#but he fails to realize that it is only a dream

[asraxfile]

Wicked haunting.

sypnosis What happens after you fall in love with a ghost that's been haunting your new home for the past few months? Was she really just lonely or just wicked? genre horror, fluff? warnings kissing, darker themes(su!cide, killing and dead mentions), obsessed, toxic and manipulative, yanderesih Winter wc 10.7k

A/n: had this idea and before I fail it, I HAD to write it. Please dont read if you dont take themes like this easily, ty and enjoy readingg ^^

3.40AM 

Dark was the night when you awoke from your dreams again. A loud thud of something made of glass falling to the ground filled the thunderous night. Rain roughly tapped on your bedroom window as you held the sheets tightly. Your cat Moonie, startled at such noise, also woke up and softly meowed at you. Exhaling deeply, you brush your hand over Moonie’s fluffy fur as she leaned in your touch. “What was that, Moonie, hm?” you whispered to her, uncovering yourself while sitting up. 

Moonie was practically your only company since you moved into the new house. It was like a historical villa but smaller than the ones nowadays. It had an attic, upstairs, ground floor and of course— a basement. 

The old fugly looking old man told you that the house made him go crazy— allegedly being haunted. Rumors like which spread ever since the first owner’s daughter committed suicide in these very walls. Hanging herself in the attic. Nobody knew why and nobody bothered to find out why. Her name—Kim Minjeong. 

The old man’s voice echoed through your ear when you stood up and took your lantern that was next to your bed on the bedside table as you lit a match. The soft and comforting light of the little match sparkled over your face as you inflamed the candle and gently placed it into the black, stylish looking lantern. 

“Never go to the attic at night, do you understand?” His raspy, barely understandable voice echoed through your head. You stood up and held the lantern high right in front of your head. It is the only light source for now. At times you flinched at the sudden thunder from the rough weather. 

Why didn’t he want you to go up there all alone, especially at night?— you didn’t know. You didn’t even know if you wanted to find out, until you saw pieces of your vase leading to a certain point of the long hallway. 

Before taking a deep breath, silence was too loud for situations like this. Feeling your heartbeat rushing continuously through your veins, rushing cold sweat through your forehead forming and Moonie was next to your bedroom door. Turning around you faced your fluffy russian blue gray cat. Her big green eyes and pupils being thin and elliptical. A meow echoed through the darkness once more as you smiled at her, “Be right back, Moonie, I’ll just check.” 

After saying so, you turn back again and stare at the broken glass on the floor. Something twitched inside you. An unspoken fear you couldn’t exactly name at the moment. The eager feeling in the back of your head was telling you something you didn’t want to accept just yet—you weren’t alone in this house. 

Slowly walking with your slippers, ankles naked and exposed, you slowly picked the glass up so nobody steps on it. Until, you hear a footstep. 

Where? How?— turning around, Moonie was still sitting in the same position, licking her paws and cleaning the back of her ears. It was then realization hit you—someone was walking in the attic, right over your head. 

Slowly, with your heart scaredly thumping in your ribs, you looked up at the small door that had to be pulled on the outside to have an entrance in the ceiling. On the outside meant it had to be pulled by you or anyone in the said hallway. Holding the risky sharp glass in your left hand and the lantern in your right you couldn’t speak, think or breathe for a second. 

But curiosity won’t just kill a cat. 

You rushed to the trash can and threw the glass away. On your way back you took a long stick with a twisted sharp hook on the end. It was time to delve deeper into the mystery of this house. 

Pictured paintings falling on a random pale day or your stuff being in different places than where you’ve put them. Or even your cat as if having inner demons stared at the places where nothing was—it wasn’t just a coincidence. 

Inhaling a brave breath, you lifted the hooked stick up and pulled the stairs for the attic down. So sudden but so twisted. A draft screamed through the halls from the wind blowing through the opened windows as your hair breezed away from your face. Nodding to yourself you took the first step of the stairs, then two, three, and so on. 

Placing the lantern on the attic floor to gain some balance you quietly groaned while making your way up. Peaking your head through, you were met by dust flying everywhere and something that made your blood run cold through your veins. A rope, tightly tied to the attic wooden ceiling right in front of the window. Your breath hitches, but it will also be taken away when somebody’s starts to speak, someone that isn’t you. 

“Took you long enough to come up here.” a soft spoken voice pierced through your ears as you flinched. Turning around you were also met by a female figure, she was leaning to your head in the entrance of the attic. Her face was as if made of porcelain and quartz and her eyes—as if they lived through death. 

Your eyes were wide open and you were speechless. The female figure was grinning at you gently as she moved out of the way to let you in. 

“Who are you?” you quietly ask, holding the lantern once again when you finally took a step on the wooden cold floor of the last floor. “me? oh sorry, I’m not much of an ‘effective intro’ person,” she started, brushing her brown short bangs out of her eyes. “Kim Minjeong, nice to meet you.” she held her hand out to shake it with you. 

Kim Minjeong—the girl who died in these very walls, you remembered. 

Your lips parted as your mouth started to dry. “but you…” you swiftly pointed your index finger at her. She playfully rolled her eyes as she wickedly eyed you. “Sorry if I bothered you these past days, I’m just…fascinated by you.” She said with honesty in her tone. Still a little confused, you scan her whole figure. 

She wore a white cotton long sleeved shirt with rolled up sleeves and worn out low waist jeans. Her hair was a darker shade of brown, short to her shoulders with bangs covering most of her forehead. You would think she wasn’t this talkative but she somehow was. 

Turning around, scanning the area, lighting through with your familiar lantern you felt twisted once again. Something was wrong but so far away to define it. 

“So you’re…” you start, wanting to face Minjeong again but she was nowhere in your sight. Eyebrows furrowing and head tilting you look around until she appears upside down, floating before your eyes. "A ghost? Let’s say I am." her hair whipped through the moving as she tilted her head. Flying downstairs to the hallway, leaving you speechless. “Hey!” you called out to her, stumbling across your way back down. 

“Hi Moonie, I finally met you for real.” she talked with your cat as you watched, confused and speechless. “Wait, so, if you’re a ghost, then it was you who has been messing with my head recently!” you knelt next to Moonie with Minjeong who was petting your cat insanely. 

“Sorry, I’m what they would’ve called a poltergeist.” she stated, smiling gently. Though there was something off about her aura and the way she moved. It was so…welcoming but something was telling you she was a stop sign. 

“How come I can see you?” you tried to touch her but only to be met by your finger going through her shoulder. Minjeong chuckled as she looked at you. “Well, I am only visible to those who believe in ghosts. That old man was surely over my head. God I’m glad he’s out of my house.” she confessed. 

Smiling gently back at her, in response you say as you shrug your shoulders. “Well, he told me not to go up there alone and at night, maybe he knew there is a ghost here.” 

Minjeong’s face relaxed, you two clicked together so fastly it was too much for both of your plates. “I figured by the fact he sold the house for such a cheap price.” she joked as you both laughed. 

Taking a breath to contain each other you pet Moonie who was laying on her back, showing her tummy to you. “I’m actually very surprised you can see me. nobody has ever…believed in me.” 

Minjeong’s tone shifted so suddenly it made you shiver, as if she was venting. “Well, It’s the kind of person I am.” nervously chuckling, you notice Moonie giving you a certain eye. 

“I’m glad you are.” Minjeong answers, looking at Moonie. 

As if she was uncomfortable, she grasped Minjeong's hand off when she petted her. As if the ghost girl was the start of a bad chapter of your life—or perhaps the last chapter. 

What are you telling me, Moonie? You asked yourself, talking to her through thoughts as she curled up in your lap. 

Yawning, you remind yourself of the time, “Oh, Minjeong, could you look at the clock and tell me what time it is?” your head peered at the clock above the desk, eyes struggling to define what time it is. Minjeong obeyed without a single word and flew towards the clock. She tilted her head while doing so before landing on her feet. “Quarter to 4Am”

Widening your eyes you brush your fingers through your hair. “I should sleep, promise me you wont break any more vases?” you pick up Moonie in your embrace, letting her claw her claws in the back of your shoulder as you slowly walk to the bed. “Yes ma’am” Minjeong said, straightening her palm as if getting a command. 

With one last chuckle you and Moonie curl up together on the bed. “Thank you and…good night.” 

Minjeong nodes as she flies away back into the attic, through the ceiling. 

2PM

For the next 2 or 3 months you and Minjeong grew closer together. 

She’d still mess with you but only to get your attention. As if she was getting to like you and know you more. And so did you. 

Something about Minjeong made your timbers shiver, your blood rushing and reflexes being more active due to some coldness. On the other hand, you felt a gentle presence with her, she was as gentle as honey but as sour as candy. 

Though your cat Moonie was getting even more suspicious. The more time you spent with Minjeong the more she started getting more aggressive when the ghost girl was around. 

Today she even hissed at Minjeong. Her gray fur ruffled in an instant when Minjeong tried to pet her. Of course she couldn’t scratch, but she could speak. “What’s up Moonie, hm?” You gently asked. 

While Minjeong stayed silent, still and listened to what you’re saying to the cat. 

The awkward silence fell between the 3 beings as you gently put the cat down off your lap, letting her drink her daily dose of milk. 

It was a weird morning for all of you, but for a second thought, you needed them as quiet as this. 

“I don’t know what’s up, do you think…I did something wrong?” Minjeong’s eyes held an unspoken secret she couldn’t tell just like that. Her presence and aura became twisted. Either being a mystery or a secret. “Maybe she's still just getting used to you since you’re…dead.”

She tilted her head, looking at your freshly made breakfast. Keeping a serious poker face while sitting on the chair on the right from you. 

She welcomed you in her original house so gently and she was so nice it made you feel a certain nostalgia from her. Though you knew she’s a living dead girl–moreover a ghost. 

But you couldn’t not develop small feelings for her. It bothered you that you couldn’t touch her, hug her—kiss her? 

It all wrapped in your head in a single thought.

You weren’t sure if she felt the same, but you were glad she was keeping you company for at least a little while. However, you have to admit—Minjeong said some disturbing things from time to time.

“You know…animals can sense things whether alive or not.” Minjeong mumbled while staring at you, who was taking a bite of your lunch. Right after you stopped in your trances and looked at her confusedly.

“Said what?” you waited through the chews. “Nothing,” she refused to say. “just saying she doesn’t quite like me.” your gaze fell on your lunch before looking back again. “Don’t say that, she’ll grow to like you I’m sure.” 

Minjeong chuckled nervously as she let you eat in silence—knowing that wasn’t gonna happen any soon.

If only you knew you should’ve thought more about what signs Moonie was giving to you. 

5.40PM

When evening fell upon the small town,a dazzling sight of sunfall colored the sky in pink colors and shades. With clouds making a peaceful delight. You stared outside the window while Minjeong slowly curled up next to you on your bed—watching the sunset together. 

“Say Minjeong,” you start, leaning your head closer to her trying not to make it fall through. “When did you become a ghost?” 

The question lingered through the air as well as your soft breathing. Minjeong peeked her head up from your shoulder as she stared at the sky—remembering. 

“I think it was right when they buried me,” she stated, grasping the memory. “In the cemetery nearby, you probably saw it already.”, you nodded in understanding. The cemetery wasn't far from here so you knew where it was just like she said. 

“And well I don't know how but ghosts lure the place where they died,” she fidgeted her fingers. “I hung myself in the attic.” 

“Why did you?” Curiosity filled your tone but with a pinch of empathy. Minjeong took a second to rethink and recall her emotions until she was ready to answer you. 

“Because my life was…horrible” she looked up at you—hatred filled her eyes, not sadness, hatred. “I hated them all, humans.” you felt your eyebrows twitch in reaction. “I wished them all suffering.” 

Though your eyes didn't widen, they were surprised but stayed calm. 

“I-I mean…” as if being caught she tried to explain, to get as much of your understanding. Her eyes looked away from yours for a brief second. “I was used to being…lonely even when I was alive. My parents would beat me up if I did something wrong and lock me in the attic.” her voice cracked.

“Just here, in this house, lonely. And they acted so innocent by…disappearing.” Minjeong looked down as you tapped her shoulder. She still felt the reassurance even if your hand could easily slip through her. “Disappearing?” you couldn’t help but to ask what she meant by her parents disappearing. 

“Pretty sure they killed themselves too when I attempted…” Harsh words fell so easily off her lips, her expression was sad but she spoke so well— as if reciting. “It's so ironic because they were the ones who brought me pain and they took advantage of it.” 

