#my experience is only from watering the office plants at work..

[adamantiumspy]

of fractures and fabrications

part 2

pairing: bones x reader

summary: you are captain pike’s daughter and have become inseparable from the enterprise crew, especially jim kirk and leonard mccoy... so when your terrible ex makes a reappearance right when you’re discovering your deeper feelings for bones, only chaos and heartache could ensue

word count: 5380

warnings: swearing, drinking

notes: my first time posting a fic, hope y’all like it! this took me a full month longer to write than I anticipated, and I may be writing this whole fic from bones’ perspective as well...

You never get as much rest during shore leave as your crewmates. While they’re off, free to do whatever they wish with their time, you have to spend a few hours each day back on the docked Enterprise tending to the plant life in the ship’s greenhouses. Jim always insists that you, as a senior science officer, have the authority to pawn off the task to one of your subordinates, but you take pride in doing the work yourself. And lately... well... lately you’re glad for the time alone. For the time away from a certain doctor.

You met Jim and Bones at the Academy, when they were cadets and you were an instructor’s assistant while your ship was on leave. The three of you became thick as thieves in the blink of an eye. Even though your friend group has grown since then, the bond you three share is special. So, a couple months back, when you realized that your feelings for one of your best friends had deepened into something... else... you panicked.

The last time you opened yourself up to feelings was during your own time at the Academy, when you dated a man for four years only to find out he was using you for your connection to your father to get ahead in his career and was fucking your roommate behind your back the whole time. While you know that Bones would never do something like that, the experience has left you scared to be vulnerable again. And Bones is one of your best friends. You aren’t about to ruin your friendship by putting him in the awkward position of having to turn you down.

So you’ve taken to spending more time dedicating yourself to your duties. Here, among the plants, no one will know if you while away the hours daydreaming about the way Bones’ hands would feel cupping your face, how solid his chest would feel against yours, how soft his lips would be...

You snap out of today’s daydreams at the sound of the doors to the greenhouses whooshing open. You look up to see Uhura and Sulu stroll in, the latter looking especially triumphant.

“See? I told you she’d be here,” Sulu says.

You busy yourself with checking each plant’s water level, the task you were doing before your mind wandered. “Of course I’m here. Plants don’t stop living just because everyone else is on leave.”

“C’mon Pike, you can try to deceive the others but you can’t lie to us. We know why you’re really here,” Uhura says.

You mentally curse yourself, regretting a night not too long ago when you, Sulu, and Uhura had gotten drunk and the truth of your feelings for Bones came spilling out of you before you could stop yourself. Since then, they refused to leave you in peace.

“You know, he’s still one of your best friends,” Uhura continues. “He’ll be more suspicious the more you push him away.”

“I’m not pushing him away,” you say quickly, eyes snapping up from the Capellan flower you’re inspecting.

“So then you won’t object to coming out with everyone tonight?” Sulu asks. “Kirk found a new nightclub he thinks we’ll all love and he wants us all to go.”

You swallow.

“I bet if McCoy sees you in something hot it will force him to be much more obvious about the feelings he definitely has for you,” Uhura insists.

“Enough, guys.” You sigh. “I know you want to be helpful, but filling me with false hope isn’t going to work. How many times do I have to say that before you understand?”

Sulu and Uhura share a look, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Fine,” Sulu says. “Then come out for the rest of us. We care about you and want us all to have some fun.”

You look between Sulu and Uhura, both their eyes wide with hope. You sigh, a smile on the edge of your lips.

“Okay. For you guys.”

Sulu and Uhura cheer.

“Now get out of my greenhouse,” you order, turning back to the plants. “I’ve still got work to do.”

“No you don’t.” Sulu slides up to you, taking the tricorder out of your hands. “I’ll finish up for you. You go with Uhura to get ready for tonight.”

Before you can protest, Uhura grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the greenhouses, off the ship, and across the station to your accommodations. Once you’re back in your assigned room, Uhura dives into your closet. All you can do is sit on the edge of your bed as articles of clothing fly all around you. At one point you have to duck so as not to be hit by one of your hangers. The hurricane of fabric comes to a halt as Uhura unearths a black, figure-hugging, high neck, sleeveless dress with a slit on the side that goes dangerously high.

“No,” you say instantly.

Uhura smiles wickedly. “Yes.”

“No, Nyota–” you start, but Uhura just tosses the dress at you, shoving the rejected garments back into your closet.

“You’ve got two hours to get ready. Meet me in the lobby and we’ll walk over to the club together. If you come down wearing anything but that dress, I am making you turn around and come right back up here to change,” Uhura orders, slipping out of your room before you can voice another protest.

You lay the dress out on your bed. You haven’t worn something like this in a long time, but your friend can be exceedingly stubborn so you decide to let her get her wish.

After a quick shower, you slip on the dress. You put on minimal makeup and decide to leave your hair down, a welcome change from the braided updo you usually do for work. A glance at the clock tells you it’s about time to meet Uhura, so you put on a pair of low heels that match your dress and head out the door.

You meet up with Uhura in the building lobby. She whistles when she sees you.

“That dress looked good on the hanger, but you do it true justice.”

You giggle. “Never stop flirting with me, Nyota. And you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, I know.” Uhura strikes a pose, showing off her midnight blue dress that seems to shimmer in the low light. She then links arms with you, leaning in. “I’m serious about how good this dress looks on you, but it would look even better on McCoy’s floor.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. “Nyota!”

“What? If he’s not gonna start making moves, I’ve gotta start making moves for him.”

You shake your head. “Not funny. Besides, that is the cheesiest pickup line you could’ve chosen.”

The nightclub isn’t too far from the hotel Starfleet procured for the crew’s shore leave accommodations. By the time you and Uhura arrive, the rest of your friends are already a few drinks deep.

“There you two are! I was about to send a search party!” Jim calls, waving you both over to the bar. Your stomach does a flip the moment you see Bones. The easy smile he shoots you as you approach used to bring you platonic comfort, but now it sets every one of your nerves on fire.

“Woah, darlin’. You look incredible,” Bones says as you and Uhura join the group.

Uhura shoots you a knowing smile. “I know, doesn’t she?”

You ignore Uhura, turning to Bones. “Thank you. Uhura picked it out.”

Jim cuts in, handing you and Uhura a shot. “C’mon!” he exclaims. “Let’s dance!”

You barely have enough time to down the drink and place the glass back on the bar before Jim is dragging you onto the dancefloor. For the next hour you choose to forget all your worries, drinking and dancing with Jim, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov. You eventually manage to escape back to the bar, joining Bones and Spock. Bones chuckles as you collapse onto a stool.

“Worn out already?” he teases, flagging down the bartender and motioning for a glass of water.

“It’s been a while since I broke out my dancing shoes,” you reply. “But Jim just doesn’t stop. Where does he get the stamina?”

“I do not know,” Spock says.

Bones wordlessly passes you the water. You take it, nerves tingling at the brush of your fingers against his. The alcohol in your system has made you less cautious, so you beam at him.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip of water. “You’re always taking care of me.”

You think you see him blush, but you’re sure it’s just the flashing lights playing tricks. Jim and Scotty bound over to the group, gasping for breath.

“You abandoning us already, Pike?” Jim asks, ordering himself another drink.

“Just need a break, is all. Doctor’s orders,” you reply, shooting Bones a begging look.

“That’s right, Jim,” Bones jumps in. “Can’t have one of our best pass out on the dancefloor.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take her place,” Jim says matter-of-factly.

“Jim, I don’t–” Bones starts, but it’s too late. Jim grabs him by the arm and drags him onto the dancefloor. Within seconds they’re both swallowed up by the crowd.

“Ach, the poor doctor never stood a chance,” Scotty says, shaking his head before turning to you. “Another drink, lass?”

You nod, downing the rest of your water and following it with the shot Scotty hands you. You haven’t felt this warm, this loose in ages, so much so that when your ex-boyfriend and ex-roommate walk into the club it takes a moment for your brain to register it. The second your brain catches up with what your eyes are seeing, you tense up, blood running cold. You feel Spock stiffen beside you. You guess he saw them enter too. Besides Jim and Bones, Spock is the only person who knows about your ex. He was there, after all, studying at the Academy beside you during the whole love affair.

Scotty notices the sudden tension, following both your gazes to see your ex.

“Who’s that?” Scotty asks.

“No one,” you say quickly, turning your back to the door.

But it’s too late. You’re sure he spotted you and before long you hear a throat being cleared behind you. You turn around slowly to see your ex, your backstabbing roommate by his side.

“Long time, no see,” your ex says, his gaze sweeping over you. You say nothing, and neither does Spock, who is scowling at your ex. Scotty takes the scene in before addressing the newcomers.

“My name’s Montgomery Scott. My friends call me Scotty. You are?”

“Matthew Williams. This is my fiancée, Anja Antos.”

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“It’s nice to meet you, Scotty,” Matthew continues.

“Hold on now, laddie. I said my friends call me Scotty. And it seems like my two friends here don’t care for either of you too much.”

“Oh, that’s just a little grudge they’re holding onto from our Academy days.” Matthew chuckles. “Nothing serious.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, finding your voice again.

Matthew turns his gaze to you. “Our ship’s on shore leave, and we’re out to celebrate. Anja just passed her bridge officer’s test. She’ll be joining me up on the bridge, where all the action is. You’re still working with plants, right Pike? I’m sure that can be exciting too.”

Before you can defend yourself, Spock says, “Dr. Pike is third in command of the Enterprise.”

You see Matthew’s jaw clench. And if looks could kill, the one Anja shoots you certainly would incinerate you on the spot.

“I see we have much more to catch up on than we thought,” Anja says.

“Why don’t you join us?” Matthew asks. “We can grab some drinks and find an empty booth somewhere to continue chatting.”

You can’t think of anything you want to do less than spend more time with Matthew and Anja, but, as if possessed, you find yourself accepting Matthew’s offer. Before you know it, the three of you are situated in a booth, the couple on one side, you on the other.

“So, you’re engaged,” you say, breaking the silence.

Anja and Matthew smile at each other.

“I finally got him to propose,” Anja says, leaning into Matthew. “It’s nice, knowing you have a partner who’s fully committed to you. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can make you feel that way too.”

“You assume I’m single?”

“You’re not?”

You take a sip of your drink. “That’s really none of your business.”

“So,” Matthew cuts in. “Second officer of the Enterprise. When’d you get the promotion?”

You think about your response for a moment. You’re usually not one for showing off your achievements, but you remember how badly Matthew wanted to command his own ship and how much he hurt you when you wouldn’t help him the way he wanted. So fuck him.

“A few years back,” you say. “When my father was still in command of the Enterprise. Starfleet’s offered me my own ship a couple times since then, but I keep turning them down.”

You see anger flash in Matthew’s eyes. You definitely got to him. Before you can say anything else, Jim and Bones plop into the seats beside you.

“There you are. We were wondering where you’d disappeared to.” Jim grins at you, before turning to the other half of the table. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jim Kirk, he’s Leonard McCoy. You are?”

“Matthew Williams and Anja Antos,” Matthew replies. Anja’s eyes rake over Jim and Bones.

“Matthew and Anja,” Jim repeats, turning back to you. “That Matthew and Anja?”

You give a slight nod and instantly both Jim and Bones throw their arms across the back of your seat, scooching closer to you, as if they coordinated it beforehand.

“We’ve heard lots about you, Matthew,” Bones says, barely concealing his distaste. “About you both.”

“And how do you two know Pike?” Anja asks

“We’re her boyfriends,” Jim says.

You choke on your drink.

“I mean, we’re also coworkers,” Jim continues. “I’m the captain of the Enterprise, McCoy’s the CMO, and Pike’s one of my science officers. But I feel like the whole relationship thing supersedes all that.”

Time seems to slow as your mind calculates both outcomes to this situation. Either you correct Jim’s lie and are forced to endure Anja and Matthew’s gloating as they hold your perpetual singleness over your head. Or... Or you lean into the lie, transform your strong friendships into a three-way relationship, and in the process allow yourself to let your guard down, wear your feelings for Bones on your sleeve without fear of reproach.

So you lean into the lie, and against Bones’ chest. Your hand reaches out towards Jim, taking his hand in yours, fingers curling together. Bones drapes his arm around your shoulders, holding you close. You look over to see Matthew and Anja taking the scene in.

“You’re both her boyfriends?” Matthew asks incredulously.

“Yep,” Bones replies.

“So how’d you all end up together?” Anya asks challengingly.

“Oh, honey, why don’t you tell them?” Jim turns to you.

“Yeah, you tell the story best,” Bones adds.

You realize they’re letting you set the stage as a way to make up for blind-siding you. You decide to start with the truth.

“We all met at the Academy. Jim and Leonard were cadets and I was an instructor’s assistant. We became fast friends.”

“And... what? You fell into a relationship?” Matthew asks.

“No, no, not all at once,” you say, gaining confidence. “It started with me and Jim. He was a charmer, swept me off my feet. Nobody knows how to make me laugh like Jim does. And it was just the two of us for a while, until one day I woke up and realized I’d fallen in love with Leonard.”

The words you’ve been too scared to even think just spill out of you. You look at Bones to see him smiling at you and you have to remind yourself that none of this is real. That his happiness at your declaration is a fabrication.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen it coming,” you continue, eyes still on Bones. “Loving Leonard is like breathing, always there but you’re never aware of it unless you concentrate hard enough.” You shoot Matthew and Anya a look. “I told Jim immediately because I’m not a cheater. To my surprise he said he was willing to share, providing Leonard felt the same.”

“And you two are happy with sharing?” Matthew asks.

“We’re happy with any bit of love we can get from her. She’s an incredible woman.” Jim grins.

“If it were up to us,” Bones says, “we’d be married already.”

Your stomach flips, mind racing with images of you and Bones as a married couple. Waking up next to him every morning, dropping by the medbay just because, him visiting you in the greenhouses because he misses you, sharing his last name...

You can feel his eyes on you, but you stop yourself from looking at him again, afraid that he’ll see beyond the performance, straight into your heart. Instead, you glance at Matthew and Anja. They are shooting each other knowing looks.

“Baby,” Anja says, addressing Matthew. “I need a new drink.”

“Of course,” Matthew replies, turning to the other half of the table. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

As Matthew and Anja move towards the bar, Jim whispers, “I don’t think they fully bought it.”

“Of course they didn’t buy it,” you whisper back. “They were never gonna buy me having two partners. They still think no one would associate themselves with me of their own free will.”

“They’ll buy it if you kiss one of us.”

You widen your eyes at Jim. “If I what?”

You are suddenly acutely aware of the fact you’re still leaning against Bones.

“If you’re worried about our willingness, darlin’, don’t be,” Bones says. “Jim and I got you into this mess and we’re gonna get you out of it. The last thing we want is for those two assholes to think they’ve one-upped you.”

You look between Jim and Bones, both of them watching and waiting for you to act. Once again, your analytical mind processes the two possible scenarios. If you pick Jim, then maybe you can get out of this with a little less heartbreak. But if you pick Bones... well... this could be your only chance to know what it would be like to kiss him.

You tilt your face up and press your lips against Bones’. You focus on how soft his lips feel against yours, committing the sensation to memory. You let yourself pretend, for a moment, that this is a real kiss. That the gentle hand Bones places against your cheek and the parting of his lips to deepen the kiss are because he wants you too, not because he’s helping you get back at your shitty ex and his shitty fiancée.

The kiss ends from a need for oxygen more than anything else. You both take in air, breaths mingling in the space between you, but you don’t pull away and neither does Bones. Your heart is beating so fast, so loud you bet the whole club can hear it over the thumping music.

“Did they see?” you finally murmur.

“Yeah, they saw,” Jim confirms.

You pull away from Bones, heart and head still spinning.

“I, uh... I think I need some air,” you say.

Jim rises to let you out of the booth, retaking his seat once you’re standing. Before you slip away, you lean down and press a kiss against Jim’s cheek.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“I’ve allegedly got two boyfriends, don’t I?” you reply.

You hear Jim chuckle behind you as you make your way out of the club. Once outside, you close your eyes and take in deep breaths of the filtered space station air, emptying your mind of everything that just happened because if you think about it for too long you know you’ll start to spiral. Inevitably, though, your thoughts start to creep back in.

You curse the part of you that loses all semblance of reason when Matthew and Anja are around. If you had a better handle on your emotions, you wouldn’t end up in situations like these, the pair of them digging more knives into your already fractured being. And you wouldn’t have to rely on Jim and Bones to bail you out.

Oh god. Bones.

Your fingers brush against your lips. You were so flustered after the kiss you forgot to take in his expression, couldn’t remember if he’d been happy or disappointed. Then you remind yourself it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it was the most perfect kiss, soft and sweet just like all your daydreams. He had done it out of duty.

Maybe you should’ve kissed Jim instead.

“Pike?”

You jump, whirling around to see Chekov. His eyes widen.

“I am sorry! I did not mean to startle you. You looked upset as you were leaving and so I thought I would check if you are okay.”

You relax, smiling at him. “I will be. Thank you, Chekov. I just... got a little overwhelmed.”

Chekov nods, gesturing back at the club. “Are you going to come back in?”

You glance at the door to the club, feeling nauseous at the mere thought of facing Matthew and Anja again, or having to look Bones in the face with the ghost of his kiss still on your lips.

“Actually,” you say, “I think I’m going to head back. Will you tell the others I’ve gone?”

Chekov nods. “Do you want company on your walk back?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be alright.”

You watch as Chekov heads back into the club, then start walking towards your accommodations. However, your mind begins to wander and before you know it you’re back on the Enterprise, heading towards the greenhouses. You decide to keep going, figuring you can get a head start on tomorrow’s work while simultaneously distracting yourself from the feelings you don’t want to process right now.

You’re eleven plants in when you hear movement down the hall. You freeze. All crew members have the same access to the ship on shore leave as they do when on duty, but no one has a reason to be on the ship at this hour. There are no phasers in the greenhouses, so you grab a pair of shears and make your way out of the botanical labs, creeping down the hallway towards the sound.

You find yourself outside the medbay, sounds of activity coming from inside. You step forward, the doors whooshing open. Inside you find a man, right hand and face littered with cuts, many still oozing blood. Bruises also cover his hand and face, but the largest one is blooming under his left eye. The man is covered in so many wounds it takes you a full three seconds to recognize one of your best friends.

“Jesus Christ, Len!” you exclaim, rushing into the medbay, dropping the shears onto the closest surface.

“Easy, darlin’,” Bones says. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks!” You raise a hand and grab a hold of his face by the chin, turning his head this way and that to assess all the cuts and bruises. You then turn your attention to his bloody, bruised hand, noting how he’s not moving his fingers. That’s a bad sign.

