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starlighttsv · 2 days ago

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Can you please do a fox where Blakey is hurt or sick and Paige and azzi take care of her

Sick - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: P & A take care of Blakely while she is sick

»»— warnings: poly! sickness, puke, hospitals, i.v, ect..

»»— notes: the internets the one that told me the fever thing and i know the internet lies so idk if that’s all true 🤷‍♀️ i also got carried away writing this but i gave up on proofreading lmao

»»— word count: 3.3k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

azzi and paige both woke up to the bed being cold, which never happens as blakely is always asleep in the middle of the bed between both of them.

so as you can assume they were both equally confused and even more so when they realized it was only 5:30am, when practice wasn’t until 8am and it was a saturday so the three of them didn’t have any classes today.

not to mention - blakely is NOT a morning person! she’ll sleep until 3pm if she doesn’t have anything going on that day

so blakely not being in bed and between them where she’s supposed to be was both confusing and concerning for the two girls

“where’s rosie?” paige rasps out to azzi with her morning voice while sitting up slowly on her elbows, using the nickname her and azzi have called blakely since they met “i don’t know” azzi says confused looking around the room for any sign of blakely

“here, you lay back down, i’m gonna go find her. “ azzi says already getting up starting to walk around the bed and to the door “are you sure? i can help look” paige rasps, slowly waking up more “i got it” azzi says looking back at paige “ok, if you need me, call for me. i’ll still be awake.” paige says laying back down on the bed

azzi nods to what paige said and then walks out of paige’s dorm bedroom and down to the living room / kitchen area thinking maybe blakely just wanted a late snack…nope

azzi looked everywhere for her in the small dorm and didn’t find her girlfriend anywhere - looked everywhere except for the bathroom, which honestly should’ve been the first place she looked

azzi makes her way to the bathroom seeing the door is shut but there is no light on, making her confused even more, rightfully so - blakely’s scared of the dark

azzi knockes on the door and gets no answer back making her slowly open the door and reach her hand in to turn on the light - only to see blakely sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her head resting on the toilet seat looking to be asleep, azzi immediately runs over to blake while yelling for paige not caring about jana and allie still being asleep

“PAIGE! COME HERE!” azzi yells while pulling blakely off of the toilet and letting b rest against her legs, while azzi holds blake there making sure she won’t fall forward and hit her head on the toilet. paige comes running in and sees blake unconscious being held up by azzis legs and azzi of course, with her few day old straightened hair tangled up with puke all in her hair and all on her

“what happened?! is she ok?” paige stresses walking closer to her two girlfriends and kneeling down next to blake “i don’t know i just found her with her head resting on the toilet seat and unconscious” azzi says starting to stress but trying to keep it underwraps

“baby hey, blakely” paige says tapping blakely’s face a few times trying to get her to wake up - which didn’t work because blakely could sleep through anything including earthquakes and tornadoes

paige and azzi both try to wake blakely up and after a few stressful minutes eventually succeeded “hi baby, can you tell us what happened?” paige asks while holding blakely’s cheek - slowly rubbing her thumb over blakely’s cheek bone

blakely doesn’t answer and instead just closes her eyes and leans her face more into paige’s hand and her body more into azzi’s touch - finding their touch comforting

“mama hey, let’s get you in the bath and then we can go to bed alright?” azzi says leaning down some to make her be closer to blakely

blakely just groans in response not wanting to move at all knowing her stomach pain is gonna come back right when she moves

paige just stands up and turns the water on for the bath and azzi starts helping blakely get her clothes off, both ignoring her groans of protest and just continuing with what they were doing

“alright a warm bath with bubbles and a bath bomb is ready for you” paige says coming back over to blakely and azzi - helping azzi into lifting blakely up gently as to not upset her stomach

paige helped blake get her pants off while azzi held her up, and then azzi helped blake get into the tub and sit down.

“i’m gonna go get her some clothes” azzi mumbles to paige watching blakely immediately put her head on the side of the tub, paige nods signaling that she heard azzi and squats down by the tub, running her hand over blakely’s back “hi baby, i’m gonna wash your hair ok? i’m gonna need you to sit up for me, just for a little bit then you can lay your head back down alright?” paige says in a low tone, knowing that when blakely’s sick she always ends up getting super bad migraines, she doesn’t know if blake has a headache right now or not as blakely’s gone non verbal, so she’s just treating it like she does have a headache just in case.

blakely still doesn’t say anything, she just slowly lifts her head up, allowing paige to wash her hair.

while paige was washing blake’s hair, azzi came back in and set a pile of clothes and a towel on the sink, she then also squated down beside paige and started rubbing blakely’s back

“how are you feeling now baby?” azzi asks lowly but getting no answer in return “mama hey” paige says pausing her scrubbing and trying to make eye contact with blake - blake eventually turning her head slowly

“how are you feeling now?” paige re asks azzi’s question, with blakely only shaking her head side to side as her answer.

“do you think you can keep down medicine?” azzi asks still rubbing blakely’s back - once again blakely just shook her head side to side as a way of saying no

“is there anything you need or want?” paige asks as she’s now rinsing the shampoo out of blakely’s hair

blakely still doesn’t talk and just shakes her head again, paige and azzi look at each other for a minute concerned as blakely has never acted like this while she’s sick - she normally just is clingy and wants attention 24/7, making them realize she’s a lot sicker then she normally gets every once in awhile.

paige and azzi help get blakely clean, dried, and dressed before azzi has blake sit on the toilet so she can braid her hair, and get it out of the way in case blakely throws up again

while azzi was doing that, paige went back to the room and started up the tv, putting it on descendants - one of blakely’s favorite movies, and grabbed 2 small trash cans putting it on either side of the bed, knowing blakely’s still gonna want to be in the middle close to both of them

“alright there we go rosie” paige can hear azzi say from the bathroom down the hall, making her set down the water bottle she had just grabbed onto the night stand, and walk towards the bathroom

“you guys done?” paige asks as she sees blakely shakily walk forward “she’s gonna brush her teeth and then we’re done” azzi says trailing behind blakely in case she loses balance

paige nods in response “i’m gonna go make some coffee, figured we’re gonna be up for a little bit” she finishes while standing up from leaning against the door frame

azzi nods showing that she heard paige but kept her attention on blake. paige then walked to the kitchen making enough coffee for her and azzi, + jana and allie if they wanted any

paige could hear azzi helping blakely back into her bedroom and was trying to hurry with the coffee - just wanting to be with both her girlfriends and be able to comfort her sick girlfriend, so while the coffee was brewing she started preparing the mugs, putting sugar, creamer, all that stuff in and then pouring the coffee and stirring it together, once the coffee was done.

she grabbed those two mugs and carefully walked to her room, seeing azzi and blakely in their normal spots, with b’s head resting on azzi’s chest both watching tiktok off of azzi’s phone

paige just walked to the bed carefully giving azzi her coffee, before getting on the bed and under the covers - moving her free arm to lay behind blakely signaling to both of them to move closer to her - which they both do obviously

once they were all comfortable, azzi pressed play on the movie, blakely letting the sound of her comfort movie lull her to sleep.

sleep didn’t last long. she was able to get an hour & 30 minutes before she woke up gagging, paige immediately sat up from talking to azzi and grabbed the trash can putting it under blakely’s mouth just in time.

azzi rubs blake’s back while paige is whispering soft nothings to blakely - wanting to comfort her as paige knows blakely hates getting sick especially in front of people including her two girlfriends that she’s known for years

“you done?” paige asks after a few minutes of blakely just catching her breath, blakely takes a minute to decide and then nods her head slowly - making paige set the trash can back on the floor and grab the water from earlier, opening it, and handing it to blakely

while she was taking a drink, azzi decided to go get the thermometer and see just how sick blakely is,

“we have to get her fever down now or take her to the hospital. it’s way to high.” azzi says after looking at the thermometer once it beeped

“how high?” paige asks already standing up to try to help “101.2 if it gets to 103 or higher she’s definitely going to the hospital - if we’re not already there. i don’t care if we get in trouble for missing practice.”

“no, no hospital” blakely groans out trying to lay back down but can’t get comfortable. paige and azzi both moved closer and started trying to help blake get more comfortable

once they were done azzi sat at the edge of her side of the bed, putting her hand on top of blakely’s “we won’t take you yet, but if your fever doesn’t go down or it gets higher, we’re gonna have to. you already have a 101 fever baby. we will both be with you, i promise. you won’t be alone ok?” azzi tries to soothingly say as she knows blakely is also petrified of hospitals

blakely doesn’t respond to her and just turns to look at paige, using her doe eyes on her knowing those are paige’s weakness “i’m sorry mama, she’s right. you’re really sick baby”

blakely just huffs and tries to turn over onto her stomach so she doesn’t have to look at them - she struggles for a little bit and paige and azzi obviously voice their opinions but, blakely eventually succeeds in rolling over all by herself

“rosie-“ azzi starts but gets cut off “no” blakely responds back, already knowing what she’s gonna say and not wanting to hear those said words. paige and azzi both make eye contact behind blakely’s back and start lip reading each other - trying to figure what to do

“alright baby, if you don’t want to end up having to go to the hospital then we need to get your fever down by a lot, so cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige says putting her hands on her hips - looking at her stubborn sick girlfriend “neither” blakely grumbles into the pillow

“alright i’ll get the necessities for the hospital” paige said starting to walk out of the bedroom “no hospitals!” blakely yells into the pillow “ok then cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige sasses back

blakely groans into the pillow which ends up in a coughing fit making azzi who’s still sitting in the same spot, start patting her back to try to help her

once she was done coughing paige walked back to the bed laying down in her spot and looking at blakely “rosie look at me” paige says putting her hand on blakely’s back and gently rubbing her lower back while azzi’s still rubbing her upper back

blakely didn’t respond in any way making paige sigh “baby”

“mama, cmon” paige says but ends up more of demanding it, blakely slowly turns her head to look at paige and immediately made eye contact with her piercing blue eyes

“we just want to help you, you know that. we wouldn’t suggest the hospital if we didn’t feel like it was necessary. your fever is at 101.2 right now ok? if we can bring it down and keep it down then we don’t have to go to the hospital but if your fever gets to 103 and up we have to go, it’s not up for discussion.” paige starts and she can see blakely about to complain and starts talking again before blakely has the chance “you know we wouldn’t leave you alone there, i know you do. we’ll be right by your side the whole time ok?” paige says in a soft voice trying to get blakely to understand how serious her fever is.

blakely doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at paige while thinking of a decision while azzi and paige both keep rubbing her back, blakely eventually nods her head “i’ll go if needed” she grumbles out “thank you baby.” paige says leaning in and kissing the top of blakely’s head “do you want to take a ice bath or..?” azzi now asks making blakely groan into the pillow again as she didn’t learn her lesson last time

after blakely’s done with her second coughing fit paige and azzi both manually roll blakely over, so that she can actually breath and so she can’t groan into the pillow anymore

paige and azzi both just stare at blake - wanting an answer, making blakely sigh and look between both of them “rags and ice packs i guess”

paige stands up from the bed saying that she’ll be back and walks out of the bedroom going to the kitchen to get ice packs, while paige is doing that azzi gets up to get cold wet rags

it’s now been almost two hours since azzi took blakely’s temperature and that whole argument. after paige and azzi put wet rags and ice packs all over blakely’s body all three of them ended up watching more movies until they all fell asleep - 2 of them fell asleep on accident and neither of them called geno telling him what’s happening

azzi woke up before the other two and was confused before she looked at the bed and saw her two girlfriends asleep on the bed - realizing that her and paige accidentally fell asleep which was fine until she also remembered the said fact that they didn’t call geno, making her scramble to grab her phone seeing multiple missed calls and unread texts from everyone on the team

azzi quickly sent a message to geno and cd explaining everything - which is what reminded her to check blakely’s temperature

104.3

“paige! paige get up” azzi says while shaking paige making her wake up startled “what? what happened” she groaned out “blakely’s fever is to 104.3, we need to get her to a hospital now” azzi says with urgency making paige sit up and look at blake realizing how pale she looks

both paige and azzi put there crocs on and wake blakely up - that was a mistake

right when they successfully woke blake up she immediately started gagging making azzi rush to put a trash can under her mouth, paige was rubbing her back as a way to comfort blakely but it wasn’t working and blakely couldn’t stop puking

after a few minutes of non stop puking and then dry heaves,blakely was finally able to get a break and during that break azzi put blakeys slides on her and grabbed the clean trash can for the car ride to the hospital

paige carefully picked up blakely knowing that blake would be walking slow to the car and then end up puking again before they made it to the car, so she was going to carry her

blakely lays her head on paige’s shoulder while paige follows behind azzi as she’s the one opening the doors for paige to get through with blake. once they reach paige’s car paige sets blakely in the backseat with azzi sitting back there with her - holding the trash can in front on blakely while paige gets into the drivers seat and takes them to the hospital

once they made it to the hospital they were checked in and seen pretty fast, now blakely’s laying in the hospital bed with an i.v in her hand asleep while paige and azzi sit in the chairs by the hospital bed, each holding one of her hands and watching whatever shows on their hospital rooms tv

the doctor put her on some medicine but still wanted to monitor her over night so they were all going to stay the night at the hospital, paige planned on getting food and going home to get clothes and necessities once blakely woke up so she could also have a say in lunch so they were just waiting on blakely, which after a few more minutes eventually started to slowly wake up

“hey rosie” azzi said with a low voice being the first to notice her waking up, making paige look to her side to also see blakely waking up “good morning mama” paige says even though it’s the late afternoon now, blakely just groans in response - the light in the hospital room blinding her and making her headache worse

azzi seems to understand what’s wrong and gets up to turn the light off, “better?” she asks sitting down in her seat making blakely nod “how are you feeling?” paige asks rubbing her thumb over blakes knuckles “like crap” blakely rasps out before going into another coughing fit

azzi pats blakely’s back while paige holds a bucket under blake’s mouth just in case - eventually she stops coughing and the two of them continue to talk to blakely, mentioning getting stuff from home and food

it’s now the next day, blakely has been released from the hospital with instructions to rest and to take her prescribed medication and she should be good in the next 3-4 days - which paige and azzi where going to make sure blakely listened and did everything she was supposed to do

they had just gotten back to paige’s dorm and azzi was helping blakely up to paige’s room while paige was carrying their shared overnight bag, food to eat now, and a few bags of snacks and soft foods for the next few days

jana and allie were out at practice for today so it was just the three of them for right now. while azzi was helping blakely get comfortable on the bed paige was once again turning the tv onto a disney movie - this time being lemonade mouth

once the movie was on she sat down on her spot of the bed and passed the food around.

after around 25 minutes they eventually found themselves in a cuddling pile with blakely in the middle and paige and azzi hugging onto her, rubbing her stomach, playing with the ends of her hair, or gently kissing blakely’s forehead while whispering soft praises of love to her, with eventually all three of them falling asleep in each others arms

that’s how jana and allie found them 2 hours later

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @ldapper @authentic-girl03

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #azzi x reader #azzi x oc #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd x oc #paige x azzi #pazzi x oc #pazzi fics #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

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astracora · 21 hours ago

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Poly!LADs headcanons - Caleb Edition

(Because I have no idea if I'll ever get around to writing his intro to the polycule so I wanted to shove some ideas into a post.)

Masterlist

- The one who has the most trouble adapting to the concept of the polycule.

- Reintroduced after the polycule is formed, a year after his death.

- His reintroduction is obviously a bit rough, not only is he actively combative with the MC, but his actions push them further into the comfort of the polycule like a wounded cat.

- After they have eased the relationship out, it's some time before they talk to him about the polycule. Not sure how to broach it.

- He already knew, and he already stewed about it for a long time. (He's still stewing about it.)

- They've mourned him, after loving him, and moved forwards though, he can't push and demand when he knows that without the polycule they likely wouldn't still be there.

- His first meeting is rough, he can hide as much as he wants behind smiles, but Sylus is very good at reading people, as is Rafayel, so they can see through him. (Rafayel is no stranger to fake smiles). Xavier is jealous so reacts most to Caleb, while Zayne is somewhat calm, but wary. On one hand he has a childhood friend back, on the other hand depending on how much he knows. If he knows about Caleb's involvement with EVER, a great deal of distrust, and some real anger (that he tries not to show).

- Clashes most with Rafayel and Zayne. Rafayel because the two are almost opposed in many ways (Caleb's lack of sensory input and reluctance to touch, vs Rafayel as a Lemurian where his senses are SO attuned to his lovers, as well as the memory focus, and also the fact that both hide part of themselves behind a reasonably jovial mask, but Raffy is a lot better at hiding.) Zayne because the two do not agree on the methods of protecting and caring for MC (Keeping them hidden/caged, and the actions of siding with EVER with the intent to keep MC safe (which Zayne consistently states is a stupid plan.)).