Both took a moment of silence to gather their thoughts. A draft breezed through the halls of the house. The sun was already down. It was just a question of time when the darkness of the night would fall onto the town too. 

“I’m really sorry you had to live like that.” you comforted, seeing the sun almost being fully down. “But, is it better being a ghost?” 

Your eyes reassured Minjeong’s state as you waited for an answer— letting your comforting aura swallow her despair.  

“It might be for some. But even though I have more freedom, I still wish I lived a little longer.” Minjeong confessed before continuing. 

“Maybe, if I lived longer I would’ve met…you, in person.” her eyes searched for yours as she finally got a reaction out of you. Your inner face muscles tensed up as your heart started to beat with a rhythm. 

You swore you saw Minjeong’s eyes stare at you with the same feeling you felt at the moment. Slowly, she was starting to get closer and closer to you. Your breath hitched at her cold presence right in front of your face. Until, you swallow and let her do what she wants. 

Minjeong kissed you—passionately and gently. Heartfelt, as if you're the only one for her no matter dead or alive. Her left hand intertwined with your right as her other hand cupped your cheek. Sliding her hand across the back of your head. 

You melted into her touch. It was surreal you weren't able to touch her back. But the kiss was the only thing you felt with her. 

Maybe it was the only thing you wanted to feel, but right now you wanted to enjoy it. Minjeong was getting even closer to you, making you fall on your bed. While laying on your back, Minjeong pulled you into a heated kiss once again, your body heating up as well. For a ghost, she was an excellent kisser. 

Her presence was as cold as ice but it was like the kiss of death. As both of you gasped for air, Minjeong slightly smirked upon your figure while you just eyed her. 

You chuckled against each other as Minjeong rested her forehead against yours, scrunching your nose against hers. Until your laughter was interrupted by your cat, Moonie. 

Flinching at the sudden meow you exhale a relieving breath. You called out to Moonie. “Hiya Moonie, what's uppp?” with a cutest smile ever. Moonie just stood in front of the room entrance, carefully eyeing Minjeong. Her head perked up as Minjeong sat up on the bed. 

As if the two were talking to each other through telepathy. Though you caught the glimpse of a constipated sharp look on Minjeong’s face. Her eyes were clearly focused on Moonie, losing its spark after kissing you. You swallowed thickly. Something about Minjeong felt… off. Like she was waiting for something— testing the waters.

Her eyebrows furrowed as you notice her tongue scrolling across her inner teeth and cheeks. It all felt so foggy. The change in the aura, it made you think, what was between these two?

“Minji?” The nickname fell easily off your lips. Minjeong’s head peered gently towards you, a small smile growing on her face. “Is everything alright?” sitting up you reassure her by the shoulder. 

Minjeong’s gaze smiles at you with a hideous smile. “Of course!” She started, until glaring back at Moonie again. “Moonie just…interrupted us.” her words lingered in the air as if on a tight string. You grasp out of her embrace and stand up from bed, 

“I'll go get her some milk,” you look back at her with a chill expression, not thinking much of their silent propaganda. 

“Imma be right back” Though as soon as you stepped into the cold hallway, an eager silence swallowed the air. Minjeong tried to grip your wrist back but you left already, leaving her alone.

The soft distant noise of your voice calling Moonie’s name, trying to get her to come downstairs filled the silence of the house

Moonie, still rooted in place, didn’t move or didn’t even look at you. Her figure remained sitting still in front of your room, her big green eyes staring right back at Minjeong—intensely. 

And Minjeong stared right back. As if Moonie knew what was on the ghost’s mind. Their gaze held something hidden and it wasn't such a good day to be just a cat. Until then, Moonie decided to walk away and hurry to drink her milk you prepared for her. 

Alone in the poorly lit room, the ghost girl tilted her head, her grin slowly fading into something else—something she didn't plan on showing you just yet. Her eyebrows twitched and she exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening with every thought.

“oh Moonie…” she whispered to herself, her voice barely untreatable. 

Then, with a sudden shift, her lips curved again—but this time, it wasn’t a smile. It was something strategic and darker.

“You’re in our way.”

The next day everything went very well. You woke up on the right leg and you were in a good mood. The sunlight wakes you up with a smile this time. But you needed to get out of the house to go to your college lessons. While packing your laptop and notebooks or anything you needed for today's lessons, you felt a pair of 2 ghost eyes on you right behind you. 

“Do you have to go?” Minjeong playfully grumbled across the room. Flying closer to you, upside down she crossed her arms. Chuckling you take your wallet, holding a pair of coins in your hand before sliding it in. “Don’t worry Minji,” you poke her nose. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Minjeong pouted while following you to the front door. Before leaving, you notice Moonie laying still on the couch and so you went to pet her. Moonie purrs against your touch, melting into your gentle grazes against her gray fur. Minjeong just eyed your every move, crossed arms while resting on the wall right next to the door. 

When it is finally time to leave, you kiss Minjeong goodbye and close the door behind you, locking it and hiding the key in the boots on the terrace 

If only you knew leaving for college would be your biggest regret for today’s day. 

6.30PM

Lessons were pretty boring as usual and your professor was just babbling and yapping. Your head rested on the edge of your palm, looking at the blackboard and the chalk written notes on it. 

When they were finally over all of your lectures, you looked at the watch on your wrist. You walked down the quartz staircase and headed home. The fresh evening breeze washed over your hair, your muscles relaxed at the February coldness but tense up again right after you bumped into a familiar man. 

The old rusty man who sold you the house. “Oh! I’m sorry mister, are you alright?” you worried with a nice tone as he rubbed the top of his head with a chuckle. “Don’t worry I’m fine. Are you getting comfortable in your house?” he looks up at you with a curious look. 

With a tense smile you reply back, “Ah yes, I certainly am.” with the last said word, the old man becomes quietly furious. “I don’t believe you.” he started. Taking you by the wrist to whisper a secret in your ear. You tried to grasp away but you couldn’t shake the feeling of curiosity that fueled inside after he mentioned your beloved ghost girl—Minjeong. 

“I know you’re experiencing paranormal activities there.” how did he know?—you thought. 

“I forgot to mention you something, and that is that they girl who committed suicide didn’t just end herself–she also killed her parents.” 

The sour feeling at the back of your head formed when he told you those words. Your mouth began to dry out of realization as your eyes stayed still. Muscles tensing up as you looked at the old man’s serious expression—he was telling anything but lies. 

“But she isn’t doing much just…moving stuff… around.” you state while fishing for the words, the man gently pulled away from your wrist. “I’m telling you to be careful so she doesn’t do something…out of nature.”

The old man’s words repeated in your head as you walked home, each step feeling heavier than the last. The thought of Minjeong killing her parents compared with the soft-spoken, interesting girl you had grown so close to. Could she really have done something so horrifying? 

Or even better question to ask yourself—who was lying between the two, her or him?

Your house formed ahead, its windows glowing faintly in the dark. You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing the doubt aside. No, you told yourself. She wouldn’t hurt me.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, greeted by the familiar chill in the air. “I’m home,” you called, slipping off your shoes. Silence. That was odd—Minjeong always greeted you, either by floating in front of you dramatically or making some sarcastic comment about how long you took.

Then, you noticed it.

The house felt odd—different. The air was heavier, almost suffocating. A strange silence fell upon the house. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped in your trances. “Minji?” you called out the mysterious ghost girl while looking around. Your eyes searched for your russian blue gray cat, maybe on the sofa sleeping or eating in the kitchen.

But Moonie was nowhere to be seen, especially not from her usual spot. 

It was hanging so weirdly off your mind that you tilted your head in confusion. Until you heard a familiar draft—an intro to Minjeong’s presence. The coldness surrounded the room as you looked up. Minjeong walked softly towards you and gave you a hug. “You’re back.” she exclaimed with a smile and kissed you on the cheek. A smile creeped on your cheeks as you melted into her touch, but like the salty feeling on a fresh wound you couldn’t shake off the feeling something was off. 

“Hi, Minji.” you replied back, walking to the kitchen. Before you could ask immediately, Minjeong bombarded you with unusual questions that weren’t as much in her nature. “How was college? I never asked you which one you are going to? Do you go everyday cause this is the first time you went?—”  Your lips parted at her expression. Minjeong was leaning on the kitchen counter with a smile on her face and eyes widened with curiosity—as if she wanted to keep you distracted. 

“O-oh well, I’ll answer everything but I have a question for you.” Minjeong straightened her back, tilting her head. “You didn’t happen to see where Moonie left? she’s not here how I see.” 

Distracted from what? 

“Oh…” Minjeong mumbled, looking at the direction you were darting your eyes at, Moonie’s small bed next to the couch. “Well…” she tries to form a sentence as you wait. “Did she go outside or?” a possible answer creeped through your words. “Yes! I think I saw her going outside, she didn’t come back yet though.”

Distracted from the fact you won’t be seeing Moonie ever again.

“Oh, I see.” you look down at your bag with your laptop and stuff you brought to today’s college lectures. “Well I hope she comes back till dinner, I brought her a little snack.” you take out Moonie’s favorite fish food she usually ate for dinner. In response Minjeong fakes a smile, “I’m sure she will.” 

9PM

As the evening stretched on, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Moonie never stayed outside for this long—she hated the cold. Even refusing to go outside this late even if she was with you. A pit formed in your stomach as you moved toward the front door, slipping on your jacket.

“I’m going to look for her, I’ll be right ba—” you said, reaching for the handle.

Minjeong, who had been lingering unusually close, tensed. “I don’t think that’s a smart idea,” she murmured, her voice soft yet firm.

You paused, turning to face her. “Why not?”

She hesitated for just a second, tightening the grip on her crossed arms. “It’s late. You’re tired. You don’t have to—”

But you were already stepping outside, the crisp air hitting your face as you fast walked to the porch. Your heart pounded heavily as your eyes scanned the yard, searching for any sign of your green eyed cat. Then, something caught your attention near the side of the small garden. Since it was dark you turned on the backyard light.  

The harsh wind breezed, owls howling and brief silence of the night. Slowly walking through the garden something caught your eye. A group of flies, beetle ants and other corpse eating bugs gathered around a certain spot in the dirt. 

A long gray but thin bulge that looked like a cat's tail, surrounded by insects that were curiously digging deeper into the earth to eat as much rot as possible.

Your breath hitched, your hands crashing to your mouth. 

“Moonie?” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Oh no, no—”

Rushing forward, you collapsed on your knees in front of her. Moonie’s body lifelessly laid in the sour dirt. Her fur is much darker from dirt and her once-bright green eyes were dull and empty. You tried to reach out with trembling hands, but you couldn’t. A choked tear escaped your throat and slipped off your eyes.

Behind you, Minjeong sighed. “I told you not to go look.”

Your head snapped up. The cold that had been lingering in the air thickened, suffocating. The same one like earlier after coming home.

Minjeong stood right behind you, looking down, her hands brushing over your hair, tangling small circles through. Her expression— unreadable. The usual warmth in her eyes had faded into something distant— something she expected. 

“You knew she was here?” Your voice cracked between sorrow and anger. Kneeling down in front of the scene. “I did,” Minjeong admits, her voice managing to be soft spoken even through a moment like this. You stood up, finding comfort in her embrace. “But I knew how much she meant to you,” she gripped your shoulders as you cried silently. 

“I didn't want to trouble you.” The thought of your cat, who has been by your side ever since you started living alone—your familiar, dead in front of you. All for what?, you weren’t sure how it happened. You clenched your fists. “Still, why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, your voice calming down even under the grief.

Minjeong sighed, resting her chin on your head. “Because you would’ve looked at me differently.”

Your figure stiffened at those words. With a slow move, you pull away just enough to look at her face. “What do you mean?” eyes furrowed and eyebrows tightened. 

She gazed at you, a quiet disturbance in her eyes as they looked at yours. As if there was a thunderstorm forming in her eyes, meeting the sun. 

“You already suspect me, don’t you?”

Her words sent a cold chill down your spine and through your veins. It’s true—You had been doubting her ever since you met her, and the old man’s warnings just fueled the burning feeling in your heart

You wondered if she was truly who she claimed to be. But you never wanted to believe or admit it— you couldn’t.

Minjeong’s hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. Her touch was freezing, but her eyes were warm, pleading. “You love me, don’t you?”

Your eyes fell down. “I… I do.”

“Then believe me.” Her thumbs brushed away your tears, her voice soft, hypnotic. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But Moonie—”

“She didn’t like me,” Minjeong interrupted gently, tilting her head. “She’s just a cat,” harsh words fell off her lips so easily. “She didn’t like us.”