“You wouldn’t’ve even seen me like this if I hadn’t run out of my damn first aid supplies earlier today. Keenser’s still oozing that highly acidic green goo and a coupla lieutenants got caught in the crossfire.” Bones huffs a laugh, before cocking his head towards your shears. “What were you gonna do if it wasn’t me? Snip the intruder to death?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You eye him for a moment. “Okay, go get on that bed over there.”

“What?”

“I’m playing doctor tonight. I’ll collect the supplies and meet you over there.”

“Darlin’, I can patch myself up just fine.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to. Now go on. Get,” you say, waving him towards the bed.

Bones gives a slight smile before heading towards the bed. You turn back to the supply cabinet, grabbing a metal tray and loading it with healing salve, bandages, rubbing alcohol, cotton squares, and a tricorder. You pause, giving yourself a moment to bottle up all the feelings you’d been ignoring. Bones needs you as a friend right now. You’re not gonna let your love for him get in the way of that.

You find Bones sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the side. You plop the tray down on the bed beside him.

“The other guy better look worse,” you say, falling into the usual banter you share as you grab the rubbing alcohol, dump a bit on a cotton square, and start to clean the wounds on his hand.

“Trust me, he does,” Bones says, grimacing as you move his hand.

You frown at his reaction, putting the cotton square down and grabbing the tricorder. “Oh yeah? Must’ve done something real bad if he made you do something like this. This isn’t really your style. Jim, on the other hand...” You finish scanning his hand, frown deepening at the readings. Before Bones can say anything, you say, “You’ve got a hairline fracture at your wrist. You’ll need a brace for that, right?”

Bones nods. “We’ve got some over in that cabinet.”

You walk over to the cabinet Bones identified, grabbing the appropriate brace then walking back to Bones.

“I’m gonna add some salve to your hand before I put on the brace to help with the cuts. I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

Bones nods again. You apply the healing salve as quickly and carefully as possible. Bones gives the occasional wince and you find yourself absentmindedly rubbing your thumb along the side of his hand in comfort. When you catch yourself doing it, you stop abruptly, now acutely aware of the weight of his hand in yours. Before you can stop yourself, your mind wanders to a daydream, one where Bones’ hands are splayed across your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips on yours...

You come back to reality, mentally berating yourself as you grab some bandages to wrap Bones’ hand, hoping he didn’t notice your mind wander. If he did, he doesn’t say anything, watching you as you finish wrapping his hand and slip the brace on. Bones adjusts the straps on the brace to his satisfaction as you grab a fresh cotton square, add rubbing alcohol, and move to the cuts on his face. For easier access, you slot yourself between his legs and try to ignore the sudden fluttering in your stomach at the proximity.

“What were you thinking, Len? You’re a surgeon. You kinda need your hands to do your job.” You start to clean the wounds on his face.

“My hand will heal. Besides, if I hadn’t, Jim would’ve. Hell, Spock would’ve.” Bones winces as you pass the cotton square over the largest of the cuts.

“Spock? Our Spock?” you ask incredulously, dumping the squares on the tray and reaching for the healing salve. You apply small dabs of the salve on his facial wounds.

“Sulu and Scotty nearly had to hold him back,” Bones says.

“Jesus. Who was this guy and what did he do?”

“It was Matthew.”

You freeze, focusing your gaze to meet Bones’.

“What did... what did he say?” you ask quietly.

Bones keeps his eyes on you. “He was talkin’ shit, insulting you. Started by sayin’ you only got into the Academy because of your dad. It only escalated from there. The middle part’s a bit fuzzy, but I remember he said something about how the only reason you’re still on the Enterprise is because you’re fucking the captain and the CMO. Which is just...” Bones clenches his jaw in anger. “Maybe sleeping with Jim would come with perks, but me? You outrank me. Sleeping with me wouldn’t... Anyway, I wasn't gonna let his comments slide, and neither was Jim. Our made-up three-way relationship aside, you are one of the only people in all of Starfleet that’s worth a damn. You run circles around both of those assholes. We tried to tell them to fuck off, but they wouldn’t listen. Chekov was holding Jim back, Sulu and Scotty were blocking Spock, and I guess Uhura thought I’d be rational enough not to get violent. She thought wrong. It was all over before it really started, lots of broken glass and spilled drinks, but I got a few good punches in.”

You lean up and press a kiss against Bones’ cheek, stunning him into silence.

“Wha... What was that for?” he finally asks.

“For defending my honor,” you say. “Thank you, Len.”

“Here I was thinkin’ you’d be upset.”

“Matthew’s an asshole. Anja too. They could get blown up on a starship for all I care.”

Bones chuckles as you finish lathering his injuries in the healing salve. You wipe your hand of excess salve and then grab the bandages. Bones lets you continue to work in silence, watching you as you place butterfly bandages on the largest of his facial wounds.

“Okay,” you say. “All done.”

“Got me all patched up, Doc?” Bones teases.

“As best I could.” You gather all the used supplies and place them on the metal tray. “You’ll need to ice that black eye and change the bandages every once in a while, but you already knew that. And I’m guessing you know how long you need to wear that brace for, or will at least have M’Benga look you over as soon as possible.”

Bones nods. “Thank you, darlin’. You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Len. I care about you. This is the least I would do for someone I care about.”

Bones says nothing for a moment, then, “I love when you call me Len.”

You blink. Before you can stop yourself, you say, “I love when you call me darlin’.”

You both stare at each other. You open your mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but Bones beats you to it.

“I wanted to say sorry.”

You furrow your brow. Of everything he could’ve possibly said in that moment, the last thing you expected of him was an apology.

“What for?” you ask.

“For everything back at the club. Jim and I should’ve told you what we had planned beforehand. And I’m especially sorry you had to kiss me.”

“I didn’t have to kiss you, Len. I chose to.”

“Still, you wouldn’t’ve if we hadn’t put you in an awkward position.”

“That’s not true,” you blurt out, immediately cursing yourself.

Bones blinks at you, eyes flicking to your lips. Neither of you moves, simultaneously too afraid to stick to the status quo or break it.

Fuck it.

You kiss him, softly at first, but when he sighs against your lips and wraps his arms around your waist you press yourself against him, parting your lips to deepen the kiss. You cup his face in your hands, mindful of his injuries.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You pull back. “You love me?”

Bones gives you a soft smile. “C’mon, darlin’, you must’ve known.”

You shake your head. “Uhura and Sulu tried to tell me, but I thought they were just teasing me.”

“Why would that tease you?”

“Because I love you.” You run your thumbs across his cheeks. “God, Len, I am so in love with you.”

Bones pulls you into another kiss. You giggle against his lips.

“What?” Bones asks.

“Uhura and Sulu are going to be insufferable for a while,” you say.

Bones grins. “You think they’re going to be insufferable? Wait until Jim finds out.”

You both laugh. Then you kiss him again. And again. And again.

#star trek aos #bones x reader #bones mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy

[rafaelsilvasource]

Rafael Silva From 9-1-1: Lone Star Found His Way As a Queer Immigrant

ALEX GONZALEZ | SEPTEMBER 22, 2022 

The Austin-set 9-1-1: Lone Star is actually filmed in Los Angeles, but actor Rafael Silva will make his way to Texas this month. Silva, who plays officer Carlos Reyes on the FOX procedural drama hit, is set to speak at the annual Black Tie Dinner fundraiser benefitting the LGBTQ+ community. This year, the ticketed event will take place at the Sheraton Dallas, and Silva is set to receive the organization's Vanguard Award.

We chatted with Silva via Zoom on one of his few days off from filming the upcoming fourth season of 9-1-1: Lone Star.

Though he will be in Dallas only briefly, Silva is looking forward to meeting LGBTQ+ people from all walks of life at the Black Tie Dinner, which will take place Saturday, Sept. 24.

“It’s such a privilege because you get to meet people who have gone through so many experiences,” he says. “I think learning from each other is the number-one task.” Silva was born and raised in Brazil and moved to the U.S. at the age of 13. He recalls having his first inklings of queerness at the age of 4 as a child in Brazil, but by the time he arrived in the U.S., he and his family were mostly focused on adapting to a new culture, a process he describes as "chaotic."

It was through participating in the arts that Silva was able to understand what being queer meant. “I come from a country where machismo equates to strength, and equates to a feeling of superiority over others,” Silva says. “And being part of the LGBTQIA+ community is considered everything but that. Navigating how I was brought up, to moving here, to then receiving another identity as an immigrant and Latino was very confusing. But I found my way, thankfully.”

While his coming out experience was positive, Silva believes that media still has a long way to go in terms of telling LGBTQ+ stories, Latinx stories and how those stories intersect. Off the top of his head, Silva notes that 25 years from now, it is predicted that the Latin population will exceed 100 million in the U.S. But, he points out, only 3% of television shows have Latinx leads, thus making for an inaccurate reflection of the number of Latin people in America.

“How does 30% of the consumers make up only 3% of film and television?” Silva says. “I think culturally and socially, Latinx and queer people are forgotten. It's as if you plant a tree and you expect it to grow, and it creates the very first fruits, and then you take all of the fruits, but then you keep expecting more, but you don't keep watering or nurturing the tree. How does that even work?” In the years he’s been playing Carlos, he is proud to be a source of representation for queer Latinx people. He says he receives messages from fans in real life and on social media about what Carlos has meant to them, and having that kind of impact, he says, is truly rewarding. Silva describes his character as someone who “tries to do the best he can,” but teases that he’s going to “trip pretty hard” at the beginning of the fourth season, which premieres in January 2023.

The third season of 9-1-1: Lone Star ended with Carlos getting engaged to his longtime boyfriend, TK Strand (Ronen Rubenstein). Fans of the show have nicknamed the couple “Tarlos” and often use the hashtag #Tarlos on Instagram and Twitter to share theories and fan fiction. Silva admits he does read the posts from time to time, although he doesn’t want to get too invested. He says he prefers to maintain “a healthy relationship with social media.”

“I think the healthiest way to maintain it is to maybe read one or two posts,” Silva says, “but not diving too deeply into it.”

Silva can’t share too much about the upcoming season of 9-1-1: Lone Star, but he teases a “big surprise for Carlos” in the season premiere. “It might piss off some people, it might not,” Silva says. “But I think it determines the tone as to how Carlos approaches the rest of the season.”

Over the years, the Black Tie Foundation has raised over $27 million for LGBTQ+ causes. Silva is honored to attend their annual dinner, and he regards the event as an example of the change he wishes to see in the world. His hope for the future is that he and everyone else continue to put good into the universe. “It’s not just about queer rights. It’s not just about climate change,” Silva says. “It’s about all of us. For me, I'm on that wagon personally of just trying to get everybody to stop the bullshit. And just if we need to hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya,’ then so be it, if that's what gets the job done, for all of us to stop this nonsensical behavior pattern of just trying to be better than each other. The solution to stagnation is diversity.”

#rafael silva #911 lone star #carlos reyes #press #interviews #dallas observer #events #black tie dinner dallas #ls season 4 #ls 4 pr #awards and recognition #ls 4x01 pr #september 2022 #tarlos

[16woodsequ]

gib

FIRST — the first two sentences of my current project

LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project

NEXT — the next line. meaning i will finish the sentence I’m on and write a new one, which you’ll get.

The story's events observed from a dispassionate eye — you post a prompt, and i’ll write three sentences based on that prompt, set in the same time/setting as my current project

THE END — i’ll make up an ending, or post the ending if i’ve written it

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

(I don't know if 'gib' means anything or not, so I'm just going to answer best I can for all of these)

Let's use Therapy Works for this!

First: Finding out that Steve Rogers has issues hadn't exactly been a fun experience. For one thing, Tony had had to make that discovery in a semi-flooded abandoned water plant, which is just a recipe for disaster.

Last: He wanted the information, now he has it, and he can’t in good conscience allow Steve to keep living his life believing what SHIELD did was right or remotely okay. He’d been working for months trying to help him and he can only hope this will help, even if it hurts too.

The End: I already know the end, somewhat anyway. I think it will end around when the Hydra reveal happens and when Steve begins searching for Bucky.

Before the Ending: We kinda had this already with the previous fics in the 'Coming in from the Cold' series. But for this fic in particular I can drop us into the moment Tony is making waterproof boots for Steve:

There's a plethora of waterproofing materials he can try and he has to wonder why Steve's boots hadn't already been made out of something like this. Or maybe most boots aren't built to withstand being submerged in stagnant water for however long they'd been stuck in that plant. Well, when he's done Steve's boots will be able to survive a tsunami.

POV: Steve's pov of the boot giving scene:

He doesn't mean to come off as rude, but Tony's presence and the reminder of that horrible day put him on edge. He'd been insensible. Completely useless and compromised. If Tony hadn't been there he doesn't know if he would have been able to get out of that plant, and Tony had seen everything.

All it will take is one comment, one suggestion to SHIELD and he's sure he will find himself in Dr. Faustus' office again. He absolutely cannot allow that to happen.

Thanks for the ask!

#asks #wips #therapy works #my fics

[kyywtii]

Tears Of Themis boys as ||𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽||

𝙰𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚖 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚐

This close to become a criminal instead

Is so done with whatever bs is going on

" Officer Wing, we require your assistance in the north east side of the town, apperenly, an old woman reported her dog went missing 2 days ago and claims someone might have kidnapped him"

"?????"

Poor man was in disbelief

Ended up going to check though

I mean, was forced to go and check-

Spoiler: there was no old lady.

"Wait, wing, if she's not here, maybe she lives around-"

"Around WHERE ?"

"I mean, she called from around here so-"

"She didn't call from around here, she SENT US here."

"The last time she saw her dog was here, wing !"

"He was with her when she went home !"

....

"...Boss is calling"

Second spoiler : the dog didn't get kidnapped, he was just left at a pet hotel as the lady went to visit her daughter but couldn't take him with her.

"..........."

"Well... Atleast there's no dog traffic happening-"

"I want a raise."

Paperwork man

But also car chase man

Likes the fact he can't get arrested for driving this fast

(And dangerously)

"Car speed go UP-"

𝙻𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚎

Best policeman to ever exist

Takes his job SO SERIOUSLY

Even helping elders cross roads is an exciting experience for him

Him ? Complain ? N E V E R

Want him to put in extra hours ? Unpaid ? No problem

Last minute transfer ? It's alright

Night shifts for a whole month ? Your wish is my command

"Officers, we need a man for-"

"Sir ! Can I go, Sir!"

"A burglary has been reported 2 streets from here !"

"Sir ! I'm currently available and trained !"

"Can someone please water the plants outside ? They're dying drying"

"On it ! Immediately !"

He just really enjoys his job, it's his passion

Him and Artem are the only ones who truly deserve to be called Policemen in all honesty-

He cried the day he got his badge actually

Please never ask him for strings pulling, cuz he won't help

Won't even consider it

"We live in a society ! And that is not how society works !!"

"Your hardwork is what you should rely on, not me or anyone else !"

"Make a name for yourself with your own hands !!"

And such, and such...

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚅𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗

Honestly, no one knows if he's "with" the law or against it.

Lowkey has his own traffic code.

Stops almost everybody, no specific type of people. No one is safe.

"Why hello, may I ask for your papers ?"

"Uhm, sure sure, here... Did I do anything wrong sir ?"

"We'll get there... Oh, I see here you're a doctor ?"

"I am, I am"

"Oh my, good thing I stopped you, I so happen to need a doctor's advice for a personal matter. Mind sharing a contact ?"

"I don't mind giving you my number, sir..."

"We'll then, perfect. Have a nice day."

"Is that it ? Can I go ?"

"Yes, yes."

He also needed a butcher's advice for personal matters

And a taxi driver's too, apperently.

The man sometimes stops people and asks them to drive him to a certain place.

"Oh hello, I see you're going north, perfect, cuz i'm too ! Mind dropping me at the mall ?"

He knows his colleagues would notice him if he uses his own car

(Not like it ever happened before or anything)

Modern problems require modern solutions

𝚅𝚢𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛

I wonder how he didn't lose his job yet

Actually

I don't even know how he ended up doing this job in the first place

The only man to recieve threats to get fired from his superiors on a daily basis

He's so salty for no reason-

"Richter, we need you around the main avenue. "

"The main avenue? That's not my area."

"I know. But there's a festival preparing and we need more men."

"Hmm, why not send someone more fond of this kind of work"

"Richter, are you questionning my choice of man for this ?"

"I indeed am-"

"OFFICER VYN RICHTER."

Literally does not learn.

Literally does not stop.

"Richter, you and Felkin will patrol together the south area."

"Patroling the south area is kind of useless"

"Are you doubting the thinking behind my order, Richter ?"

"I'm not certain there was any thinking in the first place, but sure"

"........"

He always intends on doing what he's told to do from the beginning (not like he has any choice)

He just wants to piss his superiors off (what a silly goofy man)

The only thing he'll never do is come before 11 though.

#Tears Of Themis #headcanons #Tears Of Themis Headcanons #Mihoyo #Hoyoverse #Artem #Artem Wing #Vyn #Vyn Richter #Vilhelm Richard Albert de Haspran #Luke #Luke Pearce #Marius #Marius Von Hagen #Libra #Raven #Adjudicator #King

[thessalian]

Thess vs Self-Worth Spirals

Bananas are in the dehydrator, refrigerator pickles are chillilng in the fridge, and I’m taking a break (sort of; there’s some uploading shit to do because I’m determined to get this all done this week) between that and boiling up my beets. I didn’t sleep well because apparently either the floors are way thinner than they need to be or my upstairs neighbours are unspeakably loud during sex. So I got treated to about a half-hour of that. Which, I mean, cheers to the stamina, I guess, but please, for my sanity, get a carpet. And I can’t go take a nap now because a) the expected pain flare from last night’s Great Vanilla Fudge Experiment has caught up with me, and b) one of my neighbours on this floor (next door or across the hall; I can’t tell) are doing some quite loud home maintenance. Yay.

My brain is weird. Not bad, not even particularly inefficient, but weird nonetheless. I was slicing bananas and going kind of Zen about it, thinking about the comments I get from mutuals who are enjoying reading about my forays into kitchen and garden experimentation, combined with the people at my office being like, “Oh, but that sounds like so much effort, though”. Somehow, those thoughts collided to actually answer the question of why I spend so much time and effort on stuff like this, and why I started in the first place.

Answer: “I’m having to make an insane effort to feed myself anyway; might as well have some fun with it”.

Because, seriously, all of this started after the fibromyalgia diagnosis. I mean, even before that, food was more of a chore than it is for a lot of people. Not all people, but a lot of people. Because dietary requirements. Dairy I can just about do with proper preparation and the right supplements - that or very small amounts. (Butter on a potato won’t upset me too badly; a bowl of ice cream will.) Gluten? Thaaaaaaat’s a problem. It doesn’t take much at all to set me off, and so much convenience food has wheat flour in it somewhere, either as a base ingredient or as a thickener. While you can get ready meals and the like that are gluten-free, the range is very narrow and it’s expensive for what you get. Hell, even getting things like gluten-free pasta is tricky, since every brand has a different recipe and some aren’t bad while others are awful, so it’s a crap-shoot at best. (So far Sainsbury’s wins for gluten-free pasta. I will no longer touch Tesco gluten-free pasta, because it is really gross.) So effectively I was living on a fairly limited menu.

