#<- the heaviest sigh you will ever hear

[aroace-poly-show]

OK LOST MY PLACE WHEN I WAS SCROLLING. CAN’T GET BACK. PERSONA TIME AGAIN I GUESS 👍

[goldenroutledge]

never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. [edit] it’s now been confirmed that he’s leaving. the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

daniel ricciardo masterlist

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

-

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

-

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel3.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

-

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback is greatly appreciated! stay strong dr3 nation 💌

[chrollogy]

EPITOME OF SIN

— zhongli x f! reader x neuvillette

syn: Neuvillette doesn’t know why he agreed to such a brazen proposal from his lover—that is, to sit and watch while the ex-Geo Archon shamelessly takes you for his pleasure.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, unprotected sex, cuckolding, masturbation (m), neuvillette being horny and overwhelmed and zhongli being a lil menace, pet name (my sweet girl). divider: cafekitsune.

word count: ~1k or less

notes: not proofread! advance apologies for any typos. idk how long i’ve had this drafted but yeah!! i got around to finally finishing it hehe.

Neuvillette always saw himself as a calm, and collected man; lilac gaze mirroring the cerulean tranquil waters of the Weeping Willow of the Lake—he was never the one to unnecessarily raise his voice nor show the expression of anger. At least that’s what his lover, you, had said to him from one’s astute observation.

So why was the Chief Justice the complete opposite right this very moment? Heart thrumming against his chest like the speed of the harsh winds in Loch Urania; blood boiling like hot vermillion lava from the volcanos of Natlan, Neuvillette seethed at the wickedly sinful sight in front of him—teeth clenched, nails digging into the poor azure fabric of the sofa beneath him. Your lover was painted crimson red, not knowing if it stemmed from anger, embarrassment, or lust.

Anger, because Neuvillette didn’t know why he had agreed to such an insane proposal. Though, insane was an understatement. He surveyed your sweat-covered naked body, rocking back and forth, back and forth from the forceful thrusts of another man—the geo archon.

Rex Lapis, Morax, Deus Auri, the usurper of the element of stone. He should be the only man sheathed beyond your walls so intimately; he should be the one pulling those saccharine moans from your soft lips; he should be the sole reason for your immense pleasure.

Embarrassment, because Neuvillette was too turned on at the sight before him to admit—though, his cock pushing against the navy slacks he donned was more than a telling sign. He was ashamed, felt absolutely filthy for getting aroused at such an outlandish sight. There were so many things wrong here and, yet Neuvillette had the audacity to be horny; he would give himself the heaviest sentence in the history of Fontaine, for heaven’s sake.

The Iudex could feel his skin prickle, diminutive sharp kisses shooting all over his heated skin, fingers wanting to claw at the unbearable itch it left behind. He felt feverish but he couldn’t take his lilac gaze away from tracing your bare body—the way it responded to the heavenly pleasure Zhongli gave.

Lust, because at the end of the day—dragon or not—Neuvillette’s body responded the same way as a human’s body would when exposed to a sexual stimuli. The Chief Justice practically gawked at his dear lover and Zhongli on the bed; mouth slightly parted, tongue ever so lightly swiping at his bottom lip in effort to satiate his growing thirst.

All Neuvillette could hear were your dulcet moans reverberating throughout his cerulean-walled quarters, the way your pretty eyes rolled back in pure bliss; brows knitted in full concentration on your impending orgasm. Oh, Neuvillette wanted to be desperately inside you but all he could do was sit there.

Sit there and watch as Zhongli sinfully fucked you with enough drive to vex your lover. Outside, the people in the Court of Fontaine began to scramble for shelter at the first signs of water droplets beginning to fall from the azure sky; grey clouds looming over the Nation of Many Waters as it prepares for a downpour.

“Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry.” Zhongli brazenly teases with a strained voice, his amber eyes glowing like gold, piercing right through Neuvillette. The latter lets out a firm sigh, nails digging further into the softness of the seat.

“Please, don’t hold yourself back, Monsieur. We’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?” the dark-haired man continues before repositioning your naked body.

Zhongli hauls you up like a rag doll, both arms secured behind your back with his hand while the other makes its way to the strands on your head. He faced you towards Neuvillette—who sat there with blown pupils, holding onto the last piece of his sanity and reputation—before pounding into you again; balls slapping against your soaked entrance with every forceful thrust.

Letting out a sweet whimper, you stare starry-eyed at your lover as his hand wanders down to the apex of his legs. Zhongli clicks his tongue as he feels you clenching around his hard cock, and holds you against his sweaty chest, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“O-oh god!” You moan out as his tip kisses the saccharine spot within your velvety walls, shocks of icy pleasure caressing your spine. If it wasn’t for Zhongli’s hold, you would have fallen onto the mattress from the sheer strength of his thrusts and the pleasure alone. The divine man behind you growls, lips situated dangerously close to your ear,

“Yeah . . ? That’s right I’m your god.” Zhongli growls, loud enough for the Hydro Sovereign to hear, his tone unrecognisable—it was a far cry from the usual smoothness of his voice.

The ivory-haired man mirrored Zhongli’s growls yet it didn’t contain the same carnal hunger as the latter, no, it was pure rage. White, hot anger seethed from Neuvillette’s sitting figure as Zhongli spoke that very sentence, what a disgrace.

The Chief Justice sat there, every fibre of his body tingling and burning with silent chaos—like the calm before a thunderous storm, serene yet brimming with such force. You vigorously nod at Zhongli’s retort, even going as far as trying to form your own coherent reply only to come out in a twist of saccharine moans.

There was no hiding the rapid rise and fall of Neuvillette’s chest despite the expensive layers of cerulean fabric he donned. The sensation was too overwhelming for him, pressure uncomfortably pressed on every dip and curve of his body to the point where he couldn’t feel anything—no, he could feel everything. Everything at once and it drove the Iudex absolutely insane.

The jealousy, the lust, the embarrassment, it weaved its way down to his very core. Neuvillette didn’t know what he wanted to do, all your lover knew was that he needed a release. Now.

Neuvillette uncomfortably shuffled atop the plush of the cerulean sofa, delicate hands moving as fast as the lightnings that scattered throughout Inazuman waters. It was beyond shameful to be acting this way, his fingers fumbling the metal zipper of his slacks.

Before you knew it, your’s and Zhongli’s moans were accompanied by Neuvillette’s sinful ones—he didn’t hold back, almost as if he had completely let go of himself, his reputation, his standing with the Lord of Geo. The Iudex of Fontaine was reduced to nothing but a common whore, shamelessly filling the walls of his own quarters with brazen moans beyond his control.

It was a sight to see. Too bad the intense jolting of your naked body from Zhongli’s forceful thrusts were getting in the way from being able to properly see your lover’s fucked out expression but the desperate strokes of his hand was enough for you—enough to let you know that Neuvillette somewhat found pleasure in this despite the bizarreness of it.

He moaned, and grunted your name into the heights of the ceiling like there was no tomorrow; you’ve never seen him like this before—always the modest sighs and grunts whenever you had sex with him but nothing more. Neuvillette’s body was feverish, millions of tiny prickles spreading like wildfire as he stroked and stroked at his hard cock, hoping to finally reach that sweet release with you.

You moaned, a messy mix of both their names, earning a sharp hiss from the two males as they sucked in a sharp breath.

“I-I’m close. . Fuck . . !” “That’s it my sweet girl. Show your lover how good I’ll make you cum.”

Zhongli whispered, licking a long stripe up the side of your sweaty neck, golden gaze locked onto Neuvillette’s, taunting him. If it weren’t for the pleasure he was chasing this very moment, Neuvillette wouldn’t have thought twice before pulling you off the archon but his legs were trembling with icy bliss, unable to even take a few steps.

As if on cue, you clamp your walls around Zhongli’s cock, letting out a lewd sound before cumming. Your naked body hardened with pleasure, teeth gritting and digits curling as waves of bliss ran through your veins.

You couldn’t even hear Zhongli’s velvety praises as you came, the next thing you knew was that your moans became muffled—your face harshly coming into contact with the ivory sheets beneath as Zhongli pushed your head down to sinfully arch your back even more. He gave a couple more thrusts before pulling out and fisting his cock above your exhausted form, shooting endless ropes of hot cum onto your back as he moaned your name.

To his dismay, Neuvillette was the last to cum which meant you and Zhongli were able to see his current state in all its glory—all flushed and sweaty from desperately fisting his cock, moaning your name out with such need like he was a dragon in heat.

Hot cum coated his pale fingers, he sat there, cock still hard and catching his breath. Neuvillette had his eyes solely on you, like a quiet predator sizing up its main course for the night.

Maybe Neuvillette should show the Lord of Geo how to actually fuck you dirty until you and him were the epitome of sin.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty one

authors note: good lord, ya'll was in a frenzy following that last one. hope this provides some clarity and closure.

cw/tw: angst, solana being very upset, and smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

gif belongs to @romanreigns

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Solana’s cried a lot in the past month.

More than she’s probably ever cried in her life.

But the past few hours have to be the heaviest bout she’s experienced since her mother was killed. 

Everything hearts. Her head. Her body. Her heart.

She’s confused and angry and scared and nervous and so many different emotions at once that all she wants to do is scream, but she can’t even do that, because she has nothing left in her. She spent the night crying her eyes out, sleeping a little, then crying her eyes out some more. So much so that she’d be surprised if she got a good two consistent hours of sleep.

She just feels so empty. Like everything she thought she knew is now no more. Because it isn't. Because the man she thought Roman was has turned out to be exactly who he is. Not the….version he showed her. And she feels so stupid, so naive. She gave him so much, exposed so much of herself to him, loved him, and what has it gotten her?

The epic, incurable sting of betrayal.

And a part of her didn’t want to believe it, wanted to believe that maybe it’s not what she thought, but what was said was pretty self-explanatory. And if that wasn’t enough pressing evidence, the fact that Roman kept calling and texting her afterwards, probably realizing the phone was still connected, was the nail in the coffin.

Proof that he knew fucked up.

That he was caught.

That she now knows the truth about their marriage. About it all.

Solana couldn’t bear seeing his name continue to pop up on her phone, resulting in her just turning the damn thing off. 

She doesn’t want to talk to him, doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want anything from him.

Just thinking about it makes the heavy lump in the back of her throat throb. She’s so tired of crying. Tired of it all. 

Turning over in her bed, a part of her wishes she hadn’t asked to cancel her therapy appointment with Gail, citing that she was feeling physically unwell. That’s not a lie, but Gail would be the perfect person to speak to right now. If only she had it in her to talk. But, she doesn’t. She has no words for what she still doesn’t fully understand. 

A knock on the door disturbs her from her depressing thoughts. Solana shifts in the bed, calling out in a weak voice, “I want to be alone right now.”

Bautista’s deep voice sounds on the other side of the door. “It’s a wellness check.”

Solana shuts her eyes. She should have known this was coming. She was practically silent during breakfast and retreated back to her room in that same silence, which was bound to garner a visit from staff to make sure she’s okay. 

With a heavy sigh, she kicks the blankets off and intentionally avoids looking at her reflection in the large mirror anchored on top of the dresser. She’s certain she’d hate what would be looking back at her.

Using the back of her hand to wipe at her eyes, Solana takes a deep breath and turns the knob, opening the door, expecting to see a nurse or maybe even Gail. 

But, she’s wrong. 

So wrong.

Because it’s neither of those women. Not even Bautista.  Instead, standing before her is none other than the one person she doesn’t want to see. At all.

Shaking her head, nose turned up, Solana goes to close the door. “I have nothing to say to you—” But, she should know better, know that Roman is not the man to ever be denied.

He reaches out his arm, putting an abrupt, effective stop. “We need to talk.”

Knowing there’s no way in hell she’ll win the battle for the door, she instead reaffirms her position. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Solana turns away, heading back for her bed when she hears the door shut and footsteps. 

“Baby—”

“No!” She snaps, twisting around and jumping away from Roman as he tries to reach for her arm. “Don’t—don’t call me that. You’re a liar.”

It’s only now that he’s a bit closer, and she’s actually looking at him, that she sees just how….different he looks. Concerned. Worried. Scared, almost. “Solana, would you just listen to me?”

“Why?” She demands. “So you can tell me more lies?” Solana was all but certain she cried out all the tears in her body last night, yet standing in front of Roman, just looking at him, makes her sick. Makes her sad.

Makes her angry.

He swallows, tone dripping with anguish. “It’s not what you think—”

“Were you working?” It’s a simple question. One that should elicit a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer right away, but instead Roman just looks at her with that same wounded expression. With a tinge of something else. Guilt.

“Exactly.”

“Solana—” Again he tries to reach for her, and again she moves away. She doesn’t even want to be in the same room with him right now, let alone have him touch her.

“No!” She shouts, hating this. Hating all of it. The hurt. The betrayal. It’s disgusting to her. “I trusted you! I trusted you more than anyone, and you lied to me. You said you’d never lie to me. You said—you said you’d never hurt me, and that’s exactly what you’ve done!”

If not for the heaviness for this situation, Solana would be floored by how expressive Roman is being right now. No stoic, unreadable expression. Just a man who looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Like her words are more of a physical assault on him than any injury he’s ever received. 

Sniffling, she takes her hand and wipes at her eyes. She can only imagine how red and puffy they must be from all the crying she’s done the past twenty–four hours. “I know that—that I’ve been a lot, but you didn’t—if you didn’t want me—if you didn’t want to be with me—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that,” he cuts her off with all the swiftness. His voice taking on an almost angry tone. Like he’s offended she could even fix her lips to say that. “Of course, I want to be with you.”

But, she’s not listening, Solana instead slips into the spiraling she’s done all night. That lane of self-blame. “I know—I know that I haven’t been the best wife, that I’ve been here,” she gestures around the room and points to herself, “but I’m trying—I’ve been trying.” It’s a cascade of emotions that have spilled out of whatever semblance of resolve and border she had around herself. All of her insecurities falling out in the open for him to see. “I’m trying.” She breaks down, hands covering her face as she cries into her palms. Sobs that wreck her body and make her legs feel so weak. 

But, it’s when she feels him directly in front of her, his arms around her that she shakes her head and drops her hands. “Don’t touch me!” Solana shouts, trying to push him away. But, he doesn’t budge, just continues to hold her. “Déjame en paz! ¡Te odio!” Solana progresses to angrily beating on his chest to get him away, but he says nothing, does nothing. “Te odio…..” Just continues to let her throw all of her hurt and anger at him until her fists grow just as tired as her resolve, Solana eventually falling and crying into his chest. 

Roman carefully lifts her up and carries her over to the bed, laying her down and not wasting a second to lie beside her, gathering her into his arms yet again and positioning her on his chest.

It’s such a confusing experience. She wants him to leave, but she wants him to stay. She hates him touching her, but she craves being close to him. He disgusts her, but she finds herself clutching onto him.

She hates him, but oh how she loves him. 

Solana cries until there’s nothing left, depleting her body of nearly all of its energy.  Her red eyes are open and focused on nothing in particular as Roman rubs soothing circles on the small of her back. But, it’s only when they’ve been submerged in radio silence for nearly ten minutes that he finally speaks.

Voice low and borderline hoarse. “I didn’t cheat on you, Solana.” There’s not much left in her to offer any sort of response other than the lump in the back of her throat pulsing. Throbbing. Trying to recharge for the next breakdown. “But….but I haven’t been honest with you either.”

She doesn’t want to talk to him. Doesn’t want anything from him. And yet, she finds herself asking, “where were you?”

“I can’t tell you.” Solana closes her eyes and shoots up, moving to get out the bed, away from him, But, Roman is faster, grabbing her by her waist and angling her, so that she’s looking at him. His eyes are soft and damn near pleading. Desperate. “Because I want to show you.”

—-----------

Solana hasn’t a clue how she ended up in this position. 

Sitting in the passenger seat of an SUV, Roman in the driver’s seat, driving them to a destination unknown but one that’s clearly not anywhere close to home considering it’s been almost two hours, and they still haven’t arrived to wherever it is he’s taking her.

She shouldn’t have agreed. Shouldn’t have allowed him to convince her to acquiesce so easily. Shouldn’t have let him inform Dr. Stratus and Gail that she’ll be gone for a day or two. Shouldn’t have packed her small bag and climbed in the escalade and allowed him to guide her to this unknown place.

Solana just hates it all. It’s why she hasn’t said a word to him. Not a single one. She just sits in her seat, body angled to the window, earbuds plugged in playing music that resonates so deeply with all of her emotions right now.

Every now and then, the feelings will brew, and she’ll have to quickly wipe away the silent tears, praying he doesn’t see them.

Though, she’s certain he does. 

She slips in and out of surface leveled sleep for the majority of the ride but is eventually woken up by Roman lightly shaking her shoulder. His expression is still soft, his voice calm, “we’re here.” 

Blinking back into awareness, Solana wipes at her eyes and looks around, seeing the car is indeed parked. Her passenger door is open, Roman waiting patiently for her to get out. 

She unbuckles her seatbelt, mouth dropping open when she sees they’re in the middle of a forest. Nothing but greenery surrounding them and the beautiful house that seems tucked away from it all. Solana is starting to wish she’d stayed awake. Turning to Roman, she asks, “where—where are we?”

He doesn’t say anything, just motions for her to follow him. And for some reason, she does. She doesn’t push him more, just stays close behind him as he walks up the stairs of the home and pulls out a key, unlocking the front door. 

Roman steps to the side and motions for her to walk in first. Again, she says nothing, just silently follows his directions, mind still racing about everything that’s happened as well as just what in the hell is going on.

Stepping into the home, Solana’s mouth naturally falls open. The interior is beautiful, warm in color, almost naturistic with the design. It feels warm and cozy and welcoming. Like a safe space for any and all who happen to venture into the literal house in the woods. 

Roman suddenly calls out, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. Samoan, if she had to take a guess. Him doing so, however, makes her even more nervous. 

Are they not alone?

Now, she needs to know. Needs to have her questions answered. She grabs his arm, ignoring the sparks that fly at touching him. “Roman, what is goi—”

“And he says that I’m the one with the memory problems.” Solana overhears the almost aged voice of a woman, a voice that’s very much unlike the one she heard over the phone. “atalii o le uso, were you not just over—here?”

Solana’s gaze sets on the woman. She’s up in age, that much is obvious. Tanned complexion, warm brown eyes, her hair long and a beautiful combination of salt, pepper, and a brunette color. She’s a little on the heavier side, Solana taking note of the almost limp she walks with as well the disfiguration on both her arms. 

Burns. 

However, when her gaze switches from Roman to herself, Solana sees the woman smile brightly. A smile that’s eerily similar to the man standing beside her. 

“Well, it’s about damn time.” Solana is still trying to process just what’s going on when the woman walks over to her, eyes squinting with curiosity. “Such a beautiful girl.” Solana freezes initially when the woman pulls her in for a hug. Warm and friendly. Just like the atmosphere of the home. It’s…..comforting almost. 

The other woman is the first to end the hug, though her friendly expression remains focused on Solana “Hi….” Meanwhile, Solana remains abundantly lost in this situation. “I’m—”

“Oh, child. I know exactly who you are.” She waves off Solana’s introduction, almost playful gaze switching to Roman. “But, something tells me you don’t know who I am.”

At all. 

“Solana.” It’s then that Roman steps forward,  gesturing to the older woman. “This is Fetu.” He swallows, something flashing in his eyes. “My aunt.”

The past twenty-four hours have been filled with nothing but bombshells, but this one has to take the cake. Solana’s mouth is ajar, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two. She sees it now. The same smile. Same eyes. The burns.

Similar to Roman’s. The ones he received the night his family was killed, family that included an aunt, according to him.

This…..this can’t be her….right? 

A different one maybe who coincidentally has the same type of injuries Roman sustained that night…..maybe.

Or not.

But how?

Completely taken back, she finds herself asking him, “your…..your aunt?” 

Fetu says something in what she would guess is Samoan. Roman sighs, loudly, looking over at Solana, expressing quietly, “I’ll explain later.”

That’s…..that’s very much appreciated, because Solana has so many questions.

“Men.” Fetu rolls her eyes. “They have such horrible timing.” Her gaze shifts for a second as she focuses on Solana. “Child, have you been crying?” That seems like an understatement. Again, Fetu speaks in Samoan, voice suddenly angry as she slaps Roman on the arm. “I’ll deal with you later.” She switches English and goes to move her arm around Solana, “come. I was just about to prepare dinner. Roman said you like to cook?”

At that, Solana’s eyes light up a bit. “I–I do.”

“Good, then you won’t mind helping this old lady, now, will you?” It’s not really posed as a question. More of a directive, Solana briefly glances back at Roman as she’s guided away from him. He simply gives her a nod of reassurance and disappears through the door they just walked through.

—--------

Solana likes Fetu. It’s a bit of a strong statement considering she’s known her for less than 24 hours, 12 hours even. But, it’s true.

Roman’s aunt is kind and funny. A spitfire who keeps a smile on her face the entire time they’re in the kitchen cooking together, the older woman so patient as she explains each step of the traditional Samoan dish they’re preparing. 

Solana is washing the dishes, with only a few left when Fetu calls her from where she sits at the kitchen table. Solana grabs the towel and dries off her hands, tossing it on the counter as she walks over.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Oh please, I know I’m ancient, but don’t make me feel like it.” Solana smiles and sits down in the chair on the adjacent side of the table. Fetu’s eyes are focused on Solana in a studying manner, a small chuckle leaving her mouth. “I see it.” 

Understandably, Solana is confused, asking in a small voice. “See what?”

“The light.” She answers, returning the smile. “Roman refers to you as his light. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I see it now.”

Solana sits there, silenced and taken back for the 19th time today. “He….he calls me that?”

She nods, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Among other things.” Solana would love to know just what those things are, but there’s something she wants—needs—to know more. A confirmation, really. 

“Was—was Roman here with you this weekend?” A question she’s been wondering from the moment Roman introduced her to his aunt, the only thing confusing her being the voices. Fetu is most definitely not the woman she heard on the phone. Her voice is too aged and scratchy. 

“He was,” she confirms, and Solana’s stomach drops. “A surprise but welcomed, nonetheless.”

Meanwhile, Solana is doing her best to regulate her breathing and not freak out on this poor, old woman. “I—was someone else here too?”

Fetu nods. “My younger cousin, Ava, stays with me as well, because apparently I need a caretaker.” She rolls her eyes, explaining, “she’s out taking care of some personal business but will be back shortly. I can’t wait for you two to…..is everything alright, child?”

Far from it. Solana doesn’t even need to ask any more questions, because certain pieces are coming together. The truth is gradually revealing itself to be something entirely different from what she thought it was.

“No,” Solana answers with a surprising level of honesty. “I—I really messed something up.”