- Understands Xavier, still doesn't like him.

- Depending on the advancement of his story, he has the potential to come to terms with the fact that accepting help and acknowledging that he's not alone in his drive to protect the person who means the most to him, helps him step past his self assigned cage.

- With enough time and trust, he accepts the polycule's help tending to his arm. They tinker with it and work with specialists to try to make it capable of sensory responses. It's kind of an exchange that keeps them on good ground. A kind of 'look we're not enemies, you have to lower your hackles' kinda thing.

- He hates the situation a lot less when he holds MC's hand for the first time again, and can feel the heat of them through his cybernetics.

- Builds models with Sylus, though it's more he builds models, Sylus suggests ways to bring them to life as real mini robot weapons. If the two are left alone, they WILL create tiny weaponised planes.

- Rafayel has taken to using them as target practice for throwing daggers.

- One crashed into Zayne's office door, waking him up from a nap, and made him think they were being attacked.

- Xavier slept through the whole thing, and woke up to plane shrapnel in his hair (he's used his light blade to knock a few out if they have disturbed his slumber though.)

- MC does not get enough sleep, and almost banned the planes, until Sylus and Caleb both promised to stop flying them indoors. Hooked up lil cameras to the things and started flying them around linkon and as far as they could before the things ran out of signal. (They got some killer nature recordings.)

- Caleb is another member of the insomnia crew. He's woken up alongside Zayne a few times, and made tea for them both. (Only for MC to toddle in not long after, and curling up between them with their own warm drink, exhausted and miserable but also unable to sleep.)

- Caleb helps take over some of the cooking, he also tries to find tech Xavier can use that won't catch fire, reducing the amount of cooking incidents by about 50%. (If asked he'll say he's doing it to keep MC safe... Xavier's smile when he cooks a full and very good meal has shit all to do with it. He swears.)

- Is the most averse to affection, originally sees the polycule as a means to an end, after all other people are just background noise to his real focus. Unluckily for him, it's hard to keep that mindset up when you spend that much time with people who don't have chips in their head, and also don't want to hurt the things you care about. The anti EVER squad are best placed to combat his 'world for just us two' energy. As well as question his intent. (Especially with how important MC's independence is to them.)

- Will not begin physically and emotionally warming up to the rest of the lads before he finally overcomes the wall keeping him from MC. After he has finally stepped over the line, he basks in it, then begins to let himself become more human again.

- He and Xavier ARE the protection squad. You want to bother the polycule? Can't promise you won't end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

- Zayne does try to rein this in. Sylus finds it hilarious. Rafayel cannot comment because he was thinking about stabbing that dude too. MC thinks they might need to start taking migraine medication because please guys, one nice meal out.

- He's tidy and multi talented. It takes a WHILE before he finds a room for himself in the house, isn't really sure what to fill it with because he struggles to refind his identity as a person. It begins with filling it with model planes, it advances into photos and memories, as well as his DAA stuff as well. Becomes a place he can keep things that tether him to himself.

- Has mended clothes for the others, really wants to know how Raffy tears so many shirts. No he cannot get acrylics out of a white shirt, why did you let it stain!?!!

- His puppy dog eyes are a weapon of mass destruction. NO one is safe. All have fallen to those eyes. 'But he just looks so sad' 'I know he does but why does that mean we now have two puppies in the living room' 'MC wanted them!' 'Caleb we don't have the space or time!!!'

- Uses all his old social media accounts, like an absolute fool. (Aren't you dead dude why are you using all ur old numbers????) Unfollowed most people, kept MC. Didn't follow the polycule. Was missing cute photos and things they'd posted, grumpily and (not that) reluctantly followed them all.

- He and Zayne occasionally have a kamaoji-off.

- He has taken Sylus flying. He did turn his head away so the dragon man could have a moment of sad recollection.

- Does still compete constantly to be the best person to assist mc in their day to day. The competitions can get aggressive and over the top. The lads do get carried away.

- Is the most scared of losing everyone, it does keep him awake at night. Does plan eventualities with the polycule. Does feel comforted knowing that if he fails, he's not leaving MC to deal with everything alone. Assures himself and everyone that he won't fail. He has his tether to get back to, after all.

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atangledfate · 2 days ago

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Jewel Watched the others closely to gauge there reactions as she knew Lanolin had effectively been in command thus far. She didn't know what more she could add. but, she just had to get everyone motivated and on point. Her first major priority was to get Surge in a room alone so she could could make a confession recording. This would be important as GUN wouldn't be able to manipulate it how they pleased. It would be vital in the future if they ever expected to get her story in to the public eye.

" Miss Surge i understand you probably have alot on your mind right now. But i also know you want to keep Kitsunami safe... we need your full confession on tap for that. Plus... you two likely have alot to discuss..."

She placed the recorder down in front of Surge and Kitsunami and motioned to a room off to one side.

" You can have all the privacy you like... when you both are ready, just record what you remember, your feelings... emotions... your story. Alot people don't know about either of you... and i want this to be your chance to speak your mind--- To tell the world your side of things. You ... might not get another chance... "

Jewel turned around to Belle fluttering over to her so she could address her directly. She thought about it but, that was highly invasive in her eyes. Belle had been a valued member of her organization and, she had PLENTY of evidence of her good nature and desire to do right by everyone!

" No Belle that would be like... a Truth Serum to us. Even worse then that in reality... we have lots of people who can vouch for you... and not just sonic and tails either. Good people you worked with every day...plenty of hard working individuals who will stand beside you. I have no intention of handing you over... come what may i will personally use all my political sway to push back on any attempt to take you "

Tails shifted his head at Blaze as this was new information, and it wasn't good information. If Starline had some method of survival, it could be similar to what Surge and Kit had, or something else. A robotic double? Eggman used that trick lots. The bigger fear was that there were still more like Surge and Kitsunami out there. Other projects yet uncovered.

" Its always been a possibility... Guys like Starline always have a backup plan. I'm more worried what he'd do with your genetic data if he got ahold of it...it could explain some of Surge's abilities but... just as likely he used it for who knows what else. "

He sighed and his eyes shifted to Surge and Kit who he doubted would take this information well. That the man who tortured and cut them up was alive or worse made another like them.

" Either way... its probably best we worry about that after this crisis is over... no point dwelling on it now..."

The sheep sighed and stepped forward gripping the railing as she looked down at Miles and the others. It would be important to ask now especially with Surge in the room. Especially with how important this would be to her specifically.

" Blaze believes it might be prudent to inform GUN of this... or even use it as a bargaining chip or a sign of good faith. I'm not so sure about that... so we need to get everyone's feelings on this...should we involve GUN? or take care of this possibility on our own..."

Her eyes landed on Surge as she wondered how this information was going to effect her especially.

" Since its a very personal topic for you two.. i thought it important to ask now... before we go any further... "

"I for one personally thing messing with time isn't a great idea, though it does seem Silver always has an idea of what to do somehow." Belle hadn't actually met Silver so was going off mostly stories, though it from what she's heard he always came to the past knowing a specific problem to fix. This had made the tinkerer wonder what the hedgehog was here to fix this time, though hoped it wasn't because of something G.U.N will do.

"Don't feel like it," Surge said while keeping her focus on Drippy. Wasn't going to be easy talking down the fennec to letting them take her, though she can pull it off. That said, the tenrec found it hard to ignore the fact he was fidgeting so just put a hand on top of his head. It seemed to calm him down, though he clearly had his thinking face on. Of course he wasn't fully believing that she'd turn herself in.

===========================================================

"I wouldn't be too sure. After all, there could still be a difference of opinions when we bring this news up. Though I suppose having Jewel's input is a wise choice." Blaze wasn't sure how easy of a decision this would actually be given everyone in the room, though supposed there was only one way to find out. Hopefully things don't get out of hand.

===========================================================

"My story is I fucked up the city and tried to ice Sonic and Tails on my own. That's the truth, and I intend to stick with it." Surge didn't see a point in saying what everyone already knew. "And if I'm being honest, I sorta blacked out at one point." The tenrec remembered who she was fighting thanks to Drippy explain it, though at one point everything was a blur. Maybe because that device was putting her brain on overdrive.

"I also have thought of an idea for dispelling G.U.N's fears about my programming. Perhaps we could offer one of their tech specialist to check my code and programming, supervised of course. I may not be fully comfortable with the idea, though if they want to push the subject it would be a smart way." Belle knew that was the main reason for targeting her, though hopefully seeing that her program rejects the Eggnet might put them at ease.

"There is another matter to talk about, though it's a bit of a delicate matter," Blaze said, taking a moment to make sure she knew how she wanted to say this. "So, I myself was attacked by this Starline fellow. I believe it was before what he did to Surge and Kitsunami. However, I thought I had ended him. Seems I was mistaken, so with that said he could've survived his battle with Eggman."

#Director of Restoration #Jewel #Unit Commander #Lanolin #All Grown Up and Ready to Fly #Tails #Gears and Starters #Belle #Princess of Sol #Blaze #Thunderstruck #Surge #Sorrowful Storm #Kitsunami #Blue Streak Speeds By #Sonic

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grifffins · 2 days ago

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🔮 The Fool’s Journey (Into Trouble) 🔮 | Ch. 5

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: A matchmaking event, a reckless plan, and a game that cuts a little too deep—because playing with fire always has consequences

wc: 8.3k (Chapter 5/?)

a/n: I'm reading all the reviews you're leaving, and it's filling me with so much joy, seriously, thank you so much! I promise I'll eventually get around to replying to them all, but for now, just know that I've seen them, I appreciate every single one, and they are absolutely fuelling me to get these chapters out faster. If I had to stare at this chapter any longer, I was genuinely going to throw myself off a cliff, so here it is before I lose my mind. I don’t know, I hope you like it!

And just a heads-up—ratings have officially gone up 🔥 y'all better handle this with care.

Ch. 4 ch. 6

also on ao3

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The next few weeks flew by in a blur of routine and mild frustration. I’d gotten used to maneuvering on crutches though not without my fair share of near-disasters and before long, I was downgraded to a boot. A clunky, annoying boot, but it was better than nothing. And now, I was almost out of it, counting down the days until I could finally move like a normal person again.

Lilia had been... Lilia. Ever present, always hovering just enough to make sure I wasn’t doing anything too reckless, but never crossing the line into anything that could be considered more. There were lingering touches, soft smiles, and the occasional meaningful glance, but nothing had really progressed.

And, honestly? That was fine.

Mostly.

Between the shop being surprisingly busy and my friends constantly roping me into their latest schemes, fundraisers, work drama, and questionable life choices. I barely had time to dwell on it. I liked keeping busy, helping where I could, and throwing myself into distraction after distraction. It was easier than thinking about how much I wanted Lilia but didn’t know how to move things forward.

Some days, it felt like we were stuck in this comfortable, frustrating limbo. We'd laugh, we’d bicker, we'd work side by side in the shop, but there was always this invisible line neither of us was willing to cross.

Still, things were good.

Lilia was still a mystery I was determined to solve, even if she sometimes acted like an impenetrable fortress. But there were moments, tiny cracks in the walls she put up. The way she’d refill my tea without asking, or how she’d linger at the end of my shift, pretending to read while really just making sure I got home safely. The way she’d watch me when she thought I wasn’t looking, like she was thinking about something.

And those moments? They were enough to keep me going. For now.

One afternoon, as I hobbled around the shop stocking shelves, I sighed dramatically. "Lilia, please, I cannot wait to be out of this boot. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster."

Lilia smirked from behind the counter, flipping through an old grimoire. "You only have to wait till this afternoon."

I shot her a glare. "Rude."

She chuckled, but there was that usual softness behind it, the kind that made my heart skip a little. "You'll be back to your reckless self soon enough. I'm sure I'll regret it."

I grinned. "Oh, you will. First thing I'm doing is dancing barefoot on the counter just to spite you."

Lilia rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she just said, "I'll keep the first aid kit ready."

I snorted, limping toward the register. "You should always have that thing on standby with me around."

"Trust me," she said dryly. "I do."

The bell above the shop door jingled, and before I could process it, Jen and Agatha waltzed in like they owned the place.

"Y/n!" Jen beamed. "Still hobbling around, I see."

Agatha leaned on the counter, eyeing Lilia with that devilish glint in her eye. "And, you're still under Lilia's watchful eye, huh?"

Lilia arched a brow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Jen smirked at me. "Oh, it's not a bad thing at all."

I groaned. "Guys, please."

Agatha ignored me, grinning. "Anyway, y/n, you up for helping me with something later?"

I sighed, already knowing I was about to get roped into something ridiculous. "What is it this time?"

Jen wiggled her brows. "Oh, you know, just a little... matchmaking event."

I blinked. "No."

Lilia, to my absolute horror, looked very interested. "Matchmaking?"

Agatha smirked. "Yeah. You in?"

Lilia, without missing a beat, looked directly at me and said, "I think y/n should go."

My jaw dropped. "What?!"

Lilia’s lips curled into that maddening smirk. "It could be... fun."

I groaned, slamming my head onto the counter. "I hate all of you."

Lilia just sipped her tea, looking far too pleased with herself. "You'll survive, baby."

“What exactly is a matchmaking event?”

Jen leaned against the counter, grinning like the devil she clearly was. "Oh, y/n," she purred, eyes sparkling with mischief. "A matchmaking event is exactly what it sounds like."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "And why, exactly, do you think I need to attend one?"

Agatha smirked, completely ignoring my very valid concern. "It's a charity event, actually. Think of it like speed dating, but fancier, cocktails, music, a little light mingling." She waved a hand dramatically. "People will bid on dates, there'll be matchmaking games, the whole romantic shebang."

I groaned. "You have to be kidding me."

Billy, who had apparently appeared out of thin air (or just snuck in without me noticing), clapped his hands together. "Oh no, she's not kidding, and I am so excited for this."

Lilia, who had been sipping her tea silently this whole time, finally spoke up, eyes fixed on me in that infuriatingly calm way she had. "I think it’s an excellent idea."

I gaped at her. "Et tu, Lilia?!"

She shrugged, setting her cup down with a smirk. "You did say you were bored."

Agatha nodded sagely. "Exactly! And what better way to pass the time than by meeting some... interesting people?"

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Oh my God, no. I am not getting auctioned off to the highest bidder like a damn prize goat."

Jen laughed. "Oh, come on. It’s for charity! Think of it as... networking."

Billy wiggled his brows. "With benefits."

Lilia quirked an eyebrow, but there was something sharp in her eyes now, something that made my stomach flip. "You never know, y/n," she said smoothly, "maybe you'll find someone... intriguing."

I stared at her, heat rising to my cheeks. Was she actually encouraging this?

I pointed an accusing finger at the coven. "You’re all just doing this to watch me suffer, aren’t you?"

Agatha grinned. "Absolutely."

Billy winked. "One hundred percent."

Jen shrugged. "You should be used to it by now."

I sighed, sinking onto the nearest chair. "This is actually my worst nightmare."

Lilia, standing far too composed and far too smug, leaned against the counter. "You'll do fine, baby."

And the way she said it, soft, teasing, but with just enough of an edge, made me wonder if she was enjoying this a little too much.

I stared at Lilia for a long moment, watching the way she casually sipped her tea, completely unbothered by the absolute chaos the coven was throwing at me. Mixed signals? Oh, she was full of them. She’d spent weeks hovering, making sure I didn’t overdo it, looking after me with a quiet protectiveness, and now she was totally fine with me flirting with other people?

Okay, Lilia.

Fine. If she wanted to play it cool, I could play it colder.

With a wicked smirk, I crossed my arms and leaned back into my chair. "Alright," I said, shrugging. "I'll do it."

The coven exploded.

"YES!" Billy practically fist-pumped.

Jen beamed. "Oh, this is going to be so good."

Agatha cackled. "I knew you'd come around."

But I didn’t take my eyes off Lilia, watching for any flicker of emotion behind that carefully composed exterior of hers. She raised a brow, looking mildly impressed but ultimately unfazed. “Good for you,” she said, nodding. “You’ll enjoy yourself.”

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I smiled sweetly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll meet someone intriguing, like you said.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Perhaps.”

Ugh.

I was going to do this. Not because I wanted to, but because if Lilia was going to keep up this whole mysterious and unattainable older woman thing, then I was going to make her watch me flirt with someone else.

By the time I got back from the hospital that evening, boot-free and feeling like I had reclaimed my dignity, I was on a mission.