And then the fibromyalgia came along and made things worse. Couldn’t work full time anymore, so reduced wage. A lot of money was going on painkillers, and the price of prescriptions went up. Brexit plus Covid meant a lot of shortages and higher prices. (That’s not even going into the mess we have now.) Most of all, everything hurt. Every activity just hurt, and was going to, forever.

This, you can imagine, got depressing. Still is, sometimes. But somewhere along the line I guess I thought, “Well, if I’m going to cause myself pain, it’s going to be for something inventive, something fun, instead of just whatever seemed easiest”. So I started my garden - yeah, watering the plants every day is a struggle sometimes, but strawberries and herbs and tomatoes! I knew that fruit was a good idea but it always went bad on me before I could finish it all, and buying bags of dehydrated fruit was expensive, so I got the dehydrator and it’s still one of the best investments I’ve ever made. I got my baking dish and learned to make lasagne and pasta bakes and cottage pie, because that meant one evening’s effort in the kitchen would feed me for almost a week instead of just a day or two, which meant less effort and pain in the long run. Kind of like buying in bulk, but for physical pain instead of sticker shock.

Not only is all this fun, but it also gives me a sense of ... accomplishment and self-worth, which are two distinct things in this instance. The accomplishment is easy - “I made that! Go, me!”, but the self-worth doesn’t have anything to do with having to make these nice things to be worthy of the space I occupy in the world. See, I’ll make this kind of effort for others without a thought, but the fact that I’m willing to make this effort for myself? For my own comfort and enjoyment and happiness? It’s basically me saying, “I am worth this effort. My long-term happiness is worth a little pain, effort, and inconvenience”. I guess if I can think that about myself, I can accept it better when others think it about me. And I have examples of it almost every day. I can sit down to a lasagne full of fresh herbs from my own garden, or go to the fridge and snack on some refrigerator pickles that I made just because I don’t like how most pickles in this country taste, or pack a work lunch that includes a dried fruit mix tailored exactly to my tastes. Yes, it’s nice when others enjoy these things, and I will always try to share when I can. But at the end of the day, I made these things for me. I thought I was worth it. For me, that’s new, and it matters.

Honestly, it’s nice when the self-worth spiral is going upwards, instead of the usual downward trajectory.

#Thess cooks #Thess has issues #But Thess is working on those issues #So GO THESS

[levinletlive]

Foraging and Cultivation: How to Eat the Weeds Without Bugging the Bees

All photos in this article are taken by me. You can view my gallery here.

Here's some information for adventurous eaters.

Some people are understandably wary about eating foods that they can't get from a grocery store. Between concerns about animal feces and pesticides to stories about mushroom poisoning and death, we can all agree that it's not wise to just go outside, grab a healthy-looking berry, and shove it down your gullet. There is a right way to forage, and as a foraging veteran, I'm going to take you through some of the most important information you need to start your own foraging journey.

❁❀✿✾

The Universal Edibility Test

The first, and maybe most important, thing I want to talk about is, of course, how to avoid poisoning or death. Even if what you eat is not inherently poisonous, you can also be allergic to things it would never occur to a doctor to test you for. So, let's discuss best practices for gathering wild plants to prevent injury/death. Luckily, those who came before you have developed a great process for not getting killed while foraging.

Note that this is NOT a safe method for testing the edibility of mushrooms, which are much more difficult to identify and require a lot of study and experience. I may write another article regarding mushroom foraging at a later date, but it's very dangerous so for the purposes of this article, we are only going to discuss plants.

Pink springbank clovers are a tasty and vivid addition to a fresh salad.

"The U.S. Army created the Universal Edibility Test to help soldiers identify poisonous vs. edible plants while out in the field. The test is a standard in the U.S. Army Survival Field Manual ATP 3-50.21, and it appears in the SAS Survival Handbook written by former British Army officer and survival expert John Wisemen." - From GreenBelly.co

❁❀✿✾

The "Universal Edibility Test" is, as the name suggests, a method for determining the safety of consuming a plant you are unfamiliar with. Here is a very good, simple explanation of the way test works, via Backpacker:

1. Separate the plant into its various parts—roots, stems, leaves, buds, and flowers. Focus on only one piece of the plant at a time. 2. Smell it. A strong, unpleasant odor is a bad sign, as is a musty or rotting odor. Keep a special lookout for pear- or almond-like scents, which can be evidence of cyanide. 3. Test for contact poisoning by placing a piece of the plant on your inner elbow or wrist for 8 hours. If your skin burns, itches, feels numb, or breaks out in a rash, wash off your skin and don’t eat the plant. 4. If the plant passes the skin test, prepare a small portion the way you plan to eat it (boiling is always a good bet). 5. Before taking a bite, touch the plant to your lips to test for burning or itching. If there’s no reaction after 15 minutes, take a small bite, chew it, and hold it in your mouth for 15 minutes. If the plant tastes very bitter or soapy, spit it out and wash out your mouth. 6. If there’s no reaction in your mouth, swallow the bite and wait 8 hours. If there’s no ill effect, you can assume this part of the plant is edible. 7. Repeat the test for other parts of the plant; some plants have both edible and inedible parts. Starting to feel sick? Time to bring it up.

❁❀✿✾

Plant Identification

I would also like to add that if you are unsure of the species of plant you are about to eat, make sure you keep some of it in case you need to have it identified in order to get treatment. Additionally, always have a friend or family member check on you after eating something unfamiliar or questionable so they can call an ambulance or poison control if necessary. Follow the instructions of medical personnel and do not try to induce vomiting or drink water or milk to dilute poison unless advised by a medical professional. Keep updated medical information in your wallet on your person for emergency personnel to reference.

A good identification photo contains as much detail about the plant as possible, including the shape/texture of the leaves, the flowers, stems, and fruit.

Of course, and as the article points out, the single best way to avoid poisoning is to make a positive ID on the plant before consuming it. Plant identification is a challenging skill, but one that is very fun to learn. Some plants look different depending on the season. Some look poisonous, but are perfectly safe. Some may just give you a stomachache or taste awful. Others might look gross, but taste quite good. I'll provide some examples of good eats that are common and easy to identify at the bottom of this article.

How should you go about identifying a plant, though? There are a lot of ways to do it. For my part, I recommend getting a second opinion as often as possible. Take a picture of every part of the plant; the leaves, flowers if there are any, and the roots. Take note of the color of the sap. The more mature a plant is, the easier it is to identify. Share the pictures on a platform such as iNaturalist to get opinions and identification assistance from experts in the field. You can also view thousands of pictures of plants, look up the species commonly found near you, and find out which plants are invasive and which are native to your area. Pl@ntNet is another similar platform. You can also download mobile apps to identify plants on the go. iNat has a particularly good one.

From there, it's pretty easy to Google the name of the plant + edibility. If the answer is 'yes', please make sure you confirm which parts of the plant are edible. It is common for some parts to be edible and for others to be inedible/poisonous, as with some nightshades (where the fruit or root is edible, but the leaves and stems are not; ex: potatoes, tomatoes). The USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service provides this very informative guide. Masterclass also provides a handy checklist for plant identification.

In general, to positively ID a plant with the most possible accuracy, you need to make a note/take a picture of these things:

The location and season in which you found the plant.

Any distinct characteristics on stalks and branches.

The size, shape, and arrangement of the leaves.

The characteristics of any fruits and flowers on the plant.

Any barbs or hairs on the plant, known as trichomes.

The root system, needed to determine if the plant grows from rhizomes, bulbs, or tubers.

Get a second and third opinion whenever possible. With time and practice, you'll start to notice the otherwise subtle differences between many kinds of plants, and you'll learn about some surprising relationships between them.

❁❀✿✾

Ethical Foraging Guidelines

Of course, just because we've found a tasty weed outside doesn't mean we should run out and pick every instance of it we find. There is an ethical--and, importantly, legal--way to forage. If we just go around picking every plant in the hopes of eating it, we're robbing wildlife of their meals. Many pollinating species of bees, beetles, and butterflies rely on specific plants for eating and hosting their eggs, so we need to minimize how much of that we take from them. The USDA NRCS also has a good guide for protecting pollinators when farming and landscaping, but the rules are a bit different when it comes to foraging, since we're going into their habitats and messing with things rather than the other way around.

When foraging, it is important to be considerate of pollinators that help the plants we eat grow and propagate.

First and foremost, learn about your local environment. You can learn a lot about your area using this handy tool from the US Environmental Protection Agency.

Next, learn from the experts by asking staff at local regional and state parks about the legality and availability of foraging foods. Many have free educational events and classes that explore the subject and help you broaden your understanding of the environment in general. You can pick up a lot of good local wisdom from these events. If you do not have access to these services, however, you can also do some online classes here, here, and here.

Plan ahead. Chart a course and make sure you have everything you need. I always bring water, a small cooler, a pair of sharp, clean plant shears, a spade, a pocket knife, a small garbage bag for cleaning up litter, and an extra battery for my camera. Dress appropriately for the weather. Make sure your phone is charged and people know where you are and when to worry if they don't hear from you. Carrying bear spray on you doesn't hurt either, although do please remember to consider the direction of the wind so you don't accidentally spray yourself instead.

Do your due diligence in identifying the plant and investigating its status before just picking it. Ideally, you should choose a couple of species you already know to be edible and just pick those while you are out. It is wasteful and damaging to the environment to pick plants you don't recognize, only to find out you've pulled a rare native plant that certain species rely on to survive.

Harvest conservatively. Take only what you are certain you will eat, because every plant you take means many meals fewer will be available for local wildlife.

Leave the place better than you found it. If you notice trash, pick it up and dispose of it in the proper receptacles. Do not litter, do not attempt to alter the landscape (chopping down trees, burning or clearing "undesirable" plants, taking rocks, etc.), do not disturb dens or nests, and don't drive or walk off of the path. Soil compaction is a real thing.

Know the law regarding what is legal to pick and where it is legal to pick from. Some state and regional parks only allow foraging at certain times, and many do not allow it at all.

Devon Young goes into a little more detail on Learning Herbs.

❁❀✿✾

Transplanting Wild Edibles

When it comes to ethical foraging though, perhaps the single most ethical thing you can do is just grow these plants yourself. You can easily order seeds online that you can plant and grow in a pot or in your yard. Some of them are quite beautiful and most are very easy to grow. If you don't want to order them online, consider collecting seeds instead, but please remember to limit what you take so that the plants are able to properly propagate in the wild. You can learn how to harvest seeds from this article by Michigan State University.

I strongly encourage anybody interested in foraging to

It is also possible to transplant weeds. You may find a weed you like on a neighbor's lawn, and with their permission, you can dig it up and plant it in your own yard. Here's a cool video from Youtube that shows you how to do just that.

Avoid doing this with weeds from parks and other wild areas, however, because the further the plants have to travel before they are planted the less likely they are to survive, and that is wasteful. If you bring a pot and some soil, they may travel longer if you replant them right away.

Also, do be aware of the environment you are taking them from, as you obviously do not want to eat any plants that have been serving as a neighborhood dog or cat's latrine. A good place to take them from is your own backyard, provided you follow the above guidelines. Gathering and growing seeds wild circumvent this issue.

Always wash plants thoroughly before consumption. That will also help you avoid accidentally consuming any bugs.

❁❀✿✾

And that's it! That's how you can forage and eat adventurously without making a mess and disrupting your environment.

If you're from the east bay area/northern California, I can share some of my favorite weeds to eat.

Broadleaved Pepperweed

Bull Thistle

Cobwebby Thistle

Common Chickweed

Creeping Woodsorrel (limit due to oxalic acids)

Crane's Bill/Wild Geraniums

Fireweed

Hairy/Purple Vetch

Miner's Lettuce

Wild Mustard

Wild Radish

You can even find some recipes here.

Enjoy responsibly. ❁❀✿✾

#foraging #plants #weeds #garden #gardening #herbs #wild herbs #northern california #north america #plant identification #eat the weeds #pollinators #honeybees #bees #bumblebees #environmentalism #transplanting #free resources #nature photography #my photography #my articles #backpacking #camping #foraging guide #ethical foraging #wild edible plants #flowers #my writing #written by me

[alexcheshiregame]

The benefit of decluttering unnecessary items and optimizing what you have.

I've noticed an interesting effect: increasing strength by reducing the overall number of things, even if they only came in handy once or twice a year.

I've come to the conclusion that in this era of AliExpress and 3D printers, it's possible and important to replace 2-3 items with one multifunctional item, and not to give up but to continue experimenting if a specific multifunctional purchase doesn't work out or isn't convenient.

In the end, it pays off when even important items decrease in volume several times over.

From my experience, it makes sense to invest in various-sized boxes that you can buy at the post office, large labels, a notebook, and a good quality pen that evokes positive emotions. Downloading an app for voice-activated list search and organizing all items into groups, then into large boxes according to the box system (box 1 containing boxes 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, etc.) This frees up space in the closet, and occupied shelves will be filled 100%, not just 20-30%, as is usually the case due to fears of something slipping or falling out upon the next opening or the inability to reach the necessary item. This also organizes your understanding of how many items you have in each group and where you need to prioritize replacing them with multifunctional ones.

Personally, I usually find it sufficient to have 25-40 items in each group.

This approach also provides a clear understanding that there are separate boxes for "possibly give away" and "possibly throw away," and items that are difficult to part with initially go into one of these boxes. Months later, during periods when your biorhythms and hormonal balance give you the greatest clarity of thought and decisiveness (usually when you've caught up on sleep after serious sleep deprivation, intentionally inducing or alleviating it, or when you've eliminated chronic sleep deprivation and after a week of sleeping for 4-5 hours, you wake up refreshed and ready to "tear and throw" because your body is back to normal), you find the strength to part with the excess. At this moment, it's important to have a pre-planned and prepared set where such items are already sorted into the two groups.

You create a reward and comfort for yourself in the form of treating yourself to a new cup or plate, and on the way, you take the box labeled "possibly throw away" to the trash can and leave the box labeled "possibly give away" next to it, then go for the planned comforting bonus.

P.S. Accumulating cups like this goes well with the hobby of making your own creams from plants on the windowsill. Try planting aloe in spare cups, and after morning yoga, shower, and self-massage, you'll have a more energetically beneficial cream from the lower, larger parts of the plants growing in your biofield, which you care for by filling a simple auto-watering system once a week (from the same Ali or any other trading platform) and by removing the lower leaves, which are extremely beneficial for you.

#optimization #clarity #orderliness #neatness #cleaning #housekeeping

[seven--secrets]

The Final Race | Riley | Trial 5.1 | ATTN: All

Riley takes a deep breath as she enters the trial room, opting to sit with Chioko and Sibyl if they’ll allow her. No seating arrangement, no new murder to solve (well, in a way there still was, but a very old one at this point), and very hopefully no execution to be had. That didn’t mean that there weren’t any stakes, though. Far from it, it seemed, as getting this wrong seemed like it might very well just release the onryo to wreak havoc again, and she doesn’t think they can manage a round two of all of this. 

They needed to get this Right. And Riley intends to help them do it, regardless of who it ends up being. She gives the people presiding over this trial a nod, and then turns to everyone within it, offering a small, tired smile.

  “Alright… Hello, everyone. I think the first order of business that I’d like to clear out of the way is that I really want all of us to work together on this. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to hide things because it might make them or a friend more suspicious, because we shouldn’t be working against each other on this, just with each other. I don’t want anything horrible to happen to anyone here, so I hope that we can all be on the same page there, even if just a bit. We CAN do this all as a team.”

That said, she pauses another moment to gather her thoughts, before starting proper with a clearing of her throat. 

“As for discussion… I think the first things we should talk about are what we’ve found while investigating or over the course of our stay here first in and out of dungeons. That way we can make sure we’re all on the same page when we start to go over theories regarding them, if that makes sense. So that in mind…”

  “First, there’s obviously been an eye motif for the onryo, in almost every thing we’ve seen about them. Carvings of eyes in the cafeteria, that eye plant that’s in the office and was split into two parts, the video game when played with no game in it featuring the collection of eyes to grow stronger. I actually saw an eye look at me from a drain in a changing room shower once, and I was told that if you were to drink from the water cooler in the Rec Room, there seems to be an eye in there that had been crying into the water. That also leads into tears being another theme, as well as water. There’s plenty more things too, so please chime in.”

“What we know of their existence is similarly important to this, though it’s already been said that they’re a split soul. I also have a copy of my best attempt at translating that nearly erased message on the whiteboard from a few weeks back, if anyone would like to see it again…! I’ve already shown most people by now, but if you need a refresher just say the word and I’ll pass it over. 

The gist of it is though, that the onryo split off from someone at some point, implied to be a highly traumatic event that might have been either a near death experience or death of personality according to my asking around. Possibly both. It’s also very important to note that the living likely wasn’t aware of their dead half at all, only continuing to live their life with part of their soul missing. I don’t think that they’re at fault for any of what’s happened to us here.”

That would be the fault of the half that isn’t them, the onryo. That out of the way though, she leaves the floor for others to chime in, even though she can definitely keep going hdshcsdiu

#riley #chapter 5 #trial 5 #submission

[oberoirealty]

A Nature Trail on Oberoi Garden City Hilltop!

Today is World Biodiversity Day and to commemorate it we decided to put together a Nature Walk around our ecosystem at Oberoi Garden City, Goregaon. It’s been over 20 years of developing this project and one of the conscious things we did was to preserve the Oberoi Garden City Hilltop.

The walk to the hilltop was a nice change and a get away from our airconditioned offices. The entire experience took us just over an hour. And what we learned and discovered with Kiran Thumma, Education Officer of Bombay Natural History Society, was delightful as she shared some botany facts through story-telling which even had an influence of the Hindu mythology.

We first walked up to a Eucalyptus tree which she said was a non native plant; what that means is that it was introduced by human action either accidentally or deliberately, outside of its natural range. Hence, we noticed that the fallen leaves do not degenerate as fast as other leaves. She brought to our attention that we must not confuse Eucalyptus with Nilgiris which we commonly think is why Niligiri Hills in South India have been named after. The Hills got this name because of a Blue flower (Neel) that blooms once in 12 years. And Giri means hills.

We then walked up to a Mango tree on which rests an Ant Nest. I have often seen Ant hills but never an Ant Nest — and this one is water proof; built by over 1000 ants. What a laborious wonder!

Our next stop was the Banyan Tree which is native to our country. Kiran quizzed us if we knew why the tree was named Banyan — none of us came out tops. The Indian merchants in the old days sat under this tree for shade and shelter as they went about conducting business. Popularly called Baniyas (even today), when the Britishers set shop in India, they addressed the tree as the Banyan tree after the Baniyas who sat under.