“Does it have to do with Roman?” Silently nodding, Fetu makes a sound. “I see…..” She reaches over, placing a hand over Solana’s. “Solana, I know that all of this must be confusing to you, and it’s clear while I’ve been asking my nephew to meet you, today was not planned, and I’m guessing it wasn’t from anything good.” Solana says nothing, silent tears falling down her face. “And there’s much I wish to discuss with you once you know the full story, but let me just say this.” She gives a gentle squeeze. “There’s no one on this earth who my nephew cares about more than you. You have completely changed his life, brought out a side of him I thought they killed, that died that awful, awful night.” Solana gasps quietly, stuck on both the words as well as indirect confirmation that this is the same aunt she believed was killed with the rest of his family. “I know he can be difficult at times. Stubborn. Hardheaded. A closed book, but….you must understand the massive weight he carries. Even as a boy, they put so much pressure on him to be perfect.” She shakes her head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s why he kept him away from him, because I always just let him be a kid. Be human.” 

There’s continued confusion at the he part, but Solana doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want to pry too much. Especially since there’s a not so light conversation she still needs to have with her cousin.

“Roman calls you his light because you are. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not, he needs you, and something tells me you need him just as much.” Truer words have never been spoken, “so whatever it is that happened, I can promise you it’s nothing you two can’t work through, because he’d do anything for you, especially if it’s to keep you.” 

By the end of it, Solana has a fresh set of tears, the beautiful words from someone who clearly knows Roman, and knows him well, meaning the world to her. 

The same way he does.

Even if…..even if her behavior earlier indicated otherwise. 

It’s why…..why she needs to make this right.

“Thank you,” she manages through the emotionality of it all. “That….that means a lot to me.” Because it does. More than Fetu could ever know. Clearing her throat, she stands up and dusts off her pants, sharing, “I think…..I think I need to go talk to Roman.”

Fetu chuckles softly. “I think you do too.” She motions with her hand. “Up the stairs. Last room on the right.”

Solana smiles appreciatively. “Thank you.”

The older woman says nothing else as Solana finds her legs carrying her to the dark staircase, up to the second level and down the hall to the room Fetu identified as belonging to Roman.

She starts to knock before entering but ultimately decides against it. They’re way past that point.

So, she opens the door, quietly closing it behind her when she hears Roman’s deep voice from a bit of the distance given the size of the bedroom. He’s in the bathroom ,on the phone, speaking in a different language. It doesn’t sound Samoan. Maybe Italian.

Regardless, she moves over and sits on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for him to walk out while also wondering just what in the hell she’s going to say. Sorry, of course, but what more? That can’t be enough. Not with how she acted. The lack of trust in him and their relationship completely shelved to the side, replaced with her borderline irrational behavior. 

She didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

Just the thought of how unfair she treated him bringing another set of tears to her eyes at the same moment the bathroom door opens, revealing a shirtless Roman, dark sweatpants resting low on his hips, hair down and clearly in the midst of air drying given its voluminous state. If not for the nature of why she’s here, of what transpired, she’d be distracted at him in such a state.

But, that’s not the focus. She doesn’t care about that right now. 

She just cares about him.

About making this right.

And the minute Roman’s gaze sets on her, he says something quickly and lowly, followed by him hanging up the phone. He places it atop the dresser near him, eyes never leaving her. “Solana, what’s—”

He’s silenced when she hops up from the bed and rushes over to him, practically throwing her body into his, holding him. Tight.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, uncaring about any sort of plan she had regarding how to tackle this. How to make this right. She simply just needs him to know how sorry she is. “I shouldn’t have said those things—I didn’t mean—”

“Solana, it’s okay.” Him holding the back of her head with such tenderness is an equal match to the gentle way he’s speaking to her right now. Undeserved in her opinion.

“No,” she forces out. Pulling back, she shakes her head. “I was—I was mean to you, and—and I didn't trust you.” He’s always been so good to her. It’s almost embarrassing to Solana how easily she could believe he could do something like that to her. “You didn’t deserve t–that.”

Roman, however, simply looks down at her with an almost nervous expression. “You weren’t entirely wrong, Solana. I was lying to you. Like Ava said, I’ve been lying to you.” He lightly taps on her hip and motions for her to follow him as he sits on the edge of the bed. Solana is right beside him, one leg up on the mattress, the other on the ground. “Fetu…..”

And just like that, she knows where he’s going. Knows what he’s about to share.

Truth be told, the past twenty four hours have been such a whirlwind of emotions that she’s not even sure this is the right time to be having this conversation, but it’s one that needs to be had. Whether she wants to or not.  Because she’d rather not. Rather not put Roman through any more unnecessary stress than she already has. “Ro, you—you don’t—”

“Someone dragged me out of the house. I never found out who.” Interrupting her, his voice is eerily similar to the first night he opened up about his family, about that night when so much was lost. “But, I—I couldn’t just stand there and let my family die. So, I ran back in.” Her chest tightens, listening to him recall such a harrowing night. “There was so much smoke and fire, and I don’t know how the hell I got to her, but I did. She was hurt and burned, but she could walk, so I guided us both out, but I got burned too in the process.” Fetu. He has to be talking about Fetu.

It’s hard for her to imagine him. An innocent 10 year old boy who’d just lost his family in the most horrific way still doing what he can to help. To save them. To save her.

Solana naturally moves closer to Roman, holding onto his arm, her thumb soothingly running over his tattoos. 

“I wanted—” He closes his eyes, and for the first time in maybe ever, Solana can see and hear the visceral emotions in his voice. “I tried to go back in there, but one of the firefighters restrained me, and I was too weak and injured to fight back. I ended up passing out shortly after that.”

“Roman….”

He continues, hard gaze focused on the intricate design of the large rug on the floor. “When I came to, they told me everyone was dead. Including Fetu. That she’d died from her injuries.” 

Solana gasps. 

What?

They….lied to him?

Roman, however, just continues to recall his trauma, expression still blank, voice betraying all of the emotions brewing beneath the surface. “So, for years, I worked to accept the fact that I was alone, because at the end of the day, Jimmy and Jey still have Rikishi. They had their brothers and mother. Rikishi had his own family. Everyone did. Except me, cause mine was all dead.” 

There’s something so heartbreaking about hearing that. Solana thinking back on how she felt the first time he opened up about his family’s murder. He’s right. They might all be blood related, but they each have their own family units. 

Roman’s, however, was taken from him.

“Then, when I turned 21, Rikishi finally told me the truth. That she was alive and had been living in hiding all those years. He was the only one who knew.” It’s the part she was still confused about that his continued explanation touches on, providing an answer but also something else. 

Anger.

“Why?” Solana cuts in, unable to help herself. “Why would he keep that from you? Why so long? Why at all?”

Why would he keep an innocent child away and separated from the closest family member he had left? That just sounds so….cruel.

Roman swallows, a dark, emotionless chuckle leaving his voice. “Said he was worried she’d make me weak. He wanted to be sure my training was effective, hence why he waited a couple years after I became Tribal Chief to make sure I could still handle the truth and be what they made me to be.”

Solana thinks back to her conversation with Fetu. Rikishi must be the he she was referring to.

Roman, however, keeps sharing, opening up more than she would have ever expected. “I don’t—I can’t come see her as much as I’d like to, because I don’t want to put her safety at risk.” That makes so much sense. All the sense. To keep her safe, he has to keep his distance. “But, when…..when I need to get away and clear my head, or I just need someone to talk to, I come see her.”

Solana thinks back to something, a few months ago when Roman up and disappeared for almost a week. “That’s where you went that one time…..you came here to see her?” He nods. She would have never in a million years guessed this. Guessed that Roman’s safe space is with the one person he probably needs the most but can only have in small doses. 

It’s almost inconceivable to her that his own family could do that to him. To a child. To deprive an innocent child of the only, close family they have left. To keep them separated so he wouldn’t be weak. 

It makes her heart heavy. 

It  only gets heavier though with the next thing that comes out of his mouth. “She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s last year.” Another devastating, crushing blow. “Some visits, she knows who I am. Others….I’m a complete stranger.”

“Oh my God…..” Roman lost her as a child, regained her as a man and is now having to intermittently experience that loss over and over again. It's so cruel and entirely unfair to someone who truly deserves the world.

She can’t imagine what that’s like for him. 

It’s like Roman is reading her thoughts, his next explanation touching on some of her questions and thoughts.

“Fetu is….she’s always been like a mother to me. My own mother….that was…..complicated.” She believes it. Doesn’t know how, but she just does. “Fetu was the only person—before you—to ever tell me that she loves me.” Solana’s heart simply breaks all over again, because just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does.

While her father never once uttered those sacred words, Nina never let a day pass without both verbalizing and showing her daughter all the purest love in the world. Solana almost finds it inconceivable that Roman’s parents truly never expressed loving him. But, when she thinks about it, it makes sense. 

His aloofness. His stoicism. It’s not just because of the titles he holds. It’s because of the upbringing he had. 

The lack of care and nurturance.

The lack of love.

Outside of Fetu.

“Solana….” His voice again takes on a desperate, almost foreboding tone. “Outside of myself, Ava, and Rikishi, the twins are the only ones who know about Fetu. Not even Paul knows. I know…..I know Naomi and Bayley are your friends, but—”

“Roman.” She brings her hands to his face, eyes locked with his. “I swear to you on my mother’s grave that I will never tell a soul. Ever.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. Nothing about what has and will be experienced will leave her mouth unless it’s through discussion with Roman herself. Not even the twins, even if they do know about Fetu. “And I’m—I’m so sorry I put you in this position. Where you felt like you had to tell me. If—if I knew—”

“But, you didn’t,” he cuts in, admitting. “And a part of me wants to be upset with you that you didn’t trust me, but the truth is I would be a hypocrite, because I haven’t been honest with you either.”

She wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep talking, that he’s been vulnerable enough, but something tells her not to. Tells her that he needs to get this out.

And she’s glad she doesn’t stop him, because his next confession nearly blows her away.

“I’ve—I’ve been struggling, Solana.” Her shoulders slump and frown deepens. “Ever since—ever since you tried—” he doesn’t say what, but he doesn’t have to either. She knows exactly what he’s talking about. “I’m a fucking mess without you. I think about you all the fucking time. The thought of anything happening to you scares the shit out of me.” Roman Reigns admitting to being scared of something, anything, let alone losing her, is something she could have never predicted. But, it’s exactly what he’s saying, and it nearly breaks her heart. “So much that when I read your letter, my initial answer was no, because I wanted you home with me. Because I miss having you around. I want—I need you around.” Her eyes shut, for so many different reasons. “I need you”

“And I need you to know that I would never cheat on you, Solana. Ever.” Tears forming again, she opens her eyes and her mouth to apologize again, but she can’t because he has to continue with the confessions.  “I love you too much to do that to you.” Her breathing is halted, focus centering in on the words that just left his mouth or didn’t leave his mouth, because Solana is all of a sudden questioning her hearing. There’s no way he just….no. “But, I—I don’t know how to love you either.”

It feels like there should be some type of cap on newfound, previously unbelievable things being dropped on a person, because Solana is at her absolute max. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, but this….this has to take the cake. 

Roman….loves her? 

The tears are definitely falling now. She’s more or less speechless, overcome by the emotionality of it all. “Ro….” 

“I don’t know how to love and be with you and still be the Tribal Chief and the Head of the Table and the Capo and every other fucking perfect thing I have to be all the fucking time.” His voice becomes increasingly bitter with each word that leaves his mouth, the full extent of the weight he carries all the time being laid out in the open for her to dissect and process.

This is the last place she expected their conversation to go, but that’s a moot point. What matters is that they’re here, and the last thing she wants to do is discourage him from being open and honest with her. She can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him. 

Solana stands up and  moves in front of Roman, lowering herself onto his lap, bringing her hands to his face. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I never have, and I never will. I don’t need you to be the Tribal Chief or the Head of the Table. Or anything else.” She moves her hand to his chest, over his heart, speaking firmly yet gently. “I just need you to be my Roman.”

His gaze visibly softens. Relief. Happiness. Fear.

“And you say….you say you don’t know how to love me, but….what do you think you’ve been doing?” She smiles, head tilted.  “All this time, I’ve just been thinking how you are with me is because you care about me, and you do, but it’s much deeper than that. It’s because….it’s because you love me, Ro. I think…..I think you’ve loved me for a while. The same way that I’ve loved you for a while, We just….it took us a while to catch on.”

Because what Solana is now realizing is that the love has always been there. For him. For her. Always there. Lying dormant, waiting for both of them to step into the space of realization.

“And the honest truth is that I don’t know how to love you either. I just know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and no one else I want to be with.” If it’s not Roman, she doesn’t want it. He’s her forever. “So, here’s what we’re going to do.” Smiling softly, she pushes back some of his hair.  “I’m going to love you, and you’re going to love me. We’re not going to question it, not think too much about how to do it and just do it.”

Because what is also true is that clearly neither of them had the best, healthiest examples of love and what a healthy marriage looks like. So, they have to make it their own. Trial and error. Living and learning. Knowing that at the end of the day, what matters most is their love for one another. 

“And you’re going to talk to me, the same way you let me talk to you, because what I do know is that people who love each other help each other out. You help me so much, more than you’ll probably ever know. Now it’s my turn to return the favor, okay?” 

That might even be the thing that Solana needs the most. Needs him to know that he’s not alone. He has her. He’ll always have her. 

“I’ll—I’ll try.” Roman nods, and Solana closes her eyes. That’s all she needs. All she’ll ever need. 

Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. She tries to move off his lap when he just so slightly holds her, preventing the separation. “What’s—”

“Can—” He swallows, an almost nervous hint to his deep, usually confident voice. “Can I make love to you?”

It’s not a question she was expecting. Not in the slightest. But, her answer is an obvious one. Solana gets up to stand directly in front of him. Moving her hands to the waistband of her pants, she pushes them down her legs, stepping out, kicking the material to the side. 

Her fingers then move to the bottom of her shirt as she lifts it over her head, also tossing it to the side. Her eyes never leaving his, Solana reaches behind and unclasps her bra, breast falling freely at the same time her bra also tumbles to the ground. And lastly, with fingers hooked around the band of her underwear, she slides off and steps out of them, the last piece of clothing now piled with the rest. 

Completely bare in front of him, in more than just the physical, Solana places both of her hands on his broad shoulders and answers in the softest voice, “yes.”

Roman briefly closes his eyes. His hands move back to her waist, gently tugging her closer to him. Solana’s eyes also shut just as he opens his and drinks all of her in. “aulelei oe…..” Oblivious to what he’s just said, Solana is instead tightening her grip on him when he moves his mouth to her neck, starting a downward trail of kisses down her body.

She’s missed this. So much. “Roman….”

She releases a sharp gasp when he covers his mouth over her areola, his other hand softly kneading her breast. Solana can already feel the wetness pooling between her legs as he sucks on her nipple, finally releasing with an audible pop as he tugs her onto his lap so that she’s straddling him.

Her eyes lock with him as he lifts his hand to her cheek. “How the hell could I ever be with somebody else when all I see is you?” It’s a rhetorical question posed with so much tenderness and dedication. It brings tears to her eyes.

Solana brings her hands back to his face, voice quiet and purposeful. “Make love to me.”

It doesn’t need to be asked or said twice. 

Roman is careful in how he lifts her and lays her down on the bed. Solana moves up the mattress, watching with a steady beating heart as Roman starts to remove his clothes. Movements somehow graceful but determined, like he’s just as eager and wanting this as much as she does. Because he is. Because Solana isn’t certain they’ve ever wanted each other more than they do in this moment. This space of full, visceral vulnerability. 

Completely naked, a small flash of nervousness fills her as Roman moves over her, the heavy, lengthy weight of him semi hard between his thick, muscular thighs. It’s been over a month since they were last intimate, and as much as she wants him, she knows there might be some initial pain.

Roman seems to catch onto her anxiety, hand going to her chin, capturing the softest kiss before he assures, “I’ll be gentle.”

Soft smile on her face, her hand moving to his chest, she reminds him, “you always are.”

Roman returns his mouth to hers, engaging her in a sensual kiss full of all the longing and love that fills the room, dances up the walls and creeps through the cracks and crevices. It’s overwhelming in all of the right and wonderful ways. 

But the more passionate their make out becomes, her nectar soaks her inner thighs, the throbbing between her legs so bothersome that she ends up breaking their kiss, both of them breathing heavily. Solana pulls him closer, her thigh lifting against his hip, another gasp leaving her mouth at the feel of him warm and hard against her apex.

“Please…..” She breathes, eyes shutting when Roman lays his forehead against hers. “Need you….” Solana finds her hand traveling down his chest, venturing until he’s hot, heavy, and pulsing in the palm of her hand. She watches him release a shaky breath at the contact of her hand on him, his shoulders tensing almost when she moves to align him at her aching, dripping entrance. 

Roman reaches and stops her, Solana confused only briefly when he instead takes over, directing her, “hold onto me.”

She nods and lifts her hand, instead doing just as he advised, her wrists locked over one another behind his neck. And the minute his thick mushroom head presses against her velvety lips, they’re both moaning, breathing uneven. But before he can ask her if she’s okay, if she wants him to stop, Solana wiggles her hips and scoots down the bed, wanting more of him. All of him. 

Roman takes note of this and tips her head upward, claiming her lips for another kiss, maintaining and holding it as he continues to slide into her welcomed warmth. Solana’s hands shift to his back, nails pressed against his tanned skin, tiny crescent indents formed from the sharpness of her nails.

“Fuck. I’ve missed this,” he breathes against her once fully situated and settled in her. The fullness of and tightness of which, something that takes them both a second to adjust to. “Missed this feeling. So tight….just for me…”

They’re both so deeply synched that Solana doesn’t even have to prompt him to move, Roman’s thrusts initially gentle to continue to help her re-adjust, to reacclimate to the feel of him, so deep, so good.

“Baby…..” She moans, holding onto him, thighs pressing against his hips as he pistons in and out of her, her back arching, head falling back against the pillow. “Roman.”

Roman groans, his thrusts purposeful and focused. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

Her answer should be obvious, but Solana nods as best she can, whining when he hits that spot, that sensitive space that always brings tears to her eyes. “Yes, baby.”

Head resting in the crook of her shoulder, Roman reaches for the headboard, using it to steady him as Solana continues to hold onto him, ankles locking above his ass. “Look what you do to me.” Her whimpers and moans under him only serve as fodder for his determination to make her feel good, to make her feel a fraction of how he feels being inside her like this. “I’ve never wanted or needed anyone like I need you, Solana.”

“Don’t need anything else in this life. Just you. Always you.” Her eyes shut, still holding onto him as she kisses his temple. “And you can’t leave me, Sol.” Solana’s stomach coils and twists when he switches angles, somehow reaching her even deeper than he already was. “You understand me?” He steals another kiss, whispering against her mouth. “I can’t lose you.”

There’s something deeper beyond his words, something underlying and still incredibly painful for him. And Solana knows exactly what it is. Tears from a different reason brimming her eyes, she palms his cheeks, forcing him to meet her contrite gaze. “I’m sorry.” His eyes shut, and her chest tightens. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s lost so much already. Had more loss as a child than some people will ever experience in their entire  lifetime. And almost losing her, because of her actions is clearly something that he’s still not over, that she didn’t realize affected him as deeply as it did. 

And she hates that. Hates that she missed how much he’s been struggling.

How much he’s been hurting. 

“Never again,” she promises. Never again can she put him through that, can she do that to him, can be the cause of so much emotional turmoil for him. “I promise, Ro.”

He pauses, stops mid movement, opens his eyes and looks at her, fully vulnerable and exposed. Letting her in in a way she knows no one else is privy to. This isn’t the Tribal Chief or the Capo. 

It’s just Roman.

Her Roman.

Solana takes a sharp breath as he pulls out of her almost entirely only to enter back in, slowly, gradually, a breathy “I love you” falling out of his mouth. Once again, he somehow manages to reach a different depth that has her back almost completely arched off the mattress, her breast pressing against his hard chest.

“Roman.” She’s not sure she could ever tire of having his name in her mouth, on her lips. It’s embedded in her soul at this point.

“I love you,” he repeats it, hips meeting hers, Solana whimpering from the overwhelming nature of it all. “I love you.” And again, each sensual thrust accompanied by a confession. A vow. A promise. An oath.

The pleasure continues, flows, consistent and strong, depleting her body of all energy while filling her with a rapture that feels too beautiful to be human. It carries and sustains her until she absolutely can’t take it anymore, Solana’s orgasm strong and pulsing, her toes curling and stomach coiling. Roman talks her through it, loving and comforting, his own coming over him not even minutes later. 

And the minute he falls down on the bed next to her, his arms are around her, tugging her close into his side. He kisses her temple, Solana holding onto his forearm, murmuring, “I love you.”

A part of her expects him to not say it back, to somehow be limited to only so many uses of a term that’s, sadly, unfamiliar to him. “I love you too.”

But, he does, and it may be the best thing anyone has ever said to her. She cranes her neck to look at him. “Enough to start talking to me more?” A small frown falls on her face. “I mean it, Roman, you—you can’t keep holding it all in.” She knows better than anyone else how badly that can turn out. “You always say you’ve got me, but–but I’ve got you too.”

Emotion flashes in his beautiful brown eyes. “I know.” Is his reply, quiet but understanding. “I’m—I’m going to work on it.”

“Good.” That’s all she can ask for. Because Roman has been so patient and understanding with her. The least she can do is return the favor.  “And I’ll start us off….” Taking a deep breath, Solana decides to share with him a secret she’s been keeping. “I’ve been having dr—”

Abrupt banging on the door startles Solana to the point that she nearly jumps out the bed. Her reaction makes Roman smile when she buries her head under the blankets.

“Roman, you fucking asshole! You parked that big ass truck in my spot!” Solana peeks from under the blanket, curious to see her husband’s reaction at being spoken to so boldly but also realizing she recognizes that voice. It’s the voice of the woman on the phone. This Ava person, most likely. His cousin. “Pe e te fa'agaoioi pe ou te sasaina i fafo faamalama uma!”

Roman, however, looks unbothered and borderline amused. “O ki o loo i luga o le matau ki. Aveese oe lava.”

Solana taps him on his chest, asking, “what did she sa—”

“Ava! Leave your cousin alone!” Fetu’s voice also calls out from outside the door, Solana’s eyes widening again. “He’s having make up sex with his wife!”

And just like that, it goes from bad to worse. Solana wants to melt into the bed, the floor, the ground. Anything to escape this humiliation. Looking over at Roman, she yell-whispers, “she heard us?”

Her husband, however, still looks just as unbothered and amused as before. “Baby, you’re not exactly very quiet.”

“Oh my god, Solana is here?” Ava gasps on the other side. “I’m so sorry! It’s nice to kind of meet you! Sorry you got stuck marrying my asshole cousin.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Solana moans, moving to bury her head into Roman’s chest before calling out with all awkwardness, “ummm, it’s n–nice to meet you too!”

“Tama teine, leave them alone! They might be making a baby!” And it just keeps going from bad to worse, Fetu adding on. “Keep the Samoan breeding kink tradition growing strong!”

“Uso o le tinā! What do you know about breeding kinks?” Solana is certain her face is tomato red. She’s never been so mortified. “Anyway, I’ll meet you later, Solana. And Roman, fuck you.”