Her voice wavered, breaking at the last word. You watched her, torn between the horror of her confession and the pain in her expression.

It was so easy to get lost in her—her presence, her voice, the way she made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. But then again, the feeling only  you mattered terrified you more than anything.

“Minjeong I…” you slowly walked with her to the entrance of your house. “I don’t know what’s happening at the moment. Ever since I met you things have been really…out of nature.” your saddened gaze locking with Minjeong’s who was dead serious. 

After getting inside, silence occurred between the two of you. Your mind washed over the fact you have to bury your cat—since she deserved it the most without doubt.

Until, Minjeong asks you, 

“Is that what he said?” 

Your mind went blank, stopping in your walk to the upstairs as you swiftly moved to face her again. “The old man I mean, did he tell you that?” her presence was now—unwelcoming. 

It felt as unwelcoming as the times she was messing with the stuff in the house, acting like a real poltergeist. Your eyes, wide open, scanned her figure that was just waiting for your answer right down. 

You tried to form at least a yes or no answer, but stutters just left your mouth. 

“After all we’ve been through,” she takes a step closer to you on the stairs. “After all the things I’ve told you about myself,” another step. 

“You still doubted my love.” now she had you completely—hopeless. “I-I’m just not sure who to believe, not like I can do anything about it—”  you tried to explain, taking a step back, but Minjeong just stepped forward. Crushing your mind and soul. 

You’d lie if you said you didn’t grow to love the ghost girl—you really did, but right now,

“If you really love me, you’d believe…” 

you were feeling pretty sick. 

“me.” 

Minjeong was dangerous in ways that you desired, a desire for change and something eternal. “You love me, don’t you?” she whispered.

You whispered, “I do” with your breath hitching. 

She shushed you softly, her thumbs brushing away your tears. Her forehead against yours. “I love you, too,” she murmured, her voice hypnotic, intoxicating you, “But we can’t be together if you choose someone else.” A shiver crawled up your spine. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Minjeong you’re not alone, you have me—” “But you’ll leave, just like everyone else.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words settle into your chest. “W-what are you saying, I would never—”

“Oh but you eventually will, dear.” 

she cut you off, her grip tightening just slightly. Her eyes dug into yours, deep and unreadable. “You’ll grow older,” she continued, "your life will change, and I’ll still be here. Alone, watching you slip away from me, just like everyone else.”

Her words wrapped around you and your feelings. Like a snake wrapping its body tightly to suffocate its prey to death. “Minjeong…” Your voice whispered.

She smiled, but this time it was gentle, almost reassuring. “You don’t have to go through that. We don’t have to go through that.”

The lights flickered, shadows creeping at the edges of your vision. The air felt too thick, pressing against your skin.

“We can be together forever,” she whispered, guiding your hands into a hug, her fingers ghosting over your figure. Hugging you while her fingers draped over your waist and upper back. “Just you and me.”

Her grip was ice cold, but the warmth in her voice made you weak to your knees. “You’d never have to wake up in a world where I don’t exist.”

Your heart pounded. “I really love you, Minji. I do.” you grip her cheeks. “But promise me…” starting your eyes held hesitation. “Anything, I’ll do anything for you to stay.” her eyes sparked a sense of glow and hope at your words. 

“Promise me Moonie is in good hands now.” Your words still full of tears at the change of events, Minjeong tenderized her expression—softening. “I’m sure if you’re happy, she’s happy too.” 

A smile formed on your face as you worriedly looked at her eyes, with tears of joy. “There we go.” she whispered, chuckling back as she moved a strand of hair from your face. “Now…do you trust me? be honest, love.” though before you could answer she gently took your hand and led you towards the familiar hallway—to the attic. 

As if hypnotized, your eyes followed her all the way. “I do, please believe me.” you begged, your words convincing Minjeong. Minjeong just smiled at you, offering her hand to climb on the attic. 

“I knew you’re the one.” Minjeong whispered as you gently grasped for her hands, going to the attic, the door unnoticeably closing with each step taken. 

“I’ll finally be able to hug you for real.” she mumbled, leading you to something she also had done, years years ago. “Or kiss for real,” you teased, chuckling at your words. 

Before the last action, Minjeong’s taller figure takes you in for a last kiss. 

A kiss of death. 

Feeling something rusty but clothed wrap around your neck, you gasped for air. “It might hurt, love, I apologize in advance.” Minjeong exclaimed as she pulled the rope tighter, lifting you higher as your reactions muffled your attempts for breathing the air. 

“But I know you can take it, my love, stay still.” she reassured as she watched your body losing its spark and just hung. 

Hanging from the same place Minjeong hung off when she committed.

Suddenly, after a minute or 2 of silence, Minjeong saw your soul fall to the ground. With an evil chuckle she lets go of the rope and walks over to you who was leaning on your arms. 

Your hands were— see-through, the same as Minjeong’s hands. You were no longer you.

Your body was now transparent and fragile as glass. The world before you had faded into a haze of muted colors and distant voices, none of them your own. 

Minjeong stood before you, her eyes gleaming like stars—sharp and cold. The cruel smile she wore was not the same one she had shown when she first touched you, when you were alive. No, this one was different. It was the smile of a victory— a lover who had won in the self twisted way.

"You thought you could escape," she whispered, her voice now a soft, haunting lullaby in the silence of the attic. "But you are mine now. I’ll take good care of you." Minjeong grasped over your cheeks as she kissed you, feeling the smoothness of your lips. Realizing what her plan was you didn’t know if you were impressed or perhaps, disappointed. There was no escape now, no light and no solutions. 

Your existence was completely committed to her, only her. “You wanted this moment to happen too, didn't you?” Her breath ghosted against your ear.

Your lips parted, the word forming, the final choice lingering between your heartbeat and the silence.

“I feel I did.” you nervously smiled,

Minjeong also smiled back, and the last thing you felt was her arms pulling you into a final, eternal embrace.

Eternal love with no escapes, no light and no solutions. 

A wicked love streamed by haunting—a wicked haunting.

[multific]

Love’s Legacy

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: When you tell Marcus that you’re carrying his child, he is overwhelmed with joy and fear.

The morning sun bathed Rome in golden light. Birds sang softly from the gardens as a gentle breeze swept through the curtains.

You stood there, hands resting on the curve of your belly, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

The news had changed everything.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, echoing down the hallway.

Marcus entered the room, his presence commanding yet warm, his armour gleaming even in the soft morning light.

He paused when he saw you, his dark eyes widening. “You’re awake early, My Love.” His voice was a gentle rumble.

You smiled, feeling your heart swell as you looked at him. “I wanted to see you before you went to the Senate.”

His expression softened, a tender smile curving his lips as he crossed the room. His arms moved around you, his embrace firm yet gentle. “I could never leave without seeing your face.” He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering as if to savour the moment.

Your hands shook slightly as you placed them on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the cold metal of his armour. “Marcus… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He pulled back, concern flashing in his eyes. “What is it? Are you unwell? Did something happen?” His hands moved to your shoulders, his grip protective.

You shook your head, tears gathering in your eyes. “No… nothing bad. In fact… it’s wonderful.” You placed his hand over your belly, watching his face as realization set in.

His eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “Are you…?” His voice trembled, a rare crack in his composed demeanour.

You nodded, tears spilling over. “Yes… we’re going to have a child.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his hand resting on your belly, unmoving.

Then his knees buckled, and he sank before you, his hands shaking as they grabbed your waist. “A child… my child?” His eyes were wide.

“Yes,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. “Our child.”

A shudder ran through his body, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face against your belly. “I never thought… I never dreamed-” His voice broke, muffled by the fabric of your dress. “After everything, after all I’ve done, I never thought I’d be blessed with this.”

You sank to your knees before him, your hands cupping his face, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “You are a good man, Marcus. A good husband. And you will be the best father.”

His eyes were wet, his lips trembling. “I don’t know how to be a father,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I only know how to fight and protect. What if I fail you? What if I can’t keep you safe?”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, the fear evident in his eyes. “You have already kept me safe. Every day, with your love and your strength.” You pressed your forehead to his, your noses brushing. “Our child will grow strong and loved because you are their father. I believe in you, Marcus. I always have.”

His arms tightened around you, his body shaking. “I would give my life for you and our child. I will protect you with everything I am.”

You kissed him softly, your lips tender against his. “I know. But I need you to live, to be by my side. To hold our child. To teach them, to love them.”

His breath stopped, his eyes closing as he rested his forehead against yours. “I promise,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I promise to live and to be there for you. To be the father our child needs.”

Tears mingled as you held each other, sinking to the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hand remained on your belly, his thumb stroking the skin tenderly.

“What do you think it will be?” he asked, his voice soft with wonder. “A son or a daughter?”

You laughed, the sound light and joyous. “Does it matter?”

He smiled a radiant, boyish grin that made your heart skip a beat. “No, only that they are yours, ours.” His eyes shined with tears. “I never thought I could be this happy.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling his joy echo within you. “You deserve this happiness, Marcus. We both do.”

He held you close, his voice low and full of promise. “I will love you both… until my last breath. And even beyond that.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath your palm, his love wrapping around you. “We are yours, Marcus… always.”

His arms tightened, his lips brushing your ear. “And I am yours… forever.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[meadowfics]

can you do a fic where we are the younger sister of dae ho..??? (i love your tumblr btw

yes!!

thank you so much for reading <3 I hope you enjoy this :)

trigger warnings: the games, lol

growing up as the youngest in a big family, you were always the baby of the group.

your four older sisters and daeho were looking out for you all of the time, though he was the one who spoiled you the most.

he had a soft spot for you, always slipping you extra snacks or covering for you when you messed up on grades or chores that your parents made you do.

obviously, you were supposed to be the little brother for daeho according to your father, but oh well.

at least your father got one boy.

when you got older, you wanted to prove yourself, to step out of the shadow of your older siblings.

you had a dream, a business idea you were sure would change your life.

however, dreams don’t always happen the way you hope.

your business failed, leaving you drowning in debt, struggling to stay stable.

at first, you tried to handle it on your own, too ashamed to reach out to your family.

you hadn’t spoken to daeho in years.

last you heard, he was doing well, working at a nice restaurant.

he thought you had moved to france, like you've originally planned and have a new life, but fate had other plans.

desperate, you took the offer from a strange man in a suit, thinking it was your only shot at fixing everything.

just like that, you were thrown into the nightmare of the games.

the first game, red light, green light, shook you to your core.

the sound of gunfire, the bodies hitting the ground...

you barely made it out alive.

your heart was still racing when you stepped into the crowd of surviving players, trying to catch your breath.

suddenly, just over there by that creepy doll... you saw him.

standing among the players, just as shaken as you, was daeho.

your big brother. the one who used to hold your hand when you were scared, who used to ruffle your hair and call you his little troublemaker.

now, his face was pale, eyes wide in disbelief.

he looked older now.

your brother's hair was longer, he looked more tired than ever.

“y/n…?”

daeho's voice barely made it past his lips, but you heard it.

the moment his eyes locked onto yours, the horror in them mirrored your own.

you shook your head, stepping back as if that would change reality.

“no… no way,”

you whispered, your stomach twisting.

he wasn’t supposed to be here.

he was supposed to be safe.

you were supposed to be the failure, not him.

daeho moved toward you instantly, grabbing your shoulders like he needed to make sure you were real.

“what the hell are you doing here?”

his voice broke, raw with emotion.

you could barely answer. your throat felt tight, your chest aching.

“i could ask you the same thing,”

you muttered, forcing out a bitter laugh.

he was supposed to be doing well.

you had convinced yourself that at least one of your siblings was okay.

now, standing in this hell together, you realized how wrong you were.

daeho was quick to pull you into a tight embrace, one that you didn’t realize you needed until you felt his arms around you.

it wasn’t comforting, not really, nothing about this place could be, but it reminded you of home, your childhood of safety, even if those things felt impossibly far away now.

“we’re getting out of this,”

he muttered against your hair.

“our sisters will kill us if they find out that we were here, we need to leave.”

you looked around at the masked guards, the other terrified players, and the blood still staining the ground from the first game.

all you could think was: this place doesn’t let people go.

however, you just held onto your brother, the only familiar thing in this hell.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter ten Hiori finally finds the courage to meet his mom and her new family, with Miss Journalist, his self proclaimed emotional support girlfriend, by his side as he faces the inescapable reality he’s been running away from blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains fluff, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, very hiori centric piece masterlist

Hiori has been staring at his phone for almost ten minutes now. His grip tightens around the device, as if the pressure alone could somehow alter the words on the screen.