Baniyas under the Banyan Tree

On our way back, we stopped by the Butter Cup Tree, which got its name from the action of Lord Krishna from the Indian mythology. Being fond of butter, little Krishna would often steal it as a prankster. And to hide it from his mother, he placed it in a leaf and folded it in. The story goes to say that the leaf remained folded and so every leaf on this tree now looks like a butter cup.

Lord Krishna’s Butter Cup

We often see Neem and Tamarind trees around us; both known for their cooking or medicinal use. Kiran insisted to tell us a story that would remind us of this. The story goes like this about a young couple early on in their marriage — the young man travelled extensively on work and never had time for his wife. She was cleverly advised to ask him to rest and sleep under a Tamarind tree — which he did. But due to its acidic properties, he started to feel uneasy and ill and decided to return home. On his way back the Neem tree under which he rested again, soothed him due to its medicinal influence.

We now walked up to an odd looking Tree with thorny spikes only on its bark. This protects it from any harm by animals or humans we were told. There is an old mythology that says that one of the Hindu Gods was a reckless chariot rider and, in his rage, Bhisma flung a chameleon on this tree who stuck put. Bhisma was cursed by this creature that he would neither live or die just like the chameleon.

Kiran then taught us about flowers and how one petal of a flower acts as a pollination guide. Nectar guides are markings or patterns in flowers that guide pollinators to nectar or pollen. These patterns are sometimes only seen by insects and bees and are invisible to humans. So next time you buy or see a flower, look for that one petal that is different than the rest.

It was now time to conclude our walk. The sun was nearly setting and we stopped for some masala chai that was set up for us by the organising team. The crunching dried leaves under our feet and the rustling summer breeze was a refreshing change and an opportunity to stop and stare at the beauty of nature and God’s creation around us.

My hope is that you did something special on World Bio Diversity day too that brought you closer to nature!

Author- Sarina Menezes

Source URL: https://www.oberoirealty.com/blog/a-nature-trail-on-oberoi-garden-city-hilltop

#buy a property in mumbai #property buy in mumbai #buy property in mumbai #flats for sale in mumbai #real estate in mumbai #mumbai real estate #properties at mumbai #commercial property

[chevrryz]

Hi! How are you? ♡ im super exausted 😭 First kiss with Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, Thoma, Albedo? Or Itto! I love that man!

- 🐛 anon

- 🐛 anon

hiiii 🐛 anon I've been well. I hope you had a good rest ♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ���꒱ Also do drink plenty of water to keep yourself hydrated <3

pairings : Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, Albedo & Itto

What was your first kiss like with them?

Kaeya

You were busy with the investigation team as recently you had received some information on the Fatui when your boyfriend, Kaeya had barged into your office. "Hello my lieblieg~" He slams the door wide open as he struts in like a celebrity. "Kaeya what are you doing? I'm busy right now." You inquire not once looking away from the papers. "Oh, I'm just here to take something before I leave for Angel's Share." Kaeya says as he walked towards your desk. "What is it?" You looked up from the papers. Kaeya quickly leaned in stealing a kiss from you and soon he was walking out the door leaving you red in your seat.

Diluc

You were reading a book by the fire place waiting for Diluc to come back from work. "Welcome back, master Diluc." Adelinde warmly greets Diluc who had just came back. You stood up from your chair and made a beeline towards him. "Welcome home, Diluc." You greeted. You noticed his annoyed expression when you inched closer towards him. "Did something happen at work today?" You ask worriedly as you cupped his cheeks into your palms. Diluc grasps your hands in his and didn't utter a word as he stares at you. "Can I kiss you?" You were surprised to hear that from him but you nod your head as a 'go ahead'. He didn't waste any time and captured your lips with his.

Zhongli

You were strolling around Liyue when you came across your boyfriend sitting at one of the tables at Third-Knockout listening to the stories of the storyteller. "Zhongli~" You stretch his name as you made your way to him. "Ah, (Y/n). Fancy seeing you here." Zhongli smiles. "I just gotten a break so i decided to stroll around but I didn't think I'll see you here." You said. "Director Hu has gone off to do some promotional offers again. She told me to have a little break until she's back." Zhongli explained. You hummed in understanding. "Ah, I've been here too long. I should go back now." You told your boyfriend not before an idea pop into your head. You turn to your boyfriend with a cheeky grin, "Zhongli~" The man turn his face towards you and you planted a quick kiss before dashing off to your work place. "Oh dear..." Zhongli said with a tint of red across his cheeks.

Albedo

The both of you were seated in the snow of Dragonspine. Albedo had came out with a sketchpad in hand, wanting a break from his experiments. You were there to visit him to make sure he was taking care of his health. Albedo was sketching away a scenery that had captivated him whilst you were laying on his shoulder admiring the process. However his hands soon stop sketching and he calls your name instead. "(Y/n)." you hummed a response tilting your head to look up only to see his face so close to yours. His hands wraped around your waist pulling you closer for your lips to meet.

Itto

It was during one of those rare days where he won a beetle fighting contests with one of the kids. He was so happy, he sprung up in joy and ran towards you. "I won! I finally won!" He yells as he spins you around. "Congrats on winning, babe." You smile warmly at his enthusiastic behavior. He planted a kiss on your lips before settling you down on the ground. He soon ran over to the kids who lost to him to brag about his victory leaving you stunned with a hand clasp over your blushing face.

#cherry’s♡works #cherry’s♡letter #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #genshin thoma #genshin albedo #genshin itto #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #thoma x reader #albedo x reader #itto x reader #genshin fluff #❝ cherry’sෆworks ༉‧₊

[sio-writes]

A Botanist’s Guide - Chapter 1

Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. Too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won't be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri's reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.

Cassie

My leg is jiggling so violently it’s shaking the flimsy plastic chair I’m sitting in. I had picked a low spot on the floor to glare at for the past half hour, and I'm surprised there isn't a hole burnt into the carpet yet. My jaw hurts from how tightly I've been clenching and unclenching the muscles, and time creeps by so slowly I have to constantly check my watch to make sure it hasn’t stopped. I’d be anxious if I didn’t know exactly what this little meeting is about. Well, I am anxious, but I could be more anxious.

I’ve been summoned into the Admin building for a meeting with Diana Masons, overseer of all scientific divisions of Outpost 3 and Certified Kicker of Asses. She's got a good three inches on me, and the build of an Olympic wrestler. Her ability to burn a hole through sheet metal with her gaze only ties a neat little bow on top of her terrifying head. Diana has been my friend since landing day, but that’s outside of work. She steps foot into this building and it’s all business, and boy howdy is she scary. 

The Admin Building is a five story stick of concrete that takes up two whole blocks in Outpost 3, and I’m sitting on the third floor waiting to be called in. I feel like a delinquent student summoned to the principal’s office.

To my front are rows and rows of manilla-colored cubicles, full of accountants typing away. Their combined noise would make for pleasant background static, but I just know they’re taking more funding away from my division. They have no time to waste on frivolous matters like Knowledge and the Combined Growth of Humanity. Plus the whole floor smells like cheese. 

Maybe I’m just bitter. I definitely don’t want to be here in this stuffy office. I’d much rather be outside with the plants. Ferns don’t ask you hard questions like “Why wasn’t this delivered on time?” Or “You need how much more money?” I could just water them and they’d uncurl their leaves as if to say “Thank you so much Cassie. We love you!” And that’d be it. Easy-peasy. 

Yet the more time I spend in the greenhouse, the more trouble I seem to get in. Like turning in reports late. Six weeks late.

The door next to me swings open and a man in a navy blue suit steps out, not giving me a second glance before he’s off to the elevators.

“Dr. Rowland,” comes Diana’s voice from inside. Oh she’s using her Scary Commander voice, the one she uses to talk to new recruits and people in trouble. Namely, me.

Should I reject my fate and run? Do I go for broke and just walk out the door? Or should I book it straight through her office and bust out the window? That’s a bad idea, Diana would come after me. Besides, the glass is bulletproof. 

I stand up, and trudge into the Room of Doom.

Diana’s office is covered floor to ceiling with pictures, all of various recruits and scientists as they landed on Summanus. My picture is somewhere on the East wall, right at eye-level. At the end of the day, Diana really cares for all of us here with her whole heart. It just unfortunately includes reaming us from time to time. 

Diana sits at her desk, a picture of management perfection, typing away on her computer and completely ignoring me. Her dark hair is pulled into a low bun at the nape of her tanned neck, looking like she took glue to it so not a single strand was out of place. She’s wearing the company standard jumpsuit in dark navy.

I sit down in the chair across from her. "Is this about 325–A?” Even when I’m 99% positive, I never have full confidence until it’s confirmed.

Diana nods. “And 614–G, and 298--Y , and—“

“I get it. I’m slow.”

“And over-budget by,” she pauses to click on her computer a few times. “23 percent. What’s the issue Rowland?”

“Maybe if I had more assistants—“

“Assistants aren’t the problem here, this is all on you.”

Anger rises in me like the tide coming in. I’m not a child, I’m not an undergrad, I’m a respected scientist on an alien planet who does damn good work. It’s just...not always on time.

Some of my assignments have been so massive I went into double overtime just to meet the Benchmarks. But the people assigning them don’t care about me, they just want timely, cost-effective results. Usually, Diana is sympathetic to my plight, but not today it seems. 

Diana turns back to her computer and types a few more things while I seethe. She takes a long, annoying sip of her coffee and I want to smack it out of her hand.

“You’re being audited,” she says simply, like it isn’t the heart-stopping news I’d been dreading since I got her email to come in this morning. 

I practically jump out of my chair. “What?!” 

The last thing I need is some high brow accountant breathing down my neck, passing judgment on how I do my job.

“Technically it’s a Formal Review,” she continues, like that makes any difference. “We need some accountability from you, and this is the way to do it. It wasn’t my decision.”

“But—“

“Dr. Rowland,” she interjects. “Please try to understand. We’re aware that what you do is very important work, but concerning the schedule and budget...”

I throw my arms up. “I can’t control how fast the plants grow!”

Her neutral expression turns to one of modest sympathy. “I understand that, but like I said, this wasn’t my decision.” She hands me a paper off her printer and taps the bottom with one long, manicured nail. “I’m sorry to do this to you Cass, but if this next experiment fails,” she pauses, looking away from me. “Your lab will be repossessed.”

My stomach drops to the floor.

I snatch the paper back and skim over it. Yep, right there at the bottom. Should Cassandra Rowland fail to deliver on all Milestones, control of laboratory space shall be relinquished to high command, effective immediately after Formal Review.

My blood runs cold, the paper crumpling from the force of my grip. They’re going to take my lab away from me. I’d had it for barely a year.

My head swirls, the room tilts, and I can feel my breathing pick up from the force of it all. A formal review, an audit. I know my stuff is late a lot of the time, but so are plenty of other people’s! I’m far from the only scientist to deliver things tardy.

My brain goes back to the Formal Review and I crumple the paper in my hands. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Apparently you do.”

I plant my hands on my hips, switching tactics. “This was Stephen’s idea, wasn’t it? He’s been trying to get me sent back to Earth for two years.” 

“One review will not get you sent Earth-side, I promise.”

“But it gets my lab taken away! And if this goes tits up—which it will—whatever pencil-neck accountant they send—“

“Actually, your shadow is a scientist.”

“That’s even worse! We all suck!”

Diana’s facade of the perfect commander cracks as she rolls her eyes. “Cass, work with me here.”

Like the mature adult I am, I cross my arms and pout. “This isn’t fair. I can’t control the plants.”

To my credit, the past two experiments were technically successes, they just took an extra two weeks to germinate, well past my initial assessment and what would have happened on Earth. I was happy we got anything to break the soil at all. But these guys in the corporate office were all about results, and science didn’t always deliver on time.

Diana pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. After coming to some sort of conclusion, she pushes her glasses up and levels me with a hard stare, not quite a glare, but close. She uses her Scary Commander voice again to say, “Suck it up, and stop acting like a child.”

In the face of her stern persona, my resolve crumbles. “Fine.”

She straightens in her chair. "Good, glad we have that settled."

I huff a breath through my nose instead of responding, staring off to the side. My focus lands on one of the hundreds of pictures on the wall, a short trainee overshadowed by Diana's tall and imposing frame. They're both smiling at the camera, and I wish I'd ever felt that happy in this office.

***

“So how’d it go?” My lab assistant, Jillian, skirts up next to me as I exit Diana’s office.

I sigh for what feels like the millionth time. “We get a babysitter, but not one of these guys,” I gesture around to the cubicles we pass on the way to the elevator. “It’ll be internal.” Diana had told me the review would last until the end Experiment 271.8-A, over a year, because the universe loves to see me suffer. 

I slam the elevator button for the ground floor and tap my foot like my mom used to do whenever I’d come home with a bad grade. 

Diana had given me a cursory glance at the file of my new babysitter--I refuse to call them anything else-- before slamming it closed. No picture, but I got a name, Khri'asxu. They were a botanist like me, and from the long list of successful experiments they've headed I know I'm in for a hell of a ride.

I relay the details of the meeting and information to Jillian, each of my sentences making her eyebrows crawl closer to her hairline.

“Whoever this babysitter is has the equivalent of, like, three doctorates, so this is gonna be fun,” I say with a sour face. The name suggests they’re Summanian, a native of the planet Summanus. More commonly known as entos because of their insect-like appearance, they're a species that values hard work and logic. So I’m in for a world of boring lectures and condescension. Yippie. 

Jillian looks at me with wide eyes, “Wait, they’re coming today?”

“Nothing you do reflects on me,” I say, a little too curt, but I’m not in the mood. I think of the biohazard that is Jillie’s desk, covered in half-empty cans of energy drink and Miracle-Gro that I never had reason to make her clean. 

We walk out of the building, and Jillie stays quiet next to me. I can tell she has questions knocking around in her head, but my Murder Walk down the courtyard and across the street to the bus terminal probably acts as a deterrent.

I knew this review was coming: three past due, over-budget reports saw fit to that. But it didn’t mean I had to like it. I hated the idea of being watched all day every day for the next year. The arguments that could unfold, the condescension, the undermining, I could see it all now. I have enough trouble navigating the politics of Outpost 3 as a woman in a “soft” science, this was just going to add to the pile of shit I deal with on a daily basis. Whatever this other scientist has in mind for my experiment, I’m going to steamroll every decision they make. I’m not here to play games, I’m here for results, damn it. And this experiment is my baby. 

Experiment 271.8-A that I'd nicknamed Project EVA is humanity's first attempt to grow Earth crops in Summanus soil. A year and a half of pitching it to the board before it was approved, and it's all mine. Importing crops from Earth takes a lot of time and is very expensive, so the outpost (and every company that sponsors it) could save a lot of money is this is a success.

The smooth bus ride serves to cool me down slightly, to the point where I’m less snappy and more jumpy with nerves. My leg won’t stop shaking, my hands continually clench and unclench on my thigh. We need to stop by the lab before going to the communal greenhouse, and no doubt that reviewer is going to be there. The paper notice is crumpled in my hand. 

A long walk and we make it to the lab. I open the door and my stomach jumps. They’re already here, currently rooting through my desk. It's weird seeing a creature so large bent down over such a low surface. 

I quickly set my box of supplies down and stomp up to meet them. 

“What the hell are you doing?!”

The ento pauses, half-way through picking up a stack of papers, and finally looks at me. This one possesses a coloring I haven’t seen before, dark blue shot through with streaks of gray and flecks of purple, and the pale gray portions are equal on either side like vitiligo. Ento are covered in chitinous plating with glimpses of dark skin beneath, they have large digitigrade legs and two sets of arms, and large, insect-like wings that allow for flight.

“I am your auditor,” they say in a deep voice with a hint of an accent. 

“Yes I gathered that,” I hiss. “With all due respect, get out of my desk.” 

They straighten up, so tall their antennae nearly touches the ceiling. At an average height of seven feet most ento tower over us.

They offer a standard greeting, a bow with both arms outstretched, and I’m tempted to refuse it just for the insult it brings. But I don't want this one to potentially punch me in the chest so I return it.

“I am Khri’asxu. Kri will suffice,” they say. “I am male. And your desk was—is—atrocious,” Kri enunciates each word like he’s talking to a toddler, then gestures to all the things he had set out like that explains it. I grit my teeth. Most ento cultures operate under non-gendered language, but after meeting us they've started to pick up it. 

“That doesn't give you the right to--" 

"It is in our best interests for your workspace to remain tidy."

I wish I had a box or something to stand on so I could glare directly into his beady little eyes. "Have you ever seen another scientist's desk before?"

Kri folds his upper arms over his chest, a very humanlike gesture. “I am not reviewing other scientists, Dr. Rowland. I’m reviewing you. And I will take note of your indiscretion.”

I balk, my blood at full boil. “Indiscretion—!”

“Your refusal to keep a tidy work area,” Kri says, writing something on his clipboard. I step forward, fully intending to snatch the damned thing out of his hand, and he steps back out of my reach, holding it up. I reach for it again, but with his arms nearly hitting the ceiling, I have no chance. But I’m not going to let this alien boss me around. 

"Give it here you--"

Jillie steps between us, hands placating. “O-kay that’s enough of that!”

Kri is so tall his glare at me literally goes over Jillie's head. Ento don't have much range of expressions, only really able to narrow or widen their eyes, leaving most non-verbal communication to their body language.

Jillie turns to me, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Cassie, what was first on the list today?”

My blood is still boiling, every brain cell is geared towards an argument. If I back down now, he'll see me as weak and write that in his stupid report. I can’t afford to look weak in front of him.

Jillie makes eye contact with me and gives me a meaningful look, and my anger flags. We have a lot to do today, and this is just delaying my progress. She's right, I need to focus. I breathe heavily through my nose, taking a few steps back. This isn't the military, but it won't look good if I get written up for insubordination.

As I pull the small folded piece of paper out of my pocket, shame wells up like a balloon filling with helium. I shouldn't be arguing with a brick wall of an alien, I shouldn't be arguing at all. I need to be running my experiments, getting results so I don't lose my lab. I need to get this done. I need to--

Focus Cassie. Paper.

I look down. First on the list: Samples

I walk past Kri, ignoring the mess on my desk despite the bubbles of anxiety that well up in my chest. My fingers itch to reorganize it. I knew where everything was, where everything needed to be. Everything was perfectly placed where I needed to reach it, and now it was all messed up.

“We need to set up samples,” I say instead. “Jillie, can you do—what could you possibly be writing down now?”

Kri doesn’t stop writing as he casually replies, “It’s a conflict of interest for me to inform you of my report.”

A muscle in my eye twitches.

Chapter 2 >>

#my writing #A Botanist's Guide #monster writing #original writing #alien writing #Exophilia #Fantasci

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he��d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it! #my writing #my fic

[killerskillercaptain]

Embarrassing moments w/Levi Ackerman BOOK III

You can read Book I and Book II if you hadn't yet.

pairing : Levi ackerman x reader

wc : 1 351

themes : Hange brought you and Levi some flowers form an expedition, you made tea with them, you regretted it.

warnings : nsfw, minors dni, angst, humor.

