face when you laughed and the corners of your eyes crinkled and he knew it was a real laugh. He fell with the way you were.

• And he fell hard.

• He even started to love how you walked, memorising how you carried yourself on different days feeling different things; Your handwriting, from the notes you'd passed to others during class and he mimicked your writing down to each letter, your 'style', and how he thinks you'd look so cute in one of his sweaters, honestly everything about you that you deemed unimportant, that you may think is nothing specifically tailored for you but since it's you doing it of course he'd love it.

• And this love for you, this infatuation of you, this want-no this need to be with you, to see you happy and make you happy planted seeds in his heart that blossomed in his chest, twining between his ribs and spreading to every fibre of his being. His chest ached every night when he was alone with his thoughts and his shrine of devotion from things he borrowed from you, little things you wouldn't miss, and made in your honour. He loved you. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

• He watched you whenever he could, seeing your movements, noting who made you happy, what about them made you happy and how he could replicate that in himself. He was desperate for you to feel as good as you made him feel. And he was good at it too! Until you had sneaked up on him to properly introduce yourself, making him jump and drop his notebook adorned in love hearts and glitter.

• Your smile was so warm. Infectious. His face blew up in the deepest red blush you had ever seen, but excusing it as general anxiety you mercifully didn't comment on until later on in your friendship.

• Yandereiplier.EXE has stopped functioning. Systems overheating, blushing too furiously. Shutting down speech ability.

• The heavy aching in his chest from the flower of love you unknowingly nurtured and bloomed instantly lifted when you looked at him. He felt lighter, fuller, so so happy, feeling his rapid heartbeat pounding away. He felt as if you two were the only ones in the school, in the world, in the cosmic universe. He liked that thought.

• You had crouched down to pick up his fallen notebook but he had enough composure to beat you to it, and lo and behold you brushed hands. He wanted to never wash that hand again but knew you would probably like someone with better hygiene.

• You two were good friends from then on, joking about how that moment could have been in "Anime's top 10 most romantic scenes,"

Yandereiplier would always sputter at that.

• By now it had been a few good months, you two were inseparable. He'd always be giving you gifts, things you never knew how he'd know you liked. And sometimes things that he personally liked, like his prized hello-kitty hair clips and sticker packs that only you were allowed to touch beside himself, it was like a trust pact. You'd exchange secrets, stories and gifts, sometimes, to Yan's immense pleasure, even clothes.

• He knew everything about you, from your likes to your perfume, to your tells to your fantasies.

• He thought he knew everything about your life.

• He thought he knew everyone in it.

• But he was proved wrong. So very wrong.

• When you hadn't replied to his good morning text like you do every day he was instantly filled with worry. He knew your routine, that text message went off 5 minutes after your alarm, he always wanted to be on your mind in the morning so always texted you and if the alarm failed then the text tone would wake you.

• He was pacing around wondering if he should go to your house to check on you or if doing so would overstep any boundaries, trembling at the thought you'd finally had enough of him or were in danger.

He could barely be able to survive if you'd had enough of him but he knows he wouldn't be able to live if you were in danger and he wasn't there to protect you, the very thought sinking its claws into his mind and crawling up his skin leaving a trail of frigid goosebumps in its wake. • He grabbed his backpack and ran on out of the house way earlier than usual, sprinting to your house with the toast from breakfast in his mouth since he didn't have the time to spare to eat it at home on his way to yours.

• And when he got to your house, his stomach fell and the blooming flower in his heart burnt with a fire that licked at his skin, scathing his organs and clogging his lungs with thick smoke and reducing his once light and happy heart to cinders. And with the last embers he possessed, he managed to find the will to take the toast out of his mouth and say "Hey (y/n),"

• You turned around to see him, overjoyed as your two best friends will now get to meet each other! "Yan! Hi!" you said still hugging your friend, "This is (y/f/n), they surprise visited me today!"

• Yan gave a meek wave, too enraptured by the biggest smile he'd ever seen on your face, every vein in his body burning with guilt and anger he wasn't able to make you smile like that.

• (y/f/n) turned to see Yan and greeted them happily, still clinging on to you, "So you're Yan? Nice to meet you," they smiled.

• Yandereiplier would have said a curt hello, probably just ignored them completely were it not for the twitch of guilt he knows he'd feel to be seen as rude in front of you.

• "Hello (y/f/n). Nice to meet you too," he strained to smile

• And it was like that for the whole day because your friend not only had to walk you to school instead of Yan, but they furthered their surprise by spending the day at the school for some stupid transfer day and it was ruining everything. They weren't supposed to be able to touch you like that! Yan, as much as he hated the thought of you being uncomfortable, did try to look for any sign you were in discomfort but knew every conclusion was his bias.

• They had their arm around your shoulder. They made you laugh and smile all day but he loves your smile too much to be angry at that but his mind did wander to different ways to torture them should they be the cause of your smile vanishing. He watched, gripping his pen tightly in frustration as he watched from across the classroom how close you two were, how you easily talked fondly of secrets that had taken him months for you to be willing to share, you were joking, teasing each other, sitting closely, swapping stationary, whispering, the pen broke and splattered ink all over his hand and his work.

• What did they have that he didn't? What did they have he couldn't replicate in himself? What did he have to do to get you to love him as much as you obviously love them in whatever way you do.

• You were all sitting together at lunch, Yan quietly eating from his bento box while still, you and your friend talked. The rage still bubbling and blistering inside of him. But he kept quiet. He began shaking, anger coursing through his blood attacking all his thoughts. But he kept quiet. The heavy weight in his chest returning, aching for you once again despite being just a bit away, the crippiling aching. But he tried his best to keep quiet. The need to be the one by your side, to not only see you happy but make you happy, the need to be the one there making you happy because if it's not him then that means he- ... That means you don't need him. If someone else can make you happy just like you deserve to be then.. then it doesn't matter if it's him. If anyone can do it then he isn't needed specifically. You don't need him. Not like how he needs you.

• A shaky breath shook from his lungs, as he placed his chopsticks back in his lunch, the food now making him nauseous.

• His mind iitches to darker thoughts. Of hurting your friend. Of taking you far away so you rely on him; so you need him.

• ...

• No.

• No that isn't right he hates that.

• You'll never love him if he ever did anything like that.

• You deserve so much better than that.

• So, instead of waiting for you to love him as much as you do (y/f/n)

• He'll make you fall for him. No one can be him except himself and in that way, even if it's only in that way, he is irreplaceable. And you deserve someone as devoted as him.

• He marched back on out there pouting heavily as he watched you two sitting so close. He's on a mission.

• He takes all of his courage and he sits beside you, blushing like crazy to the point your friend thinks he's sick but he assures them he's fine as he offers you some of his bento, offering to feed you with his chopsticks so he can lean in close and try feel you blush too.

• Yan touches you more throughout the day, all where you're comfortable and have previously said you're okay being touched, trading books you brush fingers, he says there's a spider on your head so you can get close and "remove it and save you!", he wipes an eyelash from your cheek and smiles, saying for you blow it off his finger to make a wish, sending you notes holding compliments and doodles of hearts during class so you can once again brush fingers little things like that.

• Yan is also constantly offering you things much more than usual, he already got you little gifts, you'd help him overcome most of his anxiety about spending hours, days, even weeks worrying over picking the perfect present for you and instead giving you whatever he thinks you could possibly like, like shiny and pretty rocks, cute pencils, his favourite most prized hello kitty hair-pin, you didn't accept that last one knowing it would destroy him to part with it which hinted about what was going on.

• As much as Yan knew you, you also knew him.

• You knew his breath would get shaky when he wants something but is too scared to ask for it. You knew he was being more clingy, not that you minded in the least, except for he clearly wanted to do more.

• You knew he didn't want to burden you with his problems so he likely wouldn't say what it is, especially with someone he didn't know all too well around.

• (y/f/n) excused themself for a bit while Yan who was currently fawning over. the band you said you liked last week he memorised all their songs just so he could talk about them with you and hear the facts you knew about them that he already knew but loved the way your eyes lit up when you told him what you thought was something new.

• Thanking any gods, demons or supernatural entities for the time alone Yandereiplier engulfed you in a hug from behind, arms securely wrapped around your chest and face nuzzeling against your hair. He would have done this earlier but he didn't know if you were okay with this sort of affection in front of people so as painful as it was, he waited for so long to be alone with you.

• "Hey Yan, are you doing okay?" • "Of course! I'm with you, my darling!" • "Aww, your darling?" you teased him, his face once again exploding in a deep blush as he buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide his shame.

• He really meant his darling. No matter which way you interpreted 'darling' to be, he meant it as so much more.

• This was the last thing that tipped you off to what he was really after,

• When your friend returned, Yan was hyping himself up to be able to leave the warm hug that let you be in his arms, desperately waiting to not tear himself from you but even more desperate to not make you uncomfortable.

• "Heya y/n!" your friend called

• You held Yan's arms in place, leaning back against him, holding him in place. Yan now wasn't the only one with a mission.

• A long drawn out wheeze escaped his throat as you felt his face heat up against your shoulder through your clothes, slightly worried for him, you turned your head to him while (y/f/n) talked about something Yandereiplier couldn't bring himself to pay attention to you as he savoured the moment, memorising every feeling, every touch, every scent, everything he can as if it were his first time ever being near you, locking this memory in place so he can remember it for those cold lonely nights and for the rest of his life.