He rolls his eyes, Solana waiting until she hears the footsteps vanish and melt into silence to speak again. “I can’t believe that happened.” Something said, however, triggers a thought for her. The breeding kink comment, specifically. “Roman….should we….should we use protection or something?” He looks confused, prompting her to explain. “I don’t—I don’t want you feeling pressured. I want a baby, but I want to make sure you’re good first too.” She adds on, wanting him to know how sincere she is. “Or, I can get on birth control. I know it’s not really allowed, but—”

“You’re my wife, Solana.” He cuts her off, hand to her cheek. “I’m not using a condom, and you’re not getting on birth control.” She nervously licks her lips as he brushes his thumb over her cheek. “When it happens….it happens. Okay?”

She nods, eyes closing when he kisses her forehead. She goes to lay on his chest, Roman’s hand on the small of her back, gradually moving downward. A small, teasing smile grows on her face as she looks up at him. “Dinner is gonna be ready soon, Ro….”

He hums, smirking when she gasps at how he squeezes her ass. “My appetite’s not for that….” Solana giggles when he flips them, so he’s over her, her hands gliding down his chest. “It’s makeup sex, right?” His eyes are filled with lust, Solana moaning when he starts spreading her legs. “So, let’s continue to make up.”

--------

Translations:

“Déjame en paz! ¡Te odio!” = "Leave me alone! I hate you!"

“Aulelei oe…..” = "You're so beautiful."

"Pe e te fa'agaoioi pe ou te sasaina i fafo faamalama uma!" = "Either you move it, or I'll smash out the windows!"

"O ki o loo i luga o le matau ki. Aveese oe lava." = "The keys are on the hook. Move it yourself."

"Tama teine." = "Niece."

"Uso o le tinā!" = "Aunt."

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[pastlivesxpastlie]

♡⟡˙⋆It takes us a little higher⋆˙⟡♡

Summary: You've never been fond of your roommate Vessel, but a mortifying shared experience brings you closer than you ever thought possible.

a/n: MDNI - smut under the cut. Alternate, affectionate title is "Close the Fucking Door. Holy Shit."

roommate!vessel x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, some angst, porn with plot, accidental voyeurism, laundry day tension, vessel's favorite color seems to be emerald, reader and vessel are mean to each other, very brief slut shaming (the word "whore" is used twice derogatorily), “you’re the closest and hottest thing right now” type shit, rough sex but it’s comfort sex

No, roommates don’t have to be friends. There is no bylaw saying if you share a dwelling and the bills therein you have to be the best of friends with your housemate…but if there was, you and Vessel would be faced with a hefty fine. Where you saw the opportunity to be lighthearted, he would claim you never took anything seriously; yet when he attempted to be playful with you, you accused him of mocking you. Is this brownstone in town worth the strife? Actually, yes. Everyone has their own comfortable spaces, it’s close to everyone’s workplace, the rent is reasonable. And yet. This afternoon you’re in the little laundry room sorting things to go into the washer when you hear the heaviest sigh. “Just going to start laundry, then? No worries if anyone else needs it.” Oh, he’s grumpy today.

Vessel has his barely filled laundry basket in his long arms and impatiently drums his fingers on it. 

“Doesn’t seem like you were going to ask me. Now does it?” You nod at his laundry basket as he stammers a bit. “Just put it in with mine.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Vessel, seriously,” you snap, “you have barely anything in there. We’d be wasting water if I didn’t…”

“This is how I always do my laundry! Saying I’m the reason the water bill i–”

“JUST… put your laundry in the washer. Jesus.”

Vessel huffs and drops his laundry in like you said (or as you demanded as he would have put it). You two can hardly look at each other. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you thank him. He shows his gratitude by switching the laundry and then sorting it once it’s dry. He does this in the living room with an inconsequential movie on. You join him for what you call “a folding paaarrttyyyyy.” This actually gets a little laugh from him. Humorless laugh, but it’s a sign of life. 

It had been a month or so of just existing in the same space since an “incident” had occurred. Neither of you brought it up but it lingered heavily between you.

𓍯𓂃

The morning of the incident you two had a civil, even thoughtful, conversation. You told Ves you’d be out that evening, maybe even all night. This delighted him. He could do some audio mixing without fear of interruption. Spread out in the living room. Oh the possibilities! He even asked who the guy was. Anything to encourage you to leave him alone for the night. Get you talking and excited about whoever the hell this poor man is so that maybe you’d get yourself all giddy and blushy and convince yourself to stay out all night. You deserve it…no wait…no. Vessel deserved it. He had to keep reminding himself he didn’t actually care. 

Except he did. The evening was actually boring. You’d only been gone an hour, and he was already thinking about going to bed. He idly wondered what you and the guy were doing. That emerald green dress you had on made it seem like you were dead set on seducing on him. The way it hugged your hips and didn’t even graze your knees. How your sheer black stockings made your legs glimmer just a bit. Vessel came to the conclusion that you actually could seduce this man without even trying…you’d just have to show up. Fuck. These weird, clouded, thoughts that flirted with being both positive and lustful rubbed Vessel the wrong way. That’s his roommate he’s thinking about. Maybe he’s just lonely.

Yes, that’s it. He’s desperate. And that feeling churns and grows to the point where he can’t ignore it anymore. He’s home alone, after all. Why not make a little “to do” about it? He dimmed his lights and slipped out of his clothes, splaying out on his bed with a little bottle of lube close by. This was something he missed. Indulging in a little fantasy and playing with himself, all while not having to wonder if someone would hear him or walk in or just make some goddamn annoying noise that would distract him. All he could hear was his ragged, raspy breaths and soft moans…and the slick pornographic sounds of his fist pumping his cock. God it was so nice to just edge a little…he really did deserve this. He tries to think of something to calm him down and dull the feeling. Your most recent argument about where the reusable grocery bags were was very helpful in this instance…except for when he remembered your little dress. How soft you looked piled in the satin. What kind of panties did you have on under that? No panty line was visible so maybe…no don’t go there. But he has to. He has to imagine what it would be like to let his fingers trail up your inner thigh to then lift your dress and see those fucking tights hugging your plush ass and maybe even how your soft thighs would expand as you sit back on your heels, your pretty eyes gazing up at him…

“Oh…fuck!”

But it wasn’t Vessel exclaiming. Why were you home? “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR. HOLY SHIT.”

You had scurried into your room. Your cheeks hurt from your nervous grin and the blush dusting your cheeks; you feel like a little girl running from her crush. But this wasn’t innocent. You had just watched your roommate cum. The little whimpers and groans piqued your attention the second you entered the hall. You actually thought he had been crying but…good god. If there had been tears, they’d have been ones of ecstasy. The look on his face…you’ll never forget that. The way his jaw fell and his eyebrows knitted together…how his bobbing throat signaled yet another desperate moan. You had left your date way early for…reasons you’d rather not think about at the moment. You had a new problem. The image of arrogant, quiet Vessel truly enjoying himself…looking absolutely delicious…vulnerable…that wasn't leaving your mind anytime soon. And you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his abs flexed as he came…what would they feel like under your hand if you were riding him? Or against your own soft tummy while you’re on your back? Or even against your back as he spooned and fucked you while whispering filth in your ear. You stared up at the ceiling by the low light of your bedside lamp after taking care of yourself. The thrill from your momentary distraction from your bad date turns into guilt and settles in your tummy where your arousal once was.

Your mind won’t shut up. Berating you for being such a perv. And that’s when you hear Ves. Pacing. He does that sometimes. Of all the sounds you hear from sharing a wall with him, that’s the sound you’ve come to anticipate the most. How his mind reels at night. You start to ruminate, imagining that he regrets this. But it seems you finally have something in common tonight. You’re embarrassed. You’re awake. And you’re alone. Instead of nodding off, you take a chance. You reach up and knock softly on your shared wall. Just a little, “I’m right  there with you.” And as you drift off to sleep you hear two soft, timid knocks above your head.

𓍯𓂃

With the laundry folded in complete and utter silence, you sigh heavily and take your folded laundry into your room. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grin at the text…completely ignoring the visitor in your doorway. You don’t even look up but you speak. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Oh? Uhm. Cool.” Vessel tries to act as if he isn’t the one encroaching on your space. Too aloof to care. He certainly wasn’t feeling touch and attention starved. Not at all. That had nothing to do with why he was standing in your doorway, watching you poke at your phone. “Another date?”

“Yep. Been too long since the last one.”

Ves looks at you thoughtfully and weighs his options. Does he risk perhaps having to talk about the “close the fucking door. Holy shit” incident? Or does he continue to push you away? Continue to make you the villain in his inner monologue? He takes a deep breath, holds it, and bites the bullet. “Why did you come home so early that night?”

A long sigh escapes you. “I…got to the restaurant and, well, basically he told me I looked easy and that he liked that. So the whole evening was just…” you pause and look away. 

“He didn’t try to…like…”

“No.” You don’t mean to snap, but you did. Vessel nods, nonplussed by your tone. “No, I didn't give him a chance. Turns out I’m a whore for dressing like that and for not putting out. Such is life, yeah?” 

“Waste of an outfit, if you ask me.” You stare at Vessel for a bit. He seems angry. Tense. His legs jitter a bit and he wipes his face with a long exhale. “You should be taken out in that dress whenever you want…wherever you want.” 

You go to your closet and pull out a few dresses like your emerald and hold them up to yourself in the mirror. “Well, he’s getting a second chance tonight.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. His height allows him to take up most of your doorframe; he secretly hopes that might keep you from leaving. From seeing that degenerate. If you just wanted to get fucked he wishes you’d just ask him. But he has to remind himself that some people need a bit more than that. He wouldn’t know the first thing about what you needed. He pleaded with himself nightly to not worry about it. It won’t work. It shouldn’t work. But damnit…you’re right there. The single hottest and closest thing. Vessel doesn't realize he’s just been staring, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Care to share or are you just being weird?” You say without looking away from the mirror.

“Why are you putting yourself through this? Hm? Do you like being treated like that?”

He purses his lips when your eyes pierce through him, getting ready to strike. “Well, not that present company can understand this but people can change and redeem themselves. Besides, what do you care?”

You’ve got him. Vessel looks down, sniffs, and shrugs. “Maybe you are a whore.” He immediately winces. That was mean…and stupid. He pushes himself off the doorframe and sulks back to his room. But you’re on his heels.

“Tell me why you care, Vessel,” you demand to his back. He won’t turn and face you. “Fucking look at me.”

With a heavy sigh, he turns, shoulders slumped…and hard as a rock. His arousal can easily be attributed to the blood rush and emotions from being angry but truth be told it’s from imaging you in those dresses you were considering. And imagining you in that green dress, letting him take you out and then have his way with you.Your eyes are boring into him with a look he’s never seen before. “Want some help?” 

He nods softly. 

“Can I get verbal consent? Jesus Christ,” you huff. 

“Yeah…yes, I’d like help.” He watches as you slip off your hoodie and kneel like you’ve done this before with him. What a sight. 

“Take your shirt off, Ves. Please.” It all feels like a dream. Vessel is standing before you, rock hard and willing. Your hands rub up his thighs… to his hips…his abs…and he actually caresses your arms when they stretch up to gently play with his nipples. After moving your hands down to remove his pants, you place soft kisses on stomach and around his happy trail. Fuck. This is living. Your arms wrap around to his back as you hold him place, making him whine softly with each kiss. It’s impossible to keep from kissing and caressing your face right below his belly button. It’s unfair how good he feels against your lips and how lovely he smells from his body wash and just…him. As toned as he is, you find a soft spot and gently bite it. You look up expecting him to have his eyes closed but he’s actually staring down at you, biting his lip. It’s too much to bear. It feels like second nature to take his cock in your mouth. You’re lost in the feeling of taking him deeper until you gag softly. When you do, he caresses your hair, asking if you’re ok. His touch is so gentle, but you’re confused when he slowly pries you off his cock and stands you up. You’re about to take off your bralette when he shakes his head and tsks. 

“I need something to hold onto, don’t I?”

You’re unable to answer as he presses a hot, messy kiss against your mouth. He’s quite literally taking your breath away as he wraps his long arms around your body and his tongue prods at your lips. He needs to taste you. He meant to not just enjoy you…but to know you. To know how you like…no…how you need to be kissed. And where you like to be kissed. It’s not enough to kiss you where “everyone wants to be kissed” like your neck and collarbone…he needs to map it out. No one will ever know this body like he does. It’s like his brain has shut down. He doesn’t remember pushing you to the bed and  lowering himself to the floor on his knees as he took off your sweats and panties. But he’s fully lucid when he, without preamble, delicately presses his tongue against your heat for the first time. The sound that comes out of you…my god. He wonders to himself if you’d ever record yourself cumming for him or even let him make a little video sometime. Better yet…he’d just have you every night. 

But that takes time and that’s what he’s doing right now. His tongue is tracing slow circles around your clit as he commits this moment to memory. The feeling of your fingers playing with his hair excites him, makes him feel giddy. He moans softly against your little sweet as he brings it into his mouth. It becomes very clear after a while that he’s chasing your orgasms along with you. 

When he pulls away, he’s  all starry eyed and a little giggly. “Oh…you are divine. Can I do more?”

All you can let out is a pathetic whimper as you catch your breath. He looms over you, wiping you off his mouth. “Can I get your verbal consent, angel?” 

“Please. Yes…please…” you get out as your core aches to feel anything from him again. 

“Look at you. You’ve got a little pulse down there, good girl.” He lets his fingers trace your throbbing clit, but there’s no relief. You whine against his touch. “Made you feel good, huh? Tell me something…how badly do you want to get fucked?”

You whimper softly and roll over onto your tummy for him. No words from you are required when Vessel whispers soft encouragements and makes sure you’re comfy before teasing your cunt one last time with his fingers. “Just put it in, Ves, please.” 

Vessel gently pops your bralette strap against your back and chuckles at your impatience. “No warm up? I didn’t think you’d be this much fun.” Your front lifts from the bed as you moan into the bed, but Vessel smooths his hand down your back.“I know….I know. Just breathe, baby. Open your legs for me a bit more.” He runs his hands along your thighs and presses them into his bed. Like he said he would, he grasps the band of your bralette with one hand as he starts to fuck you. The stretch and feeling of him stroking you from the inside makes you cry out. You realize momentarily who’s fucking you…who’s making you cum. The forbidden idea that the energy between you two could spark both anger and the most palpable lust you’ve ever felt makes you press back against him harder. “Oh there she is,” Vessel grunts out as he lands a sharp spank on your ass. And another.

“Ffffuck. Ag…again. Please.”

“You like that?” Spank. “Such a sweetheart for me.” Spank. “You feel so fucking good…” 

Your head feels fuzzy as his hands melt into your soft skin and his moans become higher pitched. More desperate. He’s saying your name. He’s cumming for you. 

𓍯𓂃

You’re getting in late from a girls night out. It’s unsurprising that the house is dark, but you can hear whatever video game Vessel is playing…and sounding like he’s about to rage quit. His back is to you as he’s hunched over on the couch.

“Ves….” A beat. “VES! Turn that down…or off, preferably,” you huff.

“Tsk yes, mum,” he says smartly, turning the game off and tossing the controller. He wants to be grumpy…but there you were, settling in his lap…in that fucking…emerald…dress. He puts his forehead to your chest and presses sweet little kisses onto it. “Welcome home, angel.”  No, roommates don’t have to be friends.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Sixteen: Wishful Thinking

Chapter WC: 10,811

Chapter Tags/Warnings: minor blood/wound care, major grief/mourning themes

A/N: A lot going on in this one, but I couldn’t stand to break it into two chapters. This is one of the heaviest chapters so far, but also one of the sweetest. Hopefully that makes up for it somewhat!

And just getting it out now that I don’t plan on talking about Satine much in this fic, so please don’t set your hopes too high lol.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

You’ve never met Duchess Satine Kryze, but she must be a beautiful and formidable woman to have such a hold on Obi-Wan after all these years.

He's always spoken of her with the utmost respect and detachment, but you can sense the truth that lies beneath. It doesn’t surprise you that he's the one who has been sent to Mandalore in the wake of the attack on a Republic cruiser by a Mandalorian saboteur, leaving you in command of the 212th.

It does, however, annoy you.

Though, not in the way you expect. In your youth, you were jealous of her, the thought of Obi-Wan being with another woman had caused an ugly, green-eyed monster to rear its head within you. As time has passed, and especially since your conversation in the gardens, that feeling has faded. Replaced by something else entirely.

Concern.

You've had a bad feeling about the situation on Mandalore ever since Obi-Wan told you about his assignment, and it's one that's been difficult to let go of. Obi-Wan is a good man, an excellent General, a brilliant tactician and negotiator. But as his history with the Duchess, and yourself, has proven, his ability to remain objective when it comes to the safety and welfare of those close to him is sorely lacking.

Your worry is compounded by the fact that the 212th is being called into action. A force of Separatist droids has sprouted up like weeds on Null, a short jump from Mandalore, and the Third Army is being sent to deal with them. As a Jedi, you can't ignore the call to arms, but as a friend, you're hesitant to leave Obi-Wan without the support of the 212th. You can only hope that he will have the clarity of mind to focus on the bigger picture, rather than the smaller, more personal details.

Not that you were unfamiliar with such distractions.

Null is a lush planet, filled with dense tropical forests and dramatic mountain ranges. It's also the home of one of Dooku's many retreats, an extravagant manor built into the side of a mountain, with a sprawling view of the valley and city below. A city that's now crawling with battle droids. An orbital bombardment is out of the question, and the Separatist defenses are proving difficult to penetrate.

So, instead of a quick, clean victory, it's going to be a messy, bloody slog.

You sigh and look down at the tactical display, your brow furrowed. You'd woken early this morning, arriving to the strategy room long before everyone else, and you've spent the past few hours pouring over the reports, trying to come up with a plan of attack. And a plan for how you can get inside the castle and deal with Dooku once and for all.

Yaddle's message is still fresh in your mind, her voice still ringing in your ears. Her words are still etched into your heart. You know what you have to do, and the temptation to do so is growing with each passing day. With each new casualty. With each loss.

But there's still the war to contend with, as well as the possibility of failure. If you attempt to go after Dooku and fail, if he gets the upper hand and kills you, the galaxy will lose a Jedi Master. And if you manage to kill him and survive, you will lose the moral high ground. The Order could brand you a murderer, and that would spell the end for your career, your life, and your friendships. There would be no going back.

No, it's not worth the risk.

At least, not yet.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door slide open behind you, nor do you hear the footsteps approaching. It isn't until Rex clears his throat that you realize he's standing behind you.

You don’t startle, and it should surprise you, but it doesn’t. You're too used to Rex's presence by now, the warmth of his energy in the Force as familiar as the sun rising over Coruscant each morning, and the normal tension that comes with someone stepping into your space is absent. Instead, a sense of calm washes over you. 

Your shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You don't turn around, not yet. You continue staring at the hologram of the valley, letting the feeling settle in.

It's strange. You'd expected this closeness between the two of you to fade once you'd returned to Coruscant. But it hasn't. If anything, it's grown stronger, and it's no longer something that only occurs in the safety of an empty meadow or a darkened hallway, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Council and the GAR. Now, it's everywhere. In every moment. No matter what the two of you are doing.

You've tried not to read too much into it, tried not to dwell on the implications. But deep down, you know the truth. Rex isn't just a distraction. He's something else, something more.

But you're not ready to admit that. Not yet.

But that doesn't mean that you're not happy to see him.

"Good morning, Rex," you greet him, a hint of amusement in your tone, and you move your fingers across the display, changing the angle of the hologram. "Come to save me from myself?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asks. His voice is low, his tone teasing. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Don't tell me you were trying to sneak up on me," you tease, glancing over your shoulder and giving him a wry smile.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten what happened the last time I tried."

You smirk, remembering the incident on Felucia. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were holding him at the end of your blade, your eyes locked on his. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now, but the memory still stings. You can still see mark on his pauldron under the layers of blue paint, a reminder of your recklessness, your paranoia.

"Neither have I," you mutter, and then you turn back to the hologram, tilting your head and studying the display. "What brings you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I’m always the first one here," Rex says. He steps around to the side of the holotable, leaning against the edge. His head tilts as he regards you, his hands behind his back, and his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I've had a lot on my mind," you admit with a sigh.

A slight frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the table between the two of you, before returning to yours.

"Anything I can help with?" he offers. "Or, are you just trying to show the rest of us up by coming up with the perfect plan before anyone else arrives?"

You chuckle and shake your head, the corner of your mouth turning upwards. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid."

"I see," he replies, and a hint of disappointment flashes across his face, before vanishing. He nods at the holotable, and then, hesitates. "Do you...do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. Clear your head."

You pause, considering his offer, and then, decide against it. You can't bring yourself to tell him about Yaddle, about what she said, not yet. Not when the wound is still so raw, so fresh. And while Rex is an exceptional listener, and you know he would offer his full support, you're not ready. Not for the conversation that will inevitably follow. 

So, instead, you give him a grateful smile and shake your head. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Alright," he concedes, though he looks unconvinced. 

You're grateful for it. You appreciate his understanding, his willingness to respect your boundaries. It's a relief, really. There's no awkwardness or discomfort. It's natural. Easy. And that's something you've rarely found outside the Jedi Order. Or inside it.

"Well, hopefully this helps, then." 

Rex moves his hand from behind his back and reveals a paper cup with a lid. Steam wafts from the opening, and you immediately recognize the scent of fresh caf. You perk up, your eyes widening.

"Is that...?"

"Freshly brewed?" he finishes as he sets it on the holotable in front of you. "Yep."

“For me?” you ask, even as you reach for it, wrapping your hands around the cup and reveling in the heat. You lift the cup to your nose and inhale deeply, the smell sending a shiver down your spine. “Really?”

Rex chuckles and shrugs, lifting up his own cup to his mouth. “Oh, well I was going to give it to Cody, but…”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, and he smirks before taking a sip, the teasing glint in his eyes telling you he's enjoying your reaction. You roll your eyes, and a soft laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks warming.

“But you like me more?” you challenge, and Rex snorts, nearly spilling his caf. He covers his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head at you as you raise an eyebrow at him. "That's what you're going to say, right?"

"Yeah," he rasps, clearing his throat. He sets his cup on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure. That."

"Good," you say, smiling sweetly at him. You raise your cup to him in a salute. "Because I like you more than Cody, too."

“I heard that.” 

You both straighten and turn as Cody strides into the room, a datapad in his hand, and the two of you exchange a sheepish look. You feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach, and Rex lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Cody raises his eyebrow as he walks around the holotable, glancing between the two of you. He looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head, his expression softening, and he turns to the display.

"What are we looking at?" he asks.

"A nest," Rex replies, his voice gruff, and he crosses his arms over his chest, any trace of amusement gone.

You're surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, and a part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the other part, the one that's still slightly worried about being caught fraternizing, even if it's Cody, stops you. Instead, you nudge Rex with your elbow, giving him one last smile before you go over to stand beside the commander.

As you move, you take the first sip of your caf. You brace yourself for the bitter taste, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it tastes almost exactly like how you prefer to prepare it for yourself. You can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes you, and you eagerly take another sip.

Rex watches you from the corner of his eye, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, before turning back to the display.