The ceremonial tea incident

"In that village we were in, those are flowers we gift newlyweds" explained Hange while showing you a bouquet of delicate small flowers with an ethereal violet color to them.

Hange and Moblit had just came back from an expedition in a village next to their HQ.

"I got them from an old lady's garden, she told me that traditionally they make tea with those flowers and give it to the newly married couple to drink, it's like a ceremonial tea or something. She gave me some of them and before i could ask her more questions she said she had to go." Hange paused for a second " i could swear i saw her giggle a little when she waled away, but never mind !"

"Why did you need those flowers for ?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, i didn't need those ones specifically, her garden had an incredible amount of specimens and i was searching for some aromatic herbs for my next experiences with titans, i found out that some of them were pretty repulsed by plants like basil and fennel, i wanted to see if there are plants they were attracted to instead"

"Oh, i see"

"Maybe they hate basil and fennel because in reality titans used to be humans and they cooked so much with those herbs that they got sick of them" said Moblit, joking.

"Don't be silly, titans can't be humans" said a low and stern voice entering the lab where all of you were gathered.

"Oh, captain Levi !" you said "Good evening !"

it was almost 7pm, and you hadn't seen him all day because you spent your entire day with Hange and Moblit in their lab.

"Here, i don't need them for my experiments, you can have them !" Hange handed you the small freshly picked bouquet "You should put them in the office you and Levi work in together, that place is awfully neat and depressing, just like Levi"

"Oi!"

"Oh, i know ! Why don't you prepare some tea with them ! if they give it to newlyweds it must be sweet and probably relaxing, Levi could use some of it !"

"Tea sounds good" said Levi.

****

8pm

Since you had to spend all your time today with Hange, there was an awful amount of work waiting for you. You sat at your usual desk, across from Levi's, a mountain of paper stacked on each one, a pitcher and two tea cups on a small tray next to you.

You had brewed some tea with those flowers, just like Hange suggested, and Levi always liked to drink tea when you stayed up late doing paper work. The infusion was a very crystalline and had beautiful color, and both of you had emptied half the pitcher by now, Hange was right, it was sweet. After finished your third cup, you got to work.

9pm

Even though the night was cold, you started feeling kind of warm, hot even. You opened up the two first buttons of your shirt and tried to go back to reading the document in front of you. You watched the words dance before your eyes without grasping their meaning, you tried hard to focus and for a good ten minutes, managed to complete the work at hand, but soon after, a sudden rush of heat caught you off guard again, it felt a lot like a fever, without being one, you were completely fine when you got here with the captain.

Speaking of the captain, you threw a curious glance at him. You were surprised to see his cravate completely loose over his neck, and some drops of sweat pearling on his forehead. So you weren't the only one feeling this strange heat, but where could it come from? how could you both feel so hot while the night was practically freezing. Levi didn't say anything, so you decided to ignore how your body was rising in temperature and how your cheeks were starting to burn.

10pm

You stopped doing your paperwork half an hour ago, you were incapable of focusing on anything, and the heat you felt coming from your body had traveled down to your must intimate parts.

What in the world is happening ?

Levi was repeatedly shifting behind his desk, opening his legs, closing them, then opening them again, a light touch of red rising up from his cheeks to his ears.

"Open the damn window !" he almost shouted

"It's open since we got here captain"

"Then why is it so damn hot in here" he said more to himself than to you.

He got up, paced around his desk, then around the office holding his document, but soon he headed again toward his office. When he turned around to sit in his seat across from you, you saw it.

Oh, no no no no no no.

You saw it, the noticeable bulge in his pants. Panicking you lowered your eyes to look at your desk again, trying to assess the situation, it can't be a coincidence, you were feeling hot too, and the heat you felt down there was arousal for sure, and there was Levi, having possibly an erection and all red. Both of you were completely fine when you entered the office you thought to yourself, you wiped your sweaty forehead with your hand almost knocking the pitcher out of the desk.

The pitcher ! The tea ! It's the only thing that's not normally part of your work routine.

It suddenly hit you. The tea, the flowers. Hange said they were traditionally given as a gift to newlyweds, as beverage, the woman who told her that was giggling when she handed them to Hange.

A gift to newlyweds...

This doesn't put people to sleep ! this is an aphrodisiac !

Your heart started to pound, you didn't know if it was from the realization or from the tea and you could swear Levi was able to hear the sound coming from your chest.

It was already 11pm when Levi got up again, the stack of paper hiding his bulge from you which you were grateful for, Levi seemed incredibly restless, he must have reached his limits, and you were too scared to ask if you could leave earlier.

"Get out !" he said furiously

"W-"

"You're dismissed ! that's it for tonight ! get out !"

You were glad you could run out of this suffocating situation but worried about Levi, did he understand what was happening ?

11:30pm

After you've thrown a hurried "Good night" to him, you rushed through the corridors and headed directly to your bedroom, you heard Levi's footsteps behind you, doing the same but in the opposite direction.

His bedroom isn't in that direction you thought, but you were feeling too aroused and dizzy to care, you needed to get to your bedroom. Finally there, you opened your bathroom, and for the first time since you were in these HQ, you were thankful the water was freezing, you took off your clothes and prepared to get rid of the now unbearable urge.

1am

The urged had passed, and the entire time you were in that cold bath, you wondered how Levi managed to get rid of his unsettling state.

*****

8am

You woke up the next morning in a good mood, and had completely gotten over yesterday's embarrassing event, walking in the hallway, heading for Hange's lab, you were going to tell her about those damn flowers when you heard Levi's shouting voice behind the lab's door.

"NEXT TIME YOU BRING ANOTHER DISGUSTING PLANT MAKE SURE YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS !"

"B-But why ? what happened ?" Hange's voice was almost inaudible, and it quivered with fear.

You didn't hear Levi answer her question, the door was slammed open violently, almost hitting you in the process, and an incredibly angry Levi appeared, he looked at you before quickly staring blankly ahead and continued walking as if you didn't exist.

Hange soon appeared, trembling and puzzled, as soon as she saw you, she grabbed your hand.

"What happened ? did the tea flower make you sick ?"

"Y-you can say that"

#Levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #snk x you #snk x y/n #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #snk locs #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x y/n #shingeki no kyojin fluff #shingeki no kyojin imagine #aot x you #aot x reader #eren jaeger #aot fluff #aot imagine #aot angst #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan imagine

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

 “Slow down!” exclaimed Iris.  “Turn left just up ahead.”

 I nodded and complied.  She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored.  I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb.  To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

 “He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

 “Mila watches everything, so there’s no need.  There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

 I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain.  I had considerably underestimated the size of this place.  I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

 As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds.  Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed.  I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed.  Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect.  James certainly knew how to make an impression.

 When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor.  “James!  Thank you for having us.  This is quite a place you’ve got here.  Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

 “There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed.  “Thank you for accepting the invitation.  I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game.  Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

 “This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

 “Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

 “No need to apologize.  We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

 I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion.  Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

 Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

 I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this.  Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology?  “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

 “You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees.  I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts.  We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James.  “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

 I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in.  My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

 James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.”  Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us  “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you.  She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

 “How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

 “My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything.  You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son.  “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report.  There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

 That sounded far too believable.  I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics.  “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us.  What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

 “So many things, Dad.  James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

 I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

 “I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea.  My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

 “What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

 Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food.  My mouth was already watering.

 “We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat.  I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through.  Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

 The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield.  Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

 Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon.  Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

 The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

 “I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

 “Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

 I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.  

 “If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you.  Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

 “You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

 She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”  

 “All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

 Iris laughed, shaking her head.  “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

 “I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

 James shook his head and said, “Not even close.”  Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

 I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

 “The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

 “What!?  No way!” exclaimed Mike.

 Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after.  She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake.  I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years.  I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

 I found the idea mind-boggling.  James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

 “You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end.  “You get too distracted.  I could handle a village in an hour!”  She was soaked, but grinning.

 Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

 “Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson.  This is her mother, Mirabella.  From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt.  Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

 “Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

 “Sure.” he conceded.

 “Hear that?  I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

 “Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

 “Nah.  I do this.” she replied, watching us all.  After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

 “Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

 She stuck her tongue out at him.  Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower.  Plants can be very good at guiding water.  As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants.  We have plans and stuff!”

 “You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

 “I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

 “The idea was actually Maxine’s.  She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

 “You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

 “There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

 “I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

 James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

 Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes.  Yes, we are.’  Mua ha ha ha ha!”  She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

 “Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

 “Sounds fun.” he agreed.

 From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted.  She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game.  Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

 Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table.  There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

 As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us.  James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice.  Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table.  Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air.  James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real.  Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him.  Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Seven]

Summary: An unexpected attack cuts the final tethers of restraint for Poe and the reader.

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, mentions of attempted assault, choking, injury description (note RED cuts to skip past uncomfortable parts if preferred), Smut—PiV, fingering, squirting, oral. W— +14K.

A/N: If there was ever a chapter I would beg for feedback/thoughts, this is it. Please tell me you like it. Oh god, soothe my worried mind.

It was tempting, the urge to roll your eyes as the man before you moved to stand too close. You smirked, waiting to see if he was serious in his attempt to corner you or if he would scamper off the moment you pulled your knife from your thigh holster where it was hidden beneath your dress.

There was a darkness in his gaze that made your hand twitch at your side, and here you had thought Canto Bight would be relatively uneventful. But it appeared you caught his eye and your disguise as just another casino patron worked because he had followed you unexpectedly into the foyer off of the main ballroom, where you had gone to wait for Poe and Temmin to return.

The three of you were here for intel promised by a very wealthy ally, so dressing the part was important for blending in with the privileged crowds. You were sure the man before you thought you weak enough to bully, a rich girl he could take advantage of.

You were annoyed, wishing you’d gone with Poe instead of Temmin, that you hadn’t offered to keep watch for any signs of your enemies because you felt you were the least suspicious of the three of you. BB8 stayed with you, but when you’d seen the man following you over your shoulder you told the droid to hide and it had zipped behind a potted plant in the corner of the foyer, beeping coyly.

You had first assumed he was a guard, perhaps about to tell you that you were in the wrong place if you were looking for a fresher, but when he stepped around you and blocked your path you quickly realized he was something else entirely. His suit, you could tell now from close up, was immensely expensive and he reeked of cologne.

There were two hallways over his shoulder, one which Poe and Temmin had gone down to meet with the contact, and the other which branched off to various parts of the greater building. Both were quiet, and so you knew not to expect any sudden interruptions that might save you the trouble of having to incapacitate the man.

But, you could easily handle one lone wolf who bit off more than he could chew.

Which was why it came as a very great surprise to you when you felt another presence behind you, but before you could do more than stiffen you felt pressure against your spine; a second man had snuck in and was pressing a knife to you. Now you understood that the first man wasn’t blocking your path; he was distracting you.

So less of a lone wolf, more of a predator with a partner. Bile rose in your throat and you glared at the man in front of you. He smirked now, taking another step toward you so that both men were almost pressed up against you, sandwiching you between them. “You’re a pretty little number.” He hissed, one hand shooting out to grab your throat.

You wanted to fight, but the knife at your back was a heavy warning of what could happen and you knew you needed to play your cards right. No pun intended. You’d been cornered before, of course, but always by First Order officers. Rich men who wanted what they couldn’t have were not on your list of experiences before this, and you wondered how best to deal with them.

“Fuck you,” You seethed, and the hand at your neck tightened fractionally. More of a threat than anything else.

His words though were a clear threat. “No, we’ll fuck you, doll.”

The way they got you onto the floor, the ease and swiftness of it, told you they’d done this together before. It sickened you, made fury rise inside of you and you wanted nothing more than to pull the knife from your holster and drive it into the hand at your throat. You made a noise, a growl, and the man with the knife finally spoke up.

“She’s a wild one, probably best to knock her out.”

You were going to kill them. Whatever happened, their blood would be soaking into this plush carpet before the end of the night. The first man moved so that he was straddling your chest, his weight on his hunches, and grinned down at you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have our fun and be on our way. We aren’t going to hurt you so long as you don’t struggle.” He immediately contradicted himself when the hand at your throat tightened, pressing at the sides in a way that cut off airflow without completely crushing your throat. They wanted you to pass out.

You went limp, conserving your energy as you scowled up at the man. The reality of your situation was now enough to cause panic to bubble up; Poe and Temmin hadn’t been gone long. The contact would invite them for a drink, chat with them briefly before passing along the intel. They would find you here, after.

No, that couldn’t happen. It would kill Poe, and he wouldn’t be able to leave until he found the men. You whimpered, black spots started to dance in your vision and you saw, from the corner of your eye, a blur of orange and white zoom down the hallway your squadmates had ventured not long ago.

The second man was already getting excited, his free hand brushing over your face, touching your lips. Even without any air coming in, you tried to bite him. He jerked his finger back, cursing, and the man holding your throat threw his head back to laugh loudly, the pressure releasing in his distraction. You think he started to tease the other man, but everything was confusing now and instincts overtook your body, pulling in air-too much air, too quickly.

Scream.

Yes, you needed to scream. One good, long one that someone would hear, or at least loud enough to scare them off of you in case someone did come looking for the source. You kept pulling in air and it was painful your vision blurring, and you think you were about to pass out. Faces appeared in your mind. Two very distinct, very familiar faces; Charlie and Poe. Your protectors, your family, your love.

Just like that, you had what you needed to find the strength to scream.

It came out in one long, very loud wail, the sound of it echoing off of the walls and back to you before you passed out.

“POOOOOEEEEEE!”

+

The Martell family moved off, having given their words of sorrow and sympathy, and Charlie tightened the arm he had secured around his mother’s shoulders. She was the strong, silent type like him; whereas you always took after dad. He was keeping close to mom today, providing her with the support she needed and knowing that you were being well taken care of by the one person who could provide the tender love you required.

Charlie glanced around the room as mom took a sip of water, seeking you in the crowd. His eyes landed on Dad's green armchair in the corner, where you were curled up in Poe’s lap, face pressed into his neck as you shook with sobs. He could see his best friend whispering to you, his hand rubbing up at down your back, no doubt repeating words of comfort. He must have felt Charlie’s gaze, his eyes flicking up suddenly before he smiled sadly.

In many ways, it was a beautiful thing to behold the love which you and Poe had for one another. Even as young as you all were, no one could doubt or question that you were both made for one another-except, of course, for yourselves.

Charlie could almost be jealous if he hadn’t spent years around you and seen how natural it seemed to come to you both. He couldn’t be angry that his best friend loved you so deeply, that he knew what to do to comfort you, to care for you, knew when it was needed without Charlie even needing to ask. Hell, even dad had noticed, mentioned it to Charlie during that last visit...

Dad was smiling at Charlie, who sat in the chair next to his bed in the medical facility. It was a nice private room, the kind that the staff made a little homier because it was where the terminal patients came to live out their last days. Mom had taken you and Poe with her to get tea in the nearby lounge, leaving Charlie alone with dad one last time. He sighed, admitting to dad now that they were alone that it didn’t feel fair to lose his father at sixteen. And you were barely fourteen!

Dad chuckled sadly, “I want to stay more than you know, son. I have to tell you, Charlie, that I’m already more than proud of who you are and I know you’ll continue to be a remarkable person. I told your sister the same, but she’s still young, she’ll need more reminders,” Dad paused to take a breath and Charlie waited patiently, taking hold of one of his hands. “I know you’ll always take care of her, put her before anything else. Even the fight, it comes second to her. Though I expect you’ll have help. Wish I could have been around to see those two get married one day.”

Charlie grinned, “You noticed them too?” His father nodded, eyes bright despite the sickness. “How could anyone not, I suppose. Except them.” Charlie added, rolling his eyes fondly.

Dad laughed again, “They’ll realize it when they’re ready. You’re all too young for love anyway,” He joked, giving Charlie a mock stern look. “Just make sure that whatever they do, you focus on your own happiness too, son.”

He squeezed Charlie’s hand weakly, he smiled at his father, “I promise I’ll take care of her, dad. And mom, she’ll need me more.” Dad nodded, his eyes a little wet but so filled with love that Charlie could only stare at him for a few minutes before continuing. “You want me to beat him up when they do finally kiss, though?”

Another weak laugh, followed by a wink, and then Charlie spent a few more minutes talking with his dad for the last time, before eventually mom, you and Poe filtered back in.

He felt a lot of love and joy despite the fucking misery of it, until Dad's eyes slipped shut the final time and you all kissed him before stepping out to leave mom alone with the nurse. You were wrapped around Charlie, who had carried you out of the room, and he passed you over to Poe, asking his friend to take you home while he took care of mom. Poe pressed his forehead to Charlie’s before doing just that, his own eyes leaking tears.

Now, Charlie wondered if Poe had stopped touching you since that day. Perhaps he simply switched between carrying you and keeping his arm around your shoulders, anchoring you down in safety and love, letting you grieve while keeping you from falling too far into the darkness.

Poe met his eyes across the room, wordlessly asking ‘do you need me?’ And Charlie smiled back, shaking his head. Because Poe was already doing exactly what he needed him to, cooing softly in your ear as you trembled and cried quietly, protecting you while Charlie held up his mother and in turn, she held him up, thanking him for being strong, for loving so hard.

Charlie thought he could love as much as he wanted, it would still never compare to the love between Poe and you. It made him smile.

+

Poe was walking with Temmin at his side, the contact leading them through the extravagant hallways to the room where their source would pass over the intel promised to the Resistance. Intel that could help track down a man that had something the General needed. He was an ally to the Resistance, not a neutral or ‘for profit’ type but a true ally who pushed through funds for them as much as intel. Coming in person to the casino he owned, dressed to the nines in finery that felt foreign, sitting over a glass of champagne-it was the least they could do.

And Poe had to admit, the moment you’d stepped out of the fresher on the small ship Black squad had taken to come to Canto Bight, he’d become gleeful over the necessity to dress up. Because you were gorgeous, dazzlingly so in a golden, glittering dress, your legs bare, hair styled loose, a touch of make-up on your face. He thought you were so beautiful, and he wanted to tell you but didn’t trust himself to say it right, so he’d grinned before turning away and letting out a low whistle. Calling ‘looking good, sweetheart’ over his shoulder.

They were approaching a large, ornate door that the man leading them gestured toward, indicating their contact was on the other side. Poe thanked him for his help, but before he could move the final steps to the door a familiar sound suddenly entered the hall; BB8 was zooming towards him, beeping frantically.

Exchanging a curious look with Temmin, Poe dropped down to one knee as the droid rolled to a stop before him. Despite Poe’s fluency in binary, he was only catching words due to the panicked, too-fast rate at which the droid communicated. He gathered ‘attack’ and ‘knife’ and wondered if BB8 was telling him you had stabbed someone.

It wouldn’t have been the first time on a mission you’d done so.