"Are you free for dinner this weekend, Yo-kun?"

A simple invitation. A casual question. A few harmless words.

But to Hiori, they might as well be a ticking time bomb.

Dinner with his mother. To catch up. To talk about life. To finally meet her new family. To face the reality he's been avoiding for months.

Just dinner.

Ever since she remarried, she has been persistent about him meeting them.

Every few weeks, another invitation. Lunch, dinner, brunch. Whatever excuse she could find to get him to sit at the same table as her new husband and the kid who aren’t his family.

She even hinted once about bringing them over to his apartment. That was when he started dodging her calls more often.

I’m busy.

I have training.

I’m too tired.

Some of those excuses were true. Most of them weren’t.

And his mother, perceptive as ever, never called him out on it. She knew. Of course she knew. But she let him have his distance, never pushing too hard.

Because in the end, they both understood the truth—this wasn’t just about a meal.

This was about moving forward.

And that terrified him.

He knows it’s selfish, but the thought of seeing her with a new family, a new life—one where he isn’t the center of her world anymore—feels like a rejection. 

A confirmation that while she has turned the page, he is still stuck in a chapter that no longer exists.

The only thing tying his parents together anymore… is him.

Just a lingering reminder of a failed marriage and a legacy that was never fulfilled.

How ironic.

Because when he was younger, he hated being their world. He resented the weight of their expectations, the suffocating pressure of their broken dreams forced onto his shoulders.

But now, standing on the outside looking in, he realizes that he wasn’t trying to escape them.

He was trying to matter to them in a way that didn’t feel conditional.

And now that they’ve let go… he isn’t sure where he belongs anymore.

The warmth of your touch jolts Hiori from his thoughts. Your hands rest gently over his, pulling him back from whatever storm had been brewing inside his mind.

“You okay? You’ve been spacing out for a while.”

Your voice is soft, gentle but laced with concern. Your brows knit together slightly as you search his face, eyes filled with warmth.

Hiori glances at his phone, then back at you. He wants to say something—anything—but the words feel like they’re caught in his throat, stuck somewhere between hesitation and the overwhelming urge to let it all spill out.

“You know you can talk to me,” you murmur, squeezing his hands ever so slightly. “But only if you’re ready, okay? No pressure.”

A small, reassuring smile tugs at your lips, offering him an out if he needs it.

You know Hiori. He isn’t the type to just talk about things—not the heavy stuff, not the things that weigh on him in the quiet hours of the night. He keeps them locked away, buried under layers of restraint.

And yet, even without words, you can see the unspoken pain lingering in his eyes, in the way his shoulders tense, in the way his fingers twitch against his phone.

If he wants to talk, you’ll listen. If he doesn’t, you’ll sit here beside him, offering comfort in whatever way he needs.

That’s who you are in his life. His girlfriend.

It still feels a little surreal, calling yourself that. But more than anything, you want to be his safe place, his steady ground when everything else feels uncertain.

And as if he hears your unspoken promise, Hiori finally exhales.

“Yeah,” he says, voice quieter than usual. “My mom just texted me.”

You wait, watching as he stares at his phone again, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

“She’s inviting me to dinner.” A pause. “With her new family.”

There’s a bitterness laced in his tone. Not outright anger, but something more fragile, more resigned.

And when he says new family, there’s an ache behind those words, as if saying them out loud makes it all the more real.

He wonders if they look like a picture-perfect family. Laughing around the dinner table, filling a space he once occupied. A space he wasn’t sure he could ever truly belong to.

Hiori leans back against the couch, his head falling back, an audible sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ve been avoiding it for so long.”

You shift closer, closing the small space between you. “Do you mind me asking why?”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to meet your eyes.

“It’s just…” He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“It scares me, y’know?”

His voice cracks, just for a second.

And in that moment, you see it—the weight of everything he’s been holding back, pressing down on him all at once.

"It scares me… because if I go to that dinner and see her new life, it’ll be like accepting that things will never be the same again.”

His voice is raw, trembling at the edges. He puts down his phone, his gaze fixed on his fingers curling into a fist on his lap.

“It hasn’t been the same… not since Blue Lock ended.” His voice wavers, barely above a whisper.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before they divorced. But now… it’s different. They’ve moved on, and I’m the one left behind. It’s ironic, isn’t it?” He lets out a bitter laugh, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I hated being their entire world when I was a kid. I resented the pressure, the expectations, the way they suffocated me. But now… now I’m the one clinging to a family that doesn’t exist anymore.”

His words hang heavy in the air, an open-ended question more for himself than for you. He’s questioning the cruel irony of it all, the way life keeps twisting the knife even when you think you’ve grown numb.

Your fingers find his, gently wrapping around his trembling hand. You give a reassuring squeeze, grounding him in the present, reminding him that he’s not alone. It’s the only thing you could do for him.

Hiori’s shoulders sag, his weight leaning into you as if he’s finally allowing himself to break. You let him, holding him steady as the six-foot man folds into you, his head resting against your shoulder.

There’s a vulnerability in his touch, his fingers clutching yours as if letting go would mean being swallowed by the sea of emotions threatening to drown him.

“I hate this feeling,” he admits, his voice cracking. “It’s like this heavy weight just sits here, crushing me… and I don’t know what to do with it. And I know… I know wallowin’ in self-pity won’t change anything, but… why does it feel so damn hard to let go? Why can’t I just… accept it?”

His words shake and you feel your own heart breaking. You want to take his pain away, to carry even just a fraction of that weight.

But you know better than to promise things you can’t fix. Instead, you offer him the one thing he needs most—understanding.

You run your thumb gently over his knuckles, giving him an anchor to hold on to. Your voice is soft, steady. “Because it’s never easy to take the first step… not when moving forward means leaving behind everything you once knew.”

Your words are gentle, echoing the very fear that’s kept him rooted in place. “And that fear? It’s valid. It might feel ironic, but it actually makes perfect sense.”

Hiori’s fingers tighten around yours, his jaw clenching as he listens.

“It’s okay for you to feel this way,” you say. 

“You were forced to grow up under impossible expectations. They put their broken dreams on you, made you carry burdens that were never yours to bear. And now, seeing them move on, seeing them do better with someone else… it hurts."

"It makes you wonder, ‘Why wasn’t it like that for me? Why did I have to suffer alone?’” Your voice is tinged with pain, echoing the unspoken thoughts he’s been too scared to voice.

“It feels unfair. Because you went through so much. And now it seems like they’ve moved on like nothing ever happened. Like you were just a chapter they’ve already closed.”

Hiori stiffens under the weight of your words. He feels seen and understood in a way he never thought possible. He releases a trembling breath, his head leaning further into you.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to go,” you whisper.

“We can stay here. We can watch cheesy romcoms, marathon anime or I’ll play Hades 2 while you backseat and critique my every move. Whatever you need, I’m here. We’ll get through it together.”

Hiori stays still, his breathing uneven. He’s so quiet that it makes you nervous, a lump forming in your throat. Just as you’re about to speak again, his voice breaks the silence.

“No.”

You blink, confused. “No?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, “Let’s go.” His voice wavers, but there’s a quiet determination behind his words. “I—I’ll to go to that dinner. But only if you’re with me.”

Pride swells in your chest. You see the fear in his eyes, but you also see his courage—the bravery it took for him to reach out, to ask for help, to take that first step. You nod, your voice unwavering.

“Of course. I’ll be right there with you. Every step of the way.”

Hiori doesn’t see the smile on your face, but he hears it in your voice. He feels it in the way your fingers tighten around his, steady and unwavering.

And in that moment, he realizes that maybe he’s not as alone as he thought.

Hiori checks his phone for the third time in five minutes. 

30 minutes early.

He sighs, glancing at the screen to re-read your text from last night, just to be absolutely sure he’s at the right place. The last thing he needs is to embarrass himself by knocking on the wrong door and looking like a complete idiot.

You haven’t replied to his last text. You’re probably still getting ready.

Hiori shifts on his feet, feeling the awkwardness settle in his bones. If he stands out here for the next half an hour, he’ll definitely look like a creep to any nosy neighbors who pass by.

His fingers tap against his leg, nervous energy bubbling up inside him. Before he can overthink it, he lifts his hand and knocks—three quick taps against the door.

No answer.

The silence stretches. His heart starts to pound a little faster. He’s about to knock again when he hears muffled shuffling from the other side. 

The door creaks open just a sliver, revealing a dark-haired girl peeking through the narrow gap. Her eyes narrow, scanning him up and down with suspicion.

Hiori instantly recognizes her from your descriptions—Miko, your roommate. The same loudmouthed girl who’s apparently a serial yapper and the world’s worst movie critic.

But right now, she’s nothing like you described. She’s quiet, guarded, eyeing him like he’s a stalker.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice low and cautious.

Hiori’s heart stutters, but he quickly recovers, offering her his most harmless, polite smile. “Good morning. I’m looking for Y/N.”

Miko’s eyes narrow further. “And you are?”

The words roll off his tongue easily, almost too easily. “I’m her boyfriend.”

He feels a flicker of warmth at the admission. It still feels surreal, saying it out loud. But each time he does, it becomes a little more real, a little more his. 

Her expression flickers, her eyes widening with recognition. The door opens wider, revealing more of the apartment behind her. Hiori catches a glimpse of your shared living room—messy, cozy, filled with a chaotic warmth that already feels like you.

Miko shouts over her shoulder, her voice louder now, “Babe! There’s a pretty boy at the door! Says he’s your boyfriend!”

Hiori’s cheeks flush at the description. Miko turns back to him, her face breaking into an unnervingly wide smile.

She doesn’t move. She just stands there, her gaze fixed on him, silently appraising him like he’s some sort of artifact.

The longer she stares, the more awkward he feels. His confident smile wavers under her scrutiny. He shuffles on his feet, pretending to dust off an invisible speck from his bomber jacket before clasping his hands in front of him to stop his fidgeting.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoes from inside the apartment, followed by a loud, frantic voice.

“I’m coming! I’m almost ready!”

You burst into view, hair slightly tousled and face flushed. You’re wearing a black skirt that sways around your knees, moving fluidly with your every step.

You practically trip over your sneakers as you shove your feet into them, mumbling under your breath about how you’re never letting Miko wake you up late again. When you look up and see Hiori standing there, a warm smile instantly lights up your face.

“You’re early!”

A chuckle escapes him, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He extends his hand towards you, and you immediately slip yours into his, letting him pull you closer.

Miko’s grin widens, and she leans against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with unabashed curiosity. Her eyes flicker between the two of you, her head tilting in amusement.

You shoot her a warning look, but it only makes her snicker.

“We’re off,” you announce, deliberately ignoring the mischievous look in her eyes. “Don’t wait up.”

You lead Hiori away, your fingers intertwined with his, warm and steady. You’re almost at the elevator when Miko’s voice rings out behind you, echoing through the hallway.

“Have fun, kids! And use protection!”

The drive to the house is nothing but quiet and tense.

Hiori’s grip on the steering wheel was tighter than usual, his posture tense and awfully upright. There’s an unnerving feeling lingering in the back of Hiori’s mind, lurking. As if anytime, it would pounce right at him—this irrational fear of his—and would make him crawl back at home and just chicken out.

He’s played against world class players under the eyes of the world, with his team’s victory hanging in balance where tension is at an all time high. But nothing has prepared him for the crushing pressure of meeting his mom’s new family and accepting the inevitable.

Nothing. 

And when Hiori pauses in front of the house, you can feel his nervousness. His breath is shaky as he exhales, as if he was holding his breath for such a long time during the drive.

Without thinking to much, you reach over and slip your fingers through his. Your presence, your support, is the only reassurance you can give him. 

“You ready?” You look at Hiori. He gives you a strained smile as he nods and presses the doorbell.

The doorbell rings from the inside of the house, the faint sound of it muffled by the closed doors and windows. 

For a brief second, nothing happens. The house remains silent, unmoving. A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. Maybe they’re not home. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this today. Maybe—

A young boy stands there, barely reaching Hiori’s waist, his wide eyes curious and innocent. He looks up at Hiori with curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

Hiori’s heart stutters. The boy’s eyes are so familiar—large and expressive, a shade of brown that reminds him of his mother’s.

Before he can process it, Junko appears behind the boy, her face lighting up in recognition. She’s wearing a pink apron, her hair tied back in a messy bun, a warm, welcoming smile stretching across her lips.