I went all out.

I pulled out one of my best dresses, the kind that hugged in all the right places, paired it with strappy low heels— I wasn’t about to push my luck after just recovering from a broken leg — and topped it all off with red lipstick. My hair was styled to perfection.

I looked in the mirror and grinned. Damn, I missed dressing up.

Before I left, I snapped a quick selfie and sent it to the group chat.

Me: Ready to break hearts tonight.

Billy responded instantly.

Billy: BABE. I AM DEAD.

Jen: GIRL, THEY WON'T SURVIVE YOU.

Agatha: Show Lilia. Right now.

I rolled my eyes, typing back.

Me: No way. Let her suffer.

I grabbed my clutch, took one last glance in the mirror, and smirked.

Lilia Calderu had no idea what she was in for.

I arrived at the venue, the heels clicking confidently against the pavement as I made my way inside. The place was fancier than I expected, soft lighting, elegant decor, and the kind of crowd that screamed money meets desperation.

I spotted Agatha immediately, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, watching me approach with an impressed smirk. Her eyes swept over me from head to toe, and she let out a low whistle. “Damn, y/n. If I weren’t rooting for Lilia, I’d bid on you myself.”

I rolled my eyes, planting myself in front of her. “Alright, what do I need to do?” I asked, folding my arms.

Agatha grinned wickedly. “Eager, are we?”

I sighed, eyeing the bustling room. “Let’s just say I’ve been encouraged.”

She chuckled, handing me a glass of champagne like she hadn’t practically dragged me here. “Alright, here’s how it works. There are three... let’s call them options.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go on.”

Agatha held up a perfectly manicured finger. “Option one—the bidding auction. People bid for a date with you.”

I groaned. “Hard pass.”

Ignoring me, she lifted a second finger. “Option two—the matchmaking questionnaire. You fill it out, they set you up with someone they think is compatible.”

I stared at her. “Do I look like someone who’s here for a deep connection?”

Agatha smirked. “No, you look like someone here to make a certain divination witch jealous as hell.”

I didn’t deny it. “And option three?”

Agatha smirked, holding up the final finger. “And then there’s option three... mingling, flirting, working the room.” She gestured grandly at the crowd. “And, honestly, that’s where you shine.”

I sighed, taking a slow sip of champagne. “And which one exactly do you want me to do?”

Agatha’s grin stretched impossibly wider. “Oh, baby, I didn’t bring you here to find your soulmate.” She winked. “I brought you here to make Lilia Calderu jealous as hell. So, option three it is.”

I arched a brow. “And if she doesn’t show up?”

Agatha shrugged. “Then at least you’ll have some fun and free champagne.”

I sighed, finishing my drink. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Agatha grinned, looping her arm through mine. “That’s the spirit. Now, go mingle. And remember, eye contact, light touches, and laugh at everything.”

I groaned but let her pull me toward the crowd. This was going to be... interesting.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back and putting on my most dazzling smile. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

Armed with another glass of champagne and Agatha’s ridiculous advice bouncing around in my head, I stepped into the crowd, letting myself glide from conversation to conversation. I laughed, I touched arms lightly, I made just enough eye contact to keep people interested without giving too much away.

And through it all, one thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Please show up, Lilia.

I scanned the room subtly, pretending to be fully invested in whatever some guy in a ridiculous suit was rambling about, but my heart wasn’t in it. I could feel the absence of her. Could feel the weight of her not being here.

The evening dragged on, and despite the flattering attention I was getting, more than I knew what to do with, there was an ache in my chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

I found myself standing near a group of women, effortlessly charming my way through another conversation, when I caught myself staring toward the entrance for the millionth time.

Nothing.

I sighed internally, feeling my excitement wane just a little.

But just as I turned back to my conversation, I caught a shift in the air. A presence.

And then I saw her.

Lilia Calderu, standing in the doorway like she owned the place, dressed in a simple but devastatingly effective black dress, nothing overly elegant, just effortlessly put together, the fabric skimming her figure in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her dark curls were loosely pinned up, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and those brown eyes of hers scanned the room with sharp intent, missing nothing.

My heart stopped.

She looked... incredible.

Her gaze locked onto me almost instantly, and I saw the way her eyes flickered over my dress, my posture, the easy way I was leaning against the table with a glass of champagne in hand and a smile that may have been a little too smug.

For a second, I thought she might turn around and leave, but instead, she walked in with the kind of calm, deliberate grace that made my stomach twist into knots.

Agatha, appearing by my side out of nowhere, whispered, “And there she is.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I thought she wasn’t coming.”

Agatha smirked. “She didn’t think she was coming. But then she realised she couldn’t let you have all the fun without her.”

I watched as Lilia made her way through the crowd, her expression unreadable, but her eyes, her eyes, never left me.

I forced myself to smirk, turning back to the group I was talking to, making a show of tossing my hair over my shoulder and laughing lightly at something someone said. But my heart was pounding.

Lilia Calderu was here. And she was watching me.

Game on.

I took a slow sip of my champagne, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I kept my posture relaxed, my smile effortlessly charming. I could feel her gaze burning into me from across the room, sharp and assessing, but I didn’t look her way, not yet.

If she wanted to watch, I’d give her a damn show.

“So, y/n,” the woman beside me purred, leaning in just a little too close. “You never told me what you do for a living.”

I smiled, tilting my head coyly. “Oh, you know... a little bit of everything,” I said smoothly, trailing a finger along the rim of my glass. “Keeps life interesting.”

I swore I could hear Lilia’s scoff from across the room, and it took everything in me not to grin.

Agatha, who was lingering nearby, nudged me under the table with her foot. “Subtle,” she whispered, her tone practically dripping with glee. “She’s watching you like a hawk.”

I shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “Let her.”

I felt her familiar presence before I even saw her. Lilia’s energy was intense, heavy and magnetic, drawing people in without her even trying. And then, just as I was laughing at something unremarkable, I saw her appear at the edge of my vision, standing beside the group with her arms crossed, a neutral expression on her face.

But her eyes? Her eyes told an entirely different story.

They flicked from the woman leaning too close to me, to my lips, and then, finally, locked onto mine.

I arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Lilia,” I greeted, taking another slow sip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into that maddeningly subtle smirk. “Neither did I.”

Agatha, not missing a beat, grinned and chimed in. “Lilia! Finally decided to join the fun?”

Lilia’s gaze didn’t leave mine as she responded, “I suppose someone had to keep an eye on y/n.”

“Oh, I think I’m doing just fine on my own,” I shot back, playful but pointed.

Lilia’s lips twitched. “So I see.” Her gaze dragged over me, slowly, taking in every inch of my dress, my posture, the way I was standing just close enough to the woman next to me to imply interest.

I held her gaze, my heart racing. “You know, you could’ve just stayed home,” I teased, my voice dropping just a bit. “No need to check up on me.”

Lilia stepped closer, leaning in just enough that I could catch the faint scent of her perfume. “Maybe I just wanted to watch?”

I swallowed, my bravado slipping just slightly.

Agatha, watching the exchange like it was the best thing to ever happen to her, nudged me again and whispered, just for me to hear, “You’re losing, babe.”

I straightened up, regaining my composure, and smirked at Lilia. “Well, since you’re here... maybe I should introduce you to some people.” I gestured to the woman beside me, who looked suddenly very interested in this new development. “This is—”

But before I could finish, Lilia reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers lingering a second too long. The touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“Enjoy yourself, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and full of something I couldn’t quite place. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And with that, she stepped back, leaving me absolutely reeling.

Agatha burst into laughter. “Oh my God, she is so playing you.”

I clenched my jaw, staring at Lilia’s retreating figure as she casually wandered toward the bar, looking as cool and composed as ever.

Oh, hell no.

I was not about to let Lilia Calderu waltz in here, throw me off my game with a well-timed smirk and a touch that lingered just enough to make my brain short-circuit. If she thought she could walk away with the upper hand, she had another thing coming.

I plastered on my best grin and turned back to the woman next to me, who was still watching the whole exchange with keen interest. “Sorry about that,” I said smoothly, letting my fingers graze lightly over the rim of my glass. “Old friend.”

Lilia, who had just reached the bar, tilted her head slightly at my words, clearly listening in.

The woman smiled, intrigued. “Old friends who stare at you like they’d rather eat you alive?”

I laughed, but it wasn’t entirely fake. “She’s... complicated.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lilia's shoulders tense slightly. Gotcha.

Agatha, still lingering with a devilish glint in her eye, whispered in my ear, “Atta girl. Make her work for it.”

With renewed confidence, I turned my full attention to my current company, leaning in just enough to make it seem like I was entirely absorbed in our conversation. I laughed at all the right moments, let my hand casually brush against hers, and even threw in a little coy lip bite for good measure.

And Lilia saw every second of it.

I could practically feel her eyes on me, dark and heavy, her carefully composed façade slipping by degrees.

When I dared a glance her way, I caught her watching with that unreadable expression, cool, detached, but with a flicker of something darker beneath. Jealousy? Annoyance? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it.

Still, she didn’t approach.

Fine. If she wanted to play it that way, I’d push a little harder.

I tilted my head back, laughing at something the woman said, making sure my posture screamed confidence, my neck arched just enough to be noticeable. And then, as casually as I could manage, I said loudly enough for Lilia to hear, “You know, I was a little nervous about coming tonight, but... I think I’m really enjoying myself.”

From across the room, I saw Lilia’s grip tighten around her glass.

Agatha, ever the enabler, had appeared at the bar, bit back a grin and leaned against the bar near Lilia. “So, Lilia,” she said innocently, “what brings you here tonight? Surely not jealousy?”

Lilia’s eyes flickered with something sharp, but she simply took a sip of her drink, her voice smooth as silk. “Just making sure y/n doesn’t get herself into too much trouble.”

“Oh, I think she’s handling herself just fine,” Agatha teased, shooting me a wink.

I smirked, running a hand down my hip and throwing Lilia a pointed glance before turning back to my conversation.

But before I could say another word, Lilia appeared at my side, moving silently and suddenly. Her presence was commanding, and I felt it in every nerve of my body.

“Y/n,” she said smoothly, her voice velvety and low. “A word?”

The woman next to me raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” she said, clearly amused. “I think I’ll leave you to it.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding, but I kept my smirk firmly in place. “Of course, Lilia.”

She led me away from the crowd, her hand resting lightly on my lower back, just enough to own the situation, just enough to remind me exactly who I was dealing with.

Once we were in a quieter corner, she turned to face me, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “Having fun?”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “I was.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but her gaze sharpened, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re walking a fine line, baby.”

I tilted my head, stepping closer, pushing just enough. “Maybe I like the edge.”

Her eyes darkened, and for the first time all night, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear, sending shivers straight down my spine.

“Careful,” she murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth. “You might find yourself wanting something you can’t have.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my cool. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting.”

Lilia’s expression remained unreadable, her head tilting just slightly. “Getting ahead of yourself, baby.”

I exhaled sharply, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. “And you love dragging this out, don’t you?”

She made a soft, thoughtful sound, her gaze sweeping over me like she was deciding just how much she wanted to let me have. “Mmm. Maybe. Or maybe you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”

Heat curled in my stomach, frustration and want tangled together, her eyes flicked down to my lips for half a second, just long enough for me to notice, but before I could say anything, she let out a slow, almost teasing sigh and stepped back, putting space between us. “Go on, baby. Enjoy your night.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me reeling.

Agatha appeared at my side almost immediately. “So... that looked intense.”

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “I think I might be losing.”

And honestly? I didn’t want to play this game anymore.

Agatha grinned. “No, babe. You’re both losing.”

I groaned. “Great.”

I huffed, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I watched Lilia disappear back into the crowd with that same frustrating grace she always carried. I turned to Agatha, my lips pursed in irritation. “You know what? I don’t want to do this matchmaking thing.”

Agatha, ever perceptive, didn’t even argue. She just sipped her drink and gave me a knowing nod. “Of course, no problem.”

I blinked. ��Wait, seriously?”

She smirked, leaning against the bar. “I know when you’ve had enough, y/n. And right now, you look like you're two seconds away from murdering someone.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me. “Yeah, I think I just... I need to go home.”

Agatha nodded, patting my arm. “Good call. Go home, take a bubble bath, and—”

“Eat my feelings?”

Agatha grinned. “Exactly.”

I gave her a small smile, grateful she wasn’t pushing. “Thanks, Aggie.”

She winked. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll gossip later.”

I nodded, weaving my way through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances and the lingering presence of Lilia somewhere in the room.

By the time I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my skin, and I let out a long breath. The tension that had been building inside me all evening eased slightly, but the frustration was still simmering beneath the surface.

Because despite everything, the flirting, the teasing, the stupid mixed signals, Lilia still managed to keep me at arm's length. And I was tired of playing the waiting game.

As I made my way home, heels clicking against the pavement, I couldn't help but feel like I had just walked away from a fight I wasn't even sure I wanted to win anymore.

I made it home, kicking off my heels the second I stepped through the door. The silence of my apartment felt jarring after the noise and chaos of the event, but it was exactly what I needed. No prying eyes, no teasing coven, and most importantly, no Lilia.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one go. The adrenaline from earlier was fading, leaving me feeling tired, annoyed, and... a little disappointed.

The evening had started off fun, with the whole “make Lilia jealous” plan in full swing. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about teasing her and started feeling like something else. Something heavier.

I wanted her to chase me. I wanted her to want me.

But instead, she just kept pulling back, staying in that frustrating space of almost.

I flopped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts spiral.

Maybe she really doesn’t feel the same way.

Maybe the age gap is too much for her.

Maybe I’m just a fun distraction to her.

I groaned, tossing a pillow over my face. “Ugh, stupid.”

Just as I was debating whether to text Agatha and unload my feelings, my phone buzzed against my thigh.

I grabbed it, half expecting it to be one of my friends checking in, but my breath caught when I saw the name on the screen.

Lilia.

I stared at it for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Was she going to scold me for leaving early? Check on me? Or just... toy with me some more?

Taking a deep breath, I swiped to answer. “Hello?”

There was a pause, then Lilia’s voice, soft and measured. “You left.”

I blinked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

Another pause. “I see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you call just to state the obvious, Lilia?”

She hummed, and I could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Maybe.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Lilia.”

She sighed, and for a moment, I thought she might actually say something real. But then—

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

My heart did that stupid little flutter thing, but I pushed it down, forcing a casual tone. “I’m fine. I always am.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a second, I thought maybe she’d hung up. But then—

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go,” she admitted quietly.

I swallowed, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. “Why did you?”

She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, it was softer than I expected. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling frustration bubble up again. “And? Did you enjoy the show?”

Lilia exhaled, something close to a chuckle, but there was an edge to it. “More than I should have.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Another pause. “So I’ve been told.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Go to bed, Lilia.”

“You too, baby,” she murmured, and before I could come up with a snarky response, the call ended.

My heart pounding, frustration and something else, something deeper, swirling in my chest.

I stared at my phone for all of ten seconds before I muttered, "No, fuck this." Without thinking any further, I tapped Lilia’s number and called her back.

She answered almost immediately, her voice a little softer, maybe a little surprised. “y/n?”

“You’re confusing,” I blurted out, pacing back and forth in my living room, frustration bubbling over. “You are so confusing, Lilia.”

Silence.

I didn’t care, I was on a roll now. “You flirt with me, you pull away, you get all soft and caring, and then you act like none of it happened. And I keep trying to play it cool, keep waiting for you to make up your damn mind, but you never do.”

She didn’t say a word, and I wasn’t stopping.

“And fuck you and this whole age gap excuse, because that’s what it is now, Lilia. It’s an excuse. You keep telling yourself that’s the problem, but it’s not. You flirt with me, you want me, and then you shut me out like it never happened. I’m tired, Lilia. I’m so tired.”

I paused, breathing hard, and then it hit me. My eyes widened as I blurted, “And you never even gave me my underwear back!”

I was hysterical.

I could hear Lilia inhale sharply on the other end, and for a second, I thought she might say something, anything. But all I got was silence.

And that silence was worse than if she’d yelled at me.

I swallowed hard, my anger deflating into something... heavier. More raw. My voice softened, and I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you.”

Still, she said nothing, and it was starting to hurt more than I thought it could.

I took a shaky breath. “I’m done, Lilia. I can’t take any more.” My throat tightened, and I blinked back the sting in my eyes. “It hurts too much.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of my breathing and the faint static of the line. Then, finally, Lilia’s voice came through, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

“Y/n...”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Don’t.”

Another pause. Then she sighed, long and slow, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well... you did.”