• The when saw Yan again, you saw his mouth fall open, bobbing open and closed like a fish as he struggled to articulate his thoughts while you stood before him in the sweater he left at yours a while ago. It smells of his cologne and he can smell it on you.

• His sweater. His.

• He was sure he had ascended at the very moment for the angel he saw wearing his sweater, in his clothes, his. His!!!! And he promises to worship you and treat you like the Angel you are, even if you don’t always see it in yourself. You are his Angel. And the flower bloomed in his chest all over again.

• You're his and he is yours. That's how it always will be.

• And he supposes, it's not all bad having (y/f/n) around. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. He'll protect whatever makes you happy too.

• (y/f/n) also has so many good stories on you that Yan adores hearing and he gets to hear more about your life!

• Just don't forget him. Please. He loves you. So much. He'll always love you. No matter what.

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH6

one // two // three // four // five

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, masturbation, hate sex, heartbreak, blood

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // thank you to my angst goblin, Lanie @gcdric​ and my angel Zahra @starlightweasley​ for helping me get this one out bc otherwise id be STUCK

One new message

The sound of the answer machine rang through Fred’s flat, he was staring out over London and her twinkling lights. His waistcoat was loose, hanging open at his chest - tie discarded the moment he stumbled through the door. He’d pretty much flung the sliding glass door to the balcony open, letting the biter breeze whip through his hair, blowing the once still curtain so that it flew in a way that mimicked the way a superhero’s cape flows. 

The night of partying had been a wild but well needed distraction. Fred couldn’t stop the image of your kiss from playing over and over in his head, his fingers ghosted over where the absent feeling of your lips lingered, wishing you were here. 

“Freddie…” You breathed down the phone, your words slurred still as the liquor clung to your senses. 

“About what happened tonight, I don’t think it was-” His heart began to race at the simple thought, the steamy kiss was crossing his mind once again, He heard you take a moment, a pause for thought and he held his breath with you. 

“I just - we need to talk. We- I have something to tell you.” You sighed, he was praying he could just call you back, checking his watch, he knew it was too late. What If he did call, would that be so bad? 

“I’m sorry, Fred.” the sound of you putting down the phone echoed in his brain. Sorry. What could you possibly be sorry for? It could possibly be one of the best kisses of his life. He couldn’t deny the electricity that he felt from tip to toe and he knew deep down that you felt it too. So why did he feel a pang of sadness hit his chest, winding him like a dementor was sucking the soul out of his body.

Fred fell asleep that night clutching his pillow as he imagined you in its place. He wasn’t sure what made the tears roll down his cheeks, but shrugged it off as the alcohol getting to him. He was snivelling, contemplating leaving you a text. He needed you to know how he felt, that he was aching for you to be with him. He didn’t want things to just be staged anymore, there was undeniable chemistry there between you, he felt it in the way you looked at him. Surely it would be better if you were his, he could kiss and hold you all he wanted without the need for press or cameras. You could have a beautiful, normal life together. You were one of the last thoughts on his brain as he drifted off, his grip against the plush pillow only growing tighter out of desperation. 

Waking to the midday sun shining directly into his eyes wasn’t making the pounding headache rattling around in his skull any better. Fred didn’t remember anything about how or when he got home, only recalling the mellow flow of your voice reverberating around his flat. He managed to drag himself from his bed, searching every unorganised cabinet for the sight of even one lonely ibuprofen, sighing as his head fell to rest on the counter with no luck. He realised the grave mistake he had made when his head started thumping, the room spinning and his sight going hazy. Water, he needed hydration.

Two pints of water later, Fred was still feeling the sour effects of last night’s burning liquor, feeling the burn in his chest with every breath, like all the liquid was ready to come right back up at any moment. He sat himself down at the island counter as he pressed the button to replay the voicemail from last night. 

I’m Sorry.

The words wouldn’t leave him, he replayed the voicemail over and over, internalising every single word as it played through the speakers. He sat for hours, sat too long until his feet had gone numb from dangling over the seat. The Great British weather had taken its turn for the worst, a clap of thunder distracting Fred from his thoughts, not knowing how deeply the words were hitting him, until he felt a tear drop against the back of his hand. It was too much for him, realising that he needed to see you, touch you, feel you. 

I’m Sorry

His feet dragged him towards your place, he didn’t care that he’d been walking for miles or that the rain was drenching him to his very core. It was desperation that drove him to find you. It was like a sign to him that one lonely red rose grew from a bush he passed, stopping dead in his tracks before turning around to look at it. He plucked it from the bush, holding it up to his nose, breathing in the scent. Rose petals mixed with the cold drizzle and muggy air sent him over the edge. He was walking quicker now so that he could get to you, pace kicking up into a small jog, his shoes slapping against the wet pavement with each step.

One light shone dimly from the confines of your apartment. Fred stood outside, debating how he was going to approach this conversation. He loved you, wanted you to be his and he struggled in that moment to find the appropriate words to express it. You were towel drying your hair, supposedly from the rain as you came into view by the window. You looked like an angel, a pure piece of heaven on earth and his heart beat faster, beginning to move closer to the flat’s entrance. That’s when he spotted another figure coming into view from the window, face covered by the towel as you dried their hair. Whoever it was, had at least a foot on you height wise, their hands snaking around your waist to pull you tight and close to them.

Fred’s heart sunk, like it had fully fallen out of his ass, seeing you in the arms of another man made his stomach churn, his grip on the rose growing tighter as the thorns pierced his skin. He didn’t even feel the pain, just the emptiness in his chest. He watched as you pulled the towel from the figure’s face.

The messy ginger hair, round cheeks and adoring smile were obvious. Fred knew exactly who he was seeing, he was blinking so hard wishing that it was just a terrible nightmare. As George’s lips connected with yours, it was as if it rumbled Zeus himself, a bolt of lightning illuminating the dark sky. It was like watching his whole world come crashing down, watching you chase his brother’s lips desperately, the same way you had done with him last night. He couldn’t help but watch as the kiss deepened, George using his strength to pick you up, watching your legs wrap around his waist, walking out of sight. 

It was like watching a glimpse of a life he’d never have, the rose fell to the floor, petals breaking off of the stem. Blood was dripping from his hand to the floor, diluted by the rain as it splashed against the stone. Not a single car drove by your house, not one person was outside but Fred in that moment. Loneliness was the only bitter feeling left, it tasted like hell in his mouth, unable to shake the image of you and George together, only hearing two words in his head over and over like a broken record.

I’m Sorry. 

Raindrops danced along Fred’s skin, the soft pitter patter mocking him, everything reminded him of you, even in a moment of heartbreak, the glow of Christmas lights, the thunder or the distant sound of horns beeping at one another, it all reminded him of you in the most ridiculous way. His phone chimed, pulling up the messages he realised that his thoughts had overpowered the importance of the messages.

>> I miss your touch Freddie

>> I can come see you tonight

>> why aren’t you responding Fred?

>> don’t you love me?

‘Maybe this is what I need’ Fred thought, Perhaps he needed the out, the quick fuck to get the aggression out of his system. They say it’s wrong to sleep with your boss, but Cherry wasn’t his boss, she was just the publicist. The publicist you shared. If you could sleep with anyone you wanted, why should he feel guilty about it now? After all, if there was one woman who could help him forget, It would be Cheryl. 

<< sorry, doll

<< of course i love you

<< come see me x

>> I won’t be long, i’m so desperate for you, Freddie x 

It was wrong for him to say that, especially when he didn’t love cherry. Not one ounce of his body felt a connection deeper than just sex. That's all it was to him with Cherry; mindless, carefree sex. Why he kept going back to her like a lost puppy however, was still up for debate. 

Cheryl wasn't an unattractive woman, but she wasn't you. She was taller, accentuated by her constant need to wear heels, not that it mattered much to Fred when he towered above most people he met. She had long blonde hair that was always beach waved and perfectly sun-kissed skin like a Miami model. Fred didn't care too much about superficial looks, but it was undeniable that part of the reason he enjoyed Cherry so much was the way her tits, although obviously fake, would bounce in his face begging to be touched as she sank down onto him or the way her full lips looked as they wrapped around his throbbing cock. Fucking Cheryl from behind was as much fun, he had all the ass he could hold onto before him and a tight cunt that always struggled to take him. 

Reaching his home Cherry was already waiting for him. She spun around as soon as his presence behind her was felt, lips attaching to his immediately. The red lipstick she wore while unique to her, was now being transferred to the man's lips as they kissed. He wasn't disappointed to be kissing someone, it was disappointment that it wasn't you. Your kisses were heaven compared to what he was getting now, he found himself picturing you in his arms and that seemed to work. 

They wasted no time stripping each other's clothes off, Fred was aching to pound his cock into something, even if it had to be Cherry. When the girl tried to straddle him, he grabbed her hips, throwing her against the mattress, causing a giggle to erupt from her lips. "Hands and knees tonight, Doll." 

Being seethed inside Cherry felt amazing. He tried to stretch her out, push as much of himself inside as he could, but she was simply so tight. The pace he set was animalistic, fucking the girl raw against the sheets, he couldn't stand to look at her, closing his eyes and pretending it was the girl he’d been longing for. It wasn't enough, he needed more control. Fred's hand was pushing Cherry's face into the sheets, his thrusts more violent and possessive as he continued fucking her senseless. 