“Buddy, slow down, I can’t understand you,” Poe hushed the droid, “Say it again, slower.”

The droid repeated itself, slowly.

Poe was moving before he finished. “Captain, go in without me. BB8, stay with him.” He ordered over his shoulder. He heard Temmin’s worried affirmative reply. And then he was running, faster than he had in his entire existence, blood roaring in his ears. Poe ran because the message was clear.

You were being attacked.

And he didn’t like how BB8 had phrased it, saying you ‘couldn’t breathe'. He didn’t know if he was about to find you with Storm Troopers or undercover First Order fighters, but regardless being unable to breathe didn’t sound like their usual treatment of suspected Rebels. It only drove him to run faster through the twisting hallway, forgetting his expensive clothing or even the importance of remaining undercover, his focus solely on you now.

You had offered to stay behind. Because it was the best option, and Canto Bight was an easy enough place to blend in. So who had made you?

Poe half expected to round the final corner up ahead and find you waiting for him with your enemy incapacitated, or otherwise in a standoff he would have to join in on the fight with.

He never expected anything like what was about to happen.

Before he reached the end of the hall, an ear-splitting shriek filled the air and Poe’s veins turned to ice, his breath catching.

“POOOOOEEEEEE!”

You had never made a sound like that before in your life, and blind, all-consuming rage overtook every facet of Poe’s being-whoever, whatever, made you scream like that was about to fucking die. He came tearing around the corner and his eyes fell on the most gut-wrenching, heart-stopping sight-you, laying still on the floor as a man straddled your chest, one hand wrapped around your throat. A second man stood next to you; both men had their backs to Poe and appeared to be watching you...

Were you dying? Dead?

They didn’t hear Poe coming, neither of them even turned around when he pulled the knife from the inner pocket of his jacket and leapt at the standing man. He slit his throat without thought, already looking toward the man still straddling you, who had released his hold on your neck to peer around curiously. He looked just in time to see his friend collapse to the floor, had enough time to jump back in fear, mouth opening in horror.

It didn’t matter, though. His futile attempt to block Poe only served to aid his aim, so that the knife he slashed out could be thrust down and into the soft flesh between his collarbone and throat. Poe snarled, slamming him back into the wall to ensure he didn’t fall onto you, before yanking the knife out and finishing him off with a firm swipe of the blade over his throat, cutting through the tendons and blinking when a spray of blood landed on him.

Stashing the knife back into his pocket and glancing up at the closed door, Poe stumbled forward and dropped to his knees next to you, adrenaline coursing through his body and keeping his hand steady as he sought out your pulse point. He could already see bruising bleeding over the soft skin of your throat, darkening it, and he felt his rage ebb away into a panic so severe that he almost missed the steady beat of your heart.

“Oh fuck,” He gasped out, a modicum of relief seeping through the panic. He scooped you up quickly, spinning around and making his way toward the hallway opposite the one he’d just come from. He groaned when he realized he wasn’t sure where to go, which door led to an exit-you had the entire place memorized. But you were breathing steadily in his arms, still passed out, and Poe needed to follow his gut on this because you’re life depended on him getting you to the safety of the ship.

He couldn’t cut through the casino, so he opted to simply try each door in the hall ahead until one of them lead to a room with a window he could climb out of. Kare was waiting on the ship, he could send her in as backup once he was out. It was the second door that he shouldered through that lead to him gasp in relief-it led onto a patio, on the ground floor. He glanced around, confirming no one was in sight before tearing off at a run, holding you tight in his arms. Everything was happening in such a blur.

He tapped on his comm, “Kare! Please tell me we have bacta shots on the ship.”

Her voice crackled through in alarm, “What’s happened? We only have spray-“

“Shit!” He growled, “I’m coming back with the Major-she was attacked, get out the medkit and prepare to head to the casino and wait outside for Temmin, he needs to have a backup-“

“You got it, Commander!” She replied swiftly before the line went dead and he knew she’d have switched over to Temmin’s channel to give him the update.

When Poe boarded the ship a few minutes later, Kare was waiting at the top of the ramp and gasped at the sight of you in his arm, passed out. She paused, eyes on Poe “Whose blood is that, Commander?”

“It’s not hers,” Poe replied, setting you down on the only bed the tiny ship had and picking up the medical kit Kare had left out for him, “I killed two men. Make sure Temmin and BB8 get back here with the intel, I’ll have the ship ready to depart.” She confirmed she heard him before running down the ramp and out of sight.

Poe set to work quickly, first tugging a rolled blanket from the end of the bed and covering you with it, then seeking out your pulse to confirm it was still beating steadily. He then uncapped the bacta spray and gently tilted your head back; exposing your heavily bruised throat, and carefully opening your mouth.

“Oh my sweet girl,” He sobbed out, first spraying into your open mouth so that the spray would drip down into your throat and reduce the swelling, then again to the outside skin. It would help, he comforted himself, “My sweet, sweet girl, I’m here. I’ve got you, please, please be okay.” He pleaded, his voice a strained whisper as he stroked your hair gently off of your face, waiting for the spray to do its work. He thinks he kept talking, while his eyes watched your face, every second torture until he saw movement behind your eyelids.

“Mmm,” You moaned out a strangled sound, your face tightening as you registered the pain. Your eyes suddenly snapped open and he saw panic flash there, a fear he’d never seen on your face before that shattered his heart right in his chest.

“Baby,” He whispered, bringing his face over yours so you could see him clearly, “It’s me, I’ve got you, sweet girl. We’re on the ship, we’re safe.” He promised you, dropping his hand to hold yours under the blanket. You gazed at him for a second, then dropped your eyes to search over him and he glanced down, realizing he was...still covered in blood.

“Ah-okay?” You wheezed, your voice was scratchy, but your brows pinched together in an expression that cleared up your meaning.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, leaning down at pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t try to speak until we get you looked at, okay? Does anything else hurt?”

He drew back to watch your face, but you shook your head slightly to indicate you were okay. He cupped your cheeks then, needing to touch you, to feel you alive and warm under his now trembling fingers. You noticed his shaky hands, one of your own coming out from beneath the blanket to reach up and stroke his jaw.

A shuddering, retched sob tore out of him as you did this familiar comforting gesture, attempting to ease his pain when you were the one that had been harmed. Tears no longer threatened, but spilled from his eyes as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, “My sweet girl, y-you scared me, there, thought I-I-“ He broke off, unable to even say the words. You kept caressing his jaw, the motion soothing to you as well, he gathered from the expression on your face. “I killed them. Both.” He admitted. You responded by merely widening your eyes slightly, then shutting them in understanding.

He watched you for a few moments, then let his own eyes shut as he lowered his head and pressed his forehead to yours, trying to reign in his emotions so that he could get the ship ready to go home. He pulled back when you attempted to speak again, your voice a little clearer thanks to the spray.

“L-love you.”

Poe ran his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears that spilled, “I love you,” He replied, turning his head and pressing his lips to your hand, “So, so much, my lovely girl.”

+

When Tahla had first walked onto the ship after Temmin and Kare had successfully landed back on base at D’Qar, his expression was so fraught with concern you’d squeaked a little from your spot on the bed, wanting to tell him you were fine despite your voice box rejecting the attempt. Poe had disappeared into the cockpit with Temmin and Kare when they finally boarded the ship on Canto Bight, BB8 in tow, and you think he must have overstated your injury when he’d called into base.

“Well, that sounded extraordinarily wretched, let me take a look,” Tahla joked, his features relaxing, and he sat at your side on the bed. Poe was behind you now, his body acting as your pillow, a comforting position he’d taken up the moment the ship landed and the rest of Black team had departed to get the intel to the General. “This is going to be uncomfortable, but try not to make noise, okay?” His eyes were on Poe when he spoke at first, dropping to you when he posed the question. You nodded your understanding and decided to lose yourself in thought as he gently started feeling along your throat.

When you first came to, the only thing you had been aware of was the pain in your throat. You’d felt movement at your side and panicked, thinking you were still under attack, only when you opened your eyes you instead met the most heart-wrenching sight of your life; Poe covered in blood, looking down at you pale and panicked, his eyes wide with fear. Seeing him like that hurt worse than the pain in your throat, though that was certainly in a strong second place.

When he admitted he killed the men, you regretted only that you hadn’t been able to fight them off yourself, or at least been able to help him take them down. You didn’t want all of that to sit on his shoulders. You comforted yourself at the moment by telling him you loved him, testing the words on your tongue, despite knowing he would take them at their usual meaning and not how you truly meant them now.

But you could wait a little longer to tell him properly.

“Alright, Major. The good news is that you’re going to be okay and the spray will combat any long-term damage to your vocal cords,” Tahla was looking into your mouth now, a light shining in his hand as he inspected your throat. “Bad news is that I can’t administer a Bacta shot this far into the injury, so you’ll have to allow it to heal on its own over the next couple of days.”

“F-fuck.” You stammered, and Poe’s hands, which were clasping your shoulders, tightened fractionally in response. A silent, loving, admonishment. Tahla laughed, stowing away his light before giving you a final once over.

His eyes moved up, meeting Poe’s instead, “That’s not your blood, right?”

“No,” Poe replied, his voice quiet, “No. I killed them. BB8 found me, told me (y/n) was being attacked. They were...I didn’t hesitate.”

Fuck, he sounded so dark and haunted, you wanted to take away his worry, take away whatever memories he had now from the attack. You were tired though, your eyes beginning to droop now that you were home and safe and in the clear of any permanent damage. Tahla gave Poe a nod that suggested his approval over Poe’s handling of the men who attacked you, his eyes darkening for a moment, and then your eyes closed completely.

Poe’s hands immediately moved, adjusting you in his arms. How he was able to tell you were ready to sleep you’d never know. He was lifting you before you could even consider offering to just walk since your legs worked just fine. But you let yourself curl into his hold instead, your face pressing into his neck. He began to walk and you let the gentle motions soothe you further, lulling you towards sleep.

Tahla spoke from somewhere behind your head, where he walked next to Poe, “I’m going to give her a few days off, pull her from the field for a week minimum-I’ll check on her in five days, see if her voice is good enough for the field.”

“Listen, man, thank you for coming. I know it’s overstepping to demand a specific Healer-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Tahla interrupted, “I’m glad you did ask for me. Scared the hell out of me though, Poe.”

Poe sighed, “Sorry about that.” He didn’t elaborate even though you wanted him to explain why he’d caused Tahla to panic, what he’d said to have your friend run into the ship like he thought your head was about to fall off.

You also wanted to thank Tahla for coming, but you were too sleepy. Instead, you let the way Poe carried you to ease you closer and closer to the blissful release of sleep, not realizing until you heard a door whoosh open that the Healer was gone. Poe lowered you onto something soft and you peeked out beneath your eyelashes to find you were in his room.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” He murmured, pulling his blanket from where it was folded at the base of his bed to cover you, his hands still shaky. You reached for him then, grabbing hold of his hand, and Poe stilled, gazing down at you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You cleared your throat carefully and kept your voice as low as possible when you spoke. “Sta-y with me.” You saw the words hit him, his tension releasing so quickly that you think he nearly collapsed as he joined you on the bed, laying cautiously next to you. The only part of him that touched you was where your hand had grabbed him; now, you tugged him closer and shuffled, burrowing into his side and tucking your head into his neck.

You didn’t care that he was bloody or you were both still dressed in the fancy clothing-you just wanted him close. Needed him, not only for yourself but also for him, so that he knew you weren’t upset with him in any way, so that he couldn’t lick his wounds alone and convince himself that he messed up.

You needed him to know that you still trusted him. Always would.

He shifted so that he could circle his arms around you, holding you tight against him and breathing steadily, hard enough that you knew he was fighting off tears again. Your poor, kind-hearted Poe. He took things so hard, loved so fiercely. You didn’t understand how you deserved him when you were young or now. You just felt so fucking safe now, he was all-encompassing safety and love and you wondered again how you could have thought badly of him, to ever have run away.

“Sweet girl,” He started murmuring again, whispers as he stroked one hand over your hair soothingly. You weren’t sure if he knew you were still awake, it had been so long. You remained still, hoping he would never stop speaking so sweetly to you, letting his words lull you. “My brave, beautiful girl. So strong. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I love you, maker I love you...”

You wanted to say it back, but you fell asleep to the soothing rumble of his chest as he caressed you in the night, rocking away your nightmares and keeping you every bit as safe as he promised.

+

Poe woke early, light only just filtering in his thin window because he was too warm. At first, he was confused as to why he felt so restricted, so heavy until he looked down.

Stars.

You were tangled around him as he lay on his back, your arm hugged around his waist, head resting just below his sternum, legs entwined with his own. And he was still wearing his suit, the fabric not as breathable as his flight suit, and tighter too. As he gazed down at you, still peacefully asleep, further warmth pooled in his chest and belly.

‘Stay with me.’

Maker, three words and you knocked him clean over and he was ready right then to tell you he would never leave your side again if you asked him not to. But he’d managed to reign himself in slightly before curling around you protectively, unable to keep himself from touching you in gentle, soothing motions. He’d fallen asleep faster than he’d thought he would.

Now, he realized that if you woke up you would find him still covered in the blood of the men he’d killed. He needed to get himself into his fresher and clean up. With slow movements, he was able to extract himself from your grip and climb from the bed. He covered you in the blanket so the temperature change wouldn’t go as noticed and wake you up. He watched you for a minute as you slept, then quietly grabbed a pen and piece of paper, jotting a note down in case you woke up.

‘In the shower. Don’t leave, please.’

He set it next to you on his bed, then grabbed some clean clothing and stepped into his fresher, the door closing behind him silently. He bypassed his mirror, not interested in seeing how he looked, and went straight into the shower, turning on the water and flinching at the brief burst of cold before the temperature evened out. He scrubbed himself clean and avoided looking at the floor, at the swirling blood and grime disappearing into the drain. He had enough images in his head. It wasn’t that he hadn’t killed before, because he most certainly had-both from his x-wing and in ground combat. But he had never taken a life so viciously, so intimately. And it wasn’t how quickly he’d done it that scared him, it was how okay with it all he was.

They were hurting you, at the time he’d thought they’d killed you, he had no choice. No option but to end them.

He considered working in the field with you now, what that would look like. Would he start throwing himself in front of you and breaking protocol as he had in the woods of Takodana? Like he’d gotten angry at you for doing all that time ago when you’d first come back to D’Qar and had taken out that Stormtrooper with his gun levelled at Poe’s head? Was the fight...

Maker.

Was it worth losing you for?

The answer came fast; no, no it wasn’t. And that scared him because he’d always been ready to die for the cause, for the Resistance, to abolish the tyranny of the First Order. You and Charlie and he had all grown up with that single mindset, to get old enough to join and then fight until the war ended or you died.

And now all he could think was that he would rather lose the war a thousand times over than lose you.

When he stepped out of his shower and dried off, Poe was reeling. He was going through the motions-pulling on his socks, his shorts, his favourite tee. But internally he was reminding himself of everything he’d accomplished as a Resistance fighter. Of everything you had. Even after losing Charlie, you both kept fighting without question, for him, for yourselves, for the cause.

But...wasn’t the saying in your family that family came first, then the fight, and then everything else? When had he lost sight of that and forgotten that with great love came the equally great threat of losing it? But he couldn’t just leave, would never even consider it, no and he knew you wouldn’t, not for him or anything. There was nothing in the entire galaxy that would make you stop fighting. Which left Poe with the greatest question of all-what the hell was he going to do?

He didn’t have an answer, not even a vague idea, so he tabled the internal battle he was waging and stepped out of his fresher to check on you. His heart stuttered in his chest when he found you splayed across his bed, head hidden under his pillow, one leg kicked out from under the covers. You had always looked so peaceful when you slept, and memories surface of the countless times growing up, waking in your bed and watching you sleep. He’d usually wake up before you, sometimes he’d sneak out to hang out with Charlie, other times he’d enjoy the quiet and calm of your room.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was to wake you up, and so Poe made his way to his dresser to search through options for you to wear. Even the idea of you going alone into your room to shower and change made his heart drop, his need to keep you safe and close was so great. He picked out one of his shirts, a pair of athletic shorts you could tighten the waist of, and after much debate with himself, a pair of his briefs. He’d let you decide if you were going to wear them-he just wanted you to have the option.

He went into his fresher and set the clothing on the vanity, starting a little when he emerged and found you watching him with bleary eyes. He smiled tentatively, suddenly nervous under your gaze, but after a small pause your face lit up, eyes brightening and smile wide, melting his heart in his chest.

“Good morning,” Poe sat down on the bed next to you, brushing a hand over your face to wipe away stray hairs, “Try not to speak too much, sweetheart.” He gently reminded you, his eyes dropping to your darkened throat.

You made a face, scrunching your nose, and Poe chuckled softly. He watched you yawn before pushing yourself up, moving to sit next to him and raising your hand to tentatively touch your throat. You winced before flicking your gaze up to meet his, offering a small smile, “Hi,” It was raspy and quiet, dry enough that he realized you needed some water. He leaned over and grabbed a glass bottle from his mini-fridge, handing it over to your waiting hand.

He watched you gulp the water down in small bursts, happy to see swallowing didn’t appear to cause you too much discomfort. “How do you feel?”

“M’fine,”

“You up for a shower?” Poe asked, and your eyes widened slightly in response and he started sputtering immediately, heat flushing his cheeks, “I mean-you can shower, I uh, that is, I put some clothes in there for you-and I will wait here. I showered already.”

Stars, he felt about fifteen all of the sudden, embarrassment flooding him over his unintentionally suggestive phrasing. He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, glancing at you to find you holding in your laughter, amusement evident in your expression.

Poe rolled his eyes, recovering himself, “Very funny,” But he laughed, cheered by the smile on your face as you climbed out of his bed and made your way into his fresher. Your dress was crumpled and flat from sleeping in it, and your hair a tousled mess.

Even still, you were truly beautiful.

You looked over your shoulder at Poe before closing the door to the fresher, and he patted the bed, “I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He assured you, and a wave of relief flashed over your face as you shut the door.

Poe got out of bed, taking the time you were showering to tidy his room, including making the bed. He thought about everything that had happened and realized he wasn’t even remotely aware of whether the intel had proven as useful as the ally had claimed, having passed it off to Temmin and Kare to get into Leia’s hands. The fact that his droid hadn’t returned however told Poe that BB8 must be helping to decipher the intel, and Poe reasoned he could find out once he’d taken care of you.

When he heard the water shut off in the fresher, he started to fret over how to best do just that. He supposed it would be ideal for you to remain in the quiet space of his room, where you could avoid speaking too often or loudly. He wanted to keep you close...but then the doubt crept in and he began to question whether you would even want to stay with him, or if he was already being too overbearing. Maybe you were right now looking at the clothing he left out for you and shaking your head.