Silence again, and I could almost imagine her, standing in her shop, looking down at the floor with that troubled frown she always wore when she was thinking too hard.

After another beat, she said, “I—” but she cut herself off, like she couldn’t finish the sentence.

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. “Lilia, I can’t do this anymore. Not unless you actually want me. Not unless you’re willing to admit it.”

There was a pause. Then, finally, so quietly it nearly shattered me, she said, “I do.”

I froze, my heart slamming in my chest. “What?”

“I do,” Lilia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I didn’t know how to.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

There was a long silence before she finally admitted, “Because I’m scared.”

I felt something shift inside me, my anger melting into something softer. “Scared of what?”

Lilia sighed again, and this time, she sounded... tired. Vulnerable. “Of how much I want you.”

My lips parted, my throat suddenly dry. “Then stop running,” I said softly. “Please, Lilia. Just... stop.”

She was quiet for another long moment, and then— “Come over.”

My breath hitched. “What?”

“Come over,” she said again, a little stronger this time. “Now.”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “Lilia, are you sure—”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “Please.”

And just like that, I didn’t even hesitate. I grabbed my coat, shoved my feet into my shoes, and bolted out the door, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The night air was cool against my skin, but I barely registered it, I was too focused on getting to Lilia.

The drive to her shop felt endless, every red light an eternity, every turn slower than I wanted. My fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel, my thoughts racing.

She admitted it.

She finally admitted it.

But what did that mean? What was waiting for me when I got there?

By the time I pulled up outside her shop, I was a mess of nerves, my stomach churning with anticipation and something I couldn’t quite name. I parked and sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to collect myself.

Come over, she’d said. Not “we need to talk,” not “I need to explain.” Just... come over.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. The street was quiet this time of night, the shop windows dark except for the faint glow of a single light inside.

I knocked, and almost immediately, the door creaked open.

Lilia stood there, looking... different. Her usual confidence wasn’t as sharp around the edges tonight. Her hair was loose, curling naturally around her face, and she had changed into casual wear, soft sweater and leggings, barefoot.

Her dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

I exhaled shakily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied softly, stepping aside to let me in.

The familiar scent of her shop, incense, old books, and something distinctly her washed over me as I walked inside. She closed the door behind me, and the quiet settled around us like a heavy weight.

I turned to face her, my heart still racing. “I meant what I said, Lilia. I can’t do this anymore if you don’t—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. “I know, baby.”

The sound of her calling me that made my knees weak.

I swallowed. “Then why—”

Lilia took a slow step forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “Because I’ve spent a long time being careful, y/n. Too careful.”

I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just let her talk.

“I told myself I couldn’t do this,” she continued, her voice quiet but sure. “That you deserved someone... younger. Someone with fewer complications. Someone who wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

I blinked, my throat tightening. “Lilia...”

She stepped closer, and this time, she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over my wrist. “But you’re right. The age gap, the excuses... they’re just that. Excuses.”

I felt something break inside me, my breath hitching. “Then stop making them.”

Lilia looked at me, really looked at me, and I could see the struggle in her eyes, the hesitation, the longing, the fear. But then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she cupped my face in her hands, her thumb grazing lightly over my cheek.

“I’m done,” she whispered. “No more excuses.”

I barely had time to react before she kissed me.

Soft at first, hesitant, but then I melted into it, my hands gripping her waist as I kissed her back with everything I’d been holding in for weeks, months.

Lilia pressed closer, her body warm against mine, and I felt her exhale shakily into my mouth, like she was finally letting go of all the barriers she’d built between us. Like she wanted this just as badly as I did.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead resting against hers. “Took you long enough,” I whispered, my lips curling into a smile.

Lilia chuckled, her fingers still ghosting over my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip. “I know, baby. I know.”

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally breathe.

But Lilia barely gives me a second to recover before she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me through the shop, her grip firm, her steps hurried, almost reckless. I can barely keep up, my heart racing, my body already aching for her before we even make it to her bedroom.

And then I’m there, being pushed back onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me as I look up at her, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s standing over me, eyes dark and burning with something dangerous, something I’ve been craving for so long.

I moan, unabashedly, because fuck, she’s so hot. The way she looks at me like she’s about to devour me whole, like she’s going to ruin me, like I’m something she’s been starving for.

And then she starts stripping, slowly, painfully slow, slowly, deliberately, eyes locked onto mine the entire time. Teasing me with every inch of skin she reveals. She peels her sweater over her head, her curls tumbling loose, and I watch, breathless, as she undoes the clasp of her bra with deliberate precision, letting it fall to the floor, her smirk growing the longer I stare. Her hands move lower, hooking into the waistband of her leggings, sliding them down her hips with an agonising pace. She steps out of them with ease. My pulse pounds in my ears as she takes her time, dragging it out, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me, letting the last of her clothes slip from her body until she’s completely bare, standing before me in nothing but those dark eyes and the wicked smirk playing on her lips, and I’m left staring, aching.

I can’t take it.

I stand up, lurch forward, hands reaching for her, closing the space between us, my hands immediately on her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach her collarbone, her shoulders, the curve of her neck. My hands roam over her bare back, pressing her closer, needing to feel her. My teeth scrape over the pulse hammering at her throat, and I hear her breath hitch.

Lilia moans, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging me even closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off her. I trail kisses down, across her chest, down her stomach, dragging my nails lightly, down her ribs just to make her gasp, desperate to taste her, to make up for all the time we’ve wasted.

I want her. I want to wreck her, hear her fall apart beneath me.

But Lilia has other plans.

With a low growl, she shoves me back onto the bed, straddling me before I can even react. Her body pins mine against the mattress, a delicious weight that has me gasping. She tugs my dress up, her hands rough and impatient as she drags it over my head and tosses it aside. A shiver runs through me as her fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and without thinking, my hips lift to help her slip them off.

And then she does the same to me. Lilia’s lips are everywhere, hot, demanding, claiming me in a way that’s anything but soft. It’s hard, it’s raw, it’s pent up tension that’s been building for weeks, and it’s so damn good, and I can feel it in every press of her teeth, every bite of her nails against my thighs.

She kisses me like she’s making up for lost time, her hands gripping my hips tightly, grinding down against me, slow and deliberate, teasing me with the friction, with enough force to leave bruises in the morning. My nails rake down her back, desperate, needy, and she loves it, moaning into my mouth as she deepens the kiss.

We don’t stop.

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing, just heat and need and the overwhelming feeling of finally having what we both wanted.

I gasp as Lilia's hands roam lower, her touch possessive, her mouth following her hands, unrelenting, claiming every inch of me. She grips my thighs, spreading me open, pressing teasing kisses along my inner thigh, slow, deliberate, making me squirm.

She pauses just above where I need her, her breath warm against me, teasing, torturous. And when she finally looks up at me, her lips just barely brushing my skin, her eyes are dark, lips slick, pupils blown wide with hunger. She smirks.

“Took me long enough, huh?” she murmurs against my skin.

I can’t even answer, just nod breathlessly.

Lilia’s mouth is on me before I can even process it, her hands pressing my thighs apart with a hunger that makes my head spin. She doesn’t tease. She doesn’t drag it out. She takes.

She devours me like she’s starving, like she’s been holding back for too long and refuses to do it a second longer. Her tongue moves with precision, slow at first, savoring, before she licks deeper, pressing her mouth against me with a hunger that has my head spinning. She flicks her tongue, dragging it over me just right, and I sob, my body jerking beneath her.

Her fingers slide through slick heat, teasing, testing, until—

I gasp, my back arching off the bed as she pushes in, stretching me, filling me in a way that has me gasping for air.

She’s ruthless, curling her fingers just right, stroking deep, pushing, pulling, setting a pace that leaves no room for mercy.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me, baby?” she moans against me, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine. Her fingers don’t slow, thrusting into me hard, fast, each stroke deliberate and punishing. “The things I’ve thought about... every time you walked into the shop in those little skirts, every time you teased me?”

I whimper, my hands clutching the sheets, head thrown back in pure bliss.

She bites the inside of my thigh, and I cry out. “Those panties you left behind,” she breathes, her voice thick with lust, “I couldn’t stop thinking about them. About you. About what it’d feel like to have you.”

A desperate moan rips from my throat, my body trembling under her touch. “Lilia... please.” My hips lifting, chasing her, needing more. She hums, low and indulgent, before finally sliding another finger inside me, stretching me open, pushing deeper, pressing her palm against me just enough to make me whine. My hands clutch at the sheets, my body burning, every nerve ending sparking.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” her tongue circling me in slow, teasing strokes, drawing me apart piece by piece. “Had you like this ages ago. Been wanting to hear these sounds from you for weeks”

Her fingers press against that perfect spot inside me, and I choke out a sob.

She licks deeper, pressing her tongue flat against me before sucking lightly, and I jerk, crying out.

“Want to hear you cum for me,” Lilia purrs, her voice dark and commanding, before she sucks harder, her fingers thrusting into me faster, curling deep, coaxing me higher. “Come on, baby. Let me hear it.”

And I do.

The pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave, my body shaking, moaning her name over and over as I fall apart beneath her touch. Lilia doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until I’m completely wrecked, panting, and twitching from the aftershocks.

She finally pulls back, pressing a final, lingering kiss against me, her breath warm and heavy.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach, her voice full of praise that makes me shiver all over again. “You did so well for me.”

I can barely respond, my limbs boneless, my mind hazy. But I know one thing for sure, I want more.

It takes me a moment to come back down, my body still trembling, my breaths ragged and uneven. Lilia watches me with dark, satisfied eyes, her smirk smug and dripping with confidence. Her fingers still teasing lazy circles on my thigh like she’s enjoying the way I twitch under her touch.

But I’m not done with her, not by a long shot.

Before she can even process it, I flip us over, pressing her into the mattress with a wicked grin. Her eyes widen, but there’s no surprise, just anticipation, hunger.

“Fuck.” The word comes out in a breath, barely a sound, but enough for her to hear.

She hums, amused, her nails skimming over my arms as if daring me to continue.

My fingers trail lower, slipping between her thighs, and I pause, my breath catching as I feel how absolutely soaked she is. The realisation sends a shiver through me, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips.

I pull back slightly, looking at her properly now, taking in the way her lips are parted, her pupils blown wide, her body already straining toward me.

“Oh,” I breathe, teasing my fingers against her, dragging them slowly to feel every bit of her need. “You don’t need any help, do you?”

Lilia’s breath hitches, her hips twitching beneath my touch, but she doesn’t answer, just watches me with dark, half-lidded eyes, her lips parted in anticipation. Fixes me with a look that makes my stomach flip.

It’s daring. A challenge. Like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.

“Fuck,” I say again, letting out another slow breath, pressing a little firmer, feeling how she responds so easily. “You really have been waiting for this,” I murmur, my voice dark, satisfied. “Haven’t you?”

She parts her lips to respond, but I don’t give her the chance.

I sink my fingers into her, slow at first, teasing, stretching her open, feeling the way her body clenches around me.

And then I push in deeper, hard, and she gasps, her back arching, her fingers digging into my shoulders..

I don’t go slow. I don’t tease. I take her hard and rough, my fingers moving with purpose, curling inside her in a way that has her moaning instantly.

Lilia’s hands grasp at my shoulders, her nails scratching, dragging down my back, and I lower my mouth to her breasts, sucking one of her nipples between my lips. I swirl my tongue around it, biting down just enough to make her cry out, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moans, her hips bucking up against my hand, her thighs trembling around me.

I smirk against her skin, flicking my tongue over the hardened peak before moving to the other, lavishing it with the same rough attention while my fingers pump into her relentlessly.

She’s so wet, so tight around my fingers, and it doesn’t take much before I feel her start to tighten around me, her walls fluttering, her breath coming out in broken gasps.

“So, you’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh?” I murmur against her chest, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Thinking about how I’d feel inside you?”

She groans, her back arching as she gasps, “Yes... yes... fuck.”

I grin wickedly, increasing the pace, curling my fingers just right until she’s on the edge, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. “Come on, Lilia,” I whisper against her skin, sucking hard on her nipple as I thrust into her with delicious precision.

“Let me hear you.”

And she does.

Lilia spasms around me, her moan breaking apart into something raw and desperate, her entire body trembling beneath me as she comes undone, gasping my name like it’s the only thing she knows.

I watch her fall apart, mesmerised, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every sharp intake of breath, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen.

My fingers slow, riding out her high as I press soft kisses along her collarbone.

Her breathing is ragged, a deep flush crawling up her chest, sweat slicking her skin, and she lets out a soft, breathy laugh, pulling me against her, her fingers tangling in my hair. “I should hate how smug you look right now,” she murmurs, voice thick and shaky.

I smirk, kissing along her jaw. “You love it.”

She hums, her lips ghosting over my temple as her breath steadies, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

After the intensity of it all, after the heat, the moans, and the desperate need finally sated, we collapse into the sheets, bodies still humming with the aftershocks.

Lilia sighs softly against my hair, her arm draped lazily over my waist, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath me, and I feel her hand lazily tracing circles on my back.

I shift slightly, my leg sliding between hers, my fingers still ghosting over her skin, unable to stop touching her even in the aftermath.

Her skin is warm, still damp from sweat, her breathing slow and steady.

“Comfortable?” she murmurs, voice low and raspy, and I can hear the lingering amusement in it.

I nuzzle against her neck, pressing a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “Very.” My voice is heavy with sleep, and I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, but I don’t want to move. “You?”

She hums, her lips pressing against my temple in a slow, lingering kiss. “Mm. I could get used to this.”

My heart stutters at that, but I don’t say anything, just smile against her skin, letting myself bask in the warmth of her.

Minutes pass, maybe hours, time feels irrelevant when I’m wrapped around her like this. Lilia strokes her fingers through my hair absentmindedly, and I can feel her breathing slowing, the tension that always seems to cling to her finally easing away.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter shut, my body melting against hers. “Don’t retreat in the morning,” I mumble sleepily, barely coherent, but needing to say it.

She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through me. “I won’t, baby.”

And that’s enough for me. With her promise lingering in the air between us, I drift off, feeling safe, sated, and completely tangled in her. Tangled in her warmth, in her scent, in the quiet hum of her presence.

#lilia calderu x reader #lilia calderu #patti lupone #agatha all along #agatha all along fanfic

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akookminsupporter · 2 days ago

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It’s funny in a kind of tragic way how Namjoon has never hidden the fact that he hates military life. He doesn’t want to be there. His latest post on Weverse makes that very clear.

Like, yeah, it’s great that he’s a sergeant now, but he just wants to be a civilian. There’s nothing better than that! I’m sure all the guys are counting down the days until they’re out, but I don’t think anyone’s doing it quite as much as Namjoon. I feel like once this is over, he’s never going to mention this chapter of his life again—or if he does, it’ll just be to complain, ajaajajajaj.

What he said about having a lot to talk about—about there being things that are difficult to speak about now but that he hopes to share in the future—is interesting. It seems like military service has made some of them really look inward and reflect on things, maybe even question how things will change or work in the future.

There’s something about the way Namjoon phrased it that makes me think he’s been doing a lot of reflecting—not just about the band, but about himself, his place in everything, and what he truly wants moving forward. Military service gave them a forced pause, a break from the noise, and while that comes with its own struggles, it also gives them the space to see things from a new perspective.

Their third chapter is going to be very different, both personally and as a group.

By the time they’re all back, some of them won’t be the same guys picking up where they left off. They’ll have changed, grown, maybe even reconsidered things they once thought were set in stone. And that’s going to make their return even more interesting to watch.

#namjoon #nj weverse #bts bts military servicio #bts

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starlightkun · 1 day ago

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➺ word count: 9.3k ➺ genre & warnings: sci-fi, near future, fluff, falling in love without seeing each other, minor hurt/comfort, coworkers au (but in space), space traffic controllers; brief blood/injury mention ➺ synopsis: in which you go to your job as a space traffic controller every day looking forward to your shifts with one specific coworker who you might be falling head over heels for. and sure, you don't know quebec’s real name, nor what he looks like, but you two talk for hours a day between guiding landings and take-offs, and you know him better than anyone else. you’re perfectly happy, until his end of the comms falls silent one day and won’t reconnect ➺ extra info: i recommend being aware of the existence of the icao alphabet so ur not thrown for a complete loop by ppl’s nicknames in here lol. u don’t need it memorized but i swear i didn’t pull these words out of thin air ok. also, in aviation, the number 9 is pronounced niner, ur not going crazy and neither am i ➺ author’s note: agh i had so, so much fun with this one! i know i say that with every new fic, but it’s true! also, i don’t know a whole lot about being an air traffic controller, so this was only loosely based off that (and reader and kun’s jobs are made up anyway), but my dad used to have his pilot’s license and take me flying with him when i was little and i took aviation classes in hs, so i do have a bit of knowledge/experience from that so there’s definitely a lot of influence from american aviation jargon in here (whether or not it’s used correctly is an entirely different thing... we’re in space in the future, after all)

You didn’t immediately see any sign of injury and grabbed his wrist to try to find a pulse. It was faint, but there, and when you put your hand under his nose, you could feel his shallow breaths against your skin. He didn’t rouse, though, and that was when you saw a drop of blood trailing out of his ear.