Cody doesn't miss the exchange. His eyebrows raise, a curious look on his face, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points to the map on the holotable.

"So, a nest, huh?" he asks. "And what kind of bird are we hunting?"

"A Krayt dragon," Rex says, and you snort, earning a glare from the captain. He huffs and continues, "A squadron of vulture droids, most likely from Count Dooku's estate, launched an attack on the nearby city and decimated the local forces. They're holed up in the surrounding mountains, and they're not giving up easily."

"Dooku's estate, you said," Cody repeats, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "We'll have to deal with that later."

"Yes, we will," you mutter. He hums in return, and the three of you stand in silence, studying the display. The battle droids are well fortified, their numbers impressive, and you have a feeling that it's going to be a difficult fight.

You take another sip of your caf, savoring the rich flavor, and the caffeine courses through your veins, sending a jolt of energy through your body. It's enough to wake you up and sharpen your focus, and you can't help but smile. You look over at Rex and nod, mouthing a silent 'thank you'.

He ducks his head and turns away, but you can see the color rising in his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his hand to his face, scratching the back of his head, and you have to stifle a laugh.

The doors slide open, and Anakin and the rest of the battalion's commanding officers file in, filling the room with a low murmur of voices. As they take their places around the holotable, Rex ends up next to you again. 

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his mouth barely moving. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the map, but his arm brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hide your smile behind your cup, warmth blooming in your chest, and you take a moment to bask in the sensation before you shift, putting some distance between the two of you. The last thing you need is for someone else to notice the tension between the two of you, especially now that the room is full.

You're not ready to explain this...whatever it is, to anyone.

"Alright, everyone," Anakin calls, clapping his hands together. He steps forward and leans over the holotable, examining the map. "Let's get started."

The meeting passes quickly, and before long, the two of you are walking side by side through the corridors toward the hangar bay. The troops have already begun boarding the transport ships, and the hum of engines fills the air. Rex is at ease, his stride relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. You, on the other hand, are anything but.

Your feet are dragging, a heaviness weighing on your shoulders that grows with every step. You're exhausted, and the thought of another battle, another confrontation, makes you want to curl up and sleep for days. The stress is beginning to wear on you, and the lack of a good night's sleep isn't helping. 

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is your chance. That this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. To finally confront Dooku.

"So," Rex begins slowly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any way I can convince you not to go on this mission?"

You huff a laugh, and you shake your head. "I wish."

"I had a feeling," he sighs, and his gaze returns to the corridor ahead. "You have that look on your face. Like you're ready to jump out of an airlock."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," he tells you. He stops, turning to face you, and he rests his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes gently, and you find yourself leaning into it, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your collarbone as he leans forward, his gaze softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him, and a half-smile tugs at your lips. "Don't worry about me."

"You say that," he chuckles, his tone rueful, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. His eyes search yours, and the humor fades. "But I do. And I know something's wrong."

"I..." You start, but stop, biting your lip. You take a deep breath and look away, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me the truth," he says gently. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze. "What's going on? Are you...is it the nightmares?"

"It's not that," you sigh, and you rub the back of your neck, your eyes drifting towards the floor. 

You don't want to lie to him, not anymore, but you're not sure what to say. The truth is, it's more than just the nightmares. It's everything. The war, the Order, your past, your future. You've been struggling with it all, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together. To maintain control. To hide your emotions. To ignore the growing desire for justice, vengeance, satisfaction. 

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. "It's just...a lot."

"Yeah," he nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and then clears his throat. "Can I...is there anything I can do?"

"Not this time," you answer, a sad smile on your face. "But thank you."

"Alright," he sighs, resigned. Rex drops his hand and looks around, taking in the bustle of the hangar bay. His eyes linger on the transport ships, a distant look on his face. "You think we have a chance?"

"At taking out the vulture droids or taking out Dooku?" you ask, and his gaze returns to you. He offers you a wry grin.

"Either. Both."

You shrug. "I think we'll be fine. As long as we stick to the plan and work together, we should have no problem destroying the droids. As for Dooku..."

"Yeah, that's the hard part, isn't it?" he chuckles, and you nod, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small smile.

"It is," you agree. "But with a little luck, we might be able to capture him."

"Right," he says, rolling his eyes. "Luck."

"Well, we have to stay positive, don't we?" you tease, nudging his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head, and the two of you share a smile. It fades quickly, however, replaced by a somber expression.

He glances around, making sure no one's paying attention, before stepping closer. His gaze meets yours, and there's a seriousness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating, before trying again.

"What would you do if we did?" he asks quietly. "If we had him."

"I..." you start, but then trail off, considering the question. You don't have an answer. Not one you can speak aloud. There are so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings, swirling inside you, and it's hard to separate them. To pick out the right ones. The good ones. The ones that matter.

But underneath all of that, buried beneath the surface, is something else. A burning desire for revenge. For justice. And it's a desire that you're struggling to contain, to control. Every day, it grows stronger, demanding release, demanding action And every day, you deny it. Ignore it. Push it down. But it never goes away. Never disappears.

And it's becoming harder and harder to keep it in check.

Now, you're afraid that if you do catch Dooku, you won't be able to hold back. That you'll lash out and do something terrible, something unforgivable.

You've never admitted that to anyone, not even Obi-Wan. You know he's under the impression that you've released most of the darkest parts of yourself into the Force, but that's far from the truth. You can't help it. You're only human, after all. 

And like any other human, you're capable of horrible, terrible, things. You know that better than most.

 But Rex...he might understand. He's seen first-hand what Dooku is capable of, the pain he's caused. If anyone could understand, it would be him.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and he stares back, his expression solemn, his brow furrowed. He doesn't pressure you, doesn't push, just waits patiently, giving you time.

"I don't know," you finally answer, and the lie burns your tongue, the words coming out thick and heavy. You swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You can tell me," he says softly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

There's an awkward silence between the two of you, and you stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. You can sense his eyes on you, and the intensity makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a chill runs down your spine. You cross your arms, rubbing your palms up and down your sleeves.

"Just..." 

You take a shaky breath and raise your head, meeting his gaze. His expression is gentle, kind, and it helps. It gives you the courage to continue.

"Just stay close to me, okay?" you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat and force a smile, and it hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest is tight, your throat dry. "Please."

Rex's frown deepens, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Rex! Where are you? We're ready to launch!"

He sighs and looks away, running a hand over his head. "I gotta go."

"I know," you tell him, swallowing past the lump your throat. You take a step forward and reach for him, resting your hand on his arm. "Be careful out there, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

He scoffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looks down at you. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," you tease.

"I'm always careful," he retorts, and the two of you exchange a knowing look. You squeeze his arm and let go, stepping back, and his eyes linger on yours.

"Rex!" the voice calls again, more insistent.

"Go," you say. "Before Fives comes looking for you."

Rex smirks, and then gives you a nod. He turns and strides down the hall, and you watch him go, your heart aching, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

You can't name it, can't put a word to it. It's not quite worry, not quite fear, not quite sadness. But it's all of those things, and more. A feeling of loss, maybe. Or regret. Or guilt.

Rex reaches the end of the corridor, and he turns, glancing back at you. You give him a small wave, forcing a smile, and his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours. Then, he turns, and he's gone.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.

Dread.

The feeling is dread.

Null, 21 BBY

An explosion rattles the ground beneath your feet, and you dive for cover, the deafening sound of blaster fire echoing around you. You roll behind a pile of rubble and lean against the stone, catching your breath. Across the dust-filled courtyard, Rex is hunkered down behind a broken statue, his blasters in his hands.

You lock eyes with him and he nods, holding up his hand, the signal to wait. You nod back and turn, peering around the edge of the stones, looking for an opening. The courtyard is crawling with battle droids, their laser fire tearing through the air, and it's impossible to tell where the droids end and the Republic troops begin.

A clone runs past, his armor streaked with blood, and a battle droid lunges out of the smoke, grabbing him. You reach out, calling upon the Force, and the droid flies through the air, slamming into a wall. The clone stares at you, and then nods, rushing back into the fray.

Another explosion rocks the courtyard, and the ground trembles, chunks of stone and dirt falling from the sky. You grit your teeth and push off the ground, leaping to the top of the rubble, your lightsabers igniting. A storm of bolts comes flying at you, and you deflect them, sending them back at the droids.

"General!"

You glance over your shoulder, and a squad of clones come running towards you, their weapons raised. They're led by Waxer, and they're covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

"Waxer, nice of you to finally join us," you shout, and the clones laugh, ducking behind the debris.

"Well, we couldn't leave our General hanging, now could we?" he retorts. He peers around the stones, scanning the courtyard, and then looks back at you. "Commander said you were having a rough time, thought we could give you a hand."

"How kind of him," you deadpan. You jump off the rocks, landing next to the clones, and you take a deep breath, letting the Force flow through you. Your skin tingles, and your muscles tense. The world around you slows to a standstill as your heart beats faster, pounding against your chest. You can see every detail, every movement, every particle.

"Any sign of Dooku?" Waxer asks.

You grit your teeth. The Force ripples around you, telling you what you already suspected from the moment you landed on Null. Dooku is gone, if he ever was here. Another lie. Another dead end. Another wasted opportunity.

"He's not here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," you grunt, and everything comes rushing back. The sound, the smell, the taste of smoke and blood and sweat. It's overwhelming, but it's familiar, and your senses adjust quickly, settling back into their normal rhythm. "Looks like this is a vacation home, not a military base."

"Great," he sighs. He raises his blaster and fires, taking out a pair of battle droids before ducking back behind cover. "Well, at least the vultures are taken care of."

"That's one good thing, I guess." You crouch beside him, your brow furrowed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. "Now, we just have to clean up this mess."

Rex darts across the courtyard, his blasters firing, and a stream of red light follows his movements. He slides to a stop beside you, and he leans against the rubble, his chest heaving. His helmet tilts towards you, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good to see you, General," he pants.

"You, too," you reply, giving him a tired smile.

"Did we miss anything?"

"Not really," Waxer tells him. "We were just about to start mopping up."

The three of you look over at the troopers now pouring into the courtyard in a sea of blue and orange, their numbers quickly overwhelming the droids. It's a chaotic scene, with blaster bolts flying through the air and smoke filling the space, but the tide has clearly turned in the Republic's favor.

"Come on, then," you say, and you rise, stretching. Your muscles ache, and your knees protest, but you ignore them. "Let's get this done."

You turn and lead the way, jumping into the fray.  Within minutes, the last of the battle droids fall, their smoking corpses littering the ground. You stand in the middle of the carnage, surveying the damage. There are scorch marks everywhere, bodies strewn across the stones, pieces of broken droids scattered about.

It's a mess, but it could have been worse.

Much worse.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You deactivate your lightsabers and tuck them into your belt, a weary smile on your face. It's over. Finally. You'd been fighting for hours, and you're ready to rest.

"Good work, everyone," you call out, raising your voice so it can be heard above the din. "I think we're done here."

There's a loud cheer, and the troops start gathering their gear, cleaning up the battlefield. Rex approaches you, and the two of you stand together, watching the men work.

Rex lets out a loud sigh, and he takes his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his brow. His blond hair is matted with dirt, and his face is covered in grime. He glances over at you, and his eyes crinkle with a tired smile.

"Well, that was a fun morning," he chuckles, and the clones in the near vicinity laugh at the quip. Waxer gives him a good-natured slap on the back as he walks by, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," you retort, and his smile widens.

He turns and gestures to the castle looming in the distance. "Do we still want to take a look around?"

"We might as well," you say, shrugging. "It's not like we're going to get a chance like this again."

Rex nods and pulls out his commlink, tapping a button. A voice crackles to life, and he begins issuing orders, the clones splitting off into teams and heading towards the estate. He watches them go, and then he looks over at you, nodding.

"Ready when you are."

You take a deep breath and begin walking, Rex falling into step beside you. The estate is sprawling, a series of towers and spires rising up from the valley floor. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, and you can see turrets peeking out from the battlements. You've never seen a more dreary, impenetrable fortress.

The main doors are open, and a squad is standing guard, their weapons raised. As you draw nearer to the entrance, a sense of anticipation settles over you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

Your hand drifts towards your lightsaber, and your fingers tighten around the hilt. You can sense something, but you can't put your finger on it. An energy, an electricity, a presence, but it's faint, just out of reach. Something inside you wants to run, either away or toward, and you can't tell which.

You hear a grunt beside you, and you glance at Rex. His face is pinched, and for the first time you notice him limping, his left leg dragging a bit behind his right. Concern flares inside you, and you stop, turning towards him.

"You're hurt," you accuse, and his eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is strained, and the pain is clear in his eyes. You shake your head and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. Whatever is behind those doors can wait.

"Rex, what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Just a little bruised," he admits. 

You arch an eyebrow, gesturing to his leg. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insists. "I'll be fine."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You step closer and lean forward into his space, looking into his eyes. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks reddening, and you narrow your eyes, sensing the truth. "Rex."

"What?" he grumbles.

"You should see a medic."

"I will," he promises, and his eyes dart over to the others, before returning to yours. "Later."

"Liar," you grin, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes.

The two of you watch as the troopers file into the estate, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, he lets out a breath and looks at you, the tension in his body easing. You're grateful for the quiet, the stillness, the opportunity to collect yourself.

But it's also a relief to have him all to yourself, without the constant pressure of the others, the expectations and attention. And you can tell he feels the same.

"I am a liar," he admits sheepishly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile spreading across his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you tease, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sit down. I'll take a look at it."

"You don't have to," he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

"No arguing. Sit."

Rex grumbles but does as you say, letting you lead him over to the half-shattered fountain in the center of the courtyard, the water long gone. He lowers himself to the ground, hissing in pain, and you kneel beside him. Together, you remove the armor from his leg, setting it aside. The fabric of his bodysuit is torn, and underneath is a nasty-looking gash, a mixture of dirt and dried blood caking his skin.

You bite your lip, worry bubbling inside you. You've seen worse, much worse, but there's something about seeing him hurt that makes your heart clench. You know you're being irrational, that the injury isn't serious, and that the medics will be able to treat him. Still, it hurts. To see him in pain. To feel his pain.

"It's not that bad," he mutters. He's looking down at you, his brow furrowed, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Honest."

"Uh huh," you say, unconvinced, and he huffs a laugh. You reach out, tentatively, your hand hovering over his leg. "This might sting."

"I can handle it," he tells you. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked grin. "Probably."

You roll your eyes and move your hand closer, your fingers gently brushing the swollen skin. Rex sucks in a breath through his teeth, and you wince as you're hit with a jolt of his pain, sharp and sudden.

You breathe deep, steadying yourself, and then you press your hand fully against the wound, letting the Force flow through you into him.

You're far from adept in the healing arts, one of many weaknesses in your skill set, and you're no healer, but you can do this much. It's not a particularly complex injury. The tissue needs to be repaired, the pain reduced, and if you syphon some of your own energy, it's not as difficult as it seems. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Still, it's not easy. The injury is larger than you thought, and the pain is intense. Rex tenses underneath your touch, his leg twitching, and you can hear his teeth grinding. His jaw is clenched so tightly, you fear his teeth might crack. You blindly reach up with your opposite hand and rest it on his knee, trying to steady him.

"Easy," you murmur. His hand settles on top of yours, your fingers intwining. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "Almost done. Just breathe."

"Right," he says, his voice strained. He lets out a shaky breath and nods. "Keep going."

You let out a breath of your own, and you continue the work, draining your energy into him. After a few more moments, the wound is closed, the pain reduced, and you withdraw your hand, pulling back the fabric to examine the newly healed skin. It's a little pink and raw, but it'll do. He'll need proper medical attention, but for now, it'll keep him on his feet.

"There," you say, and Rex lets out a soft groan, the tension in his body fading. He looks down at the wound, and he turns his leg side to side, admiring your handiwork. "Good as new."

"Wow," he breathes. "That's...impressive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great, aren't I?" you tease.

"Yeah," he nods. His hand is still holding yours, his fingers lightly tracing your knuckles. "You are."

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and your cheeks warm, your heart skipping a beat. You swallow hard, and you give him a weak smile, trying not to read too much into his words.

"Thanks," you murmur. You let go of his hand and sit back, and he sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. You shift under his gaze, unsure of what to do, or say, and then, his expression changes, his head tilting.

"Why don't you do that more often?" he asks, and you frown, confused. He gestures to his leg. "Heal."

"Oh," you reply, just as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. You try to suppress a yawn and fail. "It's not something I like to advertise. I'd rather not burn myself out."

Rex raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You hesitate, biting your lip. It's not something you're proud of, and it's not something you talk about often, but for some reason, you feel compelled to share.

"I'm not particularly skilled in the healing arts," you admit. You look away, your brow furrowing. "Some can draw on the Living Force, use its power to heal others. I can't."

"But you did just now," he points out carefully.

"I did," you acknowledge, and a wry smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You turn and meet his gaze. "But it took a lot out of me, and I don't mean that metaphorically. If I'm not careful, if I'm not prepared, it could kill me."

Rex's eyes widen, and a look of panic flashes across his face. His hands clench into fists, and he shakes his head, scowling.

"Don't ever do that," he orders, and you chuckle. "Seriously. Don't. Not for me."

"If I didn't, you would have been laid up in the infirmary for a week," you tell him, trying to sound casual, but your tone is anything but. Your words come out more harshly than intended, a bit more bitter. "Besides, I wanted to. You're worth it."

Rex stares at you, stunned, a flicker of something passing over his features. Surprise? Confusion? A hint of fear? You're not sure, but it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your gut. You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"You shouldn't have," he tells you, shaking his head. "You could have-"

"But I didn't," you interrupt, and he sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. You stand and brush the dirt and debris from your robes, clearing your throat. "And if you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll deny it. Got it?"

Rex snorts, the scowl vanishing, and slowly rises to his feet, testing his weight on his injured leg. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, his neck cracking, and then he nods. "Got it."

"Good," you huff. 

You watch as he reattaches his armor, your arms crossed over your chest. He seems to have forgotten about the estate, about the mission, his mind on other things. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes distant, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. Whether or not he's upset with you. With himself.

You know you've worried him, that he's afraid of what might have happened, but you don't regret it. Not one bit. He needed your help, and you gave it. It's as simple as that. Besides, you're a Jedi, aren't you? Isn't this what the Order teaches? That compassion and generosity are the most important aspects of your duty, your life?

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your head, a voice telling you that what you did was selfish. That you did it for yourself, not for him. That you did it because you care about him, because you can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

And, the truth is, it is. It is selfish, it is reckless. 

You're not a healer, not really. You don't know how to channel the Living Force, how to heal the wounded, or cure the sick. You only know how to take, how to absorb the pain and suffering of others and give something of yourself in return, and you've never done more than a handful of healing sessions in your life. You're a warrior, not a physician. 

And yet, here you are, playing medic, because it's Rex. Because you can't help yourself.

Rex finishes buckling his armor and looks at you, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, and a moment passes between the two of you. An understanding. A realization. Something is changing, something fundamental, and neither of you knows what to do about it. But you don't need to. Not yet.

"Listen," he starts, his voice soft. "I—"

"Sir!"

The two of you flinch, startled, and you turn towards the source of the voice, your hand drifting towards your lightsaber. Fives and Echo are jogging across the courtyard, their blasters raised. You relax, and Rex lets out a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"Yes?" he calls.

"General," Fives pants, and he skids to a stop, his helmet under his arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we found something."

"What is it?" Rex asks, frowning. 

Fives glances at you, and a grim expression settles on his face. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"It's...just come see."

Rex nods, and he gestures for Fives to lead the way. The trooper hurries off, and you follow, Rex at your side. The four of you weave through the rubble toward the castle, Fives and Echo in the lead, Rex and you a few steps behind. You feel a chill creep up your spine, a sense of unease filling you, and your hand rests on your lightsaber, your thumb brushing against the hilt.

As the doors loom overhead, Rex looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. You shake your head, a silent warning, and he nods, his expression hardening.

Whatever it is, it's not good.

You pass through the archway and into the darkened hall. The interior is massive, a high vaulted ceiling overhead, with ornate columns rising from the floor to the roof. The walls are lined with marble, and the floor is polished black stone. There are statues lining the walls, and they look like they were once pristine, but now they're covered in soot, and chunks of the ceiling have fallen, smashing the art. The place smells like smoke and death.

"This way," Echo says, gesturing to the left. The group turns and heads down the hallway, your footsteps echoing around you.

As you move deeper into the castle, the air becomes thicker, the smell of smoke and dust growing stronger. The hallways narrow, and the walls become rougher, the marble replaced by stone. Torches flicker along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Your uneasiness only compounds the further you walk, and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You're starting to feel sick, the sensation only growing stronger with each step.

You glance over at Rex to find him already watching you, his brow furrowed. He slows, letting the others get a few paces ahead, and he leans towards you, his voice low.

"What is it?" he asks. "Do you sense something?"

"I do," you whisper. You rub your temples, your eyes drifting closed. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's..."

"What?" he prompts.

"Dark," you say. "Very dark."

"Shit," he breathes. His hand reaches out, hovering near your shoulder, as if he wants to comfort you, but he hesitates. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," you murmur. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," he says, though the worry remains in his eyes. He steps back, putting a little distance between the two of you, and he nods towards the others. "Let's catch up."

You nod, and the two of you resume walking, following the clones through the gloom. The air is getting colder, the scent of smoke growing stronger, and you can hear a low hissing sound, like gas escaping from a broken pipe. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it. Whatever it is, whatever is making you feel so ill, it's coming from up ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the four of you come to a stop outside a massive wooden door, and Fives looks back at Rex, gesturing towards the handle. The captain nods, and the trooper takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you answer, and the three of them chuckle, the sound echoing around you.

Fives nods and pulls the door open, and a wave of cold air rushes out, blowing through your hair and making the torches flicker. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, and a lump forms in your throat.

There's a long, winding staircase leading down into the darkness. The walls are covered in soot, and the stones are slick with ice. The air is frigid, and your breath mists in front of your face. You can hear the sound of dripping water, and the scent of dampness and decay fills the air.

"I don't like this," Fives mutters, and Echo grunts in agreement.

Rex looks over at you, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, General?"

"It's creepy as hell," you deadpan.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckles, and he steps forward, placing his foot on the first step. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

You follow him into the stairwell, and the rest of the squad falls in line behind you, the four of you descending into the darkness. The light from the torches quickly fades, and the only sound is the scrape of your boots against the ice-covered stone, and the occasional drip of water.

The further you go, the worse the feeling gets, and the air grows colder, the smell of rotting wood and mold invading your nose. You feel like you can't breathe, like there's a hand gripping your throat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"You sure you're alright?" Rex asks quietly. He doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the steps, his fingers gripping the railing.

"No," you murmur, and he frowns, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"Not unless you do," you reply. "It's just..."

"Yeah," he agrees, nodding.

The stairs eventually level out, and the path opens into a cavernous chamber, the ceiling soaring high above your head. The walls are covered in stalactites, and the ground is slick with ice. You can't see beyond your hand, and you stumble forward, your foot sliding out from under you.

"Easy," Rex murmurs, grabbing your arm, steadying you.