Back at your home, George was seethed all the way inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way you two fit together was like lock and key, a perfect size for each other. "I'm so deep inside of you princess, can you feel me in your belly?" You were nodding, grabbing his hand to press against your abdomen, his thrusts were slow and purposeful, he was trying to make you cum over and over and over again tonight and you were already waiting for number four. "Yes Georgie, right here, it feels so good when you fill me up." he hummed as he felt the tip of his cock hitting where his hand was pressed with every thrust. His precious girl. All for him. 

Fred was on the edge, skin slapping as he chased his orgasm, Not caring much for Cherry's desperate moans, no matter how good he was making her feel. He wanted her to shut up, it sounded so fake, but he was ready to release, pulling out to let his cum drip over the curve of her ass. He flopped on the bed next to her, immediately feeling her hand on his cock, stroking gently. "You're so good, Freddie, So big." 

She took him into her mouth with ease, it was the only time he could be fully inside of her. His head was back against the mattress as he pictures your soft lips replacing hers. His hand came up to stroke her hair as she continued sucking him off. Try as he might to cum again, he knew it wasn’t your hand on his cock, or your lips. It was another woman, the thought made him sick to his stomach, forcing him to sit bolt upright, pulling himself away from the naked girl on his bed.

“I can’t do this.” he grumbled, grabbing the boxers he had discarded on the floor, pulling them up. Cherry sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling it over her shoulder, “Do you want me to stay Freddie?” she smiled, playing with the ends of hair as she watched him walk into his bathroom across the hall. “I don’t care.” he spoke plainly, the hurt in his chest hitting him once again as he slammed the door behind him. 

He could still hear the hums and moans you made against his lips. As he leant against the shut door, his hand reached down to start palming himself, feeling himself grow hard again at the thought of you. He was picturing you sprawled out on his bed, begging for him, using your mouth to get him off - He was getting close again as he imagined slamming his hips into you. Just as he reached his peak again, one thought plagued his mind, you moaning his twins name. His heart broke again as he came, sighing as he realised that he was too late. You weren’t his to have.

/// TO BE CONTINUED ///  >>>>>> Chapter Seven

taglist //  @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @gcdric​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @weasleysflowr​ @vogueweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @vivianweasley​ @feetoffthetablee​ @thisismynerdyself​ @rip-us​ @witch-and-a-half​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @pandaxnienke​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @pigwidgexn​ @mackaywhore​ @softlyqoos​ @colorfulprofessornickelangel​ @fandomscombine​ @satellitespidey​ @txtdreamss​ @aaannabbanana​  @starkidpotty​ @mollydarling-hphm​ @amwithers2001​ @mrmoonyy​

More Than Meets the Eye

Brahms x fem!reader

Warnings: Creepy!Brahms, in which you're the housekeeper and also the obsession, smut ensues. Cursing, worse sex scene I've ever written, you don't finish.

-

The heelshire mansion was a beauty of its own. It's old paint was chipped yet still gorgeous and slightly eerie in its own way. One side of the mansion looked refurbished, exterior wallpaper new and just barely a shade lighter than the rest, but if you didn't look close enough you'd think it was just a lighting oddity. You looked close enough.

You suppose that's how many things were. At least that's how they'd been here.

-

You were the housekeeper for the Heelshire couple. A lovely couple indeed, skittish and wound tight as if something would crawl out from under the bed and snatch them up like a monster. And that doll Mrs. Heelshire carried around like a prized possession, maybe it was.

Anyways, the always did tread carefully around you. Secretive. They did have an awful secret. One so awful you'd think it should be on the job description before you'd been hired. There was man, you'd only seen him once or twice and his tall, broad frame was frightening yet gorgeously attractive. You weren't sure if he'd seen you while out of the walls, as little as those occasions were. But if he did, he didn't seem to mind you.

You snapped out of your thoughts quite abruptly when a woman approached you. It had only been a day since the heelshires left for their vacation or business trip, you couldn't remember for the life of you which one they went on.

"Hello, uh, I'm sorry but have you seen my dress anywhere? I think you saw me with it if I'm not wrong." She asked sheepishly, she didn't seem too comfortable with you yet. "Oh I saw you take it in the bathroom with you. Maybe it fell behind the toilet or something?" You suggested to which she furrowed her eyebrows at and oddly left the room. Though as soon as she turned the corner you bolted into the room which held only a few chairs and a pool table. You pulled a painting off the wall, revealing a human sized hole which you very quickly crawled into, replacing the picture behind you.

This was the first time you came to Brahms yourself and you could only hope he didn't get violent. In the meantime you walked within the walls fiddling with your necklace nervously. You're not sure if you hoped something would happen or if you'd be content walking aimlessly through the walls. You had no time to think on the matter before you entered into a clearing into the walls. An empty room, a clearing within the walls.

Within the walls sat a man, hunched over at his desk and breathing quite heavily. You cleared your throat to which he lurched backwards and flinched violently. Brahms stood quickly and speed walked towards you. You yelped, stepping backwards and placing your hand to his chest when he came closer. "Why are you taking her things?" You asked abruptly. "The dress wasn't even pretty. I have many more which are much prettier. Gorgeous even. So why hers?" You asked. Truthfully you had no idea where this was coming from. Or maybe you did. You'd always liked Brahms. In the time you had been housekeeper he left you little things. Toys mostly but sometimes the occasional flower. So why did he choose her when the two of you had undeniable history.

Maybe he didn't know what chemistry was. Maybe he thought she was prettier than you. "I don't know." He whispered back. He probably did. She probably was. "Bullshit." You dropped your hand from his chest and rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes and biting at your already chapped lips. "You could've said something. You could've told me that this is what she was here for Brahms!" You frowned, turning around to walk out the walls. Unfortunately you didn't make it far before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you into his chest.

His hands craned your neck upwards and he covered your eyes before lifting his mask upwards just enough to kiss you. "You." He wasn't very descriptive but you knew what he meant. So you grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck, squealing when he lifted you upwards and carried you to his bed. "You can't have both Brahmsy. Gotta pick one." He nodded against your lips before setting you down on his mattress. The one he owned wasn't very clean, and the sheets were bunched and frolicked upon. He obviously didn't make his bed often but you didn't mind. Now thinking of it, it was very dim in lighting in this room. The only source of light he had was a small, battery-operated lamp. You didn't care about that either and made do with what little you had.

You pushed his cardigan off all while maintaining contact with his lips and batting in his inexperienced and oddly porcelain kisses, whining when his hands reached up and groped your breasts through the old and battered t-shirt you were wearing.

The two of you undressed quickly and when you did, the both of you stared at each other. Each others eyes swirled with lust and adoration for the other and even more so when his dropped down to your sex and he held his breath. "We don't have to- y'know if you'd prefer otherwise. I can leave." You proposed, beginning to sit up when he didn't answer. Brahms growled angrily, placing his large palm on your stomach and pushing you back down and grabbing your right breast while he entered you swiftly.

Your breath hitched in your throat and he yanked you towards him quickly, pulling you up on top of his lap. He slid inside your heat quickly, immediately starting his frantic pace. He basically bounced you against him, head buried deep into your neck while his hands groped your breasts. Unfortunately, yet expected, Brahms did not last long- so as soon as you were close and squeezing him, he spilled inside of you and collapsed to his bed with you against his chest.

For a moment you attempted to collect yourself, grinning. You'd had gotten Brahms, of course there were matters to work on- but you were too elated. You fixed your hair and clothes quickly, picking the woman's dress off the counter and exited the walls. Where would you put this dress?

Back with the kisses!

Hiya! I know it's been a while, but, good news! Have some sappy JKRM beach episode

Kiss number 26: as an apology

“Are you ready, hun?”

The doctor asked while he went down the checklist. Organized as he was, he insisted on checking every item that was lying by the sofa right in front of him, in order to make sure they wouldn’t forget to bring anything important. It was finally August, and Jakurai’s summer holidays had just started. And, with that, their summer trip.

“Ngh-- Almost! Oof!--”

Replied the younger one, as he tried to close a small suitcase by sitting on top of it. Jakurai, intrigued by his partner’s frustrated noises, went to see what was going on in their bedroom. As soon as he stepped inside, he found the designer struggling with his luggage.

“What on earth could you be possibly packing, Ramuda-kun? We’re going to stay at the hotel for a week, not a month.”

The doctor said that mockingly, but Ramuda stopped right on the spot, looking at him as if he just asked the most stupid of questions. How dare he question his fashion needs?

“And? You never know when you will need fancy clothes! What if I need more shirts because I get mine dirty? Or--!”

Jakurai sighed, drawing a half-smile on his face. This was their usual procedure, after all. Ramuda insisted on packing –excessively– extra clothing, and he had the task of making him see he didn’t need that many.

“You never cease to amaze me.”

After a quick rearrangement and a couple of pouty faces, Jakurai made the pink-haired man realize it was alright to leave behind a three-piece suit –which he wouldn’t have needed anyway– as well as, at least, 7 extra shirts and tees. No need to say that it took them a little while, because Ramuda was stubborn and refused to leave without the garments, but the doctor managed to convince him. He just knew too well how to deal with him at this point.

“It’s good to be ready ‘just in case’, but that was… exaggerated”

Once everything was settled, Jakurai checked his mental list again, trying to recall if something was missing. Meanwhile, Ramuda fastened his sandals and waited at the entrance, swinging his feet back and forth playfully.

“Good thing we’re driving there, cuz if we had to take a train, we’d have probs missed it by now”

The taller man raised an eyebrow as a response, turning to face him.