“Hey, Quebec?” You spoke into the mic, knowing that only one other person could hear you.

“—eah, Zulu?” A familiar man’s voice came through your headset, the very beginning of his sentence cut off as he hadn’t let there be enough still air before he started speaking.

One might think your job lonely or heroic or an opportunity to travel and see some of what the vast Milky Way had to offer. Space Traffic Control was by no means glamorous, and you certainly didn’t feel like a grand figure of mythology in your standard-issue orange jumpsuit that all employees wore on duty, sat at your desk with your feet crossed under you and your mic in one hand as you used the other for leverage against the counter to spin yourself around and around, the various lights on your control panel turning into a starshower before your very eyes. But you quite liked your job. You had the same shift almost every day, so your schedule was predictable, and while the landings and takeoffs that you oversaw were pretty regular thanks to the advancements in space travel, every so often, something fantastic did happen, and you did get to save the day with your quick thinking and directions. You were very rarely thanked or even acknowledged for it, all of the credit and glory going to the pilots, of course, but you didn’t mind—keeping your head down had always best suited you.

And you could never feel alone, even if you were the only person in your control tower. Not when you had Quebec. It was policy to have two controllers on duty at all times, in case of medical emergency (or non-emergency, since even Space Traffic Controllers had to use the bathroom). While you and Quebec weren’t always on shift at the same time, the shifts that you shared with him were by far your favorite. You’d never met in person, nor seen his face, nor even knew his real name, only his call name (Quebec Kilo). But other than that, you knew everything about each other. It wasn’t against any rules for STCs to know each other’s names, but since you only ever used call names on shift, it was pretty pointless to give out your real names.

The landing dock had two towers facing each other, and while they technically did have windows so you could see outside at the approaching spacecraft, even when the lighting was perfect, you could make out no more than a fuzzy, shadowy outline of a person in the window opposite you.

“What did you bring for dinner?”

“Don’t tell me you’re eating your dinner already.” His voice was clearly exasperated.

You hurried to swallow the chip in your mouth before replying. “No…”

“I can hear the food in your mouth.”

“Just a snack!”

“And now you’re going to get hungry again right after dinner and have to go to the vending machine down the hall for another snack and leave me alone with everything.”

“For like five minutes.”

“Remember when that Class-III Tanker came in for an emergency docking while you were on a snack break?”

“Remember every single other time when that didn’t happen, and it was perfectly uneventful?”

He kept his mic on to sigh directly into it, letting you know exactly how he felt. “Just go ahead and eat all of your dinner, why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” you bickered back.

“I just brought a rice ball from the convenience store in Sector II,” he answered your question anyway. “And an iced tea.”

“You like to warm your rice balls up or do you eat them cold?”

“I’ve got a salmon one today.”

“Question still stands.”

“Who eats warm salmon and mayo rice balls?”

“Plenty of perfectly normal people.”

He laughed, his disgust from earlier fading away. “You warm up your salmon and mayo onigiri, don’t you?”

“What’s weird about that?” You immediately defended yourself.

“Nothing, I suppose,” he gave in. “I’ve just never thought to try it. Pork, sure. Beef, absolutely. Salmon or tuna? Never.”

“You should try it today. I know that tower has a microwave.”

“Our towers are exactly the same.”

“Almost.”

“What are you leaving me this time? And where?”

You tried to imagine his grin, despite knowing nothing about what he looked. You had decided long ago that he had dimples, one deeper than the other, because that was obviously cuter. And probably straight teeth, since he spoke like he was well educated, which meant his family probably had the money to afford braces if he needed them.

“You’ll find out,” you replied in a sing-songy voice, having already stashed various gifts somewhere around the office. Days in the towers were long and boring, so you’d been teaching yourself more and more complicated origami, always leaving pieces in hiding spots around the tower for Quebec to find the next time he was in there.

The ten STCs were split into two teams of five. Since the station was so large, it was a chore to commute back and forth between the towers every shift. So, each team of five was assigned to one tower, then you’d swap every two months. This meant that your cabin also moved every two months to the opposite side of the station, but you didn’t mind—crew cabins were impersonal and barebones anyway, and different sectors had different offerings in the convenience stores, cafeteria, food court, and just different people. It was a change in scenery even if you were still stuck in the same corner of space.

“And what do you have for dinner, Zu?” He hummed, imitating your tune.

“Well, I just finished my chips,” you sighed with disappointment, tossing the wrapper away. “They were salt and vinegar. But I still have some fruit—honeydew, it’s my favorite—and a leftover sandwich from the caf from yesterday.”

“The fruit—is it imported? From Earth?”

You scoffed. “Pfft! I can’t afford that! You know how much we make! Wait—Unless you’re making more than me. Bec, are you making more than me?”

“No, no, no,” he reassured you with a laugh. “I just thought you might have saved up, since it’s your favorite.”

“It’s my favorite, but I still can’t justify spending that much on something that I’m just going to digest.” You shook your head. “Ag-bubble-grown is perfectly fine for me, thanks.”

“Practical.”

“It’s what I grew up eating. I don’t have a spoiled palate.”

“Like I said, practical.”

A blip appeared on one of your screens, at the same time that all the information on the craft appeared on the screen beside it. “It’s that civilian craft we’ve been waiting for,” you said. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Because that’s always been great via audio,” Quebec chuckled.

“Hundredth time’s the charm.”

“Rock paper scissors, shoot—Rock!” “Paper!”

“See?” He said pointedly, and you imagined him rolling his eyes. “The person who says it always has the disadvantage because of the delay.”

“No, I think you almost had me that time. Really.”

He sighed and cleared his throat, which you took as your cue to turn your mic off. There was another distinct crackle of him turning his outgoing signal on before he started speaking to the incoming spacecraft.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Sparrow, November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey. Do you copy?”

“Civilian Sparrow November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey, we copy, Space Traffic Control.” The voice of the pilot was even more garbled than yours and Quebec’s, typical not only of civilian spacecraft, but judging by how short the N number was, he had a much, much older craft as well. There had been so many made by now that some N numbers were over 10 characters long and included letters too. After the initial identification was made, the N number would typically be abbreviated to the last three characters to save time, unless another craft was in the area with a similar N number. “We are approaching your portside slightly positive on your z-axis, but we’ll sort that out before we get there, about five minutes out. Do we have permission to land?”

“Control to Sparrow, you are all clear for landing. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Roger-dodger. Thanks, Control. Fair winds. Sparrow over.”

“Fair winds,” Quebec echoed. “Control over.”

Quebec had hardly turned off his outgoing feed when you caught another blip on your screen, this one you weren’t expecting, approaching quickly. You frowned as Quebec cursed under his breath, the information on the spacecraft once again reading out underneath the information on the Sparrow. This was also a civilian craft, slightly larger than the Sparrow, and definitely newer, the N number at least 10 digits long by the look of it.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India—”

“Yeah, copy,” the pilot of the new spacecraft cut Quebec off.

“I need to finish identifying your craft,” he said through gritted teeth. “Civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India-Zero-Zero-Seven-Four-Two-Zero-Juliet-Foxtrot-Niner-Eight-Delta. Do you copy?”

There was a long bout of silence, so Quebec asked again, “Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do—”

“Yeah, I copy, didn’t you hear me the first five times?” The pilot was clearly irritated now, and so were you and Quebec.

“Were you holding the button to turn your mic on the first five times?” Your coworker asked.

“I’m landing in like, two minutes. It’s clear, right?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“We don’t have your flight on file, and there’s another spacecraft that did put their landing request in ahead of time that we’re expecting to land within the next five minutes. So, no,” Quebec reiterated with no sympathy. “Do an orbit. An eccentric one.”

The pilot sputtered indignantly before declaring, “This is an emergency!”

“All readings from your vessel indicate that it’s in perfect condition. Brand new, even. What is the nature of your emergency? Please give us specific details so we can assist.”

You, meanwhile, were glad that your mic was muted, because you were keeled over at your desk laughing, wiping at the tears being forced from your eyes.

Clearly unable to think of a specific emergency scenario, the Hummingbird pilot gave up. “Fine! I’ll orbit and land in ten minutes.”

“We will process your landing request and let you know if you have permission to land.” There was no response from the pilot, but Quebec nevertheless said, “Control over.”

“Hummingbird over,” he finally replied, not hiding how peeved he was.

The dot signifying the Hummingbird changed course, beginning an oblong orbit around the space station that would thankfully take it out of the path of the incoming Sparrow.

“Asshole,” Quebec muttered over your internal frequency.

“Just because we’re not near any major planet doesn’t mean they can show up unannounced and expect to land whenever they want,” you scoffed. “Nobody seems to get that we’re the last station around for light-years, so everybody stops in. Which is why they’re trying to land in the first place.”

“You would think they’d think about that, but no,” he sighed. “Everybody assumes nobody exists outside their own ship. Including us. We’re just disembodied voices to them.”

“I wonder how many people think they’re talking to an automated system when they talk to us.”

“Lots, I’m sure.”

A few minutes later, the Sparrow landed with no issues, and you waved to the quaint ship of various patchwork panels of tan and browns as it came in, despite the pilot being unable to see you. It was just something you liked to do.

“Bec?”

“Yeah, Zu?”

“You want me to let the Hummingbird know their landing has been approved?”

He groaned. “No, but better you than me.”

You snickered, composing yourself right before turning your external comms on, establishing a connection to the Sparrow with a flick of a switch. “Space Tower Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?”

“Where’s the other guy?” The pilot asked, surprise evident in his tone. He was clearly ready for a round two.

“Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?” You repeated in your most neutral, artificial customer service voice.

“As long as he stays gone,” he grumbled. His time-out imposed by Quebec had clearly done him no good. “Yeah, this is civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta. I copy, Control.”

“Your landing request has been approved. In the future, please submit your landing requests at least twelve standard Earth hours prior to arrival in non-emergency cases.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What’s your ETA, Hummingbird?”

“1743.”

“Copy. Fair winds, Hummingbird. Control over.”

“Fair winds,” he repeated unenthusiastically. “Hummingbird over.”

The Hummingbird was of course a sleek ship, slightly larger than the Sparrow in size, but all smooth, thin, long shapes and a glossy scarlet red paint job with chrome accenting. You flipped it off as it glided by to dock with the space station.

After coming back from your late-night vending machine break, you catapulted yourself back into your rolly chair with enough momentum to roll back up to your station with no extra movements needed. Putting your headset back on, you announced into your mic, “I’m back!”

“No disasters,” Quebec reported dryly. “This time.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” You clicked your tongue.

“No.”

“Anyway, I got cookies, in case you were curious,” you told him cheerily. “And information!”

“What sort of information?”

“There was a paper on the bulletin board by the vending machine advertising skiing lessons on Nixu for this upcoming snow season. Starts in just a couple months. You know what that means?”

“We’re about to get all their tourists coming through here on their way to go ski and snowboard and whatever else,” he sighed. “For the next three Nixiun years.”

“Yup!” You confirmed through your bite of cookie. “How many standard years is that? Five? Ten?”

“Too many.”

“Well, Nixiun summer was peaceful while it lasted. For the whole six months.”

“God, have we really been working here for that long?”

“We started within a couple weeks of each other, I think. My one year’s coming up.”

“My one year was a few days ago.”

“Aw, and you didn’t tell me?” You gasped in betrayal. “I would’ve done something!”

“It’s fine, Zulu. I think I was on shift with Pops anyway.” Pops—another one of the Space Traffic Controllers on your team, an older man who happened to be assigned the call name Golf Papa (shortened to Pops).

“Yeah, but you and me are like—” You gesticulated wildly as you scrambled for the right word. “You know?”

“No, not really,” he laughed. “I need you to elaborate a little bit more.”

“We’re Quebec and Zulu, you know? Bec and Zu.” You could see your pout in the reflection of the glass window as you looked out at Quebec’s control tower across from you. “I know we’re all close but you and me are like extra. Right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Quebec agreed without a hint of sarcasm or jest. “When’s your one year? I want to make sure I don’t miss it.”

“In six days. I expect fireworks,” you teased.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’re working together that day, I think.” You pulled up the schedule on your computer connected to the ship’s intranet. “Yeah, the 1600 to 2400 shift again. It’s starred, we’re going to have a VIP that shift.”

“What about the day before?”

You hummed as you looked it over. “Wednesday… I’m off, and you are on the 2400 to 0800 shift with Uni. You have a lot of time between shifts on Wednesday and Thursday at least. Ooh… never mind.”

“What?”

“You’ve got alt shifts Tuesday-Wednesday. You’re on 0800 to 1600 Tuesday with Uni.”

With 8-hour shifts and two controllers needing to be on shift at a time, your supervisors tried to give you at least two shifts—16 hours—off between when you were scheduled to allow for adequate rest and downtime. Being scheduled for alternating shifts, on, off, then back on (or god forbid, double shifts), was a nightmare for trying to get any rest, errands, or other personal time in.

“Let me see this,” he mumbled, presumably pulling it up on his own monitor. A few moments later, he groaned. “Kill me now.”

“Hey, I’ve got the 1600 shift Tuesday with Indy,” you scoffed. “I’ll kill you if you kill me.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad…”

“You interact with him for all of five minutes when you swap, I have to deal with him for the whole eight hours.”

“Our crew quarters are near each other, actually. We’ve grabbed lunch.”

You clutched your chest as your jaw dropped in horror. “I thought we were friends, Bec, and now I find out you’ve grabbed lunch with my archnemesis?”

“Normal people don’t have archnemeses, Zu.”

“Well I—” A blip popped up on your screen and you quickly switched your comms over to address the incoming ship. “Space Traffic Control to military Wasp, Kilo-Five-Five-Eight. Do you copy?”

Military ships didn’t have N numbers like civilian crafts, instead they had a much shorter ID number. The first letter indicated the classification of the vessel, while the numbers after were unique to that ship.

“Military Wasp Kilo-Five-Five-Eight to Space Traffic Control, we copy,” the pilot replied automatically. “We’re not looking to dock, just requesting a conditions report.”

“Nothing major in the past twenty-four hours and nothing expected in the next forty-eight. Sending the full specs to your ship now,” you said, quickly doing so on your computer.

A few moments later, she confirmed, “Received. Thanks, Control. We’ll be heading out now.”

“Fair skies. Control over.”

“And following seas. Wasp over.”

It seemed a bit silly to you when you started as an STC, to say an old Naval blessing every time you ended a conversation with someone, considering that you were in space so there were no skies or seas to speak of. But soon it became second nature to you. You found that most civilians just echoed ‘fair skies’ back to you, but military personnel would actually complete the phrase.

As soon as you had turned your outgoing feed off, you got right back into it with Quebec, closing your eyes and putting a hand over your chest as you went on with your impassioned opinion, “I think having an archnemesis livens things up. Especially around here.”

“I thought that’s what I was for?” He teased.

“Do you want to be my archnemesis instead?”

“Could be fun.” You imagined him shrugging with a lopsided grin on his face. “Are you taking applications?”

“Only for you.”

“Ooh, I feel so special.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired of wasting time and brainpower on Indy of all fucking people.” You kicked your feet up on the desk, eyes focused on the other tower now as you grinned at it. You always left shifts with Quebec with sore cheeks. “I need someone more on my level anyway.”

“Are you saying if I become your archnemesis then you’ll think about me all the time?” His voice curled around your ear, still playful but not quite the same friendly banter as before. You weren’t sure when it started, but there were moments like this, between your taunting, and poring your hearts out to each other, and rousing games of audio rock-paper-scissors, and actual work, that the mood… shifted.

You bit the tip of your thumb to keep from literally screaming, taking a second to compose yourself before answering. “Mm… maybe.”

“Because then you’re already my archnemesis.”

Muting your mic, you then literally screamed and pumped your fist into the air victoriously. After a deep inhale, you turned your mic back on, unable to contain your giddiness in your one-word question, “Really?”

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you let out an embarrassing yelp directly into the mic, whipping around to see the STC who was taking the next shift from you. “Fucking—Delta! What the fuck, man?”