"Thanks," you grunt, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings. You draw your sabers, the yellow blades illuminating the room, and you hear the sound of the others' flashlights flicking on, the beams of light dancing around the space.

"What the hell is this place?" Fives asks. His voice is hushed, but it echoes around you, the silence deafening.

"I don't know," Rex whispers. He lets go of your arm and walks forward, his eyes scanning the room. You stay close, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. "It looks like some sort of dungeon, or..."

"A tomb," you finish, and he looks back at you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It does."

You step forward, your gaze sweeping the area. The ceiling is high, the walls covered in icicles. The ground is smooth, with a layer of ice coating it, and you can see a path leading deeper into the cavern. You feel a tug, a pull, and your pulse quickens.

"Rex," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He follows your gaze, and he sighs, his expression grim. "I know."

You nod and begin moving forward, the others falling in line behind you. Your footsteps are muffled by the ice, and the air grows colder, a chill settling over the room. The light from your sabers doesn't seem to reach the walls, and the darkness presses in on you, like a living, breathing thing.

"General," Echo says, his voice low. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, and the three clones let out a chorus of sighs. You turn and look back at them, arching an eyebrow. "If it is, it's not a very good one."

"True," Fives agrees. "Maybe Dooku isn't as smart as we thought."

"Or, maybe he's playing a different game," Rex says, his tone grim. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on yours. "Just...be ready."

"Always," you assure him.

You continue through the cave, the air growing colder, the ice thickening beneath your feet. The path twists and turns, and the ceiling lowers, until you have to duck to avoid the icicles hanging above.

Finally, the path opens into another large chamber, and you come to a stop, taking in the sight before you. The ground is littered with debris, chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the space. A row of unlit torches lines the walls, and you can see a series of steps leading down into the center of the room, the ground cracked and broken.

And there, in the middle of the chaos, is a pedestal.

You frown, stepping forward. There's something on top of the pedestal, but it's too far away to see clearly. You reach the edge of the broken ground, and you stop, peering down.

"What is that?" you murmur.

Rex comes up beside you, his brow furrowed. "Looks like a...box."

Your blood runs cold, and you turn, your hand twisting. The torches ignite, filling the room with light, and you see the box, the ornate wood gleaming in the torchlight. Its surface is scorched and dented, and it's covered in ash, but there's no mistaking it.

"Get out," you say, your voice hoarse.

"What?" Fives asks. "But we—"

"Get out!" you shout, and they flinch, stumbling backwards. "Now!"

Rex hesitates, his eyes darting from the box to your face, and you stare at him, your hands clenched into fists, the blood roaring in your ears. After a moment, he nods, and he raises his hand, signaling the others to fall back.

"Yes, sir," Fives murmurs, and he turns and begins marching back the way you came. Echo gives you a long look, his eyes lingering on yours, and then he, too, retreats. Rex doesn't move, and you turn, glaring at him.

"Go," you order.

"You told me to stay close to you, remember?" he retorts, and his voice is laced with anger, his jaw clenched. "Well, I am. And I'm not leaving."

You sigh, a headache building behind your eyes, and you shake your head. "Rex, I—"

"No," he growls. "Don't. Don't push me away."

"It's not—"

"You're not going through this alone."

"But—"

"I don't care."

His voice echoes around the chamber, and you swallow hard, the air rushing from your lungs. You stare at him, at his unwavering determination, his absolute refusal to back down, and a part of you wants to push him, wants to shove him away and send him back to the others. He's disobeying your orders, he's questioning your authority, and you should be angry. You should be furious.

But instead, you feel relieved.

You turn back towards the pedestal, the box gleaming in the flickering light, and a cold weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

"Alright," you sigh, deactivating your sabers and shoving them into their holsters. "Fine."

Rex's expression softens, and he reaches for you, his hand settling on your shoulder. You lean into him, his warmth comforting, and he squeezes gently.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, and the two of you begin the descent, slowly making your way down the broken path. The ground is slick with ice, and your feet slide a few times, Rex's grip on your shoulder tightening to keep you from falling. You finally reach the bottom, and you approach the pedestal, a lump forming in your throat.

You stand over the box, and you run your fingers along the surface. It's warm, and there's a faint vibration, the Force humming with energy.

"What is it?" Rex asks, his voice quiet.

"It's..." You trail off, and you swallow hard. "It's what I found when I went out that night."

He frowns, and then recognition dawns on his face, and his eyes widen. "You mean when you were attacked?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Rex is silent, and you stare at the box, a wave of emotion welling up inside you. Anger, sadness, grief. They mix together, churning in your stomach, and you clench your fists, the nails digging into your palms. You can feel the darkness swirling around you, a miasma of pain and fury, and it threatens to drown you. But you can't look away, can't turn your back.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you repeat, and the word comes out thick, the tears burning hot. "I'm sure."

"Then, it's him," Rex whispers, his voice laced with sympathy. He steps closer, his hand settling on your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Isn't it?"

"It is."

You reach out and place your hand on the lid, and the wood is smooth and cool under your fingertips. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then, with a single, smooth motion, you lift the lid. The hinges creak, the sound echoing around the chamber, and a cloud of dust swirls in the air.

The inside of the box is lined with a velvet material, the fabric faded and worn. The scrap of her robe is still there, along with the datapad, but that isn't what makes your heart seize in your chest. 

It's the lightsaber.

You recognize it immediately, the sleek, silver hilt a stark contrast against the crimson fabric. It's the same design, the same length, the same width. You've seen it a hundred times, a thousand, more than you can count. But the last time you saw it, it was in her hands, a blaze of green light. Now, it sits, cold and lifeless, and the ache inside you only grows.

And when you reach out, your fingers brushing the blade, the hum that vibrates up your arm is unmistakable. The same hum, the same vibration, the same power. Her power.

"Is that..." Rex breathes, his eyes wide.

"Yes," you choke out, the tears spilling over.

You can feel his presence behind you, his energy warm and steady. But even his strength can't shield you from the anguish that bubbles up inside you, a deep, primal wound reopening. It's a wound you've spent the past ten years ignoring, pushing aside, burying deep, but now it's tearing you apart, the pain consuming you.

Your hand encloses around the hilt, pulling it to your chest. The metal is cold, and you can feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of the kyber crystal inside, a faint echo of her Force signature. It's been so long since you've felt her presence. Since you've been able to sense her power, her wisdom, her kindness.

It's like a knife to the heart, the wound reopened, bleeding anew.

Rex's hand grips your shoulder, a comforting weight, but the sorrow is a tidal wave, drowning you. It's all too much. The memories, the guilt, the regret. They crash over you, threatening to drag you under, and a sob tears from your lips. You're falling, the darkness consuming you, the void swallowing you whole. You're spiraling out of control, the pain overwhelming, and you can't stop it, can't hold it back. All you can do is cling to the hilt, to her weapon, and hope she can forgive you.

But as you fall to your knees, Rex is there. His arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground, a cry ripping from your throat, and the two of you sink down together, your head pressed against his shoulder.

You bury your face in his neck, the tears flowing freely, your body trembling. His hand finds yours, the one holding her lightsaber, and he entwines his fingers with yours, his other arm tightening around your waist. He's whispering something, his voice soft and soothing, but you can't make out the words, can't focus on anything but the pain. And as Rex holds you, your face pressed against his neck, you let go.

You let the emotions wash over you, the grief and the agony and the remorse. You let the darkness consume you, and you let yourself feel the pain. Because this is what she would have wanted. This is what she would have told you.

To let go. To release the past. To find peace.

So, that's what you do. For the first time in ten years, you let yourself mourn.

You mourn the loss of her, the emptiness in your life, the absence of her guidance, her friendship. You mourn the future that could have been, the bond the two of you shared. The connection that was severed, the wound that will never heal.

It's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and the agony is a physical thing, clawing at your chest, tearing through your heart. It's the most intense emotion you've ever felt, and it's excruciating, but you don't pull away. You don't hide from it. Instead, you cling to Rex, his arms a steady, reassuring weight around you, and you let yourself feel it. All of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, your voice muffled against his armor. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice strained, and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you tighter against him. "It's not your fault."

"I couldn't...I wasn't...I tried to..." You can't get the words out, can't form a coherent sentence, and your head throbs, the pain blinding. "I couldn't save her."

"You did everything you could," he says. "You didn't fail her. You didn't fail anyone."

You want to believe him, to let his words soothe the ache, but the sorrow is overwhelming, the guilt crushing. And, even as you cry, a part of you feels guilty for showing him this side of you. For letting him see the weakness, the vulnerability. But the truth is, you've been weak for a long time, and he's been there every step of the way.

He's seen your worst, and yet, he's stayed.

"I miss her," you sob, the tears burning hot. "I just..."

"I know," he breathes. His cheek presses against the top of your head, his fingers stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You don't know how long you sit there in the icy cavern, Rex's arms wrapped around you. You cry until there are no tears left, until the sobs turn to hiccups, and the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths. And all the while, Rex is there, his grip never loosening, his voice never wavering.

When the last of the tears have dried, you slump against him. Your body feels heavy, drained, and the lightsaber is a dead weight in your hand, the cold metal leeching what little warmth you have left.

You lift your head, and Rex's gaze meets yours. You're surprised to see his eyes are wet too, his lashes clumped together. His nostrils flare, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. He gives you a weak smile, and you swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Thank you," you finally manage, and the words come out thick, the tears welling again. "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't expect—"

"Hey," he murmurs as his thumbs wipe away the tears, his touch gentle. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

You nod, and he pulls you against him, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you fall into another silence, your arms wrapped around each other, the lightsaber clasped tightly in your fist.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps fills the cavern, and you hear the others calling out, their voices echoing around you. Rex pulls away, and he looks over his shoulder, watching as the troopers approach. His body shields you from view, protecting your privacy, and a wave of gratitude washes over you.

"Not yet," he says, his voice stern, and the footsteps stop, hesitating. "We need a few minutes."

"General," Fives calls. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Rex answers for you.

"Are you sure? We heard crying."

"She's fine," he repeats, his voice hardening. "Just...give us a minute."

You close your eyes, exhaustion tugging at your limbs, and you rest your head on Rex's shoulder, letting the sounds of his voice soothe you. The others are talking, whispering amongst themselves, but you can't make out the words. You're not sure you want to.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but eventually, the voices grow quiet, and you hear the troopers walking away, their footsteps fading into the distance. When they're gone, you open your eyes and stare at the ground, the tears drying on your cheeks.

"You didn't tell them," you say, your voice quiet.

"No," he admits. "I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because," he murmurs. He turns, his hand reaching up, his fingers tilting your chin towards him. Your gazes meet, his eyes soft, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You deserved a moment alone to grieve. Without the others staring."

You nod, and a weak smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, the tears welling once more. He cares so much, cares more than he should, and it warms your heart despite the cold surrounding you.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out strained, your voice cracking.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. Rex lets go of your chin, his hand falling back to his side. "I wish I could do more."

"You're already doing more than enough," you tell him, and you mean it. If not for him, you would have lost yourself completely. The thought terrifies you, but also warms you. He's saved you, time and time again, without even realizing it. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have," he says, his expression earnest. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me, too," you murmur.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the faint drip of water. The air is frigid, the chill seeping into your bones, and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Come on," Rex says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to a rest on your elbow. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and you let him help you to your feet, your legs shaking. You brush the dirt and grime from your clothes, and then look down at the box, your mouth pulling into a grimace.

"I can't believe he kept it," you mutter, placing the lightsaber back inside, the scrap of fabric on top of it. The lid falls shut, a loud thump echoing around the chamber.

"I'm not surprised," Rex replies, his tone laced with bitterness. He shakes his head, a scowl on his face.  "He likes his trophies."

"He's sick," you mutter. The rage is starting to burn inside you again, the pain giving way to anger, a familiar, comforting emotion. "Do you think this was his plan all along? To lure me here?"

"Maybe," he admits, his eyes sweeping the area, his expression hardening. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have your evidence. You can finally get justice."

"Justice," you repeat. The word tastes like ash in your mouth. You shake your head, your lips pulling into a thin line. "All I want is revenge."

"Revenge won't bring her back," Rex murmurs. His hand rests on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the fabric. "You need to be smarter than that. We can't—"

"I know," you interrupt. "I know we can't."

"If it was up to me..." He trails off, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your spine.

"Yeah," you sigh. You reach out and pick up the box, the weight of it heavy in your arms. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then glance up at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Wishful thinking, right?"

"Wishful thinking," he echoes, and the two of you share a chuckle, the tension in the air easing. 

Rex looks at you, a softness in his gaze, and a strange feeling passes between the two of you, the understanding, the acceptance. This war is not about justice, it's not about peace. It's about survival, and the two of you have to fight tooth and nail just to stay alive. But the fact that he's fighting with you, the fact that he's by your side, means everything.

"Come on," he says, and he gently guides you towards the path, his hand lingering on your back.

You nod, and the two of you begin walking, your footsteps echoing around the chamber. You follow the path, Rex's presence steady at your side, and the darkness recedes, the torchlight growing brighter. You can feel the weight of the box in your arms, the pulse of the kyber crystal, the whisper of her Force signature.

Yaddle.

Your Master. Your family.

Gone.

And the one responsible, just out of reach.

But if you can make the Council listen, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring him to justice.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

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[beomboomboom]

Cockroach

genre: fluff, established relationship

pairing: idol!Joshua x reader

summary: Joshua hates cockroaches. Never in a million years would he ever be able to kill one, but thank goodness he has you to take care of that.

warnings: mentions of cockroaches, a little bit of swearing

note: Definitely not me projecting from all the times I have been absolutely terrified when I would spot cockroaches in my room 👀. I hope you enjoy reading <33

When stuck in a crisis, Joshua considers himself to be very calm and quick to problem-solve.

But when that crisis is a cockroach, all those previous statements are thrown out the window. Joshua is not calm in any way, and he is way too panicked to even have the capacity to think of a solution at that point.

"WAHHH-,"Joshua screeches as he practically leaps out of his seat and frantically runs to the other side of the room,"AHHH ITS COMING CLOSER WHAT THE HECK, GET AWAY YOU FILTHY CREATURE."

Hearing all the commotion, you quickly enter the living room to be met with a sight that makes you laugh and want to protect your boyfriend at the same time. Joshua is cowering behind a beanbag, his eyes wide with fear and hatred, as he looks over to the floor where a big brown cockroach is crawling towards him.

"SAVEMESAVEME," Joshua screams, pleading, once he catches sight of your figure in the room. Abandoning his beanbag that he was using as a barrier, he quickly rushes to your side and hides behind you, using you as a barrier instead.

"Honey, it's just a cockroach, everything will be fine. I'll kill it okay?" you reassure Joshua as you take hold of the heaviest thing closest to you—a SEVENTEEN album.

"OH YOU ARE NOT GOING TO KILL A COCKROACH WITH THAT-,"Joshua hisses while snatching the album out of your hands.

"WELL THEN WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO-."you begin to reply before getting interrupted by Joshua's screams of terror.

"'-AHHH ITS RIGHT THERE," Joshua screeches from behind as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly and digs his head into your shoulder, scared out of his mind.

"WHERE?! WHERE IS "THERE","you yell back in reply, Joshua's panic rubbing off on you. Frantically, you grab hold of the first thing you can get your hands on—a random box of crayons, as you try and locate the cockroach.

"THERE," Joshua screams again while pointing in the direction of the cockroach, which is now moving faster than ever before, probably feeling panicked because of Joshua's screams.

Smashing the box of crayons on top of the cockroach firmly, a moment of fearful silence falls upon you and Joshua.

"I-Is it dead?"Joshua questions nervously while looking over your shoulder, finally breaking the silence.

Lifting the crayon box slowly, both you and Joshua let out a sigh of relief the second you both spot the dead and smushed cockroach on the crayon box.

Defeated after the whole ordeal, Joshua flops onto his back. "You're a lifesaver, I thought I was going to die for a moment there."

You let out a laugh before rolling your eyes, "a tiny cockroach won't kill you."

Muttering a small "sure feels like it though" in reply, Joshua then gently tugs your body down so that you can lay your head on his chest.

As your head lays comfortably on Joshua's chest, Joshua can't help but notice how you and him laying together feels so warm and cozy. Sitting up, Joshua leans over your figure and presses a soft kiss onto your forehead. "I love you," he whispers with a gentle smile.

Smiling softly, you quickly reciprocate the kiss, but on the lips rather than forehead. "I love you too," you say with a laugh.

Just as Joshua is about to reconnect his lips with yours again, you gently pull away. "Joshua...I think you forgot I still have the dead cockroach in my hands"

"OH FUCK NO-, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME"

[omeumi]

sum: gn! reader skipped dinner, alhaitham shenanigans ensue.

a/n: i had testing today and its my mother's birthday lol. im posting from a salon lobby..

content: discussions of eating and skipping meals ( ! non ed related.) usage of askım, turkish equivalent of my love, because i hate ""y/n."" ♡

> it's not your fault you didn't have dinner before bed. or, it is, but that's neither here nor there. Alhaitham had gotten home late, and it slipped your mind between the pages of a book and the sun dipping below the horizon.

> after passing out on the sofa in a failed attempt to wait up for him, Alhaitham had found you that way—sleeping soundly, sunken into the divan cushions, lamp still on. his expression softens, watching you there. at peace, the both of you. so he carries you to bed, holding you kindly in his arms, and tucking you away before he prepares for bed himself.

> and now, a couple hours later, it's him who sleeps soundly instead, as he deserves to. out like a mossed log. but you're now wide awake, turning over in bed, simply starved.

> Alhaitham is quite possibly the heaviest sleeper known to man and Archon, but that doesn't stop you from being careful. stirring the sheets minimally, tiptoeing away from your love who is completely still. you linger in the doorway, eyeing him in his peaceful, effortless beauty, before wandering off to the kitchen.

> flipping a lamp on, you grab a peach from the fruit bowl. quick and easy enough. with a knife, you cut around the pit and separate it into halves. its scent floods the room, swirling like a morning fog. you take a bite from your peach, and it parts easily—soft and pleasant and sweet.

> "aşkım?" you jump at the sound of Alhaitham's voice, thick with soothing sleep. as if akin to a cat, you cannot ever hear his light, lithe footsteps. you turn. his eyes are soft, hair tousled.

"you scared me—"

> "I noticed." in the fuzzy light, you watch him approach, ever silently. "what are you doing up now?" behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

> "I didn't have dinner," you confess, and feel him eye you more intently, pressing for information. Alhaitham frowns.

"why not?"

> you shrug, before biting into a half of peach. "I was distracted.."

"by what?"

> you set the bitten half back on the plate, gaze focused there. the white ceramic, the risen patterns around its edges. the golden drops of juice in the center. you don't want him to feel bad. guilty. these things happen—time ticking by when you're both swallowed by work and responsibility.

> "you were waiting for me," he says. realizes. you nod before he sighs unmistakably, soft against the skin of your neck. it is not annoyance, not frustration, not disappointment. not disappointment in you, anyway. maybe in himself. he gives you a lingering, regretful kiss on your cheek. "i am sorry.." the syllables reside on his lips, drawing on long. it's simple, but you've never seen Alhaitham so close to not being able to find his words.

> "i was," you say, looking up at him. his sleepy, resting face—eyebrows furrowed ever-so in that adorable concern for you. "but you're here now. we're together. i'm eating." you lean in and capture his parted lips in a kiss, clumsy and tasting of peach. you pull back and he blinks, a smile curving slightly.

> "can i have a bite?"

©2023 arborio  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[jarofstyles]

Reaper 15

and they're back hehehe lots of lore in this chapter and an admittance of a secret.

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing

WC: 9.1k

Warnings: talks of drug addiction, violence, and usual reaper warnings

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

Bunny woke up in an unfamiliar house but in familiar arms. Strapped to his chest, she admired his sleeping face just a bit.

How he glowed under the morning light. It was overcast, sure, but there was enough that cast a shadow over his cheeks from his eyelashes. There was delicacy and gentleness in his features as he slept, no hit of unhappiness. He was content and calm, face relaxed to a point she hadn’t seen.

Really, he had been the softest he had ever been the night before. Kisses and cuddles and completely melting as her fingers ran through his hair. It was surprisingly smooth, the curls being wrung around her finger as she followed the curl pattern and smiled as he nuzzled into her belly like a purring kitten.

A baby lion, maybe.

They’d fallen asleep kissing, Harry quietly brushing his fingers over her features and complimenting or commenting on obscure things. Marks and a scar she’d gotten from a tussle with a coffee table.

After a little obsessing over how she had managed to see such a powerful person at their most vulnerable, she slipped downstairs in one of his sweatshirts and began to prepare a breakfast.

As much as she wanted to stay wrapped in him- she knew she had to do this for him. She hadn’t made him something for breakfast since they were at the clubhouse and it was his favorite meal.

The kitchen was a dream to work in, allowing herself to imagine this was her home. The cabinets organized just how she liked them, she had a window cracked open to let in some air, she could hear sound of bird chirping, and the coffee machine grinding beans. It was nothing short of perfect.

Harry on the other hand was not at all happy to wake up to an empty bed. Morning cuddles had become his favorite thing and when he didn’t get them? Well, he got grumpy. He had been looking forward to waking up beside her in his own bed, there was nothing that compared to the feeling. She was always so pliable, so warm and inviting, had always allowed him to nuzzle his face into whatever body part he could reach and relax into her natural scent.

Not this morning though.

At the very least he was pleased to not have woken up with any anxiety about where she could be, knowing that she was absolutely in the kitchen. The smell of breakfast seeping through the bedroom door gave it all away. Getting up, Harry made the bed and tugged on some sweats before making his way downstairs— he needed to be close to her again.

Padding down the steps, whatever leftover subconscious anxiety had left him as he heard commotion coming from the kitchen. He took his time, lazing into the kitchen where she was humming to herself.

He didn’t recognize the song, no, but he did recognize this scene. A part of his dreams. His sweatshirt hanging just past her ass, her hair piled up on her head, her hips moving to an invisible beat while she got lost in her own art. Cooking had always been her favorite thing, the multiple times she’d made dinner for her whole family including him as a younger girl reminding him of just how talented she had always been.

The only misses she ever had were very hard biscuits that one time and a few experiments gone wrong.

She looked so peaceful in his kitchen. Their kitchen, really. The realization he came to last night had silently been the heaviest thing on his mind, pushing in his throat to try and speak about it.

To ask her if they had a real shot because he was already far fucking gone and he needed to see this view every morning or he may die.

Unable to keep hands to himself, he approached and wrapped his arms around her body while shushing her as she squealed, sighing against her ear while she tried to calm her surprised heart rate.

“You know… m’not a fan of waking up without you in bed with me. But…” his hand slipped under her thick material of the hoodie, settling on her tummy. “This is the second best option.”

“Fuck, you scared me.” She breathed out shakily, though her breath quickly turned into a quiet moan as he slowly kissed up her neck. The action wasn’t necessarily sexual, but it felt so good paired with his warm hands on her skin.