“Says the one who made us lose our time because he couldn’t decide whether he should bring a blue or yellow sweatshirt on August”

“But!-“

“A sweatshirt. August.”

Ramuda puffed, unwilling to recognize his defeat. The doctor gave him a small pat on the head, offering him his suitcase as a truce.

“Let’s go, then. Our holiday awaits, doesn’t it?”

The younger’s gloomy face suddenly lit up, and it only took the designer a small jump to stand on his feet again. He waited with their luggage outside –since he was already wearing shoes– while the doctor checked every door and window. He knew they had asked their teammates to keep an eye on their apartment just in case, but he couldn’t help but double-check before leaving.

“C’mon, Jaku! It’s gonna be night by the time we arrive!”

It was undeniable that the younger man was excited. Sure, he had the liberty to have his holidays whenever he felt like –benefits of self-employment–, but going on vacation together felt… different. It felt better, just like the old Kuujaku Posse days. It wasn’t their first trip together, he knew that. The designer could never forget their training camp, after all. However, he was beyond excited: it was their first trip to the beach since he got the mastectomy. Ramuda couldn’t wait, and Jakurai was also looking forward to it.

As soon as they got everything in the car and were ready to go, the doctor started driving to their destination: Oarai Sun Beach. They were in for a ride that would be two hours long, which the designer was planning to spend between snacks and Instagram stories while his partner drove. Besides that, Ramuda had a self-imposed duty in every single one of their road trips, and that was to take pictures of the scenery and, more importantly, of his boyfriend. Jakurai wasn’t the only one fascinated by his partner; and the younger man loved to see how every single scenery and light managed to boost up his partner’s mature beauty.

The hours went by, and before they could realize it, they were already reaching their destination. The pink-haired man screamed enthusiastically as he saw the sea through the window, losing interest even on the snacks he was eagerly devouring merely 30 seconds ago. After 20 minutes or so, they arrived at the hotel, did the check-in, and rushed to the beach. Jakurai would have loved to take his time, but his partner’s actions didn’t seem to agree with his ideas.

Energetic as always, Ramuda rushed towards the sea as soon as he saw it from the seafront promenade, without caring about the sun cream nor leaving his tee somewhere that wasn’t the sand after launching it. That took Jakurai by surprise –although he should have seen that coming–, quickly finding himself running after his partner, as if he was running after a dog who had something in his mouth that he wasn’t supposed to have.

“AMEMURA-KUN! CAREFUL! THE BODY MUST ACCLIMATE SLOWLY! –“

The designer laughed at the top of his lungs, ignoring his partner’s yelling. Having fun was his top priority right now.

“Oh, shoo! Don’t be such a party pooper! The water’s warm!”

The doctor stopped at the shore, sighing. The younger man was already splashing around in the water, and there was nothing he could do against that. Oh well, at least he was happy.

“You could have waited until I had prepared everything here… Or until you had cream on”

He complained again, as he picked up the t-shirt from the sand, shaking it a little before folding and putting it inside the bag. While the designer was swimming around, the doctor started to set up their beach umbrella, as well as two chairs and a small fridge. He watched Ramuda having the time of his life, now free from the burden of having to wear swimming t-shirts and a binder under it. He could see his boyfriend jump, swim and run in the beach with a liberty he hadn’t had before; and, for him, that was enough to make the trip worth it.

The taller man took his time with the sun cream, and he headed to the water only after being sure it was absorbed. The pink-haired man didn’t hesitate to approach him, sporting a pink and white striped short swim trunk, decorated with lollipops. It was part of his new summer collection, as well as Jakurai’s: his had a light-grey and white plaid pattern and was knee-length. Although it wasn’t as colourful as Ramuda’s, it still had his touch, since it had little lilac plum blossoms around, as well as lilac laces.

Spontaneous as ever, the smaller man jumped into the doctor’s back, taking his chance to braid his hair and make said braid into a low bun. He left a kiss on his partner’s shoulder before jumping back into the water, splashing around once again.

“I wonder how many ways of braiding my hair you know”

Ramuda laughed cheerfully, swimming by Jakurai’s side as he entered the water.

“I’ve always liked to do your hair! So there’s nooo absolute way I’ll ever stop doing so!”

Jakurai stopped walking as soon as the water reached his waist, took a deep breath and submerged for a couple of seconds. Ramuda clapped and followed him to do the same, only to find out that, while that depth was acceptable for Jakurai, it covered his chest and almost his neck. The doctor tried to suppress a laugh at the scenery of his partner floating because of his short height, but in the end, the effort was in vain.

“What’s so funny?! Not everyone’s a damn tower, you know!”

Jakurai laughed again, picking the designer up and letting him sit on his shoulders.

“Then, how does it feel to be one, then?”

The pouts and complains quickly were changed by laughter, as he held tight onto his head, watching his surroundings from his privileged seat.

“It feels… weird! But it’s also funny! It’s like I could crush everyone under my feet like widdle ants!”

They both laughed at the designer’s comparisons, and after a couple of minutes, he took the freedom to launch himself back into the water from his shoulders, swimming somewhere where he could reach without problem –or, at least, stand–. Pitying him, Jakurai followed his partner and stood by his side once he found the perfect depth for himself: now the water was at Ramuda’s waist level, and barely reached Jakurai’s hip.

“That’s on you for being so tall, you know”

The doctor sighed, shaking his head.

“And there’s nothing I can do about that either, my little one”

Ramuda splashed him in response, cracking a laugh. Accompanied by that laugh, the doctor saw behind his blue eyes that he had mischief planned. Whatever it could be, he had no idea.

Like a shark ready to attack its victim, the younger man kept watching his partner closely. The doctor realized his gaze upon him, and although he was ready to counteract, he didn’t pay too much attention to it. He thought that, perhaps, Ramuda would get tired of waiting and would eventually forget whatever he had in mind ready to mess with him. However, he was wrong in thinking that, and he definitely should not have let his guard down. It is not as if he had ever had his guard up around Ramuda, after all.

As soon as the designer noticed him trying to go out of the water, he ambushed. His plan was to run towards him and throw him back into the water. Still, it was quickly thwarted by Jakurai’s height; since he just kind of stumbled against his legs on an attempt to sink him.

“OH, C’MON!”

Jakurai watched him bump against him, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Ramuda crossed his arms with frustration, sitting in the water by his side.

“Was that your attempt at… sinking me?”

“Yes! And it didn’t work!”

The lilac-haired man laughed playfully, ruffling the younger’s wet hair.

“I’m sure you can do better than that”

Obviously, Ramuda took that personally. He got up and sat back in the shore, arming himself with patience. There, he waited until the doctor tried to leave the water again, and prepared his attack once more: this time, he charged against Jakurai’s knee pits and successfully made him fall into the water. What he didn’t plan, though, was that he would fall with him too, making a splashing mess that could have ended in broken bones if it weren’t for the doctor’s quick reflexes.

“What were you thinking now, Amemura-kun? You could have hurt yourself! What if I had fallen on top of you? Did you think we could have gotten serious bruises, or even worse?”

The designer quivered at his partner’s angry tone, lowering his head while he was being scolded. He just wanted to joke around, but ended up taking it so seriously that he didn’t really think it through. The fact that surprised the designer was that Jakurai wasn’t concerned at all about himself, but rather about him.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

He replied in a quiet voice, looking at Jakurai with honest puppy eyes. The doctor tried to hold his ground, but Ramuda did know well his weaknesses. He clicked his tongue, sitting on the shore and placing his boyfriend on his lap.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt somewhere?”

The designer climbed onto his lap, hugging him and leaving a shy kiss on the taller-man’s lips. Jakurai replied tenderly, pressing him against himself in an embrace, as he realized it was Ramuda’s silent apology.

“Next time you’re tempted to do such a thing, at least do it where the water covers me”

Ramuda nodded, and said gesture earned him another kiss as a way of settling things up.

Here Comes the Boom

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: This is a sequel to my fic “This Feeling Has a Name”. That fic was supposed to be a one shot, but I received some very positive feedback inquiring about more, so I figured ‘what the heck!’ I hope you enjoy this installment as much as the first. Thank you for all your likes, love, and support. Also, stay tuned because I have a major Mandalorian fic in the works.

Since the night you ended your relationship (such as it was) you’d avoided Javier Peña like the plague. Not an easy thing to do considering you worked in the same building. Anytime the two of you made eye contact, you’d quickly duck out of the room or strike up a conversation with some poor, unsuspecting co-worker before Javi could corner you.

You’d gone as far as to request a transfer, but the powers that be were dragging their feet through the sea of paperwork. For now you’d just have to grin and bare it to the best of your ability.

You reassured yourself over and over again that putting some much needed distance between you and Peña was the wisest move; you repeated it like a mantra in your head. You practically meditated on the thought, like the fucking Buddha.

Your brain was firmly planted in reality, but your heart, God damn it, still needed a little more convincing. It was still nestled comfortably in Javier’s hands.

When you were certain he wasn’t looking, your eyes would lock onto him across the room. They would gaze. They would linger. And you would yearn. You’d walk past his empty desk and your fingers would unconsciously reach out to graze the smooth leather of his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The same jacket he’d once wrapped around your shoulders.

It was undeniable: you’d been bitten by the proverbial love bug and were sick as hell, and there was no cure. You worked in the same room as some of the most brilliant, tactful minds on the planet, so you knew there was no hiding your condition for long. And, of course, Steve Murphy was the first to figure it out.