“Yo-kun!” Her voice is bright, affectionate, and she pulls the gate open wider, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m so glad you made it!”

You feel Hiori’s fingers twitch, his shoulders going rigid for a moment before steps forward.

You gently release his hand, giving him space as Junko steps forward and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

He hesitates but then he melts into her embrace, his shoulders sagging, his face burying in her shoulder just for a moment before he pulls away.

Junko’s gaze shifts to you, her eyes widening as she takes you in. She steps closer, her hands reaching out to grasp yours. Her hands are warm, slightly calloused—the hands of someone who’s worked hard her whole life.

Just like Hiori’s.

“And you must be—”

Her words die off as her eyes widen in realization. Recognition flickers in her gaze, and her mouth falls open in a soft gasp. Her head whips towards Hiori, her expression a mixture of shock and delight.

“Oh my! You’re the—” Her eyes dart between you and her son. “And you two are dating?!”

A crimson flush spreads across Hiori’s cheeks, his eyes flicking to the ground as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, we are. So can we go inside before the neighbors hear all about my love life?”

The boy, no older than ten, scurries after Hiori, his small legs working double time to keep up with Hiori’s long strides. You follow closely behind, watching as his tiny steps try to match Hiori’s big steps.

Inside, the house is warm and cozy, sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating the framed photos on the wall.

Your eyes catch on one with a younger Hiori in a Bastard München jersey, standing next to his mom who looks impossibly proud.

You even spot a framed article about him from years ago, back when he first officially joined Bastard Munchen’s starting lineup as a rookie.

Junko’s voice calls from the kitchen, “Make yourselves at home! Lunch will be ready soon!” The rich and savory scent of curry wafts through the air.

Hiori sinks into the couch, his shoulders relaxing as he leans back.

You carry the cake you bought to the kitchen, hesitating for a moment before approaching Junko.

“Um… Mrs. Hio—” You catch yourself, realizing the name might be a sensitive topic.

Junko turns to you, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just Junko, dear.” She reaches out, taking the cake from your hands with a warm smile.

“And thank you for bringing this. You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. Also, it’s nice to finally formally meet you. I’m Y/N, Hi—You-kun’s girlfriend.” Your voice gets a little bit higher, a shy smile breaking across your face.

It’s your first time addressing Hiori by his first name. It does make his ears perk up hearing you say it from the couch.

“Thank you for taking care of Yo-kun, dear. And it’s really nice to meet you under better circumstances.” Both of you laugh at the inside joke that is the exhibition match fiasco.

It somehow thaws the awkwardness you’re feeling. 

“I’m sorry, dear. The curry’s still cooking. I was helping little Ryuu with his homework earlier and completely lost track of time.” Junko apologizes, mid stir of the curry.

“Also, my husband’s running a bit late from a client appointment, but he’ll be joining us for dinner. So please relax and make yourselves at home.”

The words echo in Hiori’s head, bouncing around before finally sinking in.

Her husband.

It feels weird for Hiori to hear his mom call another guy her husband. And it’s definitely weird to be in a house with her other than the house he grew up in with her and his dad. 

It smells like curry and laughter and a life that doesn’t include him. A life his mom built without him.

His fingers tap against his leg, restless and jittery. His knee bounces rapidly, his body wound so tight it feels like he might snap.

A gentle poke to his side breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks over to see you watching him, concern etched into your features.

Your eyes are soft, wide with worry, and your lips are pressed into a thin line.

“You good?” Your voice is low, meant only for him.

He forces himself to nod, his head moving stiffly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

You don’t look convinced, but you don’t push. Instead, you shift closer, your shoulder pressing against his, your warmth seeping into him. The tension in his chest loosens just a little, his knee slowing to a stop. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent thank you.

Every so often, little Ryuu's eyes flicker up to Hiori, wide and curious, while he draws on the paper in front of him absentmindedly. 

It’s funny to him, seeing how looking at the kid reminds him of his younger self, with the same curious big eyes. 

There’s something hauntingly familiar about those eyes—big and innocent, filled with questions he’s too shy to ask. He sees himself in that curious gaze, a younger version of himself who was just as small and wide-eyed once upon a time.

The realization hits him hard. That’s his brother.

Or step brother, right? Since they're not blood related. 

The words feel foreign to him. He’s never been a brother before. He doesn’t know how to be one. Should he introduce himself? Would that be too weird? What would he even say?

His heart hammers in his chest, his fingers twitching at his sides, but before he can fully process his thoughts, you’re already moving.

You slide off the couch and plop down beside Ryuu on the floor, cross-legged and casual.

“Hi, Ryuu!” you greet, your voice warm and friendly. “Whatcha doin’?”

The boy’s head shoots up, his big eyes widening even more. He looks at you, then at Hiori, then back at you, his mouth falling open slightly. You wait patiently, giving him time to process before he mumbles, “Just drawing.”

Your eyes light up with genuine curiosity. You lean closer, watching his tiny hands fumble with the crayons, drawing a person kicking a ball.

“You’re really good at this. I can’t draw well but I can draw pretty flowers.”Ryuu’s lips twitch, the beginnings of a smile forming. He shyly pushes a piece of paper and a crayon towards you.

“You can help if you want.”

Your face lights up. “Really? Thanks, Ryuu!” You take the crayon, carefully drawing sunflowers on the paper. You glance down at your drawing, cringing. You’re pretty sure Ryuu’s stick people look better than yours.

From the couch, Hiori watches the scene unfold, his chest tightening at the sight. You’re so natural with the kid.

Junko’s voice rings out from the kitchen, breaking his thoughts.

“So, how long have you two been dating?”

“Four months,” Hiori blurts out before you can answer. His face immediately flushes, his eyes darting to the floor.

A soft chuckle drifts from the kitchen. “Four months? And you didn’t tell me, Yo-kun?” There’s a hint of hurt behind her words, masked by a strained laugh.

An awkward silence follows.

You sense the tension and decide to break it the only way you know how—by being your usual, chaotic self. You turn to Ryuu, a mischievous grin forming on your lips.

“Hey, Ryuu. Wanna see something cool?”

The boy’s eyes sparkle with interest, his head bobbing eagerly. “Yeah!”

You wiggle your eyebrows dramatically. “Wanna see how cool your big brother is?”

The words tumble out naturally, and Hiori’s chest tightens.

Big brother.

The title is heavy, unfamiliar… but somehow, it feels right. It leaves a warmth lingering in his chest for some reason.

Ryuu’s head snaps towards Hiori, his eyes widening in awe. “Big brother?” His voice is soft, reverent, almost as if he’s been waiting to hear those words.

Hiori’s heart stutters, his breath catching in his throat. He can’t speak, his voice stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. 

Meanwhile, you’ve already grabbed the remote, switching on the TV with practiced ease. You navigate to YouTube, typing in the search bar with a speed that makes Hiori’s head spin.

He squints at the screen, his eyes widening when he sees the search result:

Hiori Yo nasty highlight clips

His face flushes red. “Ehem.” He clears his throat, his eyes flicking from the TV to you. “Seriously?”

You look at him, confused. “What? That’s the title. I’ve watched it before.”

He stares at you, his mouth agape. “That… sounds so wrong.”

He imagines you in your pajamas at home, lounging in front of your pc, your glasses reflecting the videos  of him you watch.

The idea makes him chuckle because he’s damn sure you’ve done it a couple of times. Now he wonders which clips of him you’ve watched countless of times and which ones are your particular favorites. 

The video starts with a close-up of Hiori, sweat dripping down his face as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression intense and focused. Then, the scene cuts to a montage of his best plays.

Perfect passes, impossible assists, and jaw-dropping goals that make even the commentators lose their minds.

The scene cuts to a series of b-rolls—Hiori walking to his position, his body language exuding quiet confidence. Then another shot of him standing on the field, his gaze unwavering, scanning the pitch with laser-sharp focus. 

A third clip shows him conversing with his teammates, his expression serious, his words inaudible but his leadership evident. All the shots are from official match broadcasts, crisp and clear, showcasing Bastard München.

Then the music picks up, an upbeat, electrifying tune that sets the perfect stage for action. The atmosphere shifts, the anticipation building as the video plunges into a sequence of breathtaking highlights.

The first clip is a wide shot of Hiori facing off in a 1v1 with Bachira who makes the first move, his feet a blur of motion as he pulls off a series of feints. But Hiori doesn’t bite. He tracks Bachira’s movements and then, in a flash, Hiori lunges. 

His foot intercepts the ball, flicking it away as he pivots, the ball glued to his feet.

Effortless dribbling, perfect ball control. Hiori’s genius as an offensive midfielder on full display.

You let out a low whistle, fanning yourself dramatically. You look back at him, your eyes wide with exaggerated admiration, mouthing the words, “So hot,” with an over-the-top expression that makes him chuckle.

Ryuu’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. “Wow… that’s you?”

Pride blooms in Hiori’s chest, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah… that’s me.”

You turn to Ryuu, your eyes shining. “Pretty cool, huh? Your big brother’s a superstar.”

Ryuu nods eagerly, his admiration evident from his sparkling eyes. He looks at Hiori like he’s the coolest person in the world.

The video keeps going, the music intensifying as the plays get even more spectacular.

Hiori pulls off a Rabona against PXG’s Charles Chevalier, his body twisting gracefully as his foot wraps around the ball, curving it perfectly past Charles. The stadium erupts, the camera zooming in on Hiori’s calm, unbothered face as if the impossible play was just another day at the office.

You dramatically fan yourself again, your head shaking in disbelief. “Okay, now that’s just unfair,” you whisper, clearly mesmerized by his speed and agility.

But the video isn’t done yet. The final highlight is a masterpiece of playmaking—a two-stage fake pass followed by a no-look alley cross.

Hiori sprints down the sideline, his eyes locking with Isagi’s for a split second. His body shifts as if preparing to pass, his entire stance selling the fake perfectly. The defenders bite, their bodies moving to intercept—only to realize too late that the ball never left his foot.

With a quick turn, Hiori spins around his marker, his eyes still on Isagi as his leg swings back. But instead of kicking towards Isagi, the ball flies to the opposite side, curving beautifully towards Yukimiya, who’s unmarked on the far post. Yukimiya heads it in effortlessly, the net bulging as the crowd goes wild.

You whistle lowly, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re so good it’s actually scary.”

Hiori laughs, his cheeks flushing under your praise. But his eyes soften when he notices Ryuu’s reaction.

The boy is motionless, his face a mask of pure awe. His big brown eyes are locked on the screen, his mouth hanging open as he watches Hiori work his magic.

When the video ends, Ryuu doesn’t move. His eyes stay glued to the screen, his little body leaning forward as if waiting for more.

Then, his head whips around, his eyes wide and sparkling. “Can—can we watch it again?”

You grin. You hit replay, and the video starts all over again.

This time, you provide a colorful play-by-play, adding dramatic sound effects every time Hiori pulls off a crazy move. Ryuu giggles, his body swaying with excitement as he watches the highlights with newfound fascination.

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes locking with Hiori’s. You tilt your head towards Ryuu, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon, Yo-kun. Don’t just sit there. Get down here and watch with us.”

Hiori blinks, a little startled by the invitation. But when you pat the spot next to you, he feels his body moving before his mind catches up.

He slides off the couch, his long legs folding as he sits cross-legged beside Ryuu. The boy’s eyes widen in delight as his face breaking into a huge grin.

“Football looks so cool,” Ryuu breathes, his voice tinged with awe. 

It catches Hiori off guard, his mind flashing back to his younger self—wide-eyed and hopeful, mesmerized by the magic of the game. It’s the same look he had when he first fell in love with football.

Then you lean in, your voice playful. “Bet if you ask nicely, your big brother will teach you how to play.” You loudly whisper to Ryuu, making sure Hiori can hear every word loud and clear.

Ryuu’s head snaps towards Hiori, his eyes wide and pleading. “Really? Will you teach me?”

His voice cracks for a bit. “Ask mom if she’s okay with it.” Who can say no to a kid who gives the most adorable face, right?

Without missing a beat, Ryuu scrambles to his feet, his little legs propelling him towards the kitchen as he shouts, “Mom! Big brother’s gonna teach me how to play football! Can I? Can I?”

There’s a brief pause, followed by Junko’s voice, shaky and emotional. “Y-yeah, of course, sweetie. If your big brother is fine with it… then I’m fine with it.”

Ryuu trudges back to Hiori, his small feet pattering against the floor, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He skids to a stop beside Hiori, his chest puffed out with pride as he beams up at him.