“M’sorry baby,” He rasped, nose brushing over the spots he had just kissed. Her body moved around quite a bit as she threw stuff from the counter on to the stove. He refused to let go, instead moving along with her, his movements flowing with hers. She’d taken away his ability to do all this from the comfort of their bed, so now she’d have to deal with him in her space while cooking breakfast.

A familiar warmth was bubbling up inside her at his actions, not wanting to question what had gotten him into such a good mood. He’d never been so forward in showing his affection, not unless it lead to sex. Of course even this touch was getting her excited, the thought of him wanting to be close to her was enough.

“I’m making a full English. I’m not sure I’m qualified, but you tell me if it meets up to your standards.” Bunny spent her morning reading up on recipes to make sure she got it just right.

Harry stared at her for a few moments, the side of her face visible to him as he sighed and brushed his lips back against her cheek. “Anything you make will be perfect for me, but I can’t lie it makes me slightly horny that you’d do that for me.” It was said with a smile and a chuckle but the idea of her going out of her way to learn recipes for him and wanted his seal of approval meant a lot to him.

Was this what a love boner was? He’d have to look it up.

“Good.” Y/N chirped, turning around in his arms once the stovetop was safe to leave the attention, wrapping arms around his neck and pulling his mouth down to her own.

Harry was quick to respond, a surprised yet pleased hum vibrating against her mouth as hands slipped down to grab at her ass. It fit perfect in his palms, the soft squeeze making her giggle into the kiss as he moved them so he could press her up against the side of the counter.

“M’serious, baby.” His voice rasped, pulling back just a little bit. “When you do shit like this… it makes me want to be inside of you. Have t’stop being so sweet.”

“Well I don’t wanna do that.” She smirked, again wondering if there was something she’d done to make him act like this. It was as if he was a whole other guy, but, he was still her Harry. “Guess I’ll just have to deal with the consequences.” She purred, cupping his jaw in her clean hand before sealing their lips together in a kiss.

“What do you wanna do today, handsome?” She asked lovingly, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip before moving it to fix his hair. He looked so refreshed. Clearly, getting enough sleep and staying fed and hydrated does wonders for everyone. The morning light made him look all the more vibrant and she swore her pupils are dilating at the vision before her.

He leaned forward to steal another kiss, “I’m thinking we can stay home again today. Can’t be bothered to go out, we’re here for a while anyway. Figured we could find something to do. I’ve got plenty of games here ya know?” Harry wasn’t sure how she felt about board games, but he was a huge fan. Growing up, it was one of the only things he had access too and therefore it made him really good at it. It was also a great bonding tool and maybe something to drive their competitive nature.

“You do?” Y/N perked up, looking at him in surprise. That was not something that she suspected of him. Of course she knew he had his hobbies, but this especially made her more interested in his little layers.

She knew she was under-informed when it came to the tidbits that made Harry, Harry. This only perked her up, made her a little more hungry for information that had to do with the man attached to her body. They had been so intimate,  so close, and yet she had so much to learn about the man in front of her. Like the fact he enjoyed games.

“There’s… there’s a ton of stuff I don't know about you, huh?” Her smile was tiny, looking up at the man with curiosity lit in her eyes. “I think… we should play games, and you should tell me more about you. The little things. Like your favorite games and memories and all of that.”

“No one knows much about me, and I keep it that way on purpose,” He could tell that she felt a certain type of way about knowing so little about him. “But if there is anyone who should know, it’s you. I want you to know.” It meant a lot for him to say that but he figured there was no one on this planet who would get it better than she did.

Was there really that much to be afraid of when she had seen him with blood on his hands? Seen him coming off an adrenaline high that only she could cure? Giving a person that much power over him used to terrify him, but as he came to realize last night, he wouldn’t mind giving that power to her.

Her insides warmed at his words, taking her turn in pecking his lips before moving to check on the food. “Yeah? Then it’s settled. You go pick the games. Breakfast is almost done, just gotta get the eggs and toast going.”

She’d made beans in a sauce from scratch despite the recipe demanding hienz canned ones, non streaky bacon, fried tomatoes, and finally the eggs cooked in the bacon fat. She was starting to understand the appeal. No blood pudding for them though, no appetizing even to her gourmet tasted buds.

Harry had walked into the room over, bending over as he looked inside a cabinet. Her eyes admired his back, despite her marks very obviously on the skin. He was so broad and strong and it made her want to purr. How did she end up with such a pretty, scary man? His softness reserved just for her, showing her the games he had hidden in the house.

“Most of these are new because I’m usually alone.” He said over his shoulder. “So we won’t have to deal with missing pieces.”

“You really never had anyone here?” She asked in response, feeling a little ache in her chest. The idea of Harry being all alone when he was here at all hurt her heart. Maybe he preferred solitude but she didn’t like it either way, knowing that humans naturally crave companionship. Especially when he was sweet enough to buy games to play. As if he wanted to be prepared for a day like this.

“Not really. Lucy, TJ. That’s it.” He said simply. His mum didn’t know where his place was, and that was by design- but that was something to unpack later on.

“And you’re saying no one back home knows this place exists either?” She was actually happy that this managed to work out. A place where they truly couldn’t be tracked or found. Plating their breakfast, she laughed to herself, realizing they fully were off the grid. “I never thought I’d be someone who wanted to live secluded where no one could reach me… but this really isn’t that bad.”

Maybe it had something to do with how stunning this house was, the unlimited access to resources, the sexy 24 hour security guard that had been keeping her safe. As someone who used to live on her phone, it felt nice to actually be in each moment that passed. It made time go by slower, she liked it a lot.

“Yeah. It’s not that I don’t trust them, but I also don’t.” He laughed at the thought, “Everyone has their secrets and with the life I live back home, I knew I’d need somewhere like this. A place to go in case I got caught.” Though, the likely hood of that was small, it was always good to have a back up plan. “So yeah, I didn’t tell anyone. Don’t think they need to know.“

It was bittersweet, knowing the real reason he didn’t tell anyone- but she couldn’t help but hurt for him. That he had to have a backup plan to begin with. That he didn’t trust a lot of people, almost none really, and that he was so adamant about being secretive.

It was also flattering to know that she was one of the few, if only one, that he trusted with this sort of information. Harry’s trust was very obviously hard to obtain, so she must have been doing something right.

“They don’t need to know. In fact… I think we can have some secrets if our own.” She nodded, puckering her lips again to be given another kiss from the man who seemed all too happy to give them.

It was exciting to be told a secret, but being brought to one? That was next level in the Harry Scale Of Trust. It made her feel a little giddy. “How many secrets do you have, then? If you had to guess a number?”

Setting the box of scrabble and monopoly box, he thought about the question intently. “I mean, real secrets? I don’t think I couldn’t count… there are things your brother doesn’t even know about me and he’s my best mate.” Harry shrugged as he thought about the question some more.

“S’not something I do— talking about myself, it’s just unnecessary.” He felt like anything he had to share would just make people pity him or see all of his weaknesses. That was something he tried his very hardest to avoid. “TJ knows a few cause he has his own fair share of secrets like mine… guess we’re bonded because of ‘em.”

Looking down at the plate of food she made had him realizing this conversation wouldn’t be as easy as he thought it would be. However, if she wanted to know, he would tell her anything. Even if it made him uncomfortable. This was something Bunny had noticed as she dug into her own breakfast.

“Well… if it would make it easier to share, you can ask me anything you’d like to know about me. I have some secrets of my own. Know you’ve known me for a long time, but I think you’d be surprised too.” Her parents had been so protective that she’d learn how to hide things and be sneaky. It was the only way she could protect her own self from the projection her family put on to her.

Harry would happily eat up any morsel of information when it came to Bunny. He loved knowing about her, learning every little bit and bob that he could harvest from her brilliant brain. The free access to ask questions and having the perfect day to do so without interruption was how dream.

“I mean… there’s a lot I’d love to learn about you. You’re fascinating.” And he utterly adored her. “But I suppose you can ask anything. I don’t feel the want to hide things from you but sometimes things catch me off guard and become hard to talk about. I can… I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

He didn’t want her to feel freaked out if he rejected a question after attempting an answer, mostly because it was not her fault. There was a lot of shit that happened to him and he needed to be good. To be relaxed, and try and open up as much as he can if he was going to try and assume the role of the man in her life. He loved her, and he wanted her to love him back as authentically as she could.

Bunny nodded, deciding she needed to be aware of how his body language changed throughout their conversation. She realized that a lot of Harry’s past was a touchy subject, the few things she’d learned about him through Sterling weren’t exactly pleasant.

“Can you tell me about how you and Sterling became friends?” She was genuinely curious. It seemed like he appeared one day and never left his side and in turn, never left hers. Of course, she didn’t mind, but the two seemed to have an instant connection and she wondered what that was about.

He smiled brightly at the memory, shaking his head because he remembered being such a little shit back then. “Well, Viper and your Dad— they sorta forced us into it.” He started, realizing he needed to give her some more context to fully understand.

“I joined the club at 16 cause I killed a guy outside a bar.” Harry spoke as he shoveled some beans into his mouth, “Still think he deserved it. He drugged a girls cup.” The thought remained in his mind. He never liked the idea of innocent people getting taken advantage of. It was definitely part of his own trauma, but they’d get to that.

Bunny seemed shocked to find out he killed someone at 16 years old, but he was so desensitized to these things, she doubts he understood how young he really was. “Was that the first time you killed someone?” She asked out of pure curiosity, relaxing a little when he nodded a yes.

“Yeah— Viper and your dad told me that I was too young to be getting involved in stuff like this and that they could help me get my life on track if I listened to them…. I didn’t really want to do it, but they said they had a few other boys they were training and offered me a place to stay and food so I was in.”

They’d also been both horrified and impressed with the lack of emotion that covered his face. Blood splattered across his cheekbones, thinner than what would be preferred, he stared down at the twitching body until it went limp and simply shrugged when they’d asked if he was alright.

Harry didn’t feel anything. Before, he’d felt a rage that made him act. A rage so dark and blinding he could rarely recall the thumps of his fists on the guy, telling the girl to run as she stumbled back inside with her friends- and his knife sliding out of his pocket.

He had been quicker than he would have been now- but he had been caught. The large hands of Copper lifting him up by essentially his scruff and asking what the hell he was doing, the hushed whispers of the two men as Harry’s foot kicked the body and his blank stare at the leather jackets when they told him to follow them.

“Why were you even there to begin with? I’m assuming at 16… you probably shouldn’t have been at a bar.” She asked gently, looking at him with cautioned curiosity. She hurt for him, despite that tiny piece of her being proud he cared to defend a woman, it was still a bit odd to hear him actually admit those things.

A snort came from the larger man, making him shake his head. “Fakes, babe. S’easy as shit, especially being as close to Vegas as we live. Paid a bit, but it was worth it. Now I’d spit in someone face for demanding that much for a fake but at the time it worked out fine.”

Bunny laughed at his comment, knowing she too had once tried to get a fake ID but inevitably decided against it. For the price of course, it was far more than she could afford at the time and well… Sterling would have her had her head.

“But Sterling was always there. The first time I met him he was also in a bit of trouble.” He shook his head at the memory, “I forgot what for, but they made us clean the clubhouse toilets together. It was a bonding experience.” The smell was something Harry could never erase from his mind. He had seen and smelled some horrible things in his time on earth, but that took the cake.

“He said he liked the way I talked. Most people made fun of me at school and shit but he always said he wished he sounded like me. Still mocks me for it now, the fucker.” He realized in that moment that he missed his brother. While he understood why he took off, he would be the only one who would know what to do. He was surprised he didn’t come back the moment he found out Bunny was in trouble, but it seems he must have gotten caught up else where.

She smiled sadly, knowing that she wasn’t the only one missing him. Her sadness was sort of outdone by the anger at the moment, knowing that if he was around that Harry wouldn’t have had such a stress on his shoulders but… things did happen for a reason. Harry stayed around, he protected, he mourned, he kept her safe while he had run. Little did he know, there was no way to outrun his emotions. She’d know.

“I love the way you talk, for the record.” Her foot nudged his own, giving him a smile. “But sounds like him. He’s always been a bit of a little shit. I wish he’d kept in contact when he left.”

Her form deflated slightly, and Harry could see the thoughts racing in her head. His girl was extremely easy for him to read and he knew more than well when her mood had shifted, making him sigh. There was an understanding to why he left, but Harry wouldn’t have chosen that route. A lot of things piled on Sterling at once and he was well aware of the heaviness that it must have put him through.

“I know, darling. But he’ll come back. If there’s an emergency he’s got a way to contact us. Dunno why exactly he chose the way he did but, I trust him enough to know that he did it for a reason.” He paused, trying to lighten their mood. “Besides, doubt he’d be keen t’let you go off with me. If he was around we’d have to sneak around.”

It made her think. Would they have even gotten together if her brother hadn’t left?

“Do you think…” she paused, looking at her hands for a moment. “Do you think we’d still end up together? If he was around? Would you have gone for me anyways?”

The question sat hanging in the air for a moment before Harry grasped it, rubbing under his nose in thought. “I do. I think… you would have worn me down. Tempted me another way. I was staying away from you because it was hard to not think of you in an inappropriate way once you’d come back. You weren’t a little girl. You were grown, a woman, and you’d made everything shift when you sat on my lap and tried to…. I dunno, seduce me?” He laughed through his nose. “I felt guilty for thinking about you that way but you’re not just my best friend’s little sister. You’re a grown woman, determined as hell, and I had a feeling the dam would break at some point.”

“I’m happy it did.” Bunny smiled, a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to come from it. I knew we’d get along, but you really did surprise me.” She had never seen him interact with women so she was really taking a chance in getting involved with him and potentially making things awkward.

“Well,” Harry let out a chuckle, shaking his head to himself. “I know I surprised myself. Didn’t expect to feel this way, I guess there is a first for everything… I’m sure you know how special you are to me by now— but I didn’t think I had it in me either.” It was something he thought about often. He wondered if she hadn’t put her cards on the table if he would have ever put himself out there to find someone special.

“I made a habit not to sleep with the same woman twice.” He thought she should hear about it straight from the source. “So I guess you can say I’ve never been in a relationship. Never really wanted one with all the shit that goes down in the club. Saved me the headache.” The two of them were more than aware of how intense his feelings got, it wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“You’re worth more than every second of mental torture I’ve been through.”

Bunny softened at that, the pure genuine words making her want to say ‘fuck it’ and toss the game to the side. Getting to this gooey, uncovered layer of Harry was so surprising. To feel how he thought she was worth every bit of it? Her heart swelled.

So she followed her desires. Picking herself up, she rounded the table and placed herself on top of him, straddling his lap. Her cool fingers tipped his chin up and brought their lips together, and Harry was more than happy to respond.

One arm wrapping around her arm and pulling her close while the other threaded into her hair, he felt his heart thudding in his chest. It was hard to admit these things, to put himself on the line and show that delicate vulnerability he had been programmed to hide away. He hadn’t been able to be soft, to show weakness, to be afraid or sad. Bunny let him. She allowed him to just… be. That was more valuable than anything in the world. His hand tightened slightly in her hair, pressing for a deeper kiss and trying to channel how much it actually meant to him for her to be here, for her to carry his weight on her shoulders, that she trusted him enough to protect her.

Pulling away with a soft click of their lips, the corner of his mouth lifted as he moved to brush some of the wetness from underneath hers. Tending to her delicately with his rough fingertips, showing the vast differences between them both and yet, they fit like puzzle pieces. “Yeah? S’that how it is, baby?” He asked in a hushed voice, knowing she was trying to convey how she felt through the kiss as well.

“Yeah just like that,” Her tone was sweeter than it was when she normally spoke those words. Allowing her hands to hands to rest against his neck she kept his eyes locked on hers, admiring the stars that seemed to have formed within them. “Still feel like it wasn’t enough, but we have a game to play.”

Pressing a few more sweet kisses to his lips and face she reluctantly moved to sit across from him. It didn’t feel right sitting so far from him, even if it was just a few feet.

“Don’t distract me with your sweetness.” She squinted, her competitive nature aiding in keeping the conversation light. Her goal was to keep Harry comfortable as she dug deeper in his mind, wanted him to feel reassured and confident that there was little he could do to change her mind.

“We were talking secrets… care to share another or is there something you’d like me to spill?” Bunny raised a brow, placing some tiles on to the board.

“Oh, there’s plenty I want you to spill.” He laughed. It was a bit odd for him to feel almost disappointed that she went back to her spot, his arms and lap feeling surprisingly empty. He wanted her closer, snuggled up on him all the time. Perhaps it was a him problem.

“When did you truly start to have your crush on me?” He questioned, looking at the tiles and then back at her. She was truly so distracting, he felt like suddenly the game didn’t matter. He was going to let her win regardless, considering he was too distracted by the topics at hand.

“Oh, god.” She groaned. “Always. I used to get so upset when you’d treat me like a kid and ruffle my hair. I wanted you to see me as a woman. I know now, obviously, you were just being appropriate and it makes me feel better than you were like that now that I know better but… yeah, always.” Her smile faded a bit but it stayed small on her lips as she remembered back then.

“You were always attractive. Even when you were scrawnier and had only a few tattoos. Felt like every time you came over you had more and more and you kept letting your hair grow… you looked more wild. Rugged. And then when I came home from college and I saw you at the party that night- I told you, I don’t know what exactly my plan was, but I knew I wanted you. You looked so good, and I was jealous because so many people talked about you and how they wanted to be your ‘pick of the night.’” She narrowed her eyes at him. It was in the past, but it still made her tummy hurt to think about other people and him. “They didn’t know you like I did. Didn’t know your sushi preferences and pizza toppings and that you really thrive when you’re on your bike. They saw you physically, the mysterious persona….” There was a pause. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s attractive. But there was so much more to you than just that. It bugged a little, I guess. Having people talk about you like a sex object. The reason I was so attracted to you was because I felt like I knew you, you were safe with a tiny edge of the danger of my brother… but you’d take care of me.” She looked down at the tiles with a smile. Harry more than took care of her now.

“But yeah.” Breaking out of her memories, she returned to his eyes. So intense, but fond. “Always had a crush. I wanted you to like me, always.”

“Knew that.” Harry smirked, feeling what he could only assume are butterflies at the idea of her always wanting to be his. She always was, even if he didn’t know it yet. “I should rephrase… What was the moment you realized it was possible?” He always wondered at what point of their little arrangement did it become more than just a deal. The topic of her affection towards him was one that always lifted his spirits, reminded him that there was hope for a self proclaimed beast like himself to find a beauty of his own.

She felt shy, remembering their weed induced talk in his old room at the club. How they never really got to finish the conversation but finished nonetheless. With heated cheeks she cleared her throat, fiddling with the tiles displayed on her stand.

“In the kitchen, after our first trip to the grocery store.” How could she forget? Him pressing her into the counter, daring to see if she could handle his proximity. “You we’re looking at me in a way you hadn’t before… though now I know it’s the look you give me before you’re about to fuck me.” Her eyes flickered up to his to see him looking at her with the same look she’s described.

“Was that it?” A smug look adorned his face as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Thought you were uncomfortable with me touching you, but we got home and I realized you were just squirmy. Still are.” He was teasing, taking his turn before leaning back to sink into the couch. “Love when you get like that. S’like you want me so bad you can barely keep it together. M’always gonna give it to you baby.”

She knew he was right. She was an open book for him, an easy way in. He had the key to unlock the most needy parts of her, even though lately he had been the one feeling it. Remembering that was so clear to him, now with the knowledge he had- she was gagging for it. His sweet girl was just unsure how to ask for it.

“I know I made you wait at first but… M’sure you can understand that part of that was to make sure you didn’t just act impulsively. Think subconsciously I knew….” He took a breath. “Knew that once I actually had you, took you properly, I wasn’t going to want anyone else. So I made you wait until you were sure you wanted it.” And god, did she. He still remembers her breathy moans and how she had squirmed under him, desperately trying to get closer.

“Y’know it’s serious, yeah?” He wanted to reiterate it. “You’re mine and m’not giving you up. Doesn’t matter if Sterling wants to try and beat my ass, doesn’t matter what anyone says. You belong with me, to me.” His eyes shone, an intense look in the green that he knew she could see.

“I do now.” She teased though his words shot sparks throughout her body. Knowing that Sterling would definitely have an issue until he saw just how happy the two of them were together, the same was TJ reacted when he saw them. “I’m in your secret lair aren’t I?”

Bunny got up to grab her coffee, bringing his over in case he changed his mind. The conversation was far more riveting than the game though, wasn’t sure why they thought they’d play when they were each others greatest entertainment.

“And another thing for the record, I don’t care what Sterling says. I won’t let him beat your ass for stepping up and being there in his absence. He can scream and throw punches, but it is my choice. Our choice. It’s his own fault he missed seeing it unfold.” It was then that she realized she was holding a lot more resentment towards her brother than she thought.

“Do you think it’s fucked up of me to be mad that he left? Know between Dad and Christina he couldn’t have felt good but is there something else I’m missing? To up and leave town? To leave me? He was like a best friend to me too… Couldn’t he step up and be a man? Know that dad would have wanted him to be there…”

Harry sighed at this, getting up from his seat to join her. He’d pulled her legs over his lap, hand spread against her thigh to act as a comfort for both of them.

“S’okay to be mad. He’s just…” Harry wanted to protect his friend but knew that his secrets would catch up to him. She deserved an explanation, even if it would mean he’d chew his ass out later.

“Your brother and myself both have had our fair share of struggles and we cope with them in not so healthy ways. S’why we’re so close… Violence, sex, drugs…” He began rubbing her thigh with his thumb, soothing her and bracing her for the information he was about to give. “He wasn’t really up for violence after the incident, too heart broken to think of fucking anyone else…”

He could see the wheels turning in her head, there was only one option left.

“He got hooked, Bun…. And it wasn’t pretty. If he’d stayed there he would have died.”

Her face paled slightly. This was something she did not know.

Something she was horrified that she’d missed, in all honesty. How could she not have realized? Her hand tightened, squeezing in a fist as she looked down at his hand on her thigh. “Are you serious?” She knew he wasn’t joking. Harry would never joke about that, not with her.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” He felt his own stomach twist, seeing the devastation. “S’why he went. He couldn’t stand the thought of you or your mum finding out, or have you either be affected.” It was a heavy burden for him to carry, the secret he never wanted her to know- but if Bunny was his, he wasn’t about to keep that from her. Especially seeing how torn up she was about it. It hurt her and he could see it, but perhaps she could understand now.

“So-so he went away to get clean? Is he in a rehab?” She asked, a little shocked but wanting her answers. His soothing palm continued to rub up and down her leg, a look of concern on his face.

“Dunno. He said he would. He calls the clubhouse every other months just to make sure we know he’s alive but he leaves messages. Usually it just says ‘all good’ and hangs up. It’s from payphones. We could track them, we have, but they bounce around. Dunno if it’s him trying to throw us off a trail but, the life wasn’t something he needed at the moment. At least not here. I know he’s hung around with a different chapter of a club, some who had different dealings than us, but he’s staying a lone wolf for now.  I know the bare minimum. I wish I had more to offer you.” He murmured, trying to soothe her the best he could.