“What the hell did Javi do now?” he asked you point blank, cornering you at the water cooler.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to feign ignorance and failing miserably.

“Well, he’s been more of a bastard than usual and I figured it had something to do with you. And if something did happen between you two, because it’s always the safe bet, I could only imagine that Javi fucked up royally. So, I ask again: what did he do?”

You gulped down your water, wishing it was something stronger, and tossed the cup.

“Why do you assume his bullshit has anything to do with me?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Murphy’s mouth.

“Because nothing gets him more worked up than you.”

You knew it was meant as a compliment, but you tried desperately not to see it that way.

“We’re hunting Pablo fucking Escobar, darlin’. One of the most dangerous criminal, dare I say masterminds, in all of Colombia, potentially the world. But not even this motherfucker has been able to get under Javi’s skin the way you have. And don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Of course Steve noticed. Because you were so damn obvious. You were ashamed and embarrassed of your unprofessionalism, but you couldn’t blame that on Javier Peña. Your feelings and the resulting behaviors of said feelings were your own.

“The relationship had run its course, Steve, so I ended it. That’s it. We’re adults, adults break up. If Javi is insisting on taking it like a child, that’s on him.”

You return to your desk and attempt to lose yourself in paperwork. You know Steve wants to say more; the silence that follows is pregnant with his unvoiced questions, thoughts and opinions. Fortunately for you he’s wise enough to keep them all to himself.

“Hang in there,” he mumbles, patting your shoulder in a brief gesture of support before striding off.

***

You finish drying your hands and you’re about to exit the ladies room when suddenly the door flies open and in storms Javier.

“Shit!” you exclaim, both startled and a bit disgusted at the lengths he would go to just to confront you.

“We need to talk,” he grumbles, standing between you and the door.

“We have nothing to talk about, Javier, and certainly not here of all places!”

Just then one of the receptionists attempts to enter the restroom, doing a double take when she notices Javier.

“Go find another bathroom,” he barks at the wide eyed young woman.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Peña?” she snaps.

“OUT!” he roars. She doesn’t need to be told twice.

For good measure he locks the door behind her, and the two of you are officially alone. Even in the enclosed space, you try to put as much distance between the two of you as physically possible.

Javier let’s out a frustrated breath as he runs a hand over his face and through his hair.

“I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I need you to listen to me. Just listen to me. Okay?”

Your heart is thudding in your ears but you attempt to play it cool by crossing your arms and leaning back against the sink.

“I’m listening.”

Javi took a deep breath then began again.

“You know I’m not the best at showing emotion-“

You cut him off with a laugh.

“You just screamed a poor woman out of this bathroom and you say you’re no good at showing emotion?”

You could see the anger boiling up inside him once again, but he closed his eyes, took a breath, tamped it down, and continued.

“I don’t typically get close to people, alright? I don’t usually do relationships, friendly or otherwise. What you and I have...”

You shot him a pointed look at the same instant he caught his mistake.

“Had ,” he corrected. “That’s usually the extent of my emotional attachment.”

You snickered a bit. “I sure as hell hope Steve is enjoying it while it lasts, then.”

“God dammit, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Now you want to get serious?”

That may have been a poor choice of words. Actually, goading him on while he was obviously upset may have been one big bad idea on your part, because in a flash Javier was crushing his body to yours and shackling your wrists in his hands. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his skin burning your own. Or maybe that was your own.

He took a second to recollect himself, but he didn’t release his grip on you. In that moment you didn’t mind.

“Just who the hell said I didn’t love you, huh?”

His entire body was like an angry storm: his pounding heart was thunder, and his words struck you like lightening. But his eyes, just like that of any other tempest, were calm. And as you gazed into them your fear was washed away, as if by rain.

“You did,” you whispered. “You told me, Javi, that love wasn’t your thing. You warned me when we first started seeing each other, and you just said it again now. Don’t you even hear yourself when you talk?”

He didn’t say anything, only swallowed painfully over the lump in his throat.

“I get it, Javier, okay? This is not my first time being with someone like you. I know there are people out there who just can’t stand the idea of love and relationships, and there’s nothing wrong with that. To each their own right?”

He seemed frozen so you took the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and lower his arms to his sides.

“That doesn’t make you a bad guy, Javier. You don’t have to apologize for being who you are. You don’t ever have to apologize for that.”

You looked away as angry, self conscious tears filled your eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Javier. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful. I’m sorry I didn’t take your warning to heart.”

Before you even realized what you were doing, you brought your hand gently to his face. This could, would, be the last time you ever touched him, and because he probably understood that all too well he reached up and placed his hand atop yours, pressing it harder against his cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell in love with you, Javi.”

You saw his eyes go painfully wide as you slipped from his hold and made your way around him, not sparing a single look back as you left the restroom. You didn’t see him punch the mirror, but you heard the glass shatter from the other side of the door.

Wiping angrily at your eyes, you hastily retrieved your jacket and purse from your desk and tapped Steve on the shoulder on your way out.

“Tell the boss I’m leaving early,” you said, and if Steve was going to protest you didn’t give him the chance. You were as good as gone.

***

The next day you called in sick. For one day, just one lousy fucking day, you wanted to be alone to drown your thoughts under a stack of paperwork a mile high. You told the boss not to call and bother you unless your transfer request had gone through.

But as luck would have it, you picked the wrong fucking day to stay home.

One second you were skimming page after page of Escobar’s dossier, the next the pages were fluttering in the air like confidential snowflakes, launched skyward by the force of the explosion that rocked your apartment and the shops below.

@mamacitapascal @obsessivelysearching

Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.

“I see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.” He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. “I suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...it’s only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.”

Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. “Yeeeep. I’m guessing that’s what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.” He looked up at Astor. “Obviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?”

Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.

If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...

The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganon’s forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.

So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...

“How sure are you that no one else could figure this out?” Astor asked.

“Decently sure. I mean, it’d be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.” Asivus shrugged.

“Are you positive? Because I know my—” He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. “I—in reference to random researchers—other non-specified—she’s not—Look. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someone—”

“Did you say it yourself? Everyone’s way to arrogant around here!” Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “No one’s gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and don’t talk back. It’s a general’s wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.” He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. “Case in point: You.”

Astor folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, fine. So that’s how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But what’s the actual execution of it all? The plan? What’s your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?”

Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.

“I was supposed to make them. That’s what he wanted,” Asivus finally said. “Beast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.They’re built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with ‘em.” He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. “It all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but that’s the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.”

“But you failed.” Astor interjected. “You failed to make the blights, and thus today’s calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.” Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. “The Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...”

Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.

“Is he speaking to you? At the moment?” The seer asked. “Every time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.”

Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.

“Ganon isn’t in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.” He thought back. “Earlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamity’s plan...”

He locked eyes with him. “Combine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...”

Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. “That astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. It’s lending you the power to control malice. It’s a manifested vessel of Ganon’s ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because you’re brimming with his favourite substance.”

Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: “Am I wrong?”

Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “You’ve got Ligero’s mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.”

Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. “I’m nothing like him.”

“It’s alright, don’t take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.”

“Tsk.” The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. “Don’t we all.”

“But you’re wrong about one thing.” Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. “I didn’t ‘fail’ to make the blights.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t fail to make the blights, I didn’t want to.” Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. “You can’t fail something you never really attempted in the first place.” He winked. “I mean, that’s been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.”

Astor blinked in surprise. “But...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else.  Why wouldn’t—?”

“I didn’t do it because I’m not like you, pissface!” Siv snapped. “I jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I don’t just run away from any inconvenience in my life.”

Astor nearly laughed. “Oh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? You’re really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?”

“YEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!” He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. “Taking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.” Siv pounded his chest proudly. “The ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!”

He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.

Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.

He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.

“You still care about your brother.”

It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. “The fuck does that have to do with anything—?!”

“Why are you just relaxing in there after all this time?  You think you deserve this? Don’t want to be a burden for others?” Astor looked him up and down.

“Listen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, but—”

“You know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didn’t see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.” The prophet sneered. “Dear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.” Astor leaned down with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who paid attention to the captain’s birthday presents.”

“Alright get to the point, fuckface.” He waved the prophet off. “What? I screw around with my dumb family. What’s it gotta do with anything?”

“It means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you don’t actually believe that.” He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. “Or at least you don’t fully. Maybe you don’t want to. So don’t go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isn’t about your apathy. You’re just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself you’re a hero.”

Quiet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“OK.” Asivus curled his lip. “I didn’t want to join Ganon, because I’m still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. I’m too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. I’m pathetically trying to keep control over my image—is THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?” The astrolabe had rolled by Asivus’ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.

Astor sighed and answered honestly. “...Well. I’m envious, truth be told.” Siv blinked, but let him continue. “I haven’t bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be ‘good.’” The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. “I’m envious, but I do think you’re a fool. I’d take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Siv chuckled. “This malice stuff is fucked up.”

“Only because you don’t understand it.” Astor replied, offended. “I’ve studies it for years, and it’s often misunderstood. There’s a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. You’re just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. ‘Love-hate relationship,’ like you said.” He snorted.

“Are you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldn’t walk through that again to end OR save the world.”

“Again. All due to your plight of ignorance. It’s not your fault.”

Asivus rolled his eyes. “You know what? Why don’t you explain it me then?! If you’re so excited about it? Talk aaall about how I’m not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?”

Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.

“Go on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if you’re so eager I’ll just leave the thing in your care!”