Quebec was now laughing directly in your ear over the headset, and you took one ear off to hear what Delta said back to you.

“I’ve been here for the past two minutes. I thought you saw the light.” He indicated to the red light above your station that flashed when someone opened the door to your tower. You must’ve had your eyes shut when Delta came in and missed the signal. Delta looked entirely unamused and a little disgusted as he looked down at you, continuing, “Anyway, I’m ready and I can’t listen to you and Quebec do… whatever that is anymore.”

Your stomach dropped out of your ass at his words. What the hell did your conversation with Bec sound like to other people? Apparently bad. You barely knew Delta, only interacting with him during shift hand-offs, and, yeah, he seemed a bit uptight, but still, this was embarrassing.

Quebec was no longer laughing, now coughing and sputtering on the other end of the line too. You meekly put the mic back on the desk and took the headset off, handing it over to Delta. He took disinfectant wipes to the headset, waving them in the air for the solution to dry before putting them on and taking the seat which you had just vacated. You shuffled over to the table by the door where your bag was, as well as the IN/OUT log, which you signed before hurrying out.

Returning to the hall where your crew cabin was, you walked by an open door and stopped to poke your head in, beaming at the woman sitting on her bunk. “Hey, Uni!”

“Hey, Zulu,” the STC on your team—Uniform Lima was her full call name—lifted her hand in greeting. “Just get off shift?”

“Yeah, I was going to grab something to eat and head to the gym before sleeping. Want to come?”

“I already worked out, but I could eat,” she agreed.

“Let me get out of my jumpsuit then we can go. You pick.”

Indy was the only STC who was a gym rat to your knowledge, but being in space, working out and supplements were just a fact of life in order to prevent muscle atrophy and other deterioration of your body. You were used to it, having spent plenty of time on spaceships growing up. Going to the gym with a buddy made the mandatory exercise regimen go by a lot quicker.

After changing into casual clothes appropriate for the gym, you grabbed Uni and headed out. She was a few years older than you, not nearly Pops’ age, but you knew she had been here for a little while before you started. Uni was a tall woman, tall enough that you had to crane your neck a little to look up at her, with dark black hair that she kept cropped close to her head. There were a few premature specks of grey at the back, which you never mentioned to her in case she hadn’t noticed.

“You were on shift with Quebec today?” She asked casually.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you answered. “You… checked the schedule?”

“Just to see when I was working. You had your dopey little smile on, so I figured.”

You covered your mouth with both your hands, squinting at her over them. “What are you talking about?”

“No, I think it’s cute. You guys are so cute when you talk about each other.”

“He talks about me?!”

She burst into laughter, fondly patting the top of your head. “Gotcha.”

“You’re mean,” you huffed, swatting her hand away. “Mean and awful and a liar—”

“I wasn’t lying!” You friend defended herself. “He does talk about you when we’re on shift. And it is very cute, too. I just also gotcha by bringing it up.”

The two of you had arrived at the food court that never closed, and she started towards one of the options. You followed, not caring where you ate right now, and also desperately needing to continue this conversation.

“What does he say, Uni?” You pleaded, shaking her by the arm as you got in the short line. Time was pretty meaningless on a space station in the middle of nowhere, constantly getting travelers arriving and departing, so people ate whenever they pleased. The only ones who tended to keep a pretty regular schedule were the crew—except STCs, of course.

“He talks about you the most, out of all the STCs. It’s always Zulu this, Zu that. He knows we’re friends, so he asks about how you’re doing if you guys haven’t been scheduled together for a while, stuff like that.”

You dug your toe into the metal panel under you as you thought about it. Suddenly, your friend was pinching your cheek and cooing at you, “Cute!”

“Uni!” You whined and smacked her hand away, cradling your now-tender skin. She laughed as the two of you shuffled up in line.

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

Because of where you were in space, the last station for a very long while along the intergalactic travel routes in this region, it wasn’t unusual for you to receive special arrivals. Politicians, ambassadors, military leaders, celebrities, you’ve seen a lot in your one year as an STC. Today, an ambassador from Earth was stopping over on their way to an intergalactic peace conference. You and Quebec had received the briefing for the landing in advance to your crew emails, so the ship information that appeared along with the dot was already familiar to you. When the VIPs were of this caliber, all of the higher-ups on the ship would be at the docking port to greet them. The protocols for landing were also slightly different, meaning that having two STCs was necessary for much of it.

“Space Traffic Control to military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner. Do you copy?” Quebec took over the initial paging.

“Military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner to Control, we copy,” the pilot’s voice came back quickly. “Sending out recognition codes…”

An incoming message from the Heavy flashed up on your screen, and you accepted. Quebec read his out first, then you got on the mic to read out your three-number code.

“Great, thanks,” the pilot acknowledged. “Are we clear for landing?”

“Yes,” Quebec confirmed.

The two of you seamlessly worked through the pre-landing protocols with the Heavy’s pilot. Finally, you just had to wait for the craft to get closer before you could begin the next phase: landing. The pilot dropped off the comms momentarily to address something internally, promising to get back on when it was time to begin the landing. That just left you and Quebec again.

“Wonder why they even keep having these intergalactic peace conferences,” he mused. “They only invite the factions that are already at peace, never the ones with any tension.”

“It’s symbolic, I guess,” you shrugged. “Maybe they talk about how to go about achieving peace with the ones that aren’t there? Or to promote continued peace among the ones that are there?”

“It’d probably be worse to stop at this point, huh?”

“Yeah, might not look good if they stopped holding the intergalactic peace conference that’s been going on for the past couple decades.”

“Still, Th’irin always has something to say about—” A heavy clunk punctuated the end of his words, followed by silence. Not fuzzy silence, like when the mic was on but the person on the other end was quiet. Dead silence, like the mic had been shut off entirely.

“Bec?” You said uncertainly. Someone must have come into his tower, and he was addressing them off-mic.

When he still hadn’t responded a minute later, even to tell you to hold on or wait a minute, you started getting nervous. Sitting forward in your seat, you futzed with cover on your microphone as you called into it again.

“Quebec? You there?”

Nothing.

You paged him properly this time, hitting the button to flash the lights in his tower as you enunciated as clearly as possible, “Space Traffic Control Tower One to Tower Two, Quebec Kilo, do you copy?”

At the same time, your hands rushed to send a message to him via the STC system.

[TOWER1: Q? DO YOU COPY?]

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as you desperately went to send another message via the ship intranet to your superiors instead. As soon as you had started drafting it, though, you cursed under your breath and deleted it. They would be down at the dock waiting to receive the ambassador, not at their usual stations with monitors ready to receive emergency alerts from the STC towers.

“Military Heavy to Control, do you copy?” The pilot’s voice cut through the sound of your heartbeat, and you banged your fist on the desk in frustration. You quickly went into the system and switched it over to be a dual STC setup on your monitors since Quebec apparently wasn’t going to be able to help.

Turning your outgoing feed back on, you confirmed, “Control to Heavy, we copy.”

Now with both set of STC controls, you had to move twice as fast to input everything and go through the landing protocols with the pilot. All the while, in the back of your mind, the black put of worry in your stomach only grew and grew.

In between operations, you were drafting a new message, this time to the other STCs. You doubted any of them were going to be checking their staff emails not on duty, but you needed some kind of help. It was a succinct SOS, and you had to focus back in on landing the ambassador’s ship again, and sent it off without another thought.

“Your partner’s quiet,” the pilot commented, their tone light, and you knew they meant nothing by it. “Did you guys rock paper scissors for who would take what parts?”

“Mm, yeah,” you forced out a laugh through gritted teeth, smacking the page button for Quebec’s tower again—just in case.

The light in your tower flashed, and your heart nearly exploded with hope that it was Quebec signaling back to you, that something had just gone awry with his mic and he was still there. Then a hand tapped your shoulder, and you were thrown back into despair again.

It was Pops, the lines on his forehead clear as he furrowed his brows in confusion. He held his digipad out to you, your SOS message on it. You held a finger up to gesture for him to wait a moment as you were receiving pertinent information from the pilot.

“Seven-Five, Two-Zero,” you echoed, entering the numbers as you said them. “Copy.”

Taking one ear of your headphones off, you switched your outgoing comms off before immediately rambling, “It’s Quebec! He dropped off the mic like five minutes ago and he’s not answering, Pops!”

The older man held his hands out in a ‘calm down’ motion. “You’re sure he’s not just getting a snack?”

“No, no, he’d tell me! It was in the middle of his sentence, and we’re literally landing an ambassador’s ship right now!” You sputtered out, gesticulating between your controls and the large ship right outside your window. “He wouldn’t just leave! Something’s wrong!”

His jaw set and he gave one solemn nod. “How far are you?”

“The rest is automated now. But I can’t—”

“I’ll monitor,” he cut you off. “You go check on Quebec.”

“He’s all the way—”

“Now, Zulu!”

You shot to your feet and threw your headphones off and onto the desk. Running from the control room, you didn’t even stay to see Pops take over the station like you’re supposed to.

The space station was huge. It was a thirty-minute walk on a good day from one side to the other, but now that you had fully been overtaken by panic, all of the worst-case scenarios playing in your mind, your stomach consuming itself in fear and anxiety crushing your lungs, it felt insurmountable. Probably your only saving grace was the fact that word had gotten around about the ambassador’s arrival, so lots of people were down on the observation decks above the landing bay to watch the ship dock rather than milling through all the halls that you were currently sprinting through. Even the crew-only shortcuts that you had access to—which you knew were faster—felt like agony to wait for. Standing around in the elevators felt like standing in lava despite the fact that you knew they were moving 100x faster than it felt. The crew corridors were narrower, and you cut corners too close, banging your shoulder or elbow a few times. In your impatience, you lost the location of Tower 2 a couple times on the directory when selecting your destination in a transporter, screaming and kicking the wall in frustration. The pain distracted you from all the what-ifs, and grounded you back into this moment, so you didn’t actually mind it much.

You clutched the handles of Tower 2’s elevator so tightly your fingertips went numb, gnawing on your bottom lip until well past the point you tasted blood. Finally, you were at the control room, and you damn near pried the doors open yourself. Pushing yourself through the doors as they opened, you probably bruised your shoulder again, but you hardly registered it.

Under the red light that flashed to announce your arrival, a man was sprawled on the floor between the chair and the control station. You ran over, pulling the chair away to reach him. He was face-down, and you took his headphones off to roll him over.

“Quebec!” You shook his shoulder a little less than gently.

“Oh, God,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet to lunge for the bright blue medical emergency button by the door. The button lit up, and you ran back to grab his headphones and mic.

“—ation EMTs will be at your location in less than two minutes. Please communicate the nature of your emergency if you’re able,” the dispatcher’s voice requested.

“I just found the STC in this tower passed out. He’s got blood coming out of his ear and he won’t wake up,” you said.

“Do you know how long he’s been in this state?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Okay. Any sign of injury?”

“No, nothing. He was fine, he was talking and just, I don’t know, collapsed I think!” You didn’t mean to snap at the dispatcher, but you were freaked out by how little you knew.

“Alright, okay. I understand. The EMTs will be there very soon. Can you stay on the line with me in the meantime?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is the patient?”

“An STC—call name Quebec Kilo.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m an STC too. Zulu Echo. We were on shift and he just dropped off the mic in the middle of a landing.”

“Got it, got it.”

“Where the EMTs?” You asked, feeling for Quebec’s breaths again.

“They’re in the elevator now.”

The elevator door opened then, and your throat seized up anxiously. “They’re here. Thank you.”

“I’ll hang up now. Goodbye, Zulu Echo.”

You took the headphones off as the two EMTs swarmed Quebec’s body, watching them start evaluating his vitals with their field scanner.

“We have the information you gave dispatch,” one EMT informed you. “We’re going to take him to the infirmary in this sector.”

You grabbed the edge of the desk to pull yourself to your feet. “I’ll—”

“Elevator isn’t big enough for all of us,” the other informed you regretfully as they had started loading him onto a stretcher. “You can take the next one.”

“Right. I’ll be right behind you.”

You watched them take him out, and as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, felt your knees buckle under you. Barely catching yourself against the desk, your eyes filled with tears, which you barely saw the flash of a red light through. The elevator wasn’t opening again, though, so you figured it must be a page.

Picking up the headphones and mic, you kept it on the internal system as you croaked, “Pops?”

“Oh, Zulu, there you are,” his relief was evident in his voice. “How is he?”

“Bad, I think,” you confessed, tears slipping down your face. “He was out cold, and there was blood coming from his ear. The EMTs took him—”

“You know where?”

“Sector 2 infirmary.”

“So what are you doing still talking to me?”

“Right. Bye, Pops.”

Your hands were trembling as you set the headphones down on the desk. With a trembling breath, you recalled the elevator. It was empty when you stepped on, and you numbly selected down. The infirmary was close by to the tower, and you wiped your eyes in the hall outside before entering.

It was eerily empty, and your stomach dropped. You dug your nails into your palm to try to get control of yourself again. Finally, a nurse came out of the hallway and into the main hallway where you were, clearly surprised when he spotted you.

“Sorry about that.” He focused a frazzled smile on you. “How can I help you?”

You were sure you were mirroring his expression. “I’m here to see somebody. He should’ve just come in with the EMTs…?”

“Yes, the doctors are working on him.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to where you can wait.”

You were put into a small patient room with a bed and one chair. After pacing for who knows how long, your feet finally got tired enough that you sat down in the chair. You didn’t sit for very long before you were back on your feet, pacing again. That repeated at least three times before you finally heard something from the hall.

Your eyes were already on the doorway when a gurney was pushed in, Quebec laying atop it. Stepping out of the way of the two nurses who transferred him from the gurney to the bed and started hooking him up the monitoring equipment, you were then pulled aside by the doctor who had come in with them.

“Are you a friend?” She asked.

“Yeah, we work together,” you confirmed. “I called it in.”

“Good timing,” she commented lightheartedly. She filled you in on the issue—most of the specifics went over your head, but it didn’t sound good—then gave you the prognosis, “We plugged everything back up. He’ll have a headache for a few days, and needs to take it easy for the next week. But other than that, he’ll be fine.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“How far medicine has come, huh?” She chuckled. “Something like that would’ve killed him a decade ago. But he can go on like it never happened now.”

You looked over at where Quebec’s eyes were still closed, still unable to calm your panicked heart despite the doctor’s reassuring words and relaxed demeanor. “When will he wake up?”

“An hour or so.” She nodded towards the door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a couple other patients to check on.”

“Oh, go for it.”

“Push the call button if you need anything, or just holler. Small infirmary, someone will hear you.”

With her departure, it was just you and Quebec. You pulled the chair up to his bedside, gathering your knees to your chest in a self-soothing grasp. His heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, and you noticed that his hand was hanging off the bed a little bit, so you reached forward to pick it up and rest it over his abdomen like his other one. There was a small piece of gauze affixed under his ear, and you recognized it as the ear that had been bleeding earlier.

“I’m never letting you live this down, Quebec,” you stated through a sniffle. “Every time you bring up that Tanker showing up while I was at the vending machine, I’m going to bring up you passing out while we were in the middle of landing an ambassador’s ship.”

He continued resting, chest rising up and down.

“So you better wake up soon, so I can start teasing you.” You poked his shoulder before taking your hand back and wrapping your arm around your knees again.

For the first time since you entered Tower 2, you took a moment to process what Quebec actually looked like. Dark brown hair, bangs falling out of the way of his forehead and pieces curling around his ears, and a freckle under his right eyebrow.

You sighed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Of all the times you’d let yourself daydream about finally meeting Quebec in person, this was absolutely not how it went. Usually, it was something like bumping into each other while you were switching crew cabins, or you just so happened to go to a more centrally located place to eat and started talking to a handsome stranger and found out that it was him. Funny enough, you never thought of actually asking Quebec to hang out off-shift. You were more than happy with what you had, fully content with the knowledge that nobody in the universe knew him better than you, and vice versa. So what if other people knew what he looked like or knew his real name? That never felt important.

Before you realized it, your eyes were fluttering shut, your ears continuing to listen to the rhythm of the vitals monitor. Eventually, a confused grunt caught your attention, and you looked up quickly.

Quebec was hesitantly squinting one eye open, rubbing his other as he seemed to be struggling to adjust to the bright lights in the room. You stayed quiet as you let him wake up a little more and acclimate, getting two eyes open and blinking as he registered first the hospital gown he was wearing and infirmary bed he was laying in, then did a sweep around the room, brown gaze landing on you.

“Hey, Bec,” you greeted him gently, offering a small smile. “How do you feel?”