“No- no, I’m glad you told me. At least… I know you can’t tell me a lot of the club stuff, but I’m glad you told me about this. I’m still upset with him- but at least now I can understand better.”’she sniffed, trying not to let her eyes burn.

Her poor brother, navigating that alone. It also popped another question into her head. “Is… uh, is that why you kind of stopped all the other stuff? You only really smoke now… is that why?”

He nodded his head slowly. Feeling his own body begin to stiffen as all the memories of his own experiences came flooding back.

“It was uh… Fuck I hate talking about shit.” It was the only thing that made him feel dirty. Sure, blood of rapist and traffickers and fucked up individuals was dirty but not to like this. “Here in the UK it’s easy to get anything you want, it’s expected it’s the one thing that class can’t divide. My mum, she’s been hooked as long as I can remember.” Harry always wondered why he too went down the same path, wondered how he ended up that way. Thought it was genetic but he knew it was more than that.

“Guess when I started I was curious about what could have been so good about it that you’d forget about your child.” He shook his head at that, “TJ and I bonded over that. Guess we both wanted to see what it was about… and fuck did I love coke.” He shook his head in shame. “Was fun at first, but shits expensive and doing it as often as I was comes with it’s own set of issues. Never injected anything though, had seen enough from mum to put me off for life.”

It was Bunny’s turn to soothe him, setting her mug down on the table before tugging his body to rest against hers. With his head on her chest she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, silently confirming she was listening. Decided there wasn’t much to say, didn’t want to pity him, wanted to understand.

“Psychedelics are harmless, weed… even a bit of mdma doesn’t hurt, but there are just some things better left undiscovered. Euphoria to that degree, a clear mind, just peace… it’s a feeling people die for. The withdrawals only make you want it that much more, the relief. S’like a death wish.” He took another deep breath, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat to keep him grounded. Seeing Sterling go through withdrawals was one of the most agonizing experiences of his life. His screams, using every last bit of energy to beg him for more. To let him leave in his fragile and sweaty state. He wasn’t himself towards the end of it, Harry was glad he left.

“The first few weeks after your dad died we had a bender. Needed something to get our minds off of everything, thought it’d be harmless wasn’t anything we hadn’t done before… the clubs full of that shit. But I’d never seen your brother like that. Nothing was working, so he took matters in to his own hands.”

Harry hated it. He hated that he did that, that he hadn’t seen it. He should have been paying attention, should have been more cognizant that he was taking more than he should, that he wasn’t stopping when he was himself. Harry had a past with the drugs, he knew his limits, but Sterling had always gone easy on it. Copper didn’t do them. He was a bit straight lace besides alcohol and would probably chop a finger off of Sterling had he been alive, but he wasn’t and there was nothing stopping him anymore.

“Once I realized he had a true problem, I was sober. For me… it was a bit easier to take time off, because I’d been taking shit my whole life. I loved being high, I loved the feeling of being untouchable- but seeing what it did to him made me feel sick. Sort of like… it was my fault for doing it with him.” He still harbored that guilt to this day. Thinking of what could have been if he’d just recognized it and been even the slightest bit emotionally intelligent.

“We always smoked together, that was no big deal but he started getting into some of the harder shit. Shit I saw my mum do and I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I had to physically lock him away. I wouldn’t let drugs take another person’s life away. Even if he didn’t die, it steals your life. I made sure people knew that if they gave him something, I’d kill them. Brotherhood be damned. I kept him in a room of the clubhouse with Viper and made sure he had food, water, TV. The whole thing. We were… I don’t want to use the word lucky, but we caught the addiction forming and as soon as I saw what I did, I took care of it. You just lost your dad. You couldn’t lose someone else.��� He knew she would be gutted. She’d always been closer with her father considering her mother worked night shifts and as lovely as she was, she was a bit too focused on work after her husband died. Bunny needed people.

“So when we finally got him to a rational state, I told him he needed to go to an actual rehab. He freaked- drove off for hours until I found him, and he told me he needed to get away. That everything there was reminding him of what made him want to use and… I don’t blame him.

Sometimes I get upset because he left you, but he left you and your Mum in my care. Though she has your step dad…" Harry didn’t like the guy. He was… something was off about him, maybe it was seeing her mother with someone else? but he didn’t have a solid reason to dislike him, so he stayed quiet about it.

“I’d been doing a good job avoiding you, actually. I felt guilty about feeling attracted to you once you’d gotten home and I hated seeing you with your little boyfriends. Made me violent. So staying away was what kept me sane- until he left. And I had t’follow you around a bit. Even if you didn’t see me, but you usually did. Scared the fuck out of me when you told me someone was stalking you. I’ve already lost Copper, and your brother was in the wind. I couldn’t let you get hurt. That’s how it started, anyways.”

It was a lot for her to take in at once, but she was taking it better than she expected. Besides the aching in her heart and pit in her stomach, the only thing she could feel was an intense surge of love. It was Harry who was always thinking of her, protecting her and those she loved. It was him who had made her feel safe and put her needs before his own.

“Thank you. For everything, Harry. I really mean it.” She whispered quietly, smoothing a hand over his hair. She didn’t want to disturb him, just squeezed his body a little tighter and wrapped her legs around him. “I-I know it wasn’t easy. Can’t begin to comprehend what it was like, don’t know if I want to I just—“ She didn’t know how else to explain it when her thoughts were going a million miles a minute. “I want you to know I’m proud of you and you’ve grown into such an incredible man… I don’t care how fucked up things you do are, you’ve a heart of gold and you’re far smarter than you give yourself credit for.” She felt like a bit of a brat now, for giving him such a hard time with things when there was so much she wasn’t aware of. So many layers to the story she hadn’t known.

“I want you to remember that, okay?  No matter what happens, I want to know everything. Want to help how I can, even if it’s just to listen. I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t trust me with something, I will always hear you out. I can’t lose you, I—“

I love you. She wanted to say.

“When Sterling comes back and we go home and all of this shit is over I want us to stick together…”

Harry hadn’t had someone tell them him they were proud of him. He’d heard an occasional ‘good job’, but he can’t remember a time where someone had genuine pride over him, and he could feel it in his bones. She meant every word. He was slightly overwhelmed, the heavy topic throwing him for a loop but it was a necessity.

“Yeah? You think I’d ever let you go?” He tipped his head up to look at her before he moved his body. “You think I give a fuck if anyone’s mad that I took what was mine? I’ve been fucked when you came along, baby. Been yours for longer than you knew, I tried to shield you from this shit- and I still will, the best I can. But… you’ve proven to me that you can handle it. You can handle me.”

Harry needed to feel a bit of control, shifting so he could pull her on top of him. He wanted to feel her weight on him, to keep her in his arms. With her, he didn’t have to be Reaper. Though that part was always there, that wasn’t what she was here for. She was here for Harry. “M’gonna take care of you. Okay? Always.” He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “Even if he hadn’t of told me, I would have been there for you. And m’proud of you too. Staying as strong as you have when all the shit life’s thrown at you. M’gonna get you out of this. Or we can stay here.” He brushed his finger against her nose, tracing the curve. “Can run away, live here. Just the two of us. Won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll take care of you.”

The offer was enticing. Running away? Staying here, away from everything they knew? She thinks if she had him she wouldn’t care. She could be happy here. Thoughts of opening a restaurant in London, walking the streets carefree, having Harry to come home to… a family of their own?

Was it a possible?

“Would you be happy?” She asked gently, watching his eyes for any bit of hesitation. “The club, it’s your life is it not?” Though many people wouldn’t understand, it was something he enjoyed. It felt rewarding to him. Brotherhood and the risk and reward. An outlet for all the darkness that lived in his bones. She would be damned if she took it away from him for her own selfish desires.

Besides, her mother was in Vegas. Sterling somewhere in the states. He’d be devastated if he came back to see they’d left him on his own. They had to go back for him, they owed it to him at the very least.

“It was.” He looked over her face. The club was his life- it was still very important to him, but as morbid as it sounded, before this he didn’t care too much about his own life. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, but he thought his time was limited. Borrowed. It’s part of why he never had a relationship. Partially because none of them appealed like she had, but also because… he simply felt like he would die and leave someone grieving.

“If… if this guy continues. If we go back and we still can’t catch him, if he torments you further, we’ll leave.” He promised. It was the best option. “We’ll give it a few months when we’re back. I know this man must be fuming, angry that we’ve gone off.”  But he knew, he wouldn’t rest until Bunny felt okay. Until she felt secure and happy.

“There’s only one person who could make me want to leave. And it’s you. If it’s down to your safety… I think Viper would understand.”

Logistically he would be fine. He hoarded his money away. Contrary to people’s thoughts, he was smart. He invested, he bought properties- he needed fallbacks. He had never been sure why- but this solidified it. It had been his intuition knowing he’d have something to cherish one day.

“But if we go back and you hate it? If you tell me you’re miserable and tired? M’taking us back.” He promised. “Jus’ you and me. It’s all we need.”

A pipe dream, they’d have to meet other people eventually. But being alone, just with her seemed like a dream come true.

——————————

“Babe, do you want sweet popcorn or savory or both?” Bunny took movie nights very seriously, popcorn was something she felt was a specialty snack. The seasoning was key. Turning around with a spatula in her hand, head tilted, eyes wide waiting for an answer. He looked so handsome fresh out of the shower, a pair of loose grey sweats hanging off his hips.

“Both. Exactly, silly me! That was a stupid question.” She spoke before he could answer, dropping a kernel in to the pan to check if the oil was hot enough.

The two had spent the rest of their day chatting, joking, and eating. Even went on a walk along the backyard of the property to get some fresh air. Enjoying each others company without the need to be anyone but themselves. It was just so easy. By the time the sun went down, the two of them decided to freshen up and head downstairs to continue their lazy day.

Wearing one of Harry’s old club shirts and a pair of black panties to match, Bunny felt like they were still at his apartment in Vegas. Home was wherever they were after all.

It was hard not to feel especially fond of her when she was wearing his clothing. That she looked so undeniably his, so perfect and soft, she was grabbing at his heart. The heart that continued to try to burst from his chest as he looked at her.

He loved her. He loved her so much. His eyes narrowed playfully at her, watching as she stood there, testing out the popcorn. Making him fantasize about this being his daily life. About having her with his ring on her finger and maybe a kid in her stomach, making his insides twist. He wanted that.

He wanted that life with her. To come home to find her comfortable, barefoot and happy. Cooking. Doing what she loves. He wanted her to smile forever, to smile at him forever and help him see the sun like she managed to do every day- even when it wasn’t visible in the sky, he could see it when she smiled.

He was quiet, watching as she gave him a look. Taking the spatula, he placed it back down on to the counter, turning her around so her back was against the counter and away from the stove. Pinning her there, he held her face in his palm, taking a moment just to look at her.

She was stuck, pinned to the cool counter, but there was something in his eyes. This time she went with the flow, even with her heart beating fast, wrapping her arms over his neck and arching slightly up at him with her own softest smile.

“What are you thinking about, H?” She questioned, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You look like you’re thinking awfully hard.”

He was trying to figure out how to say it. What would be the best way to say the words he’d never spoke to anyone in his life. Love was something he never thought he would have the opportunity to experience, but love is the only thing he ever felt about her he thinks.

Just say it.

He could just spit it out like it was nothing, casually admit his feelings and see what would happen. It felt like the most natural thing to do, but the words were weighted. He wanted them to be special, she’d remember this forever, he hoped.

“Thinking about how beautiful you are, Y/N.” He was so serious, she swore she felt her heart slow down. “And how I’ve never seen you so relaxed, you look like you belong here. In this house, with me…” His time had never been so sweet and delicate. He leaned in to place a kiss to her forehead before resting his own against hers for a moment. With one more peck to her lips he pulled back, staying quiet as they stood there looking at each other.

“I’m thinking that, I love you, Bunny. So much.”

[jadeddangel]

Hi! I think I'm supposed to put this here. Can you do a Vox x dreamy/airhead type reader? I mean dreamy/airhead like very mellow and tends to not pay attention.

Vox x Reader

"Getting lost in the rabbit hole"

Summary: In which you, a newer young overlord, have a meeting with the Vee's on an incoming collaboration.But struggles with zoning out

Warnings: valentino(he's a warning in of itself), mean! Vox, swearing, threats

You sat quietly in the meeting room, sounds of velvette's nails tapping against her phone screen and val's cigarette crackling with each long inhale he took. The room was full of smoke as you started to zone out at the wall background music playing in your head, Velvette slammed her phone down on the meeting table forcing you out of the liminal space your brain was sinking into, your pupils expanded slightly as your eyes readjusted to viewing the world around you. Velvette let out the heaviest sigh you think you've ever heard fall from her lips, " Vox said he's caught up with the press about the radio demon again, he's going to be late, apparently its causing quite a ruckus " Velvette uttered in aggravation, her accent and words rang heavy in the once quiet room. Val smirked, taking another long drag of his cigarette, " perhaps we should find temporary entertainment with our little quest here while we wait~" Valentino purred suggestively. You could feel your face fix into a stern frown, " Apologies Valentino, but I don't mix business and pleasure and quite frankly, I'm not interested in you or your line of work, I'm here for a meeting with Vox and he insisted you both be dragged into it" you uttered clearly and sternly, though part of your tone sounded bored. You could nearly hear the gears of pure frustration turn in Valentino's head, and yet again, the room fell into silence. After perhaps 30 minutes, Vox entered the room, seeming bored, "Let's get this over and done with I have a broadcast in under an hour," Vox said, drawing the other Vee's attention.

You hadn't even noticed he had entered the room, apparently the wall was just so much more entertaining, you were zoned out, focusing on every little possible design and detail that the wall was crafted with, your brain was playing elevator music in the background of everything. Suddenly, you were snapped out of it by Vox's slim fingers snapping in front of your face. You retracted your head away from his hand as soon as your brain was caught back up to reality Your words were caught in your throat as you struggled to find an excuse as to why you weren't paying attention. Your eyes met Vox's unamused ones as his smirk drooped into a frown. "What can't even bother to pay attention to the world around you? Or are you just better than us?" Vox's eyes narrowed as he stared down into your irises. You felt your heart jump into your throat at having all of this attention on you, "oh uhm i- uhm well, I was just waiting for you to get here, sir, Vox? Sir?" You stumbled over your words quite pathetically as you struggled to find the right words to excuse your behavior and lack of attention. A smirk snuck through Vox's teeth at your pathetic display before practically skipping to his seat, proud of how nervous he made you, "Don't let it happen, understand? Or we'll make a new spot for a collaboration, or perhaps a new overlord, " Vox threatened, using Acoustokinesis to make his voice appear more threatening. You took his words into consideration before giving him a sharp nod, showing him you understood what he was saying, not trusting your own words. Vox's smirk widened "good now let's get started on business.."

The following hours flew over your head. You hadn't meant to, but you were only giving Vox half of your attention. Your brain didn't mean to, but it really didn't, but that wall was really, really interesting. And then there you were completely lost in your thoughts as the Vees talked amongst themselves, Vox caught onto your eyes glazing over as he watching your brain pretty much switch off as he silently dismissed velvette and valentino to do their own work.

Vox cleared his throat to gain your attendance. You took a moment to separate your eyes and attention from the wall, turning to face him realizing that velvette and valentino had "disappeared." Vox raised a virtual eyebrow at your stubbornness towards keeping your attention on unneeded things. "You may go as well, but a few words if caution," Vox adjusted his voice so he seemed more intimidating "you ever stop paying attention to my words, what I have to say, or when I'm around you, your soul is going to lose any form of existence it still has. " Vox's eyes twitched in frustration as he watched you scramble to get up. You nodded a bit "I see where your coming from, but Vox? Work on your Insecurity before taking it out on everyone around you." You spoke glaring at him finally getting tired of his attitude before turning and leaving and surprise surprise, (I'm being sarcastic), he did absolutely nothing even as you left. But he did gain a new fascination towards you and your little habit.

[whumpshaped]

whumpiest winter song ever i said i'd write something inspired by it so here it is

tw implied noncon drugging, betrayal

"I really can't stay," Whumpee said apologetically. "I'm sorry. This evening has been so very nice–"

"But look outside, dear." Whumper stepped towards the window, pulling the curtains aside. "You can't leave during the heaviest snowfall."

Whumpee's eyes flickered to the all-white landscape, then back to Whumper's face. Really, they were doing a horrible job of pretending to be concerned instead of delighted at the prospect that their guest might have to stay the night. Had Whumpee been any less in love, they might've done a better job of pretending to be offended by that.

"I have to, I do. My parents will be worried if I stay too long." Despite saying that, Whumpee stayed motionless as Whumper let go of the curtain and walked up to them, taking both their hands in their own.

"Your hands are already so cold. You wouldn't last a moment out there." Whumper rubbed the skin gently, their eyes never leaving Whumpee's. "I'm sure they'd understand if you stayed for just one more drink. Just until the storm settled."

"I shouldn't," they whispered.

"But you must. It's really not your fault, I'll tell them that myself if I have to."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Whumpee quickly yanked their hands out of Whumper's hold, and they weren't sure whether the heat they felt was coming from the cosy fireplace or something else entirely. "There's no way I'll let you explain anything to them! It'd look even worse!"

Whumper gave them a soft smile, then gestured towards the empty wine glasses on the table. "So? One more?"

"No, no, I can't. I can't." They turned around before they could change their mind, quickly putting on their hat. "I'll just call a cab, it'll be fine."

Whumper was behind them in an instant, pulling the hat right off before they could've grabbed onto it. "Not in this weather. I doubt they're even working."

Whumpee tried to snatch the hat away from them, but Whumper stepped away, hiding it behind their back. "What will the neighbours think?" they asked with a half-hearted show of anxiety. "It's so late–"

"They're likely asleep by now," Whumper said smoothly. "Just one more. I'm sure the storm will go away soon. Hm?"

Whumpee sighed heavily. Well, there was no way around it, they supposed. The storm really did look bad... "Just one more."

Whumper lit up instantly. They threw the hat on the sofa and walked over to the table, grabbing Whumpee's glass first. "You should put on some records while I pour. No sense in spending this awful, miserable extra time in silence."

"Why not make my captivity as pleasant as possible..." Whumpee mumbled, giving in easier than they should've. They could hear the glasses clinking and the wine sloshing as they looked through the record collection, eventually deciding on something slow and... well, not romantic, not really, it was just... pleasant, they were pleasant tunes.

"Good choice," Whumper remarked, and Whumpee didn't have to look to know they were smiling. They turned around with an exasperated look, but they didn't fight it when Whumper handed them the glass.

"I'm being way too lenient." They took a sip, then went to sit down before they could've been cornered. Whumper followed suit, settling on the sofa a touch too close to them for it to be considered polite. "I should be saying no to all of this."

"Just to hurt my pride?"

"So I don't give you the wrong idea."

Whumper gave them a sly smile. "I think my ideas are fine, thank you."

Whumpee took another sip, bigger this time. This heat creeping up their neck and spreading across their cheeks had to be coming from the fire, or maybe the damn drink. "Goodness, I can't even imagine what my sister must be thinking. And my brother! Oh, he must be standing watch by the door."

"A terrifying thought," they cooed, shifting in their seat and mysteriously ending up a couple inches closer to them than previously.

"And my aunt, too... She will never let this go," they babbled on, emptying their glass right after. Whumper watched with the look of a cat that got the cream. "She'll tell everyone, she'll start rumours..."

"Why abstain if people are going to gossip anyway?" Whumper reached out, and Whumpee stupidly thought they might caress their face or run their fingers through their hair — instead they just took the glass, skin brushing against skin as their touch lingered.

"It's not abstaining," they huffed. Distantly, they noted how Whumper's glass of wine seemed entirely untouched. "That implies a level of desire, doesn't it?"

Once the glasses were out of the way and on the table, Whumper sat back, leaving barely any distance between the two of them. "And you don't want this at all, of course," they said sarcastically.

"Not one bit," Whumpee confirmed, their eyes darting to Whumper's lips as soon as they leaned in.

"I'm truly just horrible, then."

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Heir and The Spare - Part 2: "Fire and Ice"

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary: Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heaviest is the head that was always second best.

The Heir and The Spare Chapter List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

"The answer is no. That is my final answer."

"The offer is more than fair. It's a hell of a lot more than anyone else will offer you for your shares. You're being completely and totally unreasonable."

"Keep pressing the issue and I'll show you unreasonable," you retort, sitting further up in your chair. "I'm sure the board would love to hear all about this. We all know how much they love you."

Tony slams his hands down on the conference table, "We're not kids anymore!"

Happy flinches at the booming sound Tony's fists on the sleek mahogany table. The same table that he had to replace the last time you and Tony spoke - though you both maintain that Happy fell into the table.

At least this time, Pepper and Happy had the sense to keep you two sequestered on opposite ends of the table.

"Tony..." Pepper cautions, but neither you nor Tony hear her words.

You slowly rise from your seat, speaking through clenched teeth, "Precisely, we're not kids anymore, and yet, you're acting like a child demanding a toy that isn't yours."

Though you both inherited the notorious Stark temper, the anger simmering in the room was just another one of your many differences. Tony was a hothead. His rage burned quickly, threatening everyone in its wake. You were sharp and stoic. Your words were cold and calculated, aiming to kill. 

Happy pinches the bridge of his nose, softly sighing at the fast deterioration of this conversation. Pepper sits at the head of the table, her eyes volleying back and forth with every quick witted retort.

"It is mine! You and I both know that!" he accuses. 

"If it was your's, you wouldn't be standing there begging." It's a low blow. Even more so when considering that Tony Stark doesn't get told no. He most certainly doesn't beg, and yet here he is, asking you to give up what is rightfully yours. Each word crawls under Tony's skin, adding more fuel to his rage. A sense of satisfaction creeps up your spine when you see the vein on his forehead popping out. Standing tall and rigid, you toss Tony's proposal in the very center of the conference table. "We're done here. And the next time you feel like extending an invitation, please, don't."

"That's it, then?" Tony spits. "This is the way it's always going to be?"

His question catches you off guard. You freeze, faltering as you reach for your blazer.

It's been this way for the better part of your life. You've spent two decades with your grudge against Tony being one of your few companions in life.

You wish you could say that you didn't know another way, but you remember it. You remember how it used to be, how it could be. You know what it feels like to have a loving, protective older brother. You want that back - desperately so.

But you also remember the day Tony took that all away from you. And despite all the time passed, you haven't quite worked out how to forgive him for that.

You simply don't have an answer to his question. And you're not sure you ever will.

You swallow the knot lodged in your throat. Slipping on your blazer, you turn to Pepper with a tense smile, "It was nice seeing you again, Pepper."

She gives a placating, mostly apologetic smile, "Will you be staying in New York long?"

"A few days of mostly meetings. Happy knows my itinerary."

"I'd love to get lunch if you're available." Before you can politely decline, Pepper elaborates on her invitation, "Just the two of us."

Tony guffaws, "Pepper, whose side are-"

"I'd like that," you agree, cutting Tony off. "Happy can work out the details."

"Of course I can," Happy grumbles under his breath. 

With that, you walk out of the conference room with your blood still boiling. You'd like to say that you can't believe Tony would do something like this, but you can. You believe it.