For the Country| Tobirama- Arranged Marriage AU 

Part 1/15 (Completed)

Part 1| ... |Part 2|

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Fic Summary: Here

Basically an arranged marriage between Tobirama and an Uchiha. There’s tension sometimes, but at their foundation, they have the same goals. Both want their country to succeed. And also refuse to fail- they know others think that is marriage is set up to fail, but they both refuse to be seen as failures- they have too much to protect to be seen as weak.

Obviously they fall in love bc this is a fic, but its slow and unsuspecting.

Chapter Summary: Hashirama tells Tobirama that in order to become Hokage his must marry, and the girl that he has in mind in an Uchiha. 

“Tobirama,” Hashirama hummed, a polite smile painted across his demeanor, “I’m glad you made it.” he offered as he opened his front door, allowing Tobirama to enter. 

Unwrapping his scarf as he made his way into his brother’s home, Tobirama was blunt, “I didn’t think I had a choice.” Removing his snow covered coat, the younger of the two frowned, “You said this was official business- and that it was urgent.” he emphasized the latter part of the phrase. 

“And it is.” Hashirama countered, hearing the slight irk in his brother’s voice. “I do need to talk to you about the future of the village.” he insisted, closing the door and ensuring that they were the only two around to hear the upcoming conversation. “Come, I have tea.”

Tobirama watched as Hashirama walked past him, a tight frown present. He must have had something to say that he knew was going to brush Tobirama the wrong way. Hashirama always played unfortunate situations like this- bring him into his home, offer alms, try to belittle the impact of whatever request he had. He would try to lessen the blow of whatever undeniably request he had. Hashirama was also acting unusually serious, so Tobirama knew for certain that there was some impending favor Hashirama was about to ask of him- one that he would most likely resent.

“Enough, what do you need?” Tobirama was quick to the point, not interested in spending his entire evening dedicated to this. 

The elder pushed a cup of tea towards him and motioned him to sit. “Listen, will you?” 

Inhaling, Tobirama sat down and propped his chin on his palm. “Will you at least be succinct?”

Hashirama nodded. “We know that I will not be Hokage forever.” he started. “And that you are the most suitable successor. There’s no contest in this fact.” 

“Yes.”

Looking from Tobirama to his tea, Hashirama stated another fact. “A lesser known point is that this switch in power will be sooner than it is later, correct?”

Tobirama’s gaze narrowed. “Are you planning on stepping down soon? Is this why you called me?”

He rocked his head from side to side as if he were still contemplating the timeline. “Yes and no.”  

“What does that mean?”

Reaching to the brunt of the conversation, Hashirama sighed. “You are very well aware of the fact that the Elders want a Hokage with a partner. They want a united couple as sovereign. You, of course, have all the power, but for you to become Hokage, they need you to have a wife.” 

Tobirama rolled his eyes. There were already numerous hoops he had to jump through to be first in line for the position, but this was the most absurd one. How being married actually affected his position as Hokage made absolutely no sense- if anything, a wife was just a distraction, and one that he did not want. Combatting his brother’s insight, Tobirama was curt. “There’s no significance in having a wife.”

“There is though- even if it’s just for political gain.” Hashirama enforced. “The village needs to see you have that support system. They need to see a strong and capable partner by your side. It’s not a solo act. Mito is just as big as a part of the political game as I am, and you need a counterpart.” 

“Hashirama-”

“No, the Elders will not allow you to become Hokage without a wife. It is the code that was established.” Hashirama’s voice became harsher, trying to nail the unchanging reality into his brother’s mind. “I’ve brought you here, because we seriously need you to commit to a wife and to being the next Hokage. With Konoha on the brink of another war, we need to be prepared, and I don’t trust anyone else, but you to take over.”

Placing both hands on his temples in a poor attempt to alleviate the pounding that was now becoming evident in his head, Tobirama let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’m assuming you’ve already thought this through?” he spat, giving in to this absurdity of it all for the sake of the village. 

Setting his tea on the table, Hashirama gave a quick nod. “I’ve put some thought into this, and I’ve spoken with the Elders about-” he started, but was interrupted. 

“You already have someone in mind, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Who?”

Standing, Hashirama held up both of his hands in front of him as if a sign of peace. “Now, before you become angered, I think you two would do very well as a pair-”

Dropping his hands, Tobirama’s eyes narrowed, now concerned at whoever this mystery woman was. “Who?” he repeated, this time almost mimicking a hiss. 

Hashirama took a deep breath, almost as if he were bracing himself for the following moments. “Madara’s niece, y/n. You’ve met before. She’s the Uchiha clan's primarily medical ninja- very capable and extremely compassionate, something that this country needs.” Hashirama stated. “She has political power and is a very neutral and well liked individual within the village. She would do well in this role.”

“No.” Tobirama snapped. “I’m not marrying someone from a family that has directly traumatized ours. Did you even bother to take that into account, or were you too swayed by Madara’s musings of her?” 

Hashirama was silent for a moment as he composed his thoughts. This was about the reaction he was expecting from his brother, but still, Hashirama knew that his words needed to be calculated in order to persuade Tobirama. “She has done nothing to you or to any of our family or to our citizens. She knows the pain that war brought, she lost 3 of her brothers to it, and she’s made it clear that she only seeks peace and healing for this nation.” 

His jaw was clenched as he heard his brother’s words, feeling as if his own statements and feelings weren’t being taken into account. “There are plenty of other suitable women out there that meet that exact characterization, why does it have to be someone from Uchiha descent.”

“Because,” Hashirama sighed. “It has to be.”

“What does that mean?” 

Hashirama pinched the bridge of his nose, tension now building. “Because, you know that relationships between the village and the Uchiha clan are not great. And you are partially to blame for this-”

“I am not! Is this your punishment for me? To marry the enemy-”

“Stop.” Hashirama snapped. “You are, and this is a way to try and repair those relationships. Build trust where you and others sowed doubt. She is absolutely perfect for building back up the relationships between the two parties, and I will not have this village fall apart, because we did not take advantage of this opportunity.” he was strict, unbreakable even against his brother. 

Tobirama could feel the heat building in his chest, angered that he was going to have to be the one to deal with this. Nearly gritting his teeth, he shook his head, “I don’t have a choice is this, do I?” 

“Not if you want to be Hokage…”

There was a moment when Tobirama held his breath, contemplating this whole farce- was it really worth it? Though, that contemplation only lasted a fleeting moment, before the reality of his desires brought their weight again. “So be it then,” he snapped, his words laced with venom towards his brother. Standing, Tobirama hastily put his coat back on, ready to face the winter again, “Go ahead and tell her and all the others I agreed, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled…” 

Giving out an exhausted sigh, Hashirama shook his head. “Like you, she didn’t have a choice either...”

The Garden of Eden | Part I: Cycles

Pairing: James March x reader (you) |  ~Part: (1/4)~

Summary (Part One): Life with James March involved has had many cycles. In a time long ago, you once flourished. But things don’t always stay the same forever, do they? Will James find his way back to you?

Warnings (in this part): physical / mental / verbal abuse (child and adult), violence, graphic descriptions of murder / blood, dark themes, heartbreak, extreme emotional grief, just overall dark. avoid if any of the aforementioned is triggering.

Word count: 2,223

IMPORTANT Notes: Hello! I’m so excited to start this series that @etoile-writings​ requested that I can hardly type fast enough! lol. I really hope that I can do this justice!

The request was: juxtaposition - (noun) the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect. AND true love over a forced marriage + lots of fun ideas, such as flowers. Read on my blog for more if you want. I also suck at summaries but I thought I’d give it a try.

Speaking of flowers, I just wanted to say specifically to the requester: I didn’t just pick white roses because they are my personal favorite, but also because of their symbolism to the reader character. White roses symbolize purity, innocence, and youthfulness, associating with young love and eternal loyalty, and can also symbolize a new beginning and everlasting love. Just wanted to say that because I found it very interesting and symbolic!

SO... I have a few notes before we begin. 1) This is set before James died, approximately the year 1926. Since this is a fan-fictional story, the events are slightly warped from the show. The main plot of the show still flows, but this is kind of worked in, in a way. So the plot of the show doesn’t really change all that much. The second thing 2) a lot of things in this story will become clear as I post more parts. There will be more flashbacks and the plot will expand drastically. This is pretty much just an introduction. Just wanted to put that out there. And 3) I plan to do four parts, but that may be subject to change.

Some things never change.

That you had found to be true. The cycle of life was incredible. The lessons in life you were meant to learn were imprinted into your being by repetitious events that were sometimes out of your control. You knew that too well.

People had always told you, “God works in mysterious ways.” It hadn’t been so apparent to you until you had experienced that mystery yourself. It seemed that your life had entered its second cycle. It seemed that you had lived this exact moment once before.

Your head was pounding, a moan sounding when his fist collided into your side again. You kept your arms up in defense, as it was the only thing stopping him from hitting your face. That hurt much worse, and it was harder to hide. Explaining to your neighbors why there are bruises on your face was the last thing you would need. You’d already done it last time this had happened. Of course, you hadn’t expected this to happen again. You’d put too much faith into your husband. A wretched sob left your burning throat, your face soaking wet with tears.

“Please stop,” you pleaded, whimpering, while your husband Robert laughed.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut,” he spat, sighing as he rubbed his knuckles. A fleeting memory flashed before your eyes.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut!”

“I-I’m sorry!” you cried, clutching your jaw as you scrambled across the floor.