“Zu?” His voice was hoarse, gaze unblinking as he reached a hand towards you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you confirmed, taking his hand between both of yours. “You had uhm, a problem. The doctor can explain—But you’re better now.”

He clutched his head, and you winced sympathetically.

“Your head will hurt for a bit, but other than that, all better,” you corrected yourself. “You feel okay?”

He nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “You came all the way here?”

“You passed out in the middle of us landing the ambassador’s ship,” you told him frankly, a hint of teasing in your tone. But your voice wavered as you added, “I was worried sick. Found you on the floor of the tower.”

“Ah, sorry. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand.

“No way I was going to let you die, Quebec. I mean—What if they started putting me with Indy instead?”

He was just staring at you, mouth parted, before a soft smile came across his features, two dimples marking his cheeks. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” You chuckled nervously.

“That you’d be the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You covered your face as you laughed and shook your head. “Quebec—”

“Kun.”

“What?”

“That’s my real name,” he hummed. “Qian Kun.”

“Kun,” you sighed fondly. “I knew you’d have dimples.”

“What?” He giggled, touching one of his cheeks. “You could hear my dimples?”

“It was a hunch.”

He looked down at the IV in his arm. “They’ve got me on some good stuff.”

“Yeah, they do,” you agreed.

“I mean it, though.”

“Mean what?”

Kun turned over on his side to face you. “You’re beautiful, Zulu.”

You traced the lines of his brows, his freckle, his eyes, his nose, the curve of his smile, his cupid’s bow, and his jaw with your eyes. “Y/N. That’s my name. Y/L/N Y/N.”

He mouthed it to himself first, slowly, then said it aloud, “Y/N. Thank you.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Kun.” You pressed a fleeting kiss to his hand that you were still holding. “Really.”

You kicked your feet up on the desk, tapping your toes in the air along to an imaginary beat. Clicking your internal comms line on, you asked, “So what are you doing after this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kun immediately teased back.

“Yeah, that’s why I asked, asshole,” you scoffed.

“Ouch, first day back on the job and this is how I’m treated?”

“Doctor said you’re fine, no need to throw yourself a pity party.”

He laughed, but answered your question nevertheless. “Gym and then dinner. Missed enough required exercise thanks to that little incident I’m going to start withering away.”

“I’ll have to find another archnemesis if you do.”

“So I am your archnemesis.” His grin was audible, and you could perfectly imagine it now, bright and dimpled. “Well, I can’t have you thinking about anybody else.”

You looked over your shoulder before offering, “Want some company?”

“Sure. Sector 1?”

“Damn, you really that afraid of withering away you’re willing to come all the way over here?”

“I was being a gentleman—”

“Wait, your favorite restaurant is in the Sector 1 food court,” you said knowingly. “Would that have anything to do with it?”

“It’s a win-win—you don’t have to come all the way over here, I get to see you…”

“And eat at your favorite spot,” you snickered. “Smart, Bec.”

“I would’ve offered even if I hated all the food in Sector 1, Zu,” he declared dramatically. “Hand on my heart.”

Despite knowing each other’s real names, it was still habit (and technically proper) to use call names on shift. You checked on him every day during his recovery over the past week, so you’d gotten used to calling him Kun as well.

“Uh-huh,” you agreed mildly. “I’ll meet you in the gym at 1630 then.”

“It’s a date.”

After getting through your mandatory workout for the day, you and Kun meandered over to the Sector 1 food court. Despite your teasing, you also got food from the same restaurant as him. He didn’t move to take a seat in the food court, however, jerking his head for you to follow him. With your bag of food in one hand, you did so, intrigued. Kun apparently had a destination in mind, weaving through the crowds with intention and reaching back to grab your free hand to not lose you.

Soon, you arrived at a crew-only observation deck devoid of other people. You couldn’t recall if you had been to this particular one before, but the door slid shut behind you two and the sounds of the rest of the ship faded away. This particular deck was pointed directly at a large plasma cloud, glowing with energy and all sorts of swirling pinks, purples, and greens.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you gushed, sitting on the ledge under the window.

“I like seeing how the cloud has changed whenever I’m in Sector 1,” Kun said, sitting next to you. “It’s different every time.”

You drew your gaze over to him, eyes catching on the faint line under his ear, marking where he’d been operated on just last week. It had healed very fast, of course, as all surgeries now did, and you reached out to touch the skin under it with a fingertip. “Do you feel okay, Kun?”

“Brand new.” He took your hand from the incision and laced your fingers together. “I promise, Y/N.”

“Good.” The two of you ate your dinner like that, hand-in-hand, watching the plasma cloud and stars, sometimes talking, and sometimes in silence. And that was more than enough.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01 @fae-renjun

#qian kun x reader #wayv x reader #nct x reader #qian kun imagine #wayv imagine #nct imagine #nct fluff #kun x reader #qian kun fluff #kun fluff #kun imagine #wayv fluff #writing #text #mine #f: clatr #kunkun #bias tag

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anti-mpregfanblog · 3 days ago

Text

Fanblog and fans. I want to start this by thanking all of you. This has single-handedly been one of the most positively overwhelming things I’ve done, which is saying a lot I think. I’d like to thank all who supported me and even those who didn’t. You all have made this war enjoyable and now that I’ve won I think it's fair I keep my promise. First though, i'd like to say a few things.

I like to think that the only reason I’ve had the success I have with this has simply been because you don’t know who i am. The power an identity has is strong and it becomes stronger when you hide it. I know that now first hand. I’d like to think the mask I’ve put on while I’ve played this part is well constructed. I’ve expertly been able to hide it from you all except for one person. @moss-moths-eyes-and-whimsy you are a genius. Crazy, but a genius. The dedication you put in purely to know me makes me slightly worried but alas, it's been amazing talking to you about all of this. Speaking of them actually, I have had such an amazing time helping to taunt the discord. I’m genuinely curious how far some of you have gotten in your own research, and since hearing from Moss I’ve tried to cover my tracks better based on what they’ve told me. So if your research has become a bit more difficult, blame them :)

I'd also like to take a moment to brag. The pure stress one experiences being the revolutionary who started the war is immense. On top of having 3 other fanblogs plus my original blog, I have not made a single mistake. The thing that mainly kept me going was the appreciation for my propaganda. I truly didn’t expect those to be so popular but alas, I was proven wrong. I'd also like to take a moment to thank my one friend who has been my right hand man and a damn good one at that. He has probably helped coach me through so many things that I couldn’t count them on my hands. I’m honestly proud of myself for going as far as I have with this. The final night of the poll I was up until 4 just watching it, convinced a last minute turnaround would happen. It didn’t, thankfully but that alone made me all the happier to finally have this war over.

Just because the war is over will not mean I’ll leave the throne I've built for myself. I will continue to fight the battles I need to. I will not stop even when my blades are covered in layers of blood. I will always come back to the deep Blackstone floor, tall pillars stretching above till infinity, and sit on the dark throne I made. My identity is not the end of the battles. I will not rest until the sky’s clear and everyone won't have to worry about mpreg. This is a promise. I will not stop until you are free.

As i close this speech out i'd like to thank you all one more time. I look forward to once again leading any revolution or battle. I am forever in your service and will be till the day I leave this cursed app. I’ll lastly like to say that i, the Anti Mpreg fanblog, leader of the revolution, and saint of the people, am

—

The Slimecicle Fanblog :)

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amirasainz · 2 hours ago

Text

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

The Nurse and her Racer

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Yn hurried through the bustling paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix. The air was thick with the scent of fuel, burnt rubber, and the faint tang of espresso from the hospitality suites. Ferrari’s scarlet banners fluttered in the morning breeze, and the hum of engineers fine-tuning the cars filled the air. Yn, as always, was in the thick of it, her medical bag slung over her shoulder and a warm smile on her face. She was the heart of the Ferrari team, the one person everyone turned to when they needed comfort, care, or just a listening ear.

But today, something was off. Charles, their golden boy, was missing.

“Where’s Charles?” Yn asked, glancing around the garage. The usually lively Monegasque driver was nowhere to be seen. Lewis, leaning casually against a counter with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow at her.

“Didn’t you hear? Poor Charlie’s down with the flu,” Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Fred decided to bench him for the weekend. Can’t have him passing out in the car, can we?”

Yn’s heart sank. Charles had been looking forward to his home race for weeks. She knew how much it meant to him. “Is he okay? Has anyone checked on him?”

Lewis smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Funny you should ask. Fred’s sending you to his apartment to take care of him. Seems like you’re the only one he trusts to handle our precious Charles.”

Yn blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Me? Alone? At his apartment?”

Lewis chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Oh, don’t look so nervous. It’s just Charles. Besides, I think he’ll be thrilled to see you. He’s been giving you those puppy eyes for months now.”

Yn rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat. She and Charles had always shared a special bond. He was sweet, kind, and endlessly charming, and she couldn’t deny that she had feelings for him. But she had never acted on them, and neither had he. It was an unspoken thing, a quiet understanding between them.

“I’m just his nurse,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are. Just don’t forget to take care of Leo too. That dog’s more protective of Charles than Fred is.”

---

An hour later, Yn found herself standing outside Charles’ sleek, modern apartment in Monte Carlo. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her scrubs and adjusting the strap of her medical bag. Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing a very sick-looking Charles. His usually bright eyes were dull, his hair messy, and his cheeks flushed with fever. He was wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants, looking far from the confident F1 driver the world knew.

“Yn?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Fred sent me,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look terrible, Charles.”

He managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I feel terrible.”

Behind him, Leo, Charles’ dachshund, trotted over to Yn, wagging his tail excitedly. She bent down to scratch his ears, earning a happy bark from the little dog.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” she teased, straightening up and giving Charles a gentle smile. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Charles groaned but didn’t argue. He shuffled back to his bedroom, Leo following closely behind. Yn took in the apartment as she followed him. It was spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Mediterranean. But it was also surprisingly cozy, with photos of Charles’ family and friends scattered around, along with a few racing trophies.

She helped Charles into bed, fluffing his pillows and tucking the blankets around him. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured.

“It’s my job,” she replied, though her cheeks warmed at the way he was looking at her. She busied herself with taking his temperature and checking his vitals, her touch gentle and professional.

“You’re burning up,” she said, frowning. “Have you taken anything for the fever?”

Charles shook his head. “I forgot.”

Yn sighed, rummaging through her bag for some medication. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He chuckled weakly. “Maybe. But you’re here to take care of me, so I’ll be fine.”

She handed him the pills and a glass of water, watching as he swallowed them. Leo jumped onto the bed, curling up at Charles’ feet and giving Yn a look that seemed to say, I’ve got this.

“You should rest,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Charles hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Her heart melted at the vulnerability in his voice. “Of course,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Charles shifted slightly, making room for her. Before she could protest, he reached out and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. Leo wiggled closer, pressing himself against her side.

“Charles—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Please,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Just for a little while.”

Yn’s resolve crumbled. She relaxed into his embrace, her hand resting lightly on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm, and she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Leo let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping against the blankets.

For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yn’s mind raced, torn between her professional instincts and the feelings she had been trying to suppress. Charles’ arms around her felt so right, so natural, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way.

“Yn?” Charles’ voice was barely a whisper, drowsy from the medication.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair. “Always, Charles. Now go to sleep.”

He hummed in response, his grip on her tightening slightly. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep. Leo let out a soft snore, his little body rising and falling with each breath.

Yn stayed there, her heart full, knowing that this was where she was meant to be—right by Charles’ side, taking care of him, loving him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

---

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Yn stayed with Charles, nursing him back to health and enjoying the quiet moments they shared. By the time the race was over, Charles was feeling much better, and the sparkle had returned to his eyes.

As they stood on his balcony, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, Charles turned to her, his expression serious.

“Yn.” he said, taking her hand in his. “I need to tell you something.”

Her heart raced, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I… I really like you. More than just as my nurse. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled up at him. “I like you too, Charles. More than you know.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. Leo barked happily, wagging his tail as if he knew exactly what was happening.

And in that moment, Yn knew that her life was about to change in the best way possible—with Charles by her side, and Leo as their loyal protector.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x leclerc!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #ferrari #ferrari f1 #f1 #xoxo babygirl 💋#lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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kurogane2512 · 1 day ago

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oh my god yes Aglaea is so gorgeous and her voice??!! her british accent had me flabbergasted hshsh 😭😭 I've finished Amphoreus and fall in love with her even more, her characterization is amazing and well-written... it's been so long since I've fallen in love with a single character this much 😭 (the last time was Black Swan)

anw, I'll try my best to not spoil the plot, but it's fine if you answer this after you finish Amphoreus. Aglaea is skilled with her strings, she sees them as a part of her to observe everything, given that she lost her eyesight. so it's only natural for her to wrap her golden strings around you whenever you're not with her to ensure your safety, even if sometimes they graze your skin rather intimately. in truth, she's enjoying your warmth, indulging herself in carnal pleasure having you wrapped around her fingers, even if you don't acknowledge that. it's fine though, she always show her true intentions when the night comes, in the private confine of her chamber.

Aglaea especially loves having her fingers buried inside you, while she litters small bites and hickeys all over your skin, carving each inch of your body into her mind. it's really a pity she can't worship you with her eyes, admiring your beauty directly, so she doubles her efforts in making you see heaven in the most pleasurable ways...

also, imo, Aglaea is more of a gentle love-making woman rather than rough fucking, since she's so touch-starved after distancing herself around people. gently caress her face down her collarbones with your fingers is probably the fastest way to make her knees weak, and when you spend your time worshipping her lower body? peppering sloppy kisses on the smooth skin, licking her inner thighs... consider she's gone gone because she will feel so loved and appreciated...

okay I think I yap enough now, this woman has been on my mind for days and she's making me go insane *affectionately* 😮‍💨 looking forward to read your ideas for her soon 🥰

Ooh that is so sweet and hot I love it 😩 I agree about most things, Aglaea definitely gives me the vibes of being a passionate and romantic lover especially cause she's lost so much of her humanity that she consciously makes an effort to show her love for you with grand gestures- even the smallest things matter to her. She's definitely a gentle lover first but can be rough if you like it, gentle dom women like her are so fine ngh

I'm a little confused about the deal with her eyesight, I personally don't think she's blind but just chooses not to see with her eyes as the threads tell her more than enough. Nevertheless, imagining she's visually impaired to some degree is also so sweet and just the intimacy would be so 🥹😭

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail aglaea #aglaea x reader #hsr aglaea #hsr aglaea x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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felassan · 2 days ago

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Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 5. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I agree, the Necropolis IS gorgeous, I was blessed with wonderful level artists, lighting artists, and a fantastic LD who poured their hearts into making it it." [source]

Sylvia: ""But what does Manfred think about Spite?" Good question. Manfred is curious, as always, and can probably sense Spite's on his own plane of existence (in other words, another spirit.) But Manfred also doesn't have a greatly evolved sense of danger, he might not understand Spite's "moodier" moments. I also think Manfred isn't as sophisticated a spirit as Spite at the start of the game. (Though don't let Emmrich catch you saying that!)" [source, two]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "He was a team effort, and I have to especially thank the writers and editors for their early feedback that helped shape him. Emmrich wouldn't have worked as well otherwise." [source]

Sylvia: "it's a huge honour to work on a character who's someone's favorite anything, let alone romance. (Huge props to Allegra, her actor, who just got Josie right away.)" [source]

Sylvia: ""With Cassandra being our only POV into Nevarra" Poor Cassandra. (Emmrich has such respect for her uncle's books!) "There's a lot of deep respect and empathy for all the ways people relate with death and I appreciate it"" Thanks, that was something I'd so hoped would come through." [source]

Sylvia: "It really was a team that brought Emmrich, the Necropolis, and the rest of its guardians to life, I know everyone would be thrilled to know you enjoyed it so much." [source]

User: "Emmrich's fear of mortality really hit hard. Some of those lines are etched into my heart now. Thanks to everyone who helped put that deeply relatable and human experience into the game" // Sylvia: "It was kind of the core of Emmrich, writing the part where he opens up about his fears, so thank you for sharing that, it means a lot." [source]

Sylvia: "I loved writing the MW branches and letting people be a nerdier flavour of Rook with Emmrich." [source]

User: "Nevarra, Mourn Watch and in particular Emmrich's personal missions were amazing! The whimsical and the grotesque in perfect balance. When I replay next year I'll be looking forward to those missions the most!" // Sylvia: "Especial praise goes to the level designers for tackling a bunch of complex stuff in those missions as we planned them out." [source]

Sylvia: "I think we can all agree Emmrich might be a touch eccentric, but I really wanted his interests and compassionate outlook to be heartfelt, so this is lovely to hear." [source]