The fresher door opened a few minutes later, as Poe was tying on his boots, eager to get food from the dining hall and bring it back to the room for you both. “Anything you want from-uh...” He froze, eyes landing on you dressed in his clothing, his shirt much too large and-and you’d decided to only put on the briefs, the tighter fabric only just peeking out below the hem of his shirt.

Poe hadn’t thought of a chest band, not until this very moment when he could see your full breasts outlined against the light grey fabric. He swallowed, dropping his eyes to the floor as heat crawled up his neck.

If you noticed his reaction, you didn’t comment. You crawled back onto his bed, pulling a throw blanket over your legs before settling into the cushions happily, “Pancakes. Definitely pancakes, please.” You whispered, voice slightly improved now that you had some water.

It was entirely without thought that Poe leaned across his bed and placed a gentle kiss to your temple, before jumping up and promising to return with all the pancakes he could carry.

+

Poe sat with his drink held firm in his hand, his eyes flicking around the crowd before he sighed and settled back into his seat. The usual table, though this was the first time he’d been back to the Cantina since the funeral. Tommy and Rico had asked him a few times, of course, but he’d refused, never feeling quite ready to return.

Today though...he’d come because it was your birthday.

He’d have a drink for you. Even though he had no idea where in the fucking galaxy you’d gone.

And it wasn’t for lack of trying, but no matter who he went to, no one could or would give him your new assignment. You’d been clever and covered your tracks enough that you made sure anyone who would have helped Poe couldn’t see your assignment.

He’d never been more miserable in his life, never more angry with himself. He’d said awful shit to you and then disappeared for a few days to collect his head, thinking of how he’d apologize.

He’d wanted to tell you he loved you.

Instead, he broke your heart.

And you up and left before he could even begin to start making amends.

He was on his last possible source at this point, a person he hadn’t even wanted to go to. But Vanya had been kind to Poe, said she could try and see if anyone she was close with had the access needed. He told her he’d be here tonight, having a drink in your honour, if she wanted to stop by and let him know how she’d got along.

He just needed to find you, and then he would say everything he should have before, apologize to you and promise to make it up to you for the rest of his fucking life. He missed you so much it hurt, it hurt more than losing Charlie. You had disappeared in a way that almost made it feel like you had died as well.

He was starting to feel dead inside.

He glanced up, seeking Vanya out, and met the eyes of a woman at a nearby table, who shot him a friendly smile. He gave her what was probably more of a grimace in return, dropping his eyes to his drink. He wasn’t sure he was ready for...anything like that.

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Vanya walk in. She spotted him and waved, beginning to make her way over. As she grew closer, Poe could see the hard set to her jaw and felt his heart sink into his stomach-he could already tell she’d been unsuccessful.

When she sat down across from him, she heaved a great sigh, her eyes casting downward to look at her hands. “I’m sorry,” She looked up at him after a moment when he made no reply, “She’s smart, didn’t leave a lot to chance.”

Poe waved his hand, “It’s not your fault in the least, Vanya. I appreciate you trying.”

“I’m sure she’ll come back, once she’s grieved enough, had a chance to think things through.”

He wanted to laugh, but instead only grunted, “You didn’t get a chance to know her, but she’s more stubborn than...” He broke off and rubbed a hand over his face. Vanya’s face had fallen as the unspoken name sat between them, and he felt a surge of sadness for her-she had really loved Charlie. “I said...well, I don’t blame her for leaving. It’s already been a couple of months, she’s not coming back. I just wish one person in this fucking place could tell me more than ‘she’s alive.’.”

Vanya leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she bobbed her head in agreement, eyes kind, “Poe I saw you-both of you-that night when we first met here. I saw the way you looked at each other-“

Poe tried not to glare, frowning into his drink, “Yeah? And what do you think you know now?”

Vanya ignored his tone, unbothered, “I saw how in love you both were. That kind of love...it doesn’t go away. Not forever. She’ll come back.” And with that, Vanya dipped her head and let loose a wave of fresh tears as thoughts of how Charlie was never coming back sat in the air.

He reached across the table automatically and took her hand, squeezing. “I’m sorry, Vanya. Look, thank you for everything. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, alright?”

She smiled then, her eyes misty, but remarkably already recovering from her emotional moment, just the kind of tough lady Charlie loved. With a farewell hug, Vanya departed and left Poe alone at the table again. He sat for a minute, his drink nearly finished, and thought of all the times he sat here and took for granted what he had. Silently, he wished you a happy birthday wherever you were in the universe and hoped you weren’t even half as lonely and miserable as he was.

When he finally looked up again, the pretty woman at the table not far from his caught his eye again, and this time he smiled more broadly at her, tilting his head in question. She gestured at the seat next to her and after only a brief pause, Poe decided it was time to give himself a break from the monotony of grief and pain and loneliness and just escape for a few hours.

He joined the woman, Smiling in a way that didn’t feel real at all.

+

“This is nice, me getting to talk and talk with absolutely no interruptions-“

Tahla flinched when you kicked him under the table, and you stifled a giggle. Stars, it wasn’t as painful as when you’d woken up last night, but your throat still hurt. It was stinging, scratchy sort of pain when you made too much noise, but you found you’d been able to hold a low conversation with your friend over the past hour with minimal issues. It was just the laughing that did you in.

Poe had reluctantly dropped you off to the dining hall for an early dinner after you’d spent a good ten minutes convincing him you could handle going to dinner. He’d then been called away by BB8 to see the General, and you’d watched him actually contemplate what to do. It had almost been funny, but it also made butterflies erupt in your stomach-not for the first time that day. You shooed him away with the promise that you’d seek out Tahla or Temmin so that you wouldn’t be alone.

He’d been so attentive since you woke up, setting out clothing, then by bringing you breakfast and lunch and confining you to lounge on his bed all day. Despite your injury, it had kind of been one of the best days you’d had in years. It had felt a lot like old times, curled up in bed with Poe. The silence was comfortable as you read and he typed up his mission report, though the emotions running through you were entirely new.

It was a lot, emotionally, the last twenty-four hours. As traumatizing as your attack was, you felt like you were being best-taken care of by Poe and felt a little overwhelmed at how good he made you feel. He sensed everything you needed, right down to catching you when you’d be stuck on a page for a little too long, your thoughts turning inward, and he’d press a soft kiss to your hair, run his hand over your jaw, whisper sweet words of comfort.

You wanted to comfort him, too, for having to do what he did. For having to suffer through the worry of how injured you were and if you would recover. You didn’t know how to make him feel better, exactly, but you sensed that the more he took care of you the better he felt in turn, so you allowed him to fret more than was necessary.

And every time he touched you? Well, that was the thing, now that you’d encountered darkness where, for just a few moments you thought you were going to die, you realized you needed to tell him how you felt, finally. You weren’t sure how to bring it up, though, and ended up going back and forth in your head all day trying to decide.

“Lost in your head again, kid.” Tahla’s hand came to rest over yours from across the table; you glanced up from staring into your soup to meet his gaze. He looked extraordinarily understanding considering this wasn’t the first time it had happened during this dinner.

“Sorry. I guess I-I’ve never been attacked like that before. I’ve had, you know, guys pinch my ass or whatever and had no problem kicking the shit out of them if Charlie or Poe didn’t get to them first, but this was...” You trailed off and ran a hand over your face, then sipped your water to help soothe your throat as you spoke. “This wasn’t enemy forces, this wasn’t some guy in a cantina too many drinks in with a shit moral compass. This was-“

“Attempted assault,” Tahla said bluntly, squeezing your hand again. You gulped, then nodded, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry that you went through that, (y/n), I really am. I wish I could say something more insightful.”

You sighed heavily, waving off his concern, “The worst part is that I passed out before I could...and Poe didn’t say what he did, but I saw Temmin’s face when he was getting off the ship last night. I don’t care how he killed them, I just hate that I couldn’t help, that I couldn’t take away some of the responsibility from him.” You had another couple spoonfuls of your dinner, eyes on Tahla as he thought over your words.

“You know,” He began slowly, tapping his free hand on the table, “Poe basically said the same thing to me when he got me on comms last night. That he wished he’d prevented you from being hurt at all, that he failed in protecting you. He was so worked up, so upset, I thought you were close to death. He really loves you.”

Setting down your spoon with a clang, you sat up straighter before, quietly, replying. “Of course he does, and I love him. We’re a team, one of the best. We get the job done, always have. That’s why I’m freaking out, Tahla,” You flinched as your voice raised too high and your throat burned. You switched to a whisper, “He dropped everything mid-mission to save me, then brought me to the ship. He still...He sent in Kare, but it wasn’t exactly protocol.”

Tahla suddenly grinned at you in a bright, knowing sort of way that made you want to kick him again. Your scowl gave you away, “Don’t kick me, I’m just...I can’t believe you don’t see it. Don’t you realize-aren’t you in love with him?”

You blinked across the table; were you that obvious? If Tahla was calling you out, did that mean others, Poe, had figured you out? “Kriff, Tahla, why are you always so fucking blunt.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You glanced around wearily to ensure you wouldn’t be overheard, “I am, but I just got him back so I’m trying to time it-”

“Maker, I bet he tells himself the same thing and that’s why you’ve both been so fucking blind. You realize he cut down your attackers with his knife?” You stared at Tahla in surprise, “Then he carried you back to your ship and freaked the fuck out until he got you here, not to mention how he told the Healer on call to go to hell and only send me to look at you?”

“I-I, but-“ You gaped. You’d known some of the pieces, of course, but hadn’t realized the extent of Poe's panic.

Tahla laughed, not unkindly, “You want to know what we all used to say back home growing up?” He didn’t wait for your reply, seeming to understand from the expression on your face that words didn’t exist for you right now, “We said, ‘never mess with Poe’s girl’. Remember when Gus broke up with you, said some rude shit to you? Well, he ended up with a black eye for it. Poe’s always loved you. And since I’ve been here these past few weeks, it’s like you two are already a couple.”

You still didn’t know how to reply, so you were incredibly grateful when his pager went off and he glanced down before releasing your hand. With an apologetic smile, he began to stand, and you joined him-no longer hungry-and met him around the table. He pulled you in for a hug, his face schooled to a more neutral look when you pulled back slightly to peer up at him.

“Thanks for everything, Tahla. I’ll be sad when you leave next week.” You admitted softly, and his smile grew.

Leaning down, Tahla pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek and then turned his head slightly to whisper in your ear. “I’ll come back for the wedding, of course.”

And with that, he pulled back, winked at you, and then walked off toward the far doors of the dining hall. You had half a mind to follow him and kick him just for the hell of it, the cheeky bastard, but instead, you pushed your seat in and turned to head back to your room, hoping Poe would be done with the General and would give you an update.

When you walked into the hallway and spotted Poe coming along, a weirdly decisive sensation seemed to settle in your stomach, solidifying the moment his eyes found yours from several feet away. His face broke into a relieved, wide grin and that was it, that was the final cord snapped.

It was almost funny.

You saw a modicum of confusion knit his brows together when you suddenly marched towards him, jaw set because you were trying to reign in the intense emotions now bubbling up inside of you. “Sweetheart?” He said, frowning further when you grabbed his arm and started toward the direction of your rooms. You didn’t speak, afraid of opening your mouth and just word-vomiting every thought you’d ever had, and so you pulled him along silently.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him assessing you, trying to figure out what set you off, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth as he considered. When you got to the first empty hallway, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You halted, releasing his arm and spinning to face him straight on. Poe opened his mouth, but before he could ask you a question, it just...came out.

“I love you,” You sighed it, lower than you’d have liked to say it because of your damaged vocal cords, but he heard you. You knew because he stiffened like a board and his open mouth slackened almost comically. “I-I’m in love with you, Poe Dameron, and I always have been and I can’t hold it in any longer.”

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from babbling, holding his wide-eyed gaze steadily. Finally saying it aloud was about a million times better than it had felt to simply admit it to yourself. You felt like you could float away just for getting the truth out, though a level of anxiety began to grow the longer he stood silent before you. But you knew his eyes, every expression they’d ever held, and you could see that he was processing your words, that they grew brighter and brighter until movement caught your eye and you glanced down to see his fingers twitch, and then he was moving.

Poe reached up and caught your face gently in his hands, closing the distance between you both so that your bodies were pressed together. He gazed at you in wonder for a moment. “Oh my sweet girl,” He crooned softly, and you were melting into his touch, your heart was surely about to burst now, and then- “I have loved you in every eternity that has ever been, and will ever be. You are everything, sweetheart, everything to me. I should have...should have told you so many times before this.”

And then Poe Dameron slotted his lips over yours and kissed you deeply like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. It was like coming home. You were rooted to the ground now, his kiss anchoring you, his gentle caress over your cheeks sending fire into your veins that conflicted with the euphoria in your mind.

Because Poe, your Poe, was kissing you. Handsome, tall, broad and strong Poe. Your best friend, your soulmate, was kissing you and you didn’t think you could ever stop now. Your lips parted for him the same moment he did for you, and then you were tasting him and Stars, did he ever taste good. Like home-warm, a smouldering fire on a rainy evening. You knew he liked what he found in kissing you when he groaned lightly, his hands settling at the back of your neck and pressing you closer against him, deepening the kiss as your tongues danced, and you whimpered in response.

With a gasp, Poe pulled back and you saw more than love and adoration on his face, now you saw desire too. Real, heated desire.

And fuck, that pollen had absolutely nothing going for it, you saw that now. Seeing just a sliver of what desire truly looked like on his face, you knew it had all been a huge illusion brought on by the poison, during that mission. You were burning under his gaze now, every cell of your body alight and happy to surrender, responding to him before he’d barely moved. His hands were still on you and you realized yours were in fists at your sides so you reached up and did something you’d always wanted to do-sinking them into his curls.

“Fuck,” He rumbled the moment you gave a slight tug, his eyes fluttering closed briefly, a twitch appearing in his jaw. When he looked at you again you swear you burst into flames. “We need to...talk. In my room.” Before you could reply, he stooped and clasped his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting, and you realized he wanted to carry you.

And you were going to fucking let him. You pressed yourself against Poe and allowed him to guide your legs to wrap around his waist, whimpering again when his hands gripped your hips tightly. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him. You could see how determined he was to focus, to get to the privacy of his room. You nipped along his jaw as he hurried along, grateful the halls were quiet but truly you wouldn’t have cared if he bowled people over at this point. His hands flexed as you kissed him, pressed you even closer against him when you lightly sucked on a spot on his neck that tasted as delicious as it looked.

“Stars, Poe,” You whispered, playing with his hair still. “I love you so much.”

“Let m-me show you, how fucking much I love you, sweet girl.” He panted in response, stepping through the doorway to his room and laying you onto his bed. The door shut and locked at his command, sealing you into the privacy of his quarters. He pulled back to gaze down at you, eyes wide, then reached up with one hand to very lightly trace along your neck. “And no one is ever going to touch you again.”

He said it with such strength and conviction you could only nod, even though it was a tall promise to make given the lives you lived. Because you believed him; that he meant he would do anything in his power to keep you safe. When he lowered himself down over you and started to kiss you again, you relaxed entirely for probably the first time in your life.

Burning never felt so good.

+

Poe was kissing you. You were kissing Poe. It was, it had to be, a dream. But if it was a dream how could it feel so intense and real and right? How could kissing you possibly be as perfect as this? He felt like he was whole again-like his heart tripled in size the moment you told him you were in love with him and then every moment with his lips pressed to yours only continued to make it grow.

Yesterday he’d almost lost you, or at least thought he had, and now you were tangling your fingers in his hair and moaning underneath him as you kissed, your body trembling. He’d never been as hard as quickly in his fucking life, could feel himself pulsing where he was pressed against your leg. He wanted to be embarrassed but the look on your face when he’d dropped you onto the bed told him you were thinking the same thing as he was now, just as overwhelmed and needy to get as close as possible, skin to skin. To finally tear down every single barrier-mental and physical-between you and come together, be together.

Which was probably why it seemed to take no time to rip one another’s clothes off until Poe was only in his briefs and you were left in the briefs he’d given you that morning to wear.

“Oh sweetheart,” He murmured, his eyes running over your every dip and curve and swell, the smoothness of your skin calling to him. He was laving his tongue over your nipple the first time you cried out, the sound strangled and broken enough that he pulled back and looked at you closely. “You can’t be loud, sweet girl. I want you to, trust me, but you have to be a good girl. We don’t want to hurt your voice any more than it already is, okay?”

“O-okay, I’ll try.”

Poe hummed, “Tell me the moment you want to stop. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable-”

You slid one hand out of his hair and dropped it between your bodies as he was speaking, coming to grip his length over his underwear. Poe broke off with a hiss, automatically thrusting into your hold. “I’ve b-been waiting my whole life for you, Poe Dameron.” You sighed, releasing his erection and tracing your hand along the planes of his stomach and chest. “Never stop. I’m yours and I never want to stop.”

A possessive feeling, one that had always lingered in the background when Poe was with you, increased tenfold at your words, further driven by what had happened yesterday. He growled before capturing your mouth in another, more fierce kiss, his tongue exploring you as he ground his hips down a little.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping and even more flushed, your chest heaving as you looked at him. “You’re mine,” He repeated, bracing one arm on the bed and trailing the other down to tease over your centre, dipping below the band of his briefs. “I’m yours, too, sweet girl.” And he locked eyes with you as he pushed two fingers inside of you, gasping out at the blissed-out, contained moan you allowed yourself and the feel of how tight and wet you were.

Your hips bucked when he pressed in deep and curled his fingers, playing with you until he found a spot within that made you just about shoot off of the bed. With a wicked grin, he started to tease that spot and watched your face as you came undone bit by bit for him.

It was the most vivid, raw experience of his entire life. Every single moment soaked into his mind and became a permanent, detailed memory-your little whines and pleas, the roll of your hips, the heat of your slick and how he could smell you, just the right amount of sweetness. It was all so much more than the sex you’d had during the pollen exposure. Every other sense had been cut down and pushed back during that, but now they were all operating on full levels and it felt so right. It enabled Poe to work you through to your orgasm with ease all the while just about ready to cum in his underwear as he did.

“Shit, you are fucking beautiful, sweet girl,” He moaned, adjusting the arm he was bracing himself with so that he could clamp that hand over your mouth. He sensed you were close, could feel your tight walls clenching, and wanted to protect you from harming yourself if you forgot you couldn’t scream. “Cum for me-I’ve imagined it so many times, need to see you cum for real, for me. I’ll keep you safe, go ahead, let go.”

He felt your lips part behind his hand, then your entire body went rigid and you came hard, back arching until a significant amount of wetness soaked his hand, and the bed, and you started to whine and shake from the intensity of it all. Poe growled as you came, glancing down in wonder to see more wetness pool and realizing you were squirting, and he hadn’t known you could do that.

“Fuck, baby, is that for me? You perfect little thing, you are the hottest fucking woman. Holy shit!”