“Yeah, of course you are now,” the old man said maliciously, towering over your small frame. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think in vain of yourself. You can’t believe that a man would ever want a woman who talked to him like that. You believe that because you’re so innocent people will treat you as such.” He squatted down in front of you, his face getting closer to yours. “Well, I have something you need to know, young girl. Most of us humans don’t really care about others.” He chuckled again, standing up. “We’re all in it for ourselves.” He shook his head. His fist pulled back again, and you gasped, throwing your arms over your head.

“Leave her alone!”

James came racing into the room, his hands pushing his father’s fist away before it hit you. He shoved him back, and you watched in amazement. You couldn’t believe that he stood up to his father. Just moments before, as he had told you of the abuse, he had been shaking at even the thought of his father hitting him.

That’s what had led you into the conversation in the first place. When James had told you of how his father had been treating him since he was seven years old to now, at almost eighteen, you couldn’t help yourself. You’d thought that confrontation would stop him, or maybe he would realize how wrong it was if you had showed him. You were wrong, and now here you were, your favorite floral blouse torn, your jaw aching from the impact of his father’s hit.

You were wrong, and now James was in another bad situation. You stared at James, wondering why he would ever step in. Why he would ever step in when he knew what his father would do.

“You stupid boy!” The old man yelled, his fist striking James’ face. “Do you just like being beat? Don’t tell me it’s because you love this naïve girl!” James’ glare burned holes into his father’s face, his jaw set firmly.

It clicked behind your eyes. He loved you. He stepped in because he was protecting you, because he didn’t want you to experience what he had.

His father chuckled as he looked between the two of you; James now standing beside your form on the floor. He shook his head, and left the room without another word, although he slammed the door. You jumped at the loud impact, scurrying to stand beside James. There was a moment of silence before you spoke.

“James,” you whispered, studying his face. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was listening. “Do you believe him? Are all people really that selfish?”

James still remained silent, but that was enough of an answer for you. You simply couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that all people only cared about themselves. Not when you had seen it for yourself, firsthand with James and your family, or even the kindness of strangers.

But you were wrong again. Your own father had proved that to you when he had you married off to Robert Williams for money. It opened your eyes, and only then had you seen everything that people did just to get what they wanted. And now you know that the only person who ever cared about you was James. And you were ripped away from him just before you were able to begin a life with him, all because your father didn’t believe he would be able to take care of you. You’d never even known he cared so much about James’ wealth, or lack thereof.

For a while, that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d still think about James in your every waking moments. Sure, you’d settled into your new life with your new husband. At first, you had even gotten along with one another. You learned how to accept what you had, keep your spirit, and be as grateful as you could for simple things such as safety. But that changed too. The problem arose at the topic of children. To you, the thought of having a child with Robert made you sick to your stomach. You just didn’t want to fake it with him, but you didn’t know how to tell him that. You couldn’t give and raise a child with a man you didn’t love. You supposed it was because you still had hope that you’d see James again. For many years, he had believed your excuses, until he had grew tired of you pushing it off. That’s where the anger and violence had begun. So you ran.

At the very moment that you read about James in the newspaper, you ran. You ran straight to his luxurious brand new hotel. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that poor boy you’d left behind all those years ago had turned into such a successful man. You’d just hoped that he still loved you like you loved him; that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

But once again, as life repeats, you were wrong. James’ life was nothing you ever could have imagined. He’d built his hotel from scratch, and that was after he had clawed his way up the chain of command. He was filthy rich, living life in the most prosperous way imaginable, his power undeniable. You were in awe. If only your father could see him now. If only he’d seen what you had in James all those years ago when he had first began his journey to being a self-made man.

But wealth wasn’t the only thing that had changed. James obviously didn’t love you anymore. How could he, when he had a new wife? Elizabeth was her name. She seemed lovely, and it was wrong of you to assume he would never move on from you. Even if you’d never moved on from him.

So you stayed. You had no choice but to at this point. You had no where else to turn, no where else to go, no real life of your own. Just memories of a life long ago to hold onto.

You wept as you curled in on yourself. Your husband stood there, his breathing heavy as he glared at you with the anger of a thousand hurricanes in his eyes.

“You were the biggest mistake of my life,” he snarled, an expression of disappointment settling on his face. “A wife that won’t even give me children.” He scoffed and chuckled dryly. “What a pathetic joke.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You cupped your hands over your face, sniffling.

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly boomed, his fist raising once again. You shouted out in protest at the incoming attack, bracing yourself for the pain.

At what seemed to be the most perfect timing, a knock sounded at the front door.

Robert froze in his place, his fist hovering in mid-air. You sighed in relief, pushing yourself further into the wall, balled up in a fetal position on the floor. He turned, shooting a hesitant look back at you, before slowly making his way to answer the door.

The door handle jiggled as he opened it, and although you couldn’t see, you listened intently from your position in the living room.

“Hello,” Robert greeted whomever was on the other side of the door. “May I help you?”

“Greetings, sir,” replied the voice of a man. You froze. You could’ve sworn you knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” said your husband.

“Would it happen that a woman by the name of ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ resides here?” said the man. You let out a breath. It was him. It was James.

Robert paused, and you began contemplating revealing yourself.

“She’s busy,” Robert rushed out nervously.

There was another pause, this time from James.

“I’m not sure you’re telling the truth, sir,” said James. “You seem to be quite flustered.”

“She- she can’t come right now,” Robert demanded, “she’s busy. Come another time.”

You panicked. He was going to make him leave! This was your only chance!

“Help!” you shouted, before even having time to think about it.

Before you knew it, the man you had dreamed of for so many years was standing before you. You gasped as your eyes met his, the same dark brown framed by his sharp masculine features. It was as if you had seen the sun after years in the dark. Your eyes took in his features before shifting to look at the object in his hands. A bouquet of white roses lay clasped between his hands; your flowers. He had remembered. He really had come back for you. Finally, you had your James again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Robert shouted as he followed quickly behind James. James’ head turned slowly to look at the man, his jaw locking firmly as his eyes settled on him.

“How about,” James clicked his tongue, pausing for a mere second, “you explain the meaning of this.” He gestured toward you, his head turning to briefly look at you again. Robert crossed his arms.

“I don’t think I’m inclined to tell you anything,” he said, a look of resentment taking over his expression. “In fact, I think you should see your way out.” James stared at the man for a moment before his lips upturned into a small smirk.

“Of course,” he grinned, his accent drawing the words out. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly began walking towards the hallway to the front door. No, you thought. He couldn’t leave. You thought he had come back for you. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed him the most. Not when you’d waited this long. 

Just as your hopes had almost been crushed, James spun around. What happened next was hard to process immediately. Blood suddenly covered James’ face and chest, spurting out from Robert’s throat as James’ knife slid smoothly across, the skin slicing like butter. James stood, a look of satisfaction on his face, his eyes settling upon yours. A flicker of what seemed like doubt rushed across his face as you grew silent, your eyes wide and innocent as you stared at him, digesting what had just happened.

“James?” you whispered.

“Yes, dear?” he said smoothly, his jaw moving back and forth slowly as he worked it nervously. You climbed to your feet, padding over to him softly. Your hand slowly came up to rest upon his cheek, thumb softly gliding over the bone there, the blood on his face smearing with the movement. Your other hand gently grabbed the roses from his hands, glancing down at them adoringly, your lips curling into a smile.

“Darling,” James said hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing, “I apologize if I’ve frightened you.” You smiled up at him.

“No,” you said reassuringly. “No, quite the opposite.” You paused, studying James’ handsome features. You leaned in slowly, your breaths mingling. “You’ve freed me.” It was a whisper, barely audible, but at your close proximity, you knew he could hear. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours as you moved closer and closer. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, James arms enveloping you, the world seeming to align once more.

It seemed as if you had no worries, no hardships; that all of your anxieties had magically disappeared with his kiss. He’d reset your life. He’d given you everything you wanted just by being in yours. All those years that you had waited for him seemed worth it. All of your blind devotion seemed worth it. James had finally, finally come back to you.

All those people had been right: God did work in mysterious ways. And in that moment, you decided James was your meant to be; your heaven on Earth; your purpose of being. Or further... he was your God.

---

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

I love you (not) - Chapter 12

Today on I love you (not), Adrienette makes an appearance and our dearest protagonists have feeling epiphanies. We're only halfway through the fic though, so everything isn't solved. After the mutually unrequited half, we're about to enter the pining half. Hope you enjoy!

@marichatmay

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Chapter 12: In which youuuu can feeeeel the loveeee toniiiight

Marinette’s gaze wandered around the room as she sipped on her sparkling apple juice, her foot absentmindedly tapping to the beat of the music. The party was in full swing, and so far, everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

Her classmates were laughing, even Chloé and Lila (separately, of course), hanging out in small groups around the buffet, or showing off their moves on the dancefloor. No sign of an Akuma anywhere. Everything was perfect.

A slight frown creased Marinette’s forehead as she realised that there was one person whom she hadn’t seen yet, and she was starting to wonder what was keeping him when she sensed a presence behind her.

"Hey, Marinette." Adrien almost managed to sneak up on her, but he was less discrete than Chat Noir. She turned around, a bright smile gracing her lips. There he was.

Adrien's breath caught as he took in exactly how pretty Marinette looked in her dress. He’d known she'd been bound to look good in it; firstly, because Marinette was always pretty, it was an undeniable fact; secondly, the dress had been very pretty on the mannequin, too, so really it would have been a feat for it not to be nice when worn.