His entire body vibrates with excitement, his smile so wide it crinkles the corners of his big, bright eyes.

There’s a strange tug inside him, a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar. But there’s also an uneasy twist, a hollow ache as he looks down at the boy—at those eyes, so full of wonder.

Was I like this before?

He remembers himself as a child, smaller and wide-eyed, standing on a football field for the first time. He remembers the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of kicking the ball, the way his heart soared when he scored his first goal.

His heart throbs, his chest aching as he remembers how fast it all changed.

How the light in his eyes dimmed as football became less about fun and more about perfection. How the joy was replaced with pressure, the excitement overshadowed by expectations. How he became an extension of his parents’ legacy, a vessel for their broken dreams.

How he sacrificed everything—time, friends, childhood—just to be the best. Just to make them proud.

And how, one day, he looked in the mirror and realized the love for football was gone. 

Nothing was left but emptiness.

His eyes flicker to Ryuu, to the boy’s wide, innocent gaze, so full of hope. The wonder is alive in his eyes, glowing brightly, untouched and pure.

An unfamiliar protectiveness washes over him, strong and overwhelming.

Ryuu isn’t even related to him by blood, but that doesn’t matter. Hiori’s chest burns with the desire to protect that light in his eyes. 

To keep that wonder safe. To make sure Ryuu never loses that joy. To never lose himself to expectations and pressure and heartbreak.

By the time dinner rolls around, the warm atmosphere is momentarily interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

Footsteps echo through the hallway, each step growing louder, closer, until a man appears in the doorway.

Junko’s face lights up, her posture relaxing as she walks towards the man, her smile bright and genuine.

She wraps her arms around his waist, his hand resting on her back as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. He smiles into her hair, his eyes soft, his expression tender and affectionate.

A strange, hollow ache twists in Hiori’s chest.

He watches as his mom giggles, playfully swatting the man’s arm as she glances back at them, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. There’s a lightness to her that he hasn’t seen in years.

She never smiled like that at his dad.

The man pulls away, his eyes flicking to Hiori, his expression warm and welcoming. He steps forward, his movements unhurried, his demeanor gentle. He’s not intimidating, not imposing in any way.

Just… normal.

“I’m Kobayashi Yohei,” he says, his voice steady and kind. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yo-kun.” He extends his hand towards Hiori, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a genuine smile.

For a split second, Hiori freezes, his body going rigid. His mind races, his heart thudding in his chest.

Yo-kun.

The nickname feels foreign and strange when spoken by someone who isn’t his dad.

Hiori stands up and reaches out, his grip firm as his hand meets Yohei’s. “Likewise. And… thank you for taking care of my mom.”

His words come out even and controlled. Not bitter, not overly enthusiastic. Just an honest acknowledgment of the truth.

They break apart, and Hiori quickly steps back, his eyes flicking to the floor. You sense the tension and immediately step in, introducing yourself with a bright smile, your voice warm and friendly.

Yohei’s eyes soften, his shoulders visibly relaxing as you greet him. He thanks you for coming, his voice gentle and sincere, and you can feel the atmosphere slowly thawing.

Dinner is surprisingly lively, mostly thanks to Ryuu’s animated storytelling. He recounts the videos he watched earlier with you and Hiori, his eyes wide with excitement as he describes each move with exaggerated hand gestures.

“And then Big Brother—” Ryuu’s voice falters, his eyes darting to Hiori as if seeking permission.

He meets Ryuu’s gaze, and after a moment, he gives a small but gentle smile.

Ryuu beams, his face lighting up as he continues, “Big brother did this crazy move where he passed the ball behind his back without even looking!” He leans closer to his dad, his eyes sparkling. 

“It was so cool! I wanna learn how to do that someday.”

Yohei’s eyes widen, his brows arching in surprise. His gaze shifts to Hiori, his expression softening. “Is that so?” He ruffles Ryuu’s hair affectionately.

“Well, if your big brother is willing to teach you, then I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

He looks at Ryuu, the boy’s face glowing with excitement, and for a brief moment, he feels something unfamiliar… something like belonging.

When dinner finally ends, you offer Junko help to wash the dishes while the men move to the living room.

Ryuu slumps back in front of the TV, watching more Bastard Munchen clips. 

Yohei looks over at Hiori, his expression thoughtful. “I heard from your mom that you were sick and got benched during a match.” His voice is soft, laced with genuine concern.

Hiori blinks, surprised. “Mom’s just exaggerating. It was an exhibition match, and we were trying new things on the field.” He shrugs, trying to play it off.

Yohei nods, his face relaxing. “That’s good to hear. Your mom worries a lot.” His lips curve into a gentle smile. “She always talks about you… how proud she is of you.”

A lump forms in Hiori’s throat, his eyes dropping to his lap. “Yeah… I know.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

To break the tension, Hiori clears his throat. “Mom mentioned you’re a physical therapist?”

Yohei’s face brightens. “Yeah. I’ve been working with athletes for years, along with the usual cases that come my way. It’s rewarding, helping people get back on their feet.”

Hiori’s interest is piqued. “Do you work with football players, too?”

“Occasionally. Mostly with runners and swimmers, but I’ve had a few football clients. It’s fascinating… the way the body moves during a match, the strain on the muscles.” Yohei’s eyes light up as he speaks, his passion evident.

They fall into an easy conversation about training, stretching, and how to properly take care of his body as an athlete. Yohei even points out Hiori’s posture, teasing him about how Junko mentioned he hunches over while playing video games.

Hiori laughs, his shoulders relaxing, the awkwardness fading just a little.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Junko hands you a plate to dry. 

“Thank you… for being here with him. I don’t think he could have done this alone.” Her voice is thick with emotion.

You smile gently. “He’s stronger than he thinks. But I wanted to be here. For him.”

Junko’s eyes glisten, her lips trembling. “He’s changed so much. And it gives me hope. Maybe we can find our way back to each other.” Her voice cracks just a little and you feel like the damn might break any moment now.

Before you can respond, Hiori appears in the doorway, his face serious. “Mom… can we talk?”

Your heart tightens, knowing he needs this moment. You give him a reassuring nod before slipping out to the living room, joining Ryuu as he replays Hiori’s highlight videos.

Junko gestures to the dinner table, her hands trembling as she pulls out a chair. Hiori follows suit, sitting down across from her, his body rigid, his fingers twisting together in his lap. He can’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the table.

Silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Then, Hiori lets out a shaky breath, his voice breaking the quiet. “Thanks for dinner. And for inviting me.”

Junko’s lips tremble, her eyes glistening. ��I—I wanted to see you. It’s been so long. And… I missed you, Yo-kun.” Her voice wavers, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

Hiori’s chest tightens, his heart aching at the pain in her voice. He swallows thickly, his fingers gripping his knees under the table. “I missed you too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it was easier to stay away.”

Junko’s face crumbles, her shoulders shaking. She drops her head, her hands clenching the dish towel as she fights back tears. “I know. I deserve that. I deserve every bit of that.”

Hiori’s fingers twitch, his throat tightening. “I was so angry. For so long.” His voice wavers, his eyes stinging. “I hated you. And Dad. Even football. I hated everything.”

“I thought—I thought it was my fault. That if I was better, you and Dad would’ve been happier.” His voice cracks, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

“I was the reason everything fell apart.”

Junko’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and horrified. “No… no, Yo-kun. No.” She moves without thinking, reaching across the table, her hands trembling as she takes his.

“It was never your fault. Not even for a second.” Her grip tightens, her voice desperate.

“You dad and I were wrong. For pushing our dreams to you. You were just a child back then and our motivations were in the wrong.”

Junko lets out silent sob, her face buried in her hands. “I failed you as a mother. I was selfish and weak.”

"I wish I could go back and do it all over. I wish I had been a better mother to you.” Junko’s words felt heavy, filled with pain and regret. His chest heaves, his shoulders shaking.

But amidst the pain, he feels something shift, easing the tightness in his heart.

“I’m not mad. Not anymore.” Hiori’s voice is quiet, steady. 

“I—I was. For a long time. But I’m not anymore.” He looks up, his eyes meeting hers. 

“You… you’re good to him. To Ryuu. And you look happy.” He pauses, his voice cracking. “I want you to be happy, Mom.”

Junko gives him a small smile. “I want that for you too. More than anything.”

Hiori takes a shaky breath, his fingers squeezing hers. “I’m 26 now. I’m an adult. And things are different. You have a new family. New priorities.” He pauses, his voice wavering. 

“We’ll just do better and figure things out. But this is a good start, right?”

Tears well up in Junko’s eyes as she tries to hold herself back from crying. Hearing those words from her son felt like a huge weight from her shoulders were lifted.

“Thank you, Yo-kun. And for what it’s worth, no matter how different things are now, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be in your corner.”

She stands, her chair scraping against the floor as she rounds the table, her arms wrapping around him. Hiori’s body stiffens, his breath hitching. But then, his arms move, wrapping around her, holding her close.

They stand there, their shoulders shaking as they softly cry in each other's arm. The years of pain, anger, and loneliness still there but slowly melting away, replaced by a fragile hope.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a fairytale ending. The scars will always be there, reminders of what was lost. But it’s a start.

Things can’t be fixed. Not completely.

But that doesn’t mean they can’t get better.

And maybe this is how things get better.

amari's notes: this is the longest chapter by far, thank you for the wait! jan and feb have been so busy for me so i didn't really have much energy to write but now, i'm planning to get back into it! also this chapter is really close to my heart, being a child of divorce who is also an only child and an eldest siblings to my half-siblings an all, i feel like hiori would be the type to be protective of his step brother. a lot to unpack in this chapter but i didn't want to make it longer huhu. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf @pookalicious-hq @dontmindtheevie @wannabepoeticischiya @chokifandom @momoriii-i

[jo-harrington]

Luminous Beings - Chapter 5: When Ambush Comes to Shove

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: Eddie’s world comes crashing down around him as he realizes his hopes and dreams could have come true, if only in a kinder world.

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Distrust, Mention of Alcohol and Substance Use, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Galactic Politics, Mention of Death, Vague References to Order 66 and the Jedi Purge

Note: We're at the half-ish way-ish point! This one is a little more lighthearted, I think. Just a nice little transitional chapter...nothing important happening...or will it? I actually felt really proud of it upon my reread before posting; it's very funny how last chapter was filled with a bit of dread but this one I'm super confident with. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks again to everyone for reading.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Hyperspace, 10BBY

Eddie sat in his seat on the bridge, practically catatonic. His thoughts swirled in his head about as wildly as hyperspace swirled just beyond the transparisteel.

How he had found himself here twice in the span of a few days, he really couldn't say.

He truly couldn't say much about anything. Who he was, why he was the way that he was, how he was feeling about all of this, especially the big revelation that...

He was a Jedi.

He'd found some amusement in the possibility of flying home to Bracca to drop the big revelation on Wane, who would offer some off-handed insult towards the failed Order. Wane, of course, would still ask Eddie if he could use some latent force ability to move the old husk of a washing machine out of their flat.

He also got a kick out of imagining Thalia's dramatic eye roll and playfully clarifying statement of "You're not a Jedi, bantha brains."

Then he'd get lost in the semantics again.

Force. Path. Jedi. Sith. Light Side. Dark Side.

They were all words that had been spoken a little too much over the past day. He didn't really know what they meant. Or, he supposed now, what they meant when it came to him.

Eddie was so lost in his head, he didn't notice when the pneumatic door hissed open or the footsteps that clunked across the bridge. Not until Jeff dropped into his usual seat beside Eddie at the console.

Jeff sat in silence for a while; he didn't even look at Eddie. He just made sure the ship's computer had them on course, checked some readings, flipped a few switches. And then when enough time had passed and he was sure Eddie wasn't going to lash out like an untamed loth cat, he spoke.

"You know," he began with a deep inhale. "If there was any of us who I expected to have Force abilities, it would be you. Lucky asshole."

Eddie couldn't help but crack a smile. He reached over and slugged Jeff in the arm lightly.

"Did you ever have a...feeling?" Jeff questioned. "Or an idea of it? All the times we played Jedis back home?"

"I don't think whacking broomsticks around would've awakened any natural abilities, Jeffy," Eddie scoffed.

"Hey, gotta exhaust all possible ideas." Jeff laughed. There was a beat before he asked again, "So...did you?"

"Not at all."

"Do you feel anything different now?"

Aside from confusion?

"No."

"Then I don't see why you're acting like you've been transported to some strange, upside-down, alternate universe where your hands are your feet and your head is in your ass." He paused. "Your head is always in your ass."