You slumped into the mattress with a huge breath, the warm air hitting his hand and he moved it so that you could catch your breath. With care he slowly removed his fingers from you, looking from your blissed-out expression to your soaked underwear, to your essence all over his hand. He quickly removed your panties, then shuffled down the bed, even more turned on now.

“I just, fuck I need to taste you real quick, sweet girl.” And he dove into your folds before you could respond, taking care to avoid your sensitive nub, and licked you like it was his last meal. You tasted fucking delicious and he didn’t want to stop, pushing your legs apart he cleaned up every drop you’d leaked while you whimpered for him.

“Sh-shit,” You cried, voice low, writhing against his hold on your hips. “Poe, please. Please!”

Poe pulled back, licking his lips, and grinned up at you. “You okay, sweet girl?” You nodded and he rose, eager to get you over the edge again so that he could lick up everything you gave him. “Please what? What do you need?” He crawled back up your body, chuckling when he felt your hands pushing desperately at his briefs.

You cleared your throat, “You. Always needed you, Poe.” You whispered, your voice so filled with emotion you nearly knocked him over. He took over pushing his briefs off and then reached under you with both arms, securing your body before lifting you, changing positions so that you were sitting in his lap. His length pressed against your thigh as you settled.

Poe stroked some stray hair out of your face and kissed you softly, holding you against him and savouring the moment. He’d never been so filled with emotion and pleasure before, every woman he’d been with over the years simply could not compare to the power and love between you and Poe, and it was terrifying. Sensing his apprehension, you drew back from the kiss and stroked along his jaw soothingly and Poe took a moment to simply drink you in.

“I never knew anything could be like this,” He admitted, now running his hands all over your body, pausing to squeeze his favourite curves. You smiled at him, pupils blown wide with lust, your expression telling him you agreed. “I’ve wasted so many years, (y/n). I’m so sorry.”

“No,” You shook your head, dropping one hand to seek out his length and holding it gently in your hand, lining him up. “No, we aren’t apologizing for our mistakes anymore. It’s you and me now, Poe, you, and, m-me.” You lowered yourself, your scratchy voice breaking off into a sigh of content as you slowly sunk onto his length.

Poe had pictured being with you like this many times in his life, certainly more than he’d like the admit. But even combined, none of those fantasies could come close to how it felt to bring your bodies together, the fucking ecstasy, the sight of his cock splitting you open as you slowly took him inch by inch. Your hands tangled in his hair again as a low, continuous whine fell from your lips. Your face was slightly scrunched as you tried to relax and accommodate him, and Poe was enraptured, watching everything with his hands at your hips.

You were devastating. And you were his.

Poe hurled headfirst into oblivion as you settled fully on his lap, a groan escaping as your tight heat clenched around him, and it was all he could do to speak, to just tell you how perfect you were. “Baby, oh fuck, I love you,” He leaned back slightly, dropping one arm to brace on the bed and then gripping your hip with the other. Poe set a slow and deliberate pace with his feet pressing into the baseboard of his bed. He rolled up, then back, his cock dragging halfway out before sinking back into you as you gripped his shoulders and whimpered above him.

It was sensual, soft, each movement like a slow dance, your hips rolling down to meet his in perfect harmony with his thrusts. You were biting your lip, eyes locked on Poe’s, and he could feel you flutter around him every time he groaned; so he let himself make noise, let you hear how good you made him feel, grunting and cursing with every blissful motion.

Even though the pleasure kept mounting Poe didn't want to rush this, so he moved at the same pace for a long time. Occasionally stopping completely when he was fully inside of you and relishing the sensation until you whimpered and he would move again with a grunt. It was divine, perfection...you. It was all you.

“Poe,” You whimpered as you moved one hand from his shoulder to push into his curls, urging him toward you as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his. He kissed you slowly as well, licking into your mouth, over your lips, drinking up your moans, until eventually it wasn’t enough for you and you made a noise in your throat, a little frustrated sound that made him smirk. Made him even fucking harder.

Without warning he sat forward, brought both hands to your hips and slammed you down onto his cock, using his strength to lift and drop you. “Sweet girl,” Poe grunted as your head tilted back in a silent cry, “That’s it, cum for me, let me feel you, baby, please.” He was desperate to feel you cum on his cock, pulling out and then slamming you back down, meeting you halfway as you struggled to hold in your noises, and Poe let loose another round of groans that seemed to propel you straight over the edge.

Your body curved forward as you came, one of your hands shooting to cover your own mouth as you sobbed in pleasure. He kept moving, watching your face rapturously until a strong clench around his cock drew his gaze downward. He had a moment to recognize what was about to happen before roaring in delight as you squirted for him again, the hot wetness coating his lap. The room filled with the wet slapping sounds of your body meeting his and Poe had to actively work not to cum, setting his jaw and gripping your hips with almost bruising strength.

“Ahh,” You whimpered, your legs going limp. Before you could fully collapse into Poe, he flipped you onto your back and started to fuck you into his mattress while peppering you with soothing kisses, “Oh Poe, more!”

He was right there, nearing the edge and yet savouring every deep thrust into your tight cunt. His movements were getting sloppy now, and he wasn’t even trying to hold back his noises because you felt so fucking good and this was so perfect and he loved you so much.

“Oh baby, baby-” He slammed into you one last time, dropping most of his weight down onto you and filling you deeply as he began to cum, his hips stuttering. You were moaning for him, weakened legs hooking behind his ass to draw him closer as he filled you, “I love you, I love you, I love you-“ He couldn’t stop saying it now, his head dropping to your shoulder-careful to avoid your injured throat-he just kept repeating himself between grunts.

As he started to come down from the high, he realized you were speaking, your voice a whisper in his ear, hands stroking his hair. “I love you too, Poe, my Poe,” He was gasping now, everything that had transpired catching up to him in the clarity of post-orgasmic bliss and your words brought his emotions back to the forefront.

He made to move back, only you stopped him, keeping him close. He looked at you, “You okay, my sweet girl?” Stars, you looked fucked out in the best ways and he swore he could cum again just at the sight of you as drunk on him as he was on you.

You nodded, giving him a soft little smile, “Just stay inside me a little longer.”

Fuck, you were going to kill him, you were so hot.

As much as he liked the idea, he didn’t want to stay on top of you and crush you, so he considered carefully before rolling you both, settling himself into the bed as you lay atop him, whimpering at the movement before resting your head on his chest. He’d started to soften inside of you, but remaining in your warmth kept him semi-hard, not something he’d ever done before and yet he decided at that moment he wanted to do it all the time.

“That was...you are perfect, you know that? Dreamt of you my whole life and that was better than I ever could have imagined.” Poe beamed at you when you looked up at him, your eyes bright. He had never been so radiantly happy in his entire life.

You reached up and ran your hand along his jaw, “Says the man who made me squirt. Twice.” You gigged, and he gazed at you for a moment before responding.

“You’ve done that before, yeah?”

When you shook your head, Poe felt a mixture of both surprise and pride swell within him, and you read that in his expression. “Yes flyboy, that was all you.” Another throaty giggle, which then morphed into a full cough as you hit the limit on your poor vocal cords.

Poe was up in an instant, carefully slipping from you and hurrying to his fridge to get you water. He passed it to you and then went into his fresher to get a warm washcloth. You were gulping the water gratefully when he returned, your eyes raking over his body with a level of possessiveness that made his cock twitch. You wanted him to yourself as much as he wanted you to himself, that much was now abundantly clear.

“Alright, sweet girl, let me take care of you,” He whispered, running the washcloth gently through your folds and tidying you up. You cooed softly, relaxing into the bed. When he was satisfied, he lifted you into his arms and carried you into the fresher to set you on his toilet. “You pee, I’m going to change the sheets.” And he wiggled his brows at you, earning him another big smile that settled right down into his oversized heart.

A short while later Poe Dameron was laying in his bed with you held in his arms. This was not the first time in his life that he drifted off to sleep with you, but it was the first time you were both nude and satisfied and so wholly consumed with your love for one another.

It was the first time he would wake in the middle of the night, hard and aching, only to find you already awake and needy for him, moaning when he rocked his hips into you and fucked you slow.

It was the first time since Charlie’s funeral that Poe would sleep entirely at peace, wrapped around his soulmate.

+

If you thought making love with Poe Dameron was perfect beyond expectations, it almost made it unfair how fucking good he was at eating you out.

You’d both woken late the morning after coming together and felt ready for more-you wanted him inside of you again. Only he insisted he hadn’t gotten anywhere near his fill of tasting you last night. Now he was happily lapping between your folds with his skilled, hot tongue and absolutely wrecking you, one hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet because he knew how fucking good he was.

You saw it the first time he’d made you squirt and then watched it solidify when you admitted you’d never done so before. It was hot, seeing the mixture of passion and cockiness, skill and care. You fell more and more in love with him throughout the night, when you came together and fit so perfectly, and now you were about ready to beg him for his cock before he killed you with his mouth.

When you came again for him, you were spent and though you did get wetter, you didn’t squirt. He didn’t mind, eagerly drinking up what you did give him before moving to kiss your thighs, then eased your legs together and began to massage the aching muscles. “Such a good girl,” He praised, his muscular figure drawing your eyes. You hadn’t realized how talkative, how much noise he would make, and it was the hottest shit. His groans were downright sinful, were what sent you rocketing into your orgasms the night before. “I should keep you here all day, wet and ready for me.”

“Fuck,” You replied, the words shooting straight to your core even after all of the orgasms you’d had. You sat up, struggling slightly and Poe reached out and gripped your arms, lifting you in another show of his strength that made you kind of dizzy with lust. “You’re insatiable. But we’re having lunch with Tahla, remember?”

Realization flashed over his face and he glanced over at his wrist comm next to the bed, relaxing when he saw there was still time before lunch. “Shit, I forgot. He’s leaving soon though, right? So I don’t want to bail.”

“Next week,” Poe moved to sit next to you, both of your backs against the wall now. He pulled the blanket from where it had been kicked to the end of his bed to cover you both. “He said something...that sort of made me realize how stupid I was being, right before I saw you yesterday.”

Poe turned his head to face you, his arms circling your waist and tugging you close to his side, “Oh? What did our wise, filter-free friend say?”

You giggled, then cleared your achy throat, “I had said I was going to miss him when he left and he told me he’d come back for our wedding.” You thought Poe would laugh with you, or at least scoff, but instead, he’d gone quiet and his expression turned inward in a way you couldn’t read. You hesitated a moment before tilting your head into his line of sight, though his mind was clearly a million miles away, “Poe?”

He looked at you then, for what felt like the first time in your life because of how intense his expression was, filled with love and something you couldn’t get a read on.

“I’m sorry,” He began, shaking his head a little, “I just...you are the love of my life. I meant everything I said last night.”

Warmth filled you as he spoke; you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to him saying such perfect things to you. Saying he loved you. “I know, Poe, I meant everything too.” You assured him, brushing your hair over his forehead to push back some stray curls.

Poe nodded, his expression still intense, eyes bright, “We’ve lost a lot of time, sweet girl. But I don’t want to waste another minute. I-” He paused, and you were growing increasingly confused. When he suddenly pulled away standing up to cross his room, your curiosity spiked, confusion at an all-time high.

Until that is, you saw what he was doing.

He was pulling something out of the inner breast pocket of his flight suit, lifting a chain and then turning to you back at the bed. He glanced between his hand and you once, stealing himself before dropping down to one knee next to the bed.

“Maybe he won’t have to come back for our wedding,” Poe opened his palm to reveal exactly what you knew he kept in his flight suit, “Maybe he’s here just in time. Marry me, (y/n). I love you and I never want to spend another minute without you. You are my soulmate, so please marry me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes fell from the passionate look on Poe’s face to his mother’s wedding band that lay in his outstretched hand.

+

34 ABY - Aftermath of the Battle of Takodana - D’Qar

Climbing from his ship with his adrenaline running high thanks to the success on Takodana, Poe turned and gasped when saw his droid, the orange and white blur zooming over to him. “BB8 my buddy!” He cried, dropping to his knees, “It’s so good to see you!” He looked the droid over, happy to see it looked to be in good shape.

BB8 beeped, excitedly explaining what had happened to it, “What? Saved you? Where is he?” He asked, the droid responding quickly and Poe glanced up, eyes landing on the defected ex-Storm Trooper who had saved Poe. Holy shit!

Finn spotted Poe at the same time and began running forward, “Poe?” He called, and Poe rose to his feet and started towards him, still reeling in surprise that Finn was here, that he was okay.

Poe felt himself grin, “Oh no!”

“Poe Dameron, you’re alive?”

Rushing up to Finn, Poe gasped out, “Buddy!” He pulled his new friend in for a hug, “So are you!” And he looked well enough, thankfully, too. Poe had worried he’d been captured back by the First Order after he couldn’t find him on Jakku.

“What happened to you?

“What happened to me? I got thrown from the crash. Woke up at night-no you, no ship, nothing,” Poe released Finn, pointing to him and then to his droid, “Listen, BB8 says that you saved him.”

“No, no, it wasn’t just me-“

Poe stepped closer to Finn, needing the man to understand, “You completed my mission Finn, I-that’s my jacket.” His gaze dropped to the jacket-his jacket- that Finn was wearing.

Finn glanced down, “Oh,” And he started to take it off and suddenly, Poe realized he didn’t need the jacket back, that Finn needed it more.

“No, keep it,” He punched Finn’s arm affectionately, “It suits you.”

Finn stopped and straightened, his eyes roving over Poe once again, “I still can’t believe your alive, Poe.”

Poe laughed, grasping his friends' shoulders, “You’ve got no idea what I have to live for, Finn. Dying ain’t an option.”

Tags

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly@itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @deanandbobbymcgee @afootnoteinyourhappiness

#reader insert #fanfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #fluff #angst #night changes series #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron smut #poe dameron series #smut #oscar isaac

[skzshortcake]

stray kids love languages

🎀 and for request can you pls do what you think stray kids love languages are if that isn’t too much to ask for? thank you!

note: sure!! i had so much fun writing this! i hope it doesn’t flop- (this is only my interpretation of their love languages, i’m sorry if you disagree!) genre: fluff/reactions! gn, no warnings!

how stray kids best interpret love and show affection. 

chan ゜・。. ・°゜

acts of service 

channie best shows his love through doing small things to help you. he likes to make your bed, share his snacks, help brush your hair, he just wants to help you out. he really is a sucker for the little things, it’s super important to him that he can look out for you! chan is such a sweetheart!! he also sees so much value in the little things that you do for him. he best understands love when he notices the coffee you left for him by his bag, or his lunch packed with his favorite foods, or when you swept the floors of his office for him! he always makes sure to thank you for the extra little things you do for him by doing something for you too.

minho ゜・。. ・°゜

receiving gifts 

minho much prefers leaving little gifts for you as opposed to using words to express his emotions. he loves getting the excited texts from you when you thank him for the cute pens he saw and just had to get for you. but minho especially loves when you return the favor, he thinks its adorable how you hand him a gift and say that you thought of him (because he loves that he’s in your mind!!). minho is good at giving gifts, he likes to plan out his gifts and puts a lot of thought into what he gets for you. he wants to show his love in the best way possible and really cares about you so he is extra proud when you like them!

changbin ゜・。. ・°゜

words of affirmation  

changbin loves to hear compliments from you. not in a stuck up or spoiled way, he just feels so overcome and thankful when he hears about how his favorite person is proud of him! if he could frame your words of praise on a wall for him to see forever, he would. he is also very good at giving compliments! he thinks of the most flattering and poetic ways to say things to best show his emotions and how much he loves and appreciates you. changbin values your opinion a lot, so he really wants to hear what you think about songs, and he loves to give his opinion and attention to things you do as well!! he is proud of everything you do.

hyunjin ゜・。. ・°゜

physical touch

hyunjin understands physical touch well. he shows that he’s thinking about you by always having a hand on you somewhere, whether he holds your hand or has a hand on your back, he always wants to let you know that he’s there. of course, if you’re uncomfy with touch then he’d completely understand and tone it down or hold onto your pinky finger. hyunjin thinks it’s the cutest thing when you reach for his hand, he knows that it means that you’re thinking about him or making sure he’s there, and it’s just precious! when you two are alone he is super clingy and loves to cuddle with you, he just wants to be close to you all the time!

jisung ゜・。. ・°゜

quality time

jisung just loves to do shenanigans with you. he likes to look over at you when you’re both hanging out and just admire how pretty you are, he can’t even complain when you playfully whack him. he likes to go on adventures with you, just knowing that you’re there with him makes him feel so content. it doesn’t matter who makes the plans or what they are (or even if he texts you at midnight because he wants ice cream), he is always happy with you. he has so much love for you, he wants to spend as much time with you as he can because jisung enjoys sharing the experience and having an inside joke with you!!!!

felix ゜・。. ・°゜

physical touch

felix is the best at giving hugs. he has so much love he wants to show and share with you and that’s how he best conveys it!! he wants to hold you, braid your hair, kiss your cheeks, hold your hands, it’s felix, c’mon. he tries to hide how he gets butterflies every time you reach to link arms with him or give him a kiss (even though you’ve been dating for a while now) but he just can’t help it!! you mean the world to felix and it’s important to him that he can shower you with love and attention as much as possible. he’s so cute he often shoves his face in your shoulder or fidgets with your hand, it’s his way of showing he’s always there!!

seungmin ゜・。. ・°゜

acts of service

seungmin is an old soul, he appreciates all of the little favors you do for him that you think he doesn’t notice, but he does. he sees you washing his dishes in the corner of his eye and how you fold his blankets for him after you cuddle, and he always makes sure to do similar things for you. ever wonder why you never run out of lined paper? or why your plants don’t die when you forget to water them? that’s just seungmin looking out for you. if you were to ever ask him he’d lie even though you both know he’s bluffing. little things are really important to seungmin, so he always feels loved and treasured when he notices what you do for him.

jeongin ゜・。. ・°゜

quality time

jeongin really likes to spend time with you, he’s a little shy and doesn’t like touch sometimes, so he prefers to spend hours making special memories together and talking about the universe forever. when you spend time together he always feels like he better understands how your mind works. he feels like he gets closer to you and can learn more about the person he loves!! jeongin always looks back on the cute pictures and polaroids of your adventures with fondness. when you ask jeongin to spend time with you or to go do something together, he is ecstatic!! his texts to you are like “yes!! let me go get shoes on!!!! lets go!!!” 

thank you for reading! here’s my masterlist!

-

taglist: @freckledquokka @happy-at-home @sunoo-luvs @fournia @bubblebabytae @soulssung​

unable to tag: @skz-said-stay @justvibinyaknow

#skz scenarios #skz imagine #skz fluff #skz soft hours #skz reactions #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids reactions #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #chan imagine #minho imagine #skz blurb #stray kids blurb #changbin imagine #hyunjin scenario #jisung imagine #felix fanfic #felix drabble #seungmin reactions #jeongin imagines #jeongin soft #mine!