Yet nothing could've prepared him for the synergistic effect of both, the garment falling gracefully on her, hugging her in all the right places.

"You look... Amazing, did you make that dress yourself?" He blushed as he averted his gaze to meet her eyes. He noticed she was wearing her hair half up, which really was a lovely look on her.

"Thanks, and yes," Marinette's cheeks pinked as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was aiming to not be overdressed, but..." Her eyes went back to the open space. Adrien saw that even though a couple of their classmates had thrown on a blazer, most had showed up in their usual attire.

"You're perfect." He smiled, before tutting. "The others are underdressed. We had a planned party for once, and yet... Really, people could have made a bit more of an effort."

Marinette turned towards him. Adrien’s hands were casually buried in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his usual jeans, but a suit, darker than the one she’d always seen him wear. "At least you seem to have gotten the memo. New suit?"

"Good eye. It's part of Father's next collection." He grinned.

"We're so lucky to get an exclusive preview." Her hand hovered midway between them, hesitant to touch the fabric.

"It's not entirely benevolent, though. I'm supposed to crash test it, to see if it withstands being worn." He adjusted his cufflinks. "Actually, would you do me the honour of dancing with me? Purely for experimental purposes, obviously." He bowed before her and winked.

"Of course." She giggled at his antics, an odd feeling of déjà vu nagging at her. She knew she was talking to Adrien, and yet… There was something about him tonight that made her think of a certain someone else. She brushed the thought away, blaming it on the dark suit, as she put her glass down and took his hand, following him to the dancefloor.

Adrien caught Nino's eye, and the latter nodded at him with a wide smile. He made an ok sign before changing the track.

“Time to shake things up in here, time to get a little rock’n roll!” he announced in his best DJ voice.

“Up for the challenge?” Adrien asked Marinette.

She nodded, mentally thanking Chat Noir for the refresher course he’d given her. He really had her back whatever the situation, huh?

They started swinging their arms to the rhythm; she remembered to trace hearts in the air to show professionalism. Then the rhythm picked up, and the show really started.

Adrien picked up the pace and Marinette smoothly followed, starting with easy figures; twirl in, twirl out, half-waltz, yoyo, hand exchange, double stroke. People looked on curiously as Marinette cocked an eyebrow at Adrien, daring him to level it up.

He smirked and lifted her briefly, resumed a couple of simple passes, then, as she spun back into his embrace, he dipped her. Somebody (probably Alya), hooted in the crowd.

“Ready for a flip?” He was slightly breathless, his hair a little dishevelled.

Marinette’s heart was beating quite fast and although she was flushed, she knew it was just from the exercise. The thought rattled her a bit.

“Show me what you got, Agreste.” She put on her most confident smile and he pulled her up. His hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her, throwing her in the air. Her flight lasted a couple of seconds, during which she didn’t hear their audience’s gasps, and then she was back in Adrien’s strong arms, cushioning her landing.

Cheers erupted around them as the song faded out, and they remained embraced, slightly panting from the dance.

“That was amazing, Marinette,” Adrien whispered in her ear, with a slightly disbelieving chuckle. He’d managed to catch her without the Miraculous suit’s help. The doubt had invaded his mind just as she’d left his arms, and he hoped she never knew how terrified he’d been of dropping her.

“Yeah,” she panted.

Suddenly the guitar solo of Toto’s Won't hold you back now echoed through the restaurant.

Adrien’s eyes met Nino’s, and his friend winked at him. A crazy idea crossed his mind. He’d enjoyed his time with Marinette so much over the past months. Dating her as Chat Noir was definitely a bad idea and he definitely had to put an end to it, but what if… What if he asked her out as Adrien? Yes, there’d still be that massive secret hanging between them, that he moonlit as one of Paris’ superheroes. But being on the other side of the mask, the one that got to talk to her every day without having to make up excuses as to why he was at her balcony, that could just turn around in his seat to tell her how beautiful she was, would make things so much easier.

If she’d fallen in love with Chat Noir, she’d technically already be in love with him, although he’d of course pull all the stops to make sure she felt as cherished as she deserved, and do his best to conceal the fact that her ex and her present boyfriend were actually the same person. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought about Marinette more than he’d had about Ladybug lately. This was the perfect opportunity to move on from his partner.

"Hey, it's our song." He commented, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

"O-our?" Marinette stammered, pulling away slightly from him.

"The one we danced to at Chloé's last party, remember?" He felt his cheeks warm up at the thought that he might have spoken out of turn, or worse, that she might have forgotten, when the memory regularly invaded his dreams. She’d seemed almost shocked at his choice of words.

"Oh, right." She gave him a small smile before moving a little closer to him.

It wasn’t exactly to snuggle up to him, although she supposed it probably looked like it, given Alya’s enthusiastic thumbs up she caught as they danced; she just needed to hide her face from him. Adrien led their steps, which was just as well since her overthinking brain was too busy trying to compute his words.

Was he... Making a move on her? She looked up and their eyes locked, his gaze softening as they did. He twirled her before catching her, holding her a little closer than before. She didn't mind.

Then he unexpectedly dipped her, and looked as if he was about to say something to her. His eyes were full of affection, like hers in almost all of the pictures of her looking at him that had been taken before a couple of months ago. She could almost feel the virtual pink bubbles that surrounded her.

She paled.

Maybe she was finally getting what she'd wanted since the first real conversation they'd had. Maybe this was it . But then why did it feel so… wrong? Why did her heart tell her to bolt? Why did she want to be in Chat Noir's arms at that precise moment?

"Marinette? Is everything ok?" Adrien pulled her up, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"It's just a bit warm, I haven't eaten much today. I'll just go and grab something from the buffet." She waved in its direction, putting up a brave smile to conceal her rattled state. What was it with Chat Noir invading her thoughts tonight? She needed to get a grip.

"Want me to come with you?" He really looked concerned, and she felt bad for worrying him.

"I’ll be fine, thanks. Keep testing out your suit." She patted his shoulder gently before heading off.

He watched her walk away, slightly disconcerted. He'd felt so confident that he'd be able to reproduce the unadulterated joy his friend had displayed when they'd danced in her room, yet somehow he seemed to have gone a step too far.

But then again... Maybe it all boiled down to who she'd been with then (well, who she’d known she was with).

He knew it wasn't a good idea. But he had to check his theory. His heart commanded it.

---

Marinette tried her best to act like a wallflower next to the buffet, something that might have worked better if she hadn't undisputedly been the prettiest girl in the room, and if she'd been standing near an actual wall and not a bay window. Those were Chat Noir's thoughts, anyway, as he watched her from outside, perched on his baton, holding back from knocking on the closest window just to see her sway gently to the rhythm of the music.

Then he saw her nibbling at her nails, confirming that something was troubling her.

She must have sensed that she was being watched, because she turned around before his fist could tap on the window. Their eyes met, and for a second she looked slightly surprised, a little taken aback, even, by his presence, before a smile bloomed on her lips. He could have sworn that she was relieved. He wished that he could've taken a picture of her at that exact moment.

“You really felt like you needed to patrol tonight?” She asked as she opened the window for him.

“Well, I know they say that the mice dance when the cat’s away, but this cat felt like it was missing out.” He pointed to himself and pouted.

“Poor kitty.” She scratched his neck. He almost let out a purr, but managed to hold it in.

“Anyway, I see a mouse that isn’t dancing, and I’d argue that’s a criminal offence.” He shot her a pointed look.

“It’s not like I haven’t danced already.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we were quite a success.”

“I know, I was there.” He winked.

She  looked at her feet sheepishly, and he regretted his choice of words. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking, I think the rooftop’s empty, would you like to get out of here, maybe?”

“Please.” She grabbed a chair and helped herself up, climbing out of the window after checking nobody was looking. Chat pushed the window pane shut after she’d gotten on his lap and extended his baton upwards, letting go of her when they’d reached the top floor.

Marinette took a deep breath as she leaned on the railing, looking at the view. Dark, warning clouds had gathered on the horizon, but she only saw the full moon, standing unobstructed in the sky and reflecting in the pool.

The music was faintly audible from below. Marinette shuffled around to face Chat Noir.

“So… Since you were complaining about this mouse not dancing… How about you right that wrong?”

“‘Twould be my pleasure, princess.” He took her hand and guided her out.

“A waltz?” Marinette raised an eyebrow after the first couple of steps. “I thought they were passées .”

“I wouldn’t want you to have practised for nothing,” he said softly. “Plus, nobody’s here to judge us for being old-fashioned.”

She let out a content sigh as he gently pressed his cheek to her temple (they couldn’t dance cheek to cheek even with her kitten heels). She closed her eyes and revelled in the moment.

Gently swaying in the moonlight, Chat humming along to the music ( La vie en rose, probably a request from Juleka), it was like time had stopped, and she wished they could stay in this perfect bubble forever, one where she didn’t have to question her feelings, where she could just enjoy the moment.

Marinette felt something light land on her shoulder. Then on her nose.

Chat must have felt it too, because they both looked up. The moon was gone, hidden by stormy clouds. The rain’s pace picked up. They looked at each other, Marinette’s gaze questioning what they should do.

Chat Noir purred, afraid she’d let go of him. Marinette let out a crystalline laugh, an exquisite sound he knew he’d never grow tired of hearing.

She held him closer, eyes fluttering shut once more as she smiled, her cheek pressed to his chest, enjoying the gentle vibrations.

This was it. She was right where she wanted to be.