They both broke out in laughter, and Eddie felt the weight of the world finally lift off his shoulders.

"Thanks," he told his friend once their levity subsided. "I needed that."

"I noticed. You spent a little too much time being a grouch the last few days."

"Can you blame me?"

"Not really. But am I glad you're going through it and not me? Absolutely." Jeff reached over and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "So, what are the next steps, Captain?"

"Next steps?" Eddie frowned. "What next steps?"

"Well, it sounds like you just earned yourself another target on your back," Jeff elaborated with a nervous chuckle. "Thalia seems to think that you're gonna go with the others to this...Bogano. And if you do...well, it's not like we're gonna abandon you. Not because you can supposedly use the force now."

He'd been so overwhelmed by the revelation that he was somehow connected to the force that he missed it. Thalia's "consider yourself saved" didn't mean that she was simply saving him from a bleak and unadventurous future. She was trying to save him from the Empire, too.

From being hunted down. Hurt. Killed.

Eddie suddenly felt spite slowly build in his chest.

Spite towards her, yet again. But also, spite towards the Jedi. Tenfold.

If the Order knew he had some kind of power, where had they been? Surely if he wasn't special enough to be saved then, there was no reason for the Empire to come looking for him now.

How had Thalia even found him? Why did she care? Mostly everyone else aboard her little stowaway container was...well, they were kids. And given what she'd shown him, he could understand why she felt some sort of obligation to keep them safe.

But Eddie? All his life, he'd taken care of himself. Taken care of his friends.

He didn't need to be saved.

He hadn't needed the Jedi then, he wouldn't need them now.

So no, he’d tell her thanks but no thanks. He wouldn’t be going to Bogano.

"Well, you guys have nothing to worry about," Eddie finally assured Jeff. "The only place I need you guys to follow me to is Corellia to see if we can get a last minute set at a club in Coronet City."

"Seriously?" Jeff stumbled over his words. "Aren't you worried...about the Empire? A-about anything?"

"Nah." Eddie reached up and flipped a switch to divert more power to the sublight engines and hopefully get them to Coruscant faster. The sooner Thalia and her band of misfits were off his ship, the sooner he could forget this ever happened. "If anything happens, which I doubt, I'm sure I can handle it. What could possibly go wrong?"

To say that Eddie was hostile towards Thalia and the rest of his unexpected guests over the final few days of their journey was an understatement.

If he’d hadn’t been annoyed before, he sure was now. Actually, annoyance didn't begin to cover the array of emotions that he felt over his suddenly-crowded ship.

The ship was constantly noisy. He couldn't get a lick of privacy when there was always someone using the refresher. The big Nikto guy—Hoppor—kept pointing out everything mechanically wrong with Eddie’s ship. 

The worst of it all was that the rest of his friends didn't seem to be as cranky as he was. They enjoyed having, essentially, the equivalent of a full crew aboard.

G'areth enjoyed the compliments he got over the meals he carefully crafted, especially since the newcomers had been eating rehydrated rations in the container. Jeff told stories of faraway planets and creatures to the kids. Dayv found a challenge in the twi'lek girl, Na'ancee, who seemed to beat his high score at the sharpshooting sim he loved.

Even D5-TN had seemed to make friends with a few of the younger boys. The little punk. Eddie always made jokes that he was a real kid in a tin can body; seems it wasn't so much of a joke after all.

"This is not a...babysitting ship," he grumbled to his friends one night. His crew, who he thought would listen to him and, at the very least, take his side on the principle of the matter. "This is a smuggling ship."

"Technically it's an old republic transport vessel," Dayv pointed out matter-of-factly. "We just retrofitted it to help us smuggle things bec—”

He trailed off as Eddie glared at him.

Eddie didn't try to bring up his frustrations to them again. Instead, he suffered alone.

"I have a question, your jedi-ship," he snarked at Thalia one afternoon as she passed on the way from the refresher.

She stopped in her tracks and stepped into the crew's bunkroom to find him lounging with his guitar. He and the guys had tried to practice together, but their unexpected audience kept requesting songs they didn't know.

If he had to teach these kids what Heavy Isotope was...well, no, he wasn't gonna bond with them. He was gonna stay grumpy. They could keep their bad taste in music.

"I'm not a Jedi," Thalia reminded him for the millionth time. She leaned against the threshold of the room and held her pack against her chest, almost like it was a shield that could protect her from whatever he had to say. "And what question?"

"I know you answered Jeff's question about payment in the commotion," he began. "But I'd like a little assurance. Because the terms have changed, this isn't a regular smuggling job anymore. There's no mysterious benefactor paying for goods to be transported across the galaxy. And last I checked, eighty percent of nothing is...oh, let's see...NOTHING."

Thalia snorted and rolled her eyes, which made Eddie seethe even more.

"Come on, how do you intend on paying up?" he asked. He hoisted himself up into a seated position. "I didn't know that Star Tours paid so well that you had a stockpile of credits to dish out. Do you even work for them? Was that uniform just a fake? Like everything else about you? Or does this...Hidden Path have a special reimbursement account with the Intergalactic Banking Clan?"

"Unbelievable," she scoffed. He grinned cockily, knowing he was getting to her.

"I need a number, sweetheart."

"Well what would make you happy? Forty thousand credits? Sixty?"

"A million."

"In your dreams, laser brain." She pushed off the wall and turned to leave. Annoyance now radiated from her like the heat of a dwarf star. "You'll get your money. Not a million, but you'll get it."

She avoided him for the rest of the trip.

Eddie didn't know if he felt relieved or disappointed.

The Core Worlds, 10BBY

The day they were set to arrive on Coruscant came before they knew it.

"Good," Eddie grumbled as D5-TN alerted him to the imminent arrival. He dropped into his seat with a huff and began the sequence to exit hyperspace. "The sooner we get through this, the better."

The stowaways were all corralled back into the container, with the promise of a new home just a few short hours away. Thalia then sent word via commlink to her friends that they'd be there before long.

"Landing Platform WB11-05," she relayed to Eddie and the others. "Just outside of CoCo Town. They'll be waiting for us."

"Well I didn't think you were gonna have us land on the Emperor's personal platform," Eddie snarked at her, earning a vulgar hand gesture in reply.

The sun was setting on the old Commerce District by the time the Dragonborn began its landing sequence, but the golden glow didn't do much to fix the overall dilapidated look of the place. Buildings were coated in pollution from the nearby Works and the traffic lanes were bumper to bumper with support staff and maintenance crews trying to get home for the evening.

WB11-05 was public platform, playing host to more than a dozen bays with ships coming and going at odd intervals; actually, Eddie would say that it was more of a landing field than a platform, given how large and busy it was, with a whole slew customs droids and speeder taxis ready to take people away. But no landing beacon, no flight control.

Most surprising of all—though a blessing—the Empire was nowhere to be seen. Eddie expected at least one inspector flanked by stormtroopers to be hovering nearby. But nothing.

As soon as the boarding ramp was down, the lead customs droid rolled right into the ship, boredly demanding the ship's cargo log and clearance codes. D5-TN handled it all in a jiffy. Once the customs droid was done,  it beeped something in binary about sending pit droids over to inevitably handle the transfer of cargo, and then it was off to the next ship.

"We've been landing in the wrong neighborhood, boys." Eddie whistled in awe to his friend. "Trouble doesn't have to be our middle name anymore."

D5-TN whistled a joke in question, asking how people would know they were related if they didn't all share the same middle name. Eddie mashed a hand on top of his dome affectionately and then strutted down the boarding ramp to get a breath of fresh air.

Or as close to fresh air as you could get in this part of Galactic City.

With the opportunity to visit Coruscant right in their laps, his friends had all voted for a brief vacation in the Entertainment District, rather than an immediate departure to Corellia. And he couldn't say he hated the idea.

They could crash at old Lip's place and play at the Outlander's club, just like the good old days.

Eddie could taste the cold Tarisian Ale and Death Stick smoke already.

So, as the container was unloaded from the Dragonborn, Eddie's friends began unloading their own cargo. There were small pieces of luggage and instrument cases, hauled off as they called a nearby speeder taxi over so they could make their getaway after the transaction.

The last one off the ship was the woman of the hour herself.

Thalia squinted into the sun as she stepped off the boarding ramp and back onto solid ground. She was back in her blue-and-orange finery, the Star Tours logo proudly poised on her uniform. She lifted a hand to shield herself from the light as she glanced around the platform at the various ships.

Eddie sidled up beside her and whistled. "Don't tell me you're off on your next adventure so soon. Luring the next idiot into helping a poor, defenseless flight attendant? I thought we had something special."

There was a pained look in her eyes when she turned to him.

She hadn't been happy when he told her that he wouldn't be going into the Jedi Protection Program. But she still respected his decision.

That didn't mean she wanted them to part on bad terms. To be honest, neither did he, but he was too stubborn to admit it.

"Are you ever gonna let this go?" she huffed. "I made mistakes, I wasn't entirely truthful. That doesn't mean I'm a bad person. I'm doing the best I can to help others. To help you."

"I don't need help, sweetheart." 

Thalia hummed in response and looked away, and Eddie felt a pang in his chest. Guilt. He wasn't a bad person either.

He felt the urge to say something, do something, because, yeah, she hadn't been so bad. Her company was nice, even, He was just a grumpy piece of bantha shit. But just as he was about to take her hand, maybe say something of the sort, D5-TN rolled down the boarding ramp and gently nudged her leg.

She looked down at him with a smile.

"Hey bud," she greeted. He whistled at her. "Yeah, I'll miss you too."

Dustin went on and on about the ship not being the same without her and her stories. That she was the only one who really listened to him when he talked about SU-S7 and didn't make fun of him. Of course, his dome rotated to shoot a pointed stare at Eddie, who raised his hands innocently. But it got a chuckle out of Thalia and relieved some of the tension.

Dustin said one last goodbye and then zipped back into the ship, leaving Eddie and Thalia alone once again.

"So...where are you headed to next," Eddie asked.

"Ord Mantell," she responded after a beat. "Taking a week off to do this was hard to pull. Had to cash in every favor I could. So as soon as that container is with Benny and Bob, I'm heading to the Eastport to serve juice to screaming passengers and get very little sleep."

"Doesn't sound very fun."

"Not all of us chased after adventures, Eddie," she said quietly. "Some of us just needed to survive."

Her expression shifted then. It was like a mask that she slipped on, but he could still see the turmoil in her eyes. The pursed lips shifted into a bright smile, eyebrows no longer hitched in worry, and her posture straightened to something less defensive. And it was all at the arrival of a Latero male in a red and white flight suit, his four arms outstretched as he approached.

"Well, well, well," he greeted fondly. "If it isn't our fearless leader, back from another perilous trip into the Unknown."

Thalia closed the distance and he pulled her into a fond embrace.

"It's good to be back, Ben," she said, voice straining as he squeezed her tightly.

Eddie noted, a little bittersweetly, that it was the kind of hug that Wane would give. All back-pats and squeezes, warm and familiar.

"And who is this?" Ben asked as he pulled away from Thalia, shooting a glare at Eddie. "This guy bothering you?"

"Uh," he cleared his throat. "Eddie Moonsun, Captain of the Dragonborn." He held out a hand to shake, but quickly grew nervous about which of Ben's hands he should be reaching for.

Luckily, Benny slapped a hand in Eddie's and then laughed. "Ah, you're the smuggler sleemo our girl had been going on and on about for days." It was said jokingly, and Eddie chuckled and sent Thalia a questioning glance.

"You went on and on about me?" he asked her.

"Research," she blurted out, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "I was doing research. Damn it, Benny."

"What, I think it's my right to humiliate you sometimes," he said in a fond, fatherly tone. He turned back to Eddie. "Benny Hammond, Captain of the Stranger Mantis. Thanks for taking care of her. She gets reckless sometimes. I worry."

"Excuse me, are we talking about the same person?" Eddie scoffed. "Thalia is reckless?"

"She might act all reserved and uptight sometimes, but I've got stories to tell."

"Please do." Eddie folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh look at that! I think Bob has your credits, Eddie," Thalia announced, trying to distract both men from the conversation.

Luckily for her, it worked. Another short, portly human crossed the distance with a bag full of clunky credit chips. He introduced himself as Bob Newbee, the Mantis' mechanical diagnostic specialist—a nicer term for slicer, in Eddie's experience.

Compared to Bob, Benny was probably considered stoic; the newcomer was chatty as all hell, talking about tracking and missed communications and ion storms along the Hydian Way, and how they were worried that something had happened on the trip from Nar Shadaa.