User: "I was so nervous about the whole Necropolis gang as I have PTSD and a major fear of death. So when Emmrich confided in Rook about his own fear, I was struck with such an unexpected comfort. I've never heard someone describe my own fears and how they make me feel so perfectly." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Bibi. It's a very familiar fear for me as well, and I find sometimes talking about it can ease things. So I'm very glad to hear Emmrich's thoughts on it were helpful for you." [source]

Sylvia: "I like a good sinister necromancer, but really wanted to try something different with the Mourn Watch, something more akin to a sacred duty." [source]

Sylvia on the Necropolis: "The concept, lighting, and level artists, and the level designer, did so much cool stuff there IMO. Seeing it with the final art and lighting in for the first time was a thrill for me too." [source]

User: "special thanks for the Terry Pratchett references in the form and speech of Vorgoth. I don't know exactly whose idea it was, but it was great!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you so much! Re: Terry Pratchett: oh man, I read nearly every Discworld book multiple times, absolute favorites growing up." [source]

User: "I kinda of assumed that Emmrich just calculates age in academia terms, so no matter how many physical years old your Rook is, you're just a tiny baby who hasn't completed a necromancy phd. "When I was your age" = "When I was a TA."" // Sylvia: "Yes, yes that math checks out." [source]

User on Emmrich: "how refreshing it was to have an argument with a LI that’s specific to their relationship. It gives the characters such texture and dimension!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! I liked the tone range we ended up having between everyone, it was more rewarding to do." [source]

User: "Would you guys ever expand more on Nevarra and its culture? I loved seeing the Necropolis, and hope we revisit it. But I'll be honest when I say it made me curious what life in Nevarra is like, and how infused Nevarra's Mortalitasi are with average Nevarran life." // Sylvia: "Since I've left the company, that's not really in my hands, so there's not much I can say. But I get what you mean, because the Mourn Watch are a subbranch of the Mortalitasi with a very special field of study and service. We don't really get much about everyday Nevarra. So whoever tackles that in the future, if they ever do: I think that could be neat. Lots of room to explore different dynamics and customs!" [source, two]

User: "I adore Emmrich, he's so sweet & so thoughtful! I especially adore his love for flowers, and I personally interpreted that as a hint from the writers (you!) that choosing to embrace his fleeting mortality, like the fleeting beauty of flowers, was his "good" path - is that correct? What's your take?" // Sylvia: "I tried really hard to make either choice feel like it could be the right one for him, because I wanted it to be more about a player's own interpretation-and their relationship with him-than author fiat hinting at which one is correct. Also thank you for the kind words! I really liked writing Emmrich enthusing about flowers." [source, two] // User: "He's such a charming character, the vibes of him and Josephine are among some of my favorites in the series, thank you for helping to shape them and for being kind enough to answer my question! Do you, personally, have a preference for which choice Emmrich makes? It's a tough call to make in game!" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, like a coward, I've not stated a preference because I don't want to accidentally influence people into thinking one was right or not. I'm also in a weird place where as the person writing him, my thoughts are far less subjective in weird recursive ways. If that makes sense." [source]

User: "do you have a favorite flower? It was such a lovely detail in Emmrich's character and it warms my heart to know writing that was enjoyable for you" // Sylvia: "It kind of changes depending on what's growing during the season, but while it's very common, you can't beat the scent of a rose. (Fond of lilacs too)" [source]

User: "Did you have any role in Manfred's wisp being lilac when/if you bring him back? That detail made me bawl 😭 Manfred was so shaped by "living" with Emmrich that his essence became Em's favorite color?! The only wisp we see to do so?" // Sylvia: "I wish! I actually don't know who did that. I'd assume that colour was chosen by one of our animators, or maybe the LD, so perhaps they added in that detail, which is adorable. (Carly, Derek Wilks, was this either of you?)" [source] // Derek Wilks: "I think that was someone in VFX actually!" [source]

Sylvia: "Glad you enjoyed the graveyard date, our animators and music director did wonders there." [source]

User: "Can you give us any hints on when Dorian spent some time at the necropolis? I need to know their circumstances for science (how old was Dorian back then? I could imagine he had a crush on the professor lol)" // Sylvia: "I'm going to chicken out and not pin that down (sorry.) Since I've left BW, my answer would be even more non-canonical than usual, because that would've been something I'd have wanted to talk over with the other writers. But by that same token, nothing I've said invalidates what you want to imagine." [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "I am flattered to hear he has become a favorite romance, the team went all out on him." [source] // Sylvia: "So many people worked on those scenes: animation, art, audio, the editors, and huge kudos to his actor Nick Borraine." [source]

Sylvia: "I THINK Emmrich is 6'2 or 6'3, but you'd need a character artist to confirm." [source]

User: "Do the necromancers of the Grand Necropolis have their own sort of culture? Like perhaps their own rituals for marriage, courting, etc.?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. Good question. I'm sure they have some individual quirks and traditions, like any long-running institution. But they probably don't deviate unrecognizably from the mortalitasi norm." [source]

Sylvia: ""i also played a trans rook, and some of emmrich's content for a romanced trans rook made for probably some of the best romance content of all time for me." That's so nice to hear, and I must give credit to some trans people who kindly took the time to give me feedback that made those lines better." [source]

User: "1) are Tevinter exchange students like Dorian common? 2) what are some of the other fraternities of the Mortalitasi? 3) do members of the Mourn Watch often attend social events with the Nevarran elite like other Mortalitasi?" // Sylvia: "1) Yeah, I think they're not uncommon. I took my inspiration from The Grand Tour, and thought it would make sense if Tevinter sent out some of the wealthier scions to see the world a little, pick up a few new spells. [link] 2) I'm afraid I've deliberately left this one blank, for future people to fill in if/when the need arises. Emmrich complains about the palace necromancers, so we do know there's a special cadre of mortalitasi running the show over there. 3. Absolutely. The MW are pretty prestigious in Nevarra with their running the Grand Necropolis. Much as Emmrich dislikes politics himself, there's probably a lot going on at the top." [source, two, three]

User: "Do you think Lich Emmrich would eventually be told by the Lich Lords to sever his mortal ties and return with them to the depths of the Necropolis? It seems like he’s willing to break all their rules to keep Rook with him" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid defining Emmrich's duties/responsibilities/required conduct as a lich would very much be something I'd leave up to the future (even if I were still at BW.) Kind of too big a topic for me to want to speculate here." [source]

User: "did you have a hand in designing how emmrich looks?" // Sylvia: "Yep, I gave feedback as his design progressed. Our concept artists really got him very early on, though, so it was smaller stuff." [source] // User: "was he at all inspired by Peter Cushing & his hammer film characters? He really gives off van Helsing vibes to me" // Sylvia: "Time permitting I want to do a post on influences, but you got it in one exactly. It was specifically the Hammer films I was thinking about!" [source] // User: "would Rudolph van Richten from Curse of Strahd be on his list of influences?" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, to my shame, I never read much of the core Ravenloft books, so that one's a no." [source]

User: "I needed you to know that Emmerich's conversation in the Memorial Gardens about his thanaphobia really got me. I could never put the words together of what thanaphobia feels like, and his description is perfect." // Sylvia: "It's a familiar feeling to me as well, and I'm glad it rang true." [source]

User: "I've got a really severe death phobia that's been flaring recently, and emmrich's conversation about it captured the feeling perfectly and helped lessen the weight for me" // Sylvia: "I find at least discussing it can ease it, sometimes, so I'm very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich helped in that way." [source]

Sylvia: "Hezenkoss was a blast to write so I'm glad she clicked for you. "preposterous is what you wore to a bog, Orlesian" Oh wow, Skywatcher! It's been an age, so glad that line stuck with you. That takes me back!" [source]

Sylvia: ""And yet I ask the question - what attracts Emmerich to the Hand? Yes, the answer is “perseverance”, but I think this is not fully explored." Do you mean the Hand of Glory specifically? He's intrigued and disturbed by the magic around it, which is why he hones on it, even before he knows its origin" [source]

Sylvia: ""I was wondering if you could tell us about his & Manfred's first meeting or notable moments in their friendship?" This feels like something I'd probably want to leave more to the imagination. And because I'm not a BW anymore, answers would be even more non-canonical than normal. All that said, for some reason, I always pictured Emmrich being alone in the Necropolis the first time Manfred's wisp floated up to him to peer at what he was doing. It just seems a little more poignant that way." [source, two]

Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made [Emmrich] so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

User: "me + a handful of people were wondering about non-mage mourn watchers! id love to hear your notes/thoughts about them! b/c i didnt remember hearing how they become MW or if reaper uses death magic!" // Sylvia: "Sure! Not much to say, though, I think the MW is likely a mage majority fraternity that accepts a few non-mages who have exceptional skills and temperaments sympathetic to the Necropolis. A warrior of great renown, a rogue of exceptional stealth and quiet, a baby found down there in a grave, and so forth. They'd certainly undergo the same kind of oaths and bindings every Watcher goes through. I always pictured them being provided with the best enchanted gear the MW has to offer too." [source, two]

User: "Hi! About Emmerich being a professor—does he teach at a Circle, or is he specifically a professor to other MWers and Mortalitasi? It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all?" // Sylvia: ""It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all? " Sure, but I think you have it, the MW seems to want to raise well-rounded students with a classical education on top of magecraft. In my mind, it was because they saw every MW as representing the Grand Necropolis, so of course they wanted its members to have training in etiquette and history and generally be able to move in polite society." [source, two]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: ""would it be possible for a (romanced) MW Rook join Emmrich in linchdom, eventually?" Yes: Rook can try, bc it's not forbidden to seek the knowledge out. (Emmrich makes it clear Hezenkoss pieced some of it together herself, so we've also seen another mage get it almost-right) It is very hard and probably takes decades to accomplish (and of course, there's no guarantee Rook would survive.) But everything written in game points to there being a chance." [source, two]

User: "I’ve been thinking a little about it and I know it’s mentioned in the game he would be interested in visiting - but how would Emmrich feel about visiting the Avvar in the south? They are one of the few groups that show respect for spirits in a similar way and I imagine he’d have a lot of questions." // Sylvia: "He'd probably love it. He'd be fascinated by their relationship with spirits, in the ways it mirrors and deviates from the Mourn Watchers' own practices. (I imagine there is also like a 15% chance he gets into a heated argument with one of them over a fine point of how spirits work exactly.)" [source]

User: "congratulations on another achievement, Emmrich took the silver trophy" // Sylvia: "I was so excited to see we'd gotten the silver trophy! I hope everyone who worked on him sees that." [source]

User: "Is there anywhere we can follow your future work after this account gets shut down ?" // Sylvia: "TBH I'll probably just reopen it it there's any cool news to share since I don't have a website or anything. (I THINK I can just reactivate it?)" [source]

User: "Thank you for Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, emmrich, Liara and Leigon!!!!" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (I should mention I was only a part of Legion in ME3 - specifically the N7 mission into the Geth Consensus. Great fun to work on that level though.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm lucky to have had the chance to bring Emmrich and Josephine to you all with the rest of the team." [source]

Sylvia: ""I still remember when you introduced yourself on old BSN when Lair of the Shadow Broker came out." Wow, you're right I did! That is a blast from the past. Thank you for the kind words!" [source]

User: "Just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing characters you helped bring to life in DA and ME. I really enjoyed Emmrich and Hezenkoss in DAV. The dynamic between them really made me laugh" // Sylvia: "Thanks! That was one of my favorite pairs to write, the history between them meant everything was always a little more personal, which is always fun." [source]

Sylvia: "Thanks Janette, loved writing Hollix." [source]

User: "Elements of Emmerich's costume resemble the Cerberus logo from ME. Is this just a reference or is there something more to it?" // Sylvia: "Gee, I can't say for sure because I didn't make it, but I'd assume that one's just a coincidence (since the Mourn Watch and Necropolis use hexagonal shapes as their primary shape language)" [source]

User: "I can just tell how well Emmrich is written along his fear. I lost my fear of death and dying as I began to honor the dead." // Sylvia: "I do think talking and thinking about these things more than we normally do helps eases the fear." [source]

Sylvia: "Thank you for these lovely thoughts. I did read some books about different customs around death, and I know a little about pagan/occult/magic practices (in a very basic and generalist sense.) So it doesn't surprise me per se, but I am very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich was a positive thing. And I'm also very glad to hear he's someone you feel you can take into the future with you as a helpful friend." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""Does Emmrich have any guilty pleasures?" Huh. Excellent question. I should really be more decisive about my own character, but while I think that could be fun, I'm not sure what it would be. "Oh one other question , is there a part of thedas you wish you could of explored but wasn't able to be in game?" I've always been interested in the sinister sounding Sea of Ash. What goes on over there???" [source, two]

User: "i have a silly little question bc i also love emmrich. was his scene revealing lichdom to everyone meant to parallel a trans coming out or was that accidental? because i felt on an existential level the thrill of revealing who you are, but also fearing people would be afraid or treat you differently. (and then there's strife discussions, and putting up a glamour some places but not others, and the blooming but gentle self-confidence... he is very transgender to me)" // Sylvia: "Not a silly question at all! After writing the scene I wondered if people would see similarities because of those overlapping themes you pointed out: the dignity of bodily self-determination, revealing your true self to those you love, fear of rejection, hope for acceptance. But during the writing, I mostly approached becoming undead as its own thing, because I wanted to ground it in the MW's particular philosophy. I think there's parallels because of the way the human personal is universal, if that makes sense. That said, if this does feel very transgender to you or anyone else (or not), I'm not against varied interpretations. That's one of the cool things about seeing people actually get their hands on your work." [source, two, three]

User: "I'm not sure what Emmrich's hairstyle is, slickback?" // Sylvia: "Good question. Afraid I don't know what it'd be called either. Googling it, slickback LOOKS correct?" [source]

User: "Emmrich has definitely developed a special bond with Bellara and Lucanis, and yet, both of them don't comment on his relationship with Rook! What would you say their reaction was? Their banter was so good I'm sure we'd all love to know what Emmrich had to say!" // Sylvia: "Ah, that one I'm afraid I can't answer since I'm not their writer, and that would've been something I would've discussed with the narrative team together. Sorry!" [source]

Sylvia: "Nick was indeed brilliant!" [source]

User: "Ive got quite bad thanatophobia and Emmerich's writing is one of the only times I've seen that dealt with actually respectfully." // Sylvia: "Thanks very much! I've experienced that fear, and I suspect it's way more common than we think, and I'm glad to hear it felt that way to you." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" // Sylvia: "that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: [was] "Dorian was taken over by a nominated writer for veilguard or if his legacy was more of a team effort ?" // Sylvia: "Dorian was in the capable hands of Writer Chee" [source]

User: "I’m also dying to know what Emmrich did during Rook's stint in the prison-my thought is he not only did the majority of the work on finding Rook, but in leading the team, prob finishing touches on the dagger clone, keeping the team together in Rook’s absence while barely holding himself together at times" // Sylvia: "I think he was indeed having some very sleepless, guilt-wracked nights, working himself too hard, and trying his best on that dagger." [source]

User: "I just wanted to tell you that I love Emmrich's part of the lighthouse the books the fact that it's right next to rook's room and that johanna is in it later and that you can talk to her" // Sylvia: "Thank you! I love what the level artist there did, it's such a cozy den of a place. And I'm glad you liked meeting Hezenkoss afterwards, all praise to the level and tech designers who got her in there." [source]

User: "Are the Watchers overall vegetarian, or was it a personal preference Emmrich developed?" // Sylvia: "I think it's a thing among some Watchers, but not all. Because they think a lot about life and death and the cycle of life, and their place in it, and what constitutes a death they feel comfortable with or not. My actual, original inspiration for it was from an old Call of Cthulhu TRPG book about Miskatonic University, set in the 1920s. There was a great little detail about the campus having a cafeteria that serves vegetarians. And when I read it, I got a little jolt because I was so used to vegetarianism in North America being portrayed as a relatively modern movement. But of COURSE there's always exceptions and cultural enclaves and so on. Just one of those moments you feel your understanding of what we were up to in the past shift a little, even if it felt obvious in retrospect." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia re: writing Manfred: "Yep, Manfred was my guy too." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed meeting our gentleman necromancer. (Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on, he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source]

User: "I was curious I know none of emmrich's serious relationships ended up panning out But like did any of them get to the point that him and his partner at the time shared a living space I'm wondering if emmrich has ever lived with anyone besides manfred" // Sylvia: "That's an interesting question. Like a coward I will hedge my bets, but I could MAYBE see a few. Not many though." [source]

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