After all, there was a reason Stark Industries remained at number one all these years. Tony Stark simply didn't care if he had to step on and steamroll a few people, he'd do it without a second thought. It's strictly business. It always has been and always be strictly business.

Your heels clicking through the hall is the only sound that fills the silence. Not even scrolling through your packed schedule is enough to distract you from the anger you feel towards Tony.

That is, until heavy footsteps coming from behind you catch your attention.

"Come to escort me out of the building, Captain Rogers?" you ask, not needing to look over your shoulder to know that it's him.

He chortles, rubbing the back of his neck, "Is it too late to apologize for that?"

"You can certainly try, but it's not necessary, Captain Rogers."

"Steve. Please, call me, Steve."

You bite back the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth, "Steve."

"So how'd it go? Everyone still in one piece?"

The smile melts off your face as you're reminded that the only reason you met Steve Rogers is because Tony wanted something from you. "It went about as well as you'd expect."

"With Tony making an ass of himself?" Steve guesses, walking alongside you as you make your way to the elevator.

You snort, still looking down at your phone, "He doesn't see it like that."

When you finally look up from your phone, you see it. It's striking, blindsiding you completely. You see the charm that oozes from Steve, from his smile, from the way he holds himself, those sky blue eyes, and from the way the doesn't automatically take Tony's side. You can't remember the last time anyone did that. Steve laughs, "He never does."

"Well, Steve, is there something I can do for you? Quite frankly, I'd rather be anywhere else but here."

"In my company or at Stark Tower?"

"Surprisingly, the latter."

"Why is liking my company so surprising?"

"Like I said, you're much less charming in person." This time, the words leave your mouth in a lighter, more teasing tone. This time, you don't mean it. 

"How does that bode for my chances on asking you out to dinner?"

You quirk an eyebrow at him, pressing the elevator button, "You're quite presumptuous, aren't you?"

"I go after what I want."

"And that is?"

"Dinner. Tonight, if you're free."

Your lips purse slightly, weighing your choices. You had plans, of course. Business plans, as per your usual. Social plans, you had a difficult time remembering the last time you had those.

You look back down at your phone, then back at Steve. You were certainly not free tonight. You'd also run the risk of sending Happy into cardiac arrest if you asked him to reschedule everything you had scheduled for tonight. The elevator finally dings above you. And still, you can't help yourself. "You're in luck, I am free tonight."

"Great," Steve beams as you step onto the elevator. As the doors begin to shut, he frantically asks, "Wait, how will I-"

"Be ready by 8," you call as the doors shut.

You're pleasantly reeling as you make your way down the elevator. Smiling to yourself, you can't remember the last time you left Stark Tower feeling anything remotely positive.

By the time you make it through the lobby, Happy is waiting beside the door of your black SUV. 

"What's that look on your face?" Happy questions, opening the car door for you. He slides in beside you, not wasting a moment before scrutinizing your expression, "You're smiling."

You roll your eyes, trying to bury your smile by examining your schedule, "I'm allowed to smile, Happy."

"A good mood usually takes several days after you talk to Tony. It's why I booked the meetings of people that aren't nice to me tonight."

"Are you insinuating that you build my schedule on when you think I won't be nice?"

"I'm insinuating that you're a little on edge after your family reunions - and that sometimes, people need a firm hand."

"A firm hand? Because they're not nice to you?"

"Exactly," Happy agrees. "Now back to your schedule, you've got a packed few days here, but I think I can pencil in lunch with Pepper on Thursday. Your meeting with those investors is tomorrow. You're meeting those charity people for lunch on Wednesday already, so that won't work but-"

"Happy?" you interrupt. "What do you know about Steve Rogers?"

"And I guess we're done talking about your schedule," Happy sarcastically remarks. He puts down his phone with a huff, "Why are you asking me about Steve?"

"He asked me out to dinner."

Happy's eyes widen, "And you said?"

"And I said yes," you reply as nonchalantly as you can.

"You said yes?"

"Tonight at 8." 

"You have a meeting tonight. Several of them!"

"Send my regards and let them know I'll reschedule as soon as possible."

"Sure!" Happy over exaggeratedly beams. "It's not like I planned those months ago or anything."

"I can always count on you, Happy."

"Just - Please tell me you're not going on a date with Steve to spite Tony."

"Please, Happy," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Steve asked me. And in spite of what you and Tony might believe, I don't live my life trying to spite Tony. I was simply asked out on a date. Spiting Tony is just an added bonus."

"An added bonus," Happy bitterly mutters, rolling his eyes. "I better get an added bonus."

"You always do," you remind him. "So?"

"So?"

"Tell me all about Steve Rogers."

Next Chapter

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[duskier]

cw angst/MCD/Canon typical violence/spoilers (not meant to be spoilers but in case anyone wants to get mad at me lol)

How do you know what to say when the time to say goodbye comes too soon?

Soap dying in Ghosts arms, shot too many times to count, and the world has disappeared around them suddenly. Ghost wishes the earth would swallow them whole, mold them into one shape under the pressure and weight of the land so his Johnny couldn't actually be taken from him. He wants to wake up back in the barracks from this morning, reassure himself it's all just a dream. Ghost wants so many things, and none of them are helpful right in this moment.

The two had been growing closer- never going past drunkenly kissing and heavy petting in bathroom bars during leave and certainly never talking about it. Ghost, the coward, the big brutish coward, holding the only man he thinks he's ever loved in his arms can't say anything of comfort.

Soap's shivering. Teeth chattering, his warm skin growing cooler and paler by the second. His weak hands are trembling as he tries to pet at Ghost anywhere he can reach.

"Si...mon..." A little blood spatters out of the corners of Johnny's mouth.

"Sergeant."

Even as his consciousness is slipping, Soap still knits his eyebrows together in confusion.

Ghost sighs. "Soap."

"No-" Soap coughs, a wet sound rattling in his lungs. He's left trying to catch his breath, fighting to get his eyes to refocus on Ghost. "Please. I jes' need ta hear it..."

Soap grasps the collar of Ghost’s shirt, locking him in. For a brief moment his grip was so strong and his eyes so fiercely aimed at Ghost that he almost felt frightened.

"I need ye ta tell me ye love me." To an uncaring, heartless viewer, the way Soap’s face crumpled was pathetic. To a stranger unaware of the situation, one might cringe at how Soap sobbed, the pained wet sounds more childish than anything Ghost had ever heard from Soap.

"I... I... Soap, I can't."

The betrayal blazed in Soap’s eyes even as they went glassy.

"Cannae say my name can ye? Was..." More coughing cut him off for too many precious seconds, something wet rattling in his chest. "I was nothing to ye then, was I?"

Ghost was screaming it in his head. The words over and over, so fast and so many times that they overlapped into a dull roar ringing in his ear. His tongue felt thick, he felt he was going to throw up, really. Something in him, some childish thing was so afraid. So afraid and so hurt and angry and overwhelmed to be losing something so precious to him that the words would not form on his tongue.

The pained, sad, awful look on Soap's bloodied face pinched and contorted into a weak, but angry glare. "F-fuck you," He wheezed. His hands tried to start pushing Ghost away, but they were too cold, already too lifeless. Ghost only wound his arms around tighter. "Fuck you, Si..."

Whoever said that death could be like falling asleep could not have been further from the truth for John MacTavish.

"Johnny?" No response. The eyes were half lidded, no longer searching for Ghost.

The body in his arms became the heaviest thing in the world. Ghost shook him, jostling his head side to side to no response. The expression frozen on Soap's face still damning Ghost of his betrayal.

"Johnny, fuck, I'm sorry. I love you. I said it. Can you hear me? Please, fuck, tell me you can hear me. I love you."

Ghost shifted, rocking Soap gently. Shaking hands pushed his eyes shut, brushed his matted hair out of his face. "Johnny, c'mon love. You heard me, right? I love you. I always h-have, and always will. You know that. Right?"

And still, no response came.

[thatfreshi]

"Did I Smudge the Scars?" (Uni AU P. 19)

Hello. The long-awaited Halloween party (I know it's almost spring whoops). This took a different turn than I was expecting, but it felt right to me.

TW - alcohol, references to grooming, references to self-harm

When you get to Karlach's dorm, you're met at the door with a lot of scuffling and 'ow!'s, as well as other pathetic hurt sounds.

"Tav, they've been fighting and I can't get them to stop."

A disheveled Gale and Shadow are on the shitty dorm floor, pulling at each other's hair. You glare at your tallest friend.

"Are you... you're serious? As if you aren't literally an athlete?"

She shrugs.

"Well, I'm not going to tell my girlfriend what to do, and I think if I touched Gale he'd fall into tiny pieces. C'mon, please? Just say something to try and get them to break apart?"

The heaviest sigh you've ever let out released from your lungs.

"Hey losers! Astarion and I kissed!"

And as if magically, they stopped clawing at each other. The pale girl is the first to talk.

"What?! And we weren't there?"

She gets off of the artist and fixes her braid.

"Yeah, you guys weren't there because it didn't happen! Karlach's phone call interrupted what was about to be the best kiss of my life, but thanks for getting into another stupid argument that I have to solve for some reason! If I get brought into your bullshit one more time, I swear I will burn this university to the ground."

Gale's eyes go a little wide.

"Can we... at least be outside when you burn it down?"

Your strong gaze doesn't falter, causing him to abandon his lame joke.

"And next time Karlach, please just manhandle her. That's probably what she wants anyways."

You open the dorm door and proceed to slam it, hearing Karlach laugh at her lover.

~~~

The next evening, the seven of you are in Astarion's dorm getting ready for the Halloween party. Shadow and Gale seem to have put their feud away, at least for the night. Your best friend is helping Karlach put on fake horns. You remember her explaining her costume a while ago.

"Listen, I know I'm like super nice! That's why I'm gonna be a demon, because it's like the opposite of me!"

You stare for a while, since your outfit is already put together. Gale catches your gaze lingering for a little too long and gives your shoulder a push, and the two of you laugh a little under your breath.

"Alright, if that amount of eyelash glue doesn't hold those in place I'll give up on makeup forever."

Astarion finishes testing the horns, and they seem to stay in place.

"Tav, come here darling."

You're taken aback, considering your costume was finished first.

"What? Did I smudge the scars?"

Your look for tonight is a scrappy adventurer, something you'd find in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.

"No no, they're fine my dear."

You sit on the couch beside him, and he grabs his eyeliner.

"If you're going to be some fierce adventurer, your eyes have to stand out at least."

You're not sure if it was just in your head, but it felt like the entire room got silent. He grabs your head and goes to work on his craft.

"You know you have to close your eyes for me to do this properly, right?"

You didn't realize you had been locking eyes with him.

"Right, sorry."

A light chuckle comes from your throat as the cold, black liner hits your skin. After what feels like only a moment in time, he lets go of you, taking in his work.

"Hm, I probably could've done that a little more evenly, but it'll do. Besides, I doubt eyeliner is all that even in the wilderness."

You open your eyes again, and he smirks when you do.

"Well, thanks for making sure I look 'fierce' or whatever."

He smiles.

"Are we all ready to go then?"

You look at a bored Shadowheart, who is unsurprisingly dressed as a sexy nun. Apparently the lovely couple's costumes matched more than you thought.

"Yeah, I think everyone's done getting ready. Gale, you good?"

You're checking on your friend in a shitty cheap wizard costume, who has been intently staring at his phone for the past 20 minutes.

"Yep, ready to go!"

And suddenly his phone is back in his robe pocket, and the air around him dissipates. So, after a long walk to the parking garage, Gale drives you all past GU, onto the rich area outside the city. When you get to the location on the invite, you're all a little baffled.

"Is Halsin secretly a millionaire? Because he should teach us a thing or two about finances in college if so."

Everyone laughs a little at Wyll's quip as the seven of you exit the van. You all decided to get to the party about an hour after it started, leaving plenty of time for things to pick up. Astarion is a little paranoid before you get inside, and you tug at his vampiric blouse sleeve.

"Hey, it's fine. No one has any reason to think you're here. And if it just so happens that someone less than friendly finds you here, then we leave, simple as that."

"Right, of course. No reason to be worried."

He's trying to convince himself, but before you can further reassure him, Halsin meets your group outside the front door.

"Ah, if it isn't Tav and their lovely friends! Please, come in."

"So like... do you own this place? Or like your mom?"

Halsin turns to respond to Karlach.

"Hah! No, not in the slightest. A friend of mine let me borrow the place. He's from a much richer family than I am, and I figured a party should be held in a vast mansion such as this. Anyway, there's plenty of food, beer pong, board games, and plenty of stunning people looking for a fun time."

He winks at Shadowheart playfully.

"I'll be around, let me know if you all need anything. Please though, go have fun!"

Karlach and Shadowheart look at each other knowingly and start eyeing a couple across the room. Wyll and Lae'zel make their way to beer pong, and Gale wanders off to wallflower somewhere, very unlike him. That leaves you and Astarion, gazes skipping around the room.

"Certainly a much larger abode than I expected. Don't get lost in here darling, I can't remember the last time I went to a party that wasn't purely for PR."

Astarion seems excited. The news of his social media blackout seems to be relatively hidden for now, and there's almost a manic sense about him. For once, he's not a model, he's not repping a brand, he's not watching his figure for some shoot, he's just a college kid.

"Well, what do you want to do then?"

"Perhaps go check and see if the punch is spiked?"

There's a little bit of lust on the tip of his tongue, lust for life, and maybe even you. It's hard to tell though. Emotions have been so high as of recent, and Astarion is difficult to read at best.

"Perhaps we shall."

You playfully extend your arm to interlock, and he accepts. There are most definitely whispers as the two of you go across the main room, and you start to wonder if the articles are coming out, if everyone knows. You try desperately not to grab your phone, and succeed, at least for now.

As you two take a sip of unspiked punch, you take in the scenery. It's quite dark, obviously. Halsin and his friends have very intensely decorated the entire first floor, with all eco-friendly and thrifted items as he constantly reminds everyone.

"Hey! You're that ghost lookin' model boy right?!"

Some party-goer yells, who is clearly drunk. Astarion ignores him at first. The random drunk then yells even louder, as if the music was drowning him out.

"He's gonna fucking kill you!"

He perks up after that, making eye contact with the stranger.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said that weirdo is gonna fucking kill you! Szarr or whatever? I mean good on you though, making a cool statement or whatever. I used to date a model that worked under him, and a couple months after we broke up she went 'missing!' Crazy right?! Anyways man, I hope he doesn't kill you because you're a fuckin' looker. Have a good night!"

After the guy walks off, you and Astarion look at each other.

"Did you know about that?"

"I mean, I knew one of the models he used to work with disappeared, but it was never determined what happened. You don't think..."

You put a hand on his.

"Let's not right now. Let's not go down that route right now."

"Right. I think I need this to actually be spiked."

He leans down and grabs a flask out of his boot.

"I didn't know you brought booze."

"Eh, an emergency stock in case they didn't have any here."

You twiddle your hands nervously.

"Just don't get like, drunk drunk, please? I really cannot handle that tonight."

"Dear, you think I can't handle my liquor? How little you must think of me."

He takes a sip of his newly mixed punch, tapping red acrylics on the cheap plastic cup.

"Let's see if our wonderful Wyll and Lae'zel are winning beer pong, shall we?"

It's as if you've seen a new man tonight, overconfidence to mask fear. Of course it concerns you, because he constantly concerns you. You want to reason, to say that he's enjoying some kind of newfound freedom, but this isn't the Astarion you've come to know. He's not the simple dorm room you've come to love, the glasses he won't tell anyone about, the late-night hours spent on reviewing law papers. Something about it makes your stomach sink a little, wondering if this is who he is now, somehow. That maybe-

"Are you coming darling?"

"Of course."

And your lips curl into a smile, one that you find yourself faking the way he does.

"Bullshit! You moved the cup you fool!"

Lae'zel has already started arguing with various frat bros. Her and Wyll are a surprising duo, already wiping out the competition and taking several cups of shitty, watered-down beer.

"Lae, it's fine, be a gracious winner!"

The guys across the table disperse and leave the champions to reset the table, clearly being the sour ones in this situation.

"Well well well, already winning silly little games are we? Might as well start putting money on it."

Lae'zel turns to Astarion.

"As if I would waste my money on chance. Some people have brains around here."

He simply rolls his eyes, and turns his attention to Wyll.

"I'm sure daddy wouldn't feel too good about you being in a place like this."

Wyll mocks him back.

"I'm pretty sure 'daddy' doesn't even care what I'm doing right now."

He then goes to somberly refill the rest of the cups on the table. You push Astarion's shoulder and give him a look that should clearly say 'hey, that was mean, what the fuck are you doing?' but all he does is shrug at you.

"Don't mind him Wyll, his father doesn't care about him either. That makes you even."

Before the three further bicker about parental relationships, you hear a familiar voice off towards the corner of the room.

"Because Gale, I miss having a friend! I miss knowing you were in control of your life, not some stupid professor. And right now? Right now I'm yelling at you, at a party, instead of hanging out with my hot girlfriend and that sexy GU couple we just chatted up."

"As if you haven't been hiding things from me too Shadow."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, maybe there's a reason you picked sexy nun instead of sexy cat this year."

"What does that even mean Gale?"

"Oh, don't think I didn't notice during our little scuffle earlier, your arm?"

Suddenly, she gets very quiet, extremely aware of how many people at the party can hear her and Gale yapping. She then grabs his arm and drags him outside the side door. Your stomach is in knots at this point, because for some reason everything is wrong. Everything was supposed to be right after the blackout. Your friends would all be happy and get along, Astarion would be a free man, you'd finally get that kiss you'd been waiting for, and yet here you are, at some Halloween party hosted by your ex, and everything is just... wrong.

Without thinking, you go to the nearest exit of that room, the staircase. You're trying to block out the loud music at this point, but it feels almost impossible. The closest door is the first on your right and you open it, slamming it behind you. You're met with a large bed, probably belonging to some rich couple. The giant windows are covered with blackout curtains, and the carpet is luscious. Things are quieter in here, except for a soft knock at the door once you sit at the edge of the bed.

"Go away!"

"It's me Tav."

Of course Astarion followed you up here, how inseparable the two of you are.

"C'mon Aster."

When he comes in and quietly shuts the door, your head is in your hands. You feel the mattress move as he sits down next to you.

"I'm sorry."

You wipe at a watery eye, the tears just beginning to come in.

"For what? I'm the one that ran off."

He doesn't say anything at first, pondering how to best word this new thought.

"You- you're the first person who has helped me recognize my own patterns, that when I get scared I have this wall up. I've been feeling it since we sat down and cleared all my socials, this overwhelming feeling, like I'm being hunted to the ends of the Earth. And that fear, it makes me someone I don't like. Especially tonight, being outside of campus for the first time since, I just-"

He cries too, the first time you can remember seeing him cry. You lean on his shoulder. He continues.

"I thought I was ready, and I'm not. I'm not ready to be a normal person right now, a college kid that goes to parties."

You scoff slightly.

"I thought things would be normal too. Like somehow we had fixed everything, ya know?"

"Yeah... I do."

"I would like to find normal though, someday... with you."

He turns toward you, forcing you to pick your head back up.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, I think it's time to admit that this isn't just a close friendship. Not to me at least. And that scares the shit out of me too, just like everything else right now."

"Out of billions of people in the world, you would choose to try and find normal, with me?"

"Yeah, if that's okay?"

He hesitates, fear.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Is that bad, that I don't know? I just know you're different, and special to me, and that's enough to me."

"Well... maybe we can give you some time to find out?"

"Well, could I kiss you then, and maybe I'll learn something?"

You two laugh, quiet enough as to not disturb the room, but loud enough that the two of you feel the happiness radiate. He wipes at a tear and nods. It's different than the first time you met, vastly different, as if you've gotten to know someone entirely new. Although, you're not sure what words could really describe the kiss. Fearful, yet excited? Nervous, yet brave? It's over before you know it though, leaving a little flit in your heart. He interrupts your thoughts.

"We should definitely try that a couple more times."

And so you do, alone in a stranger's bedroom, and for once you forget about the various issues spiraling back at RU, about Gale and Shadowheart hating each other, even about Szarr. There's just this soft time in between, where two barely adults having fun just kissing each other, even if it's only a short moment in time, it's yours forever.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mamma Masterlist

Over Too Soon

September 2019

I have always wanted to be a mother. To have a family like Quinn's, where the family is loving and goofy and loud. But I never planned on having a baby now. I was going to wait until after I graduated. Till after Quinn was settled in Vancouver. He's only been there for a few months, he's still a rookie.

I had no reason to even think I was pregnant until my friend in nursing suggested it as a joke. You've been sick a while Ruthie, you sure you're not pregnant?

This appointment had been made already, Quinn getting concerned with how long I'd been sick and forcing me to go. But instead of chuckling and saying no when asked if there was any chance I was pregnant, I just explained how unsure I was.

"Congratulations!" There's my answer. "You're about sixteen weeks along, I'm surprised you didn't come in sooner!"

"I- I had just thought it was a nasty cold. I spend a lot of time in hockey arenas so it wouldn't have been the first," I mumble out as an answer.

The nurses smile dims slightly, looking over my nerve wracked features. "There's also options other than keeping the baby."

"Oh, no," I mumble, looking up. "I'm keeping her."

"Would you like to know the baby's gender while you're here? Get two bird with one stone?" She offers at my use of the word her.

I can't help but smile, nodding yes as she looks around the sonogram, letting out a quiet aw when she finds what she's looking for.

"Congrats Mamma, your intuition was right, she's a girl."

"Quinn?" I ask, hearing the door to his apartment open and close as I finish up folding our laundry.

"Yeah, it's me," His voice returns, followed by his body as he meets me in the living room, dropping his gear by the door. I stopped by the store today, grabbing a onesie to mix in with our laundry and show to him, and I'm about to untuck it from under my favorite of his hoodies, he sighs, and it's the heaviest I've ever heard.

"Q, what's wrong? Did something happen at practice?" I question, tucking the onesie in my pocket as I move to his side, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I- I think we need to talk," he responds, rather than hugging me back, making me pull back and step back just slightly, enough to look up at him.

"You... okay, what's going on? Cause you know what that phrase always means," I offer with an awkward laugh, although he doesn't laugh with me. "Okay, now you're scaring me, Quinn."

"Ruth, I think we should break up."

Now I'm taking a large step back.

"You what?"

"We need to break up," He says this time, barely making eye contact with me as he leans against the counter. "I'm moving into a longer term apartment soon and I just want a fresh start when I do."

"You want a fresh start?" I can't help but laugh, the tears coming to my eyes. "That's hilarious."

"It's not. It's a valid need," He tries to reason, although the onesie in my pocket is weighing down my entire being.

"I- I can't believe you, Quinn."

"I'm going to need you to Ruth, this is whats best for both of us, you'll see."

"Mom?"

"Quinn, what's wrong? It's late and you sound like you're crying?" Ellen's voice rings through the phone.

"I did it. I broke up with her. And she just stormed out."

"Stormed out?" The mother questions, "What did you say to her?"

"What I needed to so that she can move on with her life."