On and on he went.

It was a one-sided conversation that Thalia and Benny seemed helpless to stop once it started. And although Eddie tried to get the bag from Bob, it seemed that he wouldn't until the older man decided that he was ready to hand it over.

He was able to take that moment to notice how comfortable Thalia seemed around the two. How her calmness returned, her demeanor. The ease of her smiles and her laughter. She'd been the same way with the Assobs back on Nar Shaddaa. Been that way around him and his crew too; at least, she tried to be.

Since that day on Outpost 86, she held herself a little more defensively. Nervously.

Because she didn't just surround herself with good people; she was inherently good herself. And she'd seen that good in him too, which was why she'd tried to open up. Except, every time she'd tried to reach out...he'd only pushed her way.

The guilt returned, turning his stomach.

"...and that's when I said to him, 'Greedo, I don't know who you think this Bounty is on. But it sure isn't old Bob, I'll tell you that much.'"

Thalia and Benny laughed at the anecdote, breaking Eddie from his thoughts, and he forced a laugh as well.

"Well." Bob let out a satisfied breath and handed the bag over to Eddie. "It was nice to meet you again but it looks like the crew has transferred that load of, uh, dried pappelroot for us. Time to head out, eh Ben?"

"And not a moment too soon." Benny nodded, then said to Eddie out of the corner of his mouth, "Usually his stories are twice as long."

Benny and Bob said their goodbyes and headed back towards their ship.

"Guess this is goodbye for us too, then," Thalia said and turned to Eddie. "Thank you for everything. For putting up with me, for getting us to Coruscant."

He reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Nah, I need to thank you," he replied. He shook the bag in his hand. "For the credits, but...I guess you put up with a lot of the shit the guys and I had to dish out, too."

"Did I?"

"Yeah." Eddie coughed nervously. "Surprised you got any sleep with Dayv's snoring."

"Eddie."

"And I might have been...as rude as a herd of aak dogs. Always barking at you for one thing or another."

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "I understand," she said gently, smiling the way she always did. "Don't worry. And I don't blame you for your aak-dog-ness. We do that when we're...afraid, confused...out of control. Believe me, I'm always out of my depth."

"You hide it well."

"Thank you." Thalia let go of his arm and held out her hand to shake. "Maybe I'll see you around one day, Eddie. Next time you're on Coruscant."

"Or..." he offered nervously, slipping his hand into hers. "If you ever find yourself back on Outpost 86. Gotta get those fried topatoes."

"I'm looking forward to it." She grinned. "May the force be with you, Eddie."

He was about to return the sentiment, but a sleek starshuttle soared overhead with a roar that had both of them—everyone on the platform—covering their ears.

With disregard for the shoddy order of the platform, the shuttle touched down smack dab in the middle of the staging area, sending passengers and droids running while small pieces of cargo got crushed.

There was a tense silence as the entry ramp hissed and dropped open, revealing two helmeted-figures clad in black and flanked by troopers with dark armor, rather than the usual stark white.

Eddie saw Thalia visibly recoil at the sight of them.

There were rumors after the Clone Wars ended, about the Emperor's personal squad of Jedi Hunters. For years they'd go to planets, villages, and kill force users in hiding. Whether they were part of the Order or not. And any innocent people who might go out of their way to help? Well...they were acceptable collateral damage.

Of course, they were just rumors. Whispers. Things you'd hear in cantinas.

Kriff, there was a lot that you heard in cantinas.

They were the things you never thought to fear until they were standing right in front of you.

The Inquisitors.

But now they were here, and they were real.

Eddie had reason to feel fear.

"Guess I'm calling out from work," Thalia muttered. She took an obvious step forward, in front of Eddie, almost like she was shielding him from their view as they stalked closer and observed the crowd around them.

"What a time to make a joke," Eddie hissed in her ear. He grabbed her by the back of her jacket and tried to stop her from taking any more steps forward. "What are you doing?"

"We both know why they're here," she snapped, turning on him.

"Do we?"

"For the kids, for the container, for you."

"Well, they can have me and they can see I'm just your run of the mill smuggler," Eddie bit out.

"They'll kill you before you could even think to lie," Thalia insisted. She poked a finger in his chest.

"And what about you?" Eddie asked.

"What about me?"

"What if they're here for you?"

"We're here," a cold, mechanical voice came from the first inquisitor. Wide-shouldered, tall, with a thin, glowing red visor on their helmet. "Seeking a dangerous fugitive. She is a traitor to the Empire. Loyal to the treasonous Jedi Order."

"Oh kark," Thalia muttered.

"See?" Eddie hissed.

"And the crew of outlaws who've offered her passage to Coruscant," the other inquisitor added, long and lithe with a visorless helmet.

"Well, kark," Eddie parroted.

"See?" It was Thalia's turn to hiss at him.

The inquisitors kept walking and talking, inching closer and closer. Eddie's mind raced as his eyes darted from Thalia to the Dragonborn, to his crew who were further down the platform loading their cargo onto a speeder taxi, then down to the Stranger Mantis that was preparing to take off.

Eddie knew that Thalia was worried about them the most, so if they got away, that would be one less moving part to worry about.

He also knew he couldn't put his friends at risk, so if he created a distraction, a diversion, they needed to stay safe too.

But what kind of diversion could he create?

"Is it too late for you to get onto the Mantis?" he asked her urgently.

"Probably not if I tried to send Benny a comm."

"Then get going." Eddie pushed her in the direction of her ship. "I'll handle this."

"Eddie, what are you—"

He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and kept his hands as far away from his blaster as he possibly could, then he stepped forward through the crowd of travelers on the platform. He loathed leaving the bag of credits behind, but it was either his money or his life that he could take into his own hands.

And he'd always wanted to be a hero.

His friends were going to kill him.

The inquisitors were enjoying the sound of their own voices when Eddie piped up. "I might have some information!"

The inquisitors turned their attention to him, with the crowd around all staring at him like he had a death wish, but he just shook off the nerves and shrugged.

"For a price, that is." He grinned cockily. "I have a buddy who fakes flight logs for the Migrant Merchant's Guild. I'm talking millions of ships coming in and out of Coruscant. If your traitor and her outlaws are anywhere, I'm sure he can find them."

On and on, Eddie kept talking and walking, counting every second that ticked by. He could hear people run and ships take off and he hoped with every fiber of his being that Thalia was able to get away.

"So, if we just take a little ride down to the Old Galactic Market, I'll probably be able to help you. What do you say?"

The red-visored inquisitor laughed as Eddie stopped before them. He stepped, almost toe to toe with Eddie, and with a friendly energy, spoke.

"There's just one problem with that." He paused and looked Eddie, up and down. "We can tell when someone is lying."

"Of course I'm lying," Eddie scoffed, trying to play off his own panic. "I'm a criminal, too. Obviously. Otherwise what would I be doing in a place like this. That's how you know you can trust me."

He felt the heat before he heard or really saw the red blade of a lightsaber ignite and find its way to the side of his throat. It was raw, burning, hateful energy that singed the stubble that grew along his jaw. And Eddie knew that if he moved or even spoke again...well, then he wouldn't know anything anymore.

"There's no honor among thieves, outlaw scum," the inquisitor spoke with a deadly calm. "I know that the pirates of the Outer Rim make sure to take care of their own, but you won't find any sympathy here. There's no reason to try and protect people you don't know. No honor in protecting a Jedi. Especially this one."

Eddie, of course, didn't know what was good for him. His big mouth had gotten him and his friends in more trouble than he would ever care to admit. That same big mouth had also gotten them out of it. Many times.

But there was something to be said about an explosion.

It was unexpected, as good diversions are, which logically meant that Eddie's attempt at a diversion was actually a bad one. He was honestly lucky that the shock of the blast hadn't led to his accidental decapitation via lightsaber.

But one second he was standing there, trying to stop himself from shitting his pants from the threat of his imminent demise, and the next he was on the ground, ears ringing.

There was one large explosion, then a secondary smaller one, and flaming ship parts rained down from the sky. The platform fell to chaos as passengers and crew ran, ships and taxis immediately taking off. Eddie tried to recover as quickly as he could so he could take off running himself, but he immediately hit the deck as blaster fire soared in his direction.

"Eddie, run!" He heard, shouted over the din of blaster bolts and the lightsabers that tried to deflect them.

Who was he to ignore orders?

He pushed himself to his feet, weakly thanks to the confusion that ensued after the blast. But once his head cleared, he drew his own blaster pistol and shot a few bolts at the inquisitors and their flank of troopers—

He felt good about himself as his shots found a home, one taking out a trooper, and another hitting that red-visored bastard's helmet.

—and then he turned tail and ran.

At first he turned and tried to head back to the Dragonborn.

But it was either disorientation or confusion, because the Dragonborn wasn't where he had just left it. Instead, it was a heap of flaming metal and ship parts.

"No," he muttered and looked around. Then he shouted, "No! What the f—"

D5-TN zipped past him with a mechanized scream and Thalia followed close behind, blaster rifle in hand, firing shot after shot to offer him cover as he stood there like an idiot with a death wish. Where she got it, he didn't know.

"Come on! Run!" she shouted as she passed.

With one more incredulous look at his ship’s flaming wreckage, he spurned into action.

He was hot on her heels, filled with rage as they headed straight for G'areth, Dayv, and Jeff. The three men had their own weapons in hand, covering the others as they ran.

"In, in, in." G'areth helped hoist D5-TN into the speeder taxi and then hopped in himself. Thalia and Eddie followed suit, as they lept in and landed practically in the laps of the others. "Go! Go! Go!"

The driver didn't need to be told twice.

Unfortunately, the taxi got approximately twenty feet off the ground before stalling. Eddie sat up and was about to let the driver hear an earful, but there was movement at the corner of his eye.

The inquisitor—the one who had his lightsaber on Eddie, the one he shot—had one hand out and stalked slowly towards the taxi. His helmet was half-way gone. Cracked in half, revealing half of a face. Human. Pale skin and brown hair, an eye that, even at this distance, he could see had burning hatred in it and a mouth perpetually baring teeth at the effort to hold the taxi back with the force.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Eddie growled, and aimed his blaster to take another shot. But it was quickly deflected by the lightsaber and sent soaring in one direction, then another. "What's this guy's problem? Just. Kriffing. Die."

Thalia shifted until she was knelt beside him, staring at the inquisitor in horror. It took a beat before she had a hand held out as well. With great effort, she sent a nearby crate on the surface of the landing platform flying towards the inquisitor. 

It wasn't much, but it was enough. The inquisitor seemed to sense the object flying towards him, releasing the taxi to wield his saber with two hands and cutting through the durasteel container.

"Drive!" Thalia shouted as she collapsed against Jeff. The taxi accelerated and zoomed into the skyways of Coruscant.

Eddie watched as the platform got further and further, smaller and smaller until he could barely make out the tiny form of the inquisitor and the burning husk of the—

"You blew up my ship!" He turned his attention to Thalia.

"What?" G'areth, Dayv, and Jeff all shouted.

"Had to be done," Thalia dismissed breathlessly.

D5-TN beeped energetically, noting that he was actually the one who set off the explosives.

"I'm going to leave you out in the rain," Dayv snarled at him. "Let you rust."

"Benny and Bob are bringing the Mantis around to the Westport," Thalia noted, fishing her commlink out of her pocket. "We can meet up with them there."

"You were supposed to be on the Mantis," Eddie snapped at her. "I was buying you time."

"You were about to get yourself killed. I had to do something."

"Well, you certainly did something. And now what? Our ship is gone. What do we have but some clothes and our instruments? We're smugglers. We can't smuggle without a ship."

"I'm sorry, would you rather be dead?" Thalia snarked back at him.

"Yes."

"Well, just turn this taxi around, then." She took a breath, ready to shout at him a little more, but she deflated at the lost and defeated expressions of the crew of the Dragonborn. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I roped you into my nonsense yet again. You were almost out of it."

Jeff softly reassured her that they'd been in worse messes, and Dustin sadly whistled, saying that at least they all made it out alive. Even Eddie felt that guilt creep up on him again for blaming her for trying to save his hide. 

He was still mad, that was for damn sure.

But maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. It could be worse. They could be dead.

Nah, it was still pretty bad.

He swallowed his anger and reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder after a few moments.

"It'll be alright," he said softly. "Let's just...get to the Westport and we can figure out where to go from there." 

Thalia nodded and laid her hand on his, then looked to the others with gratitude.

They all sunk into their seats as the taxi made their way to the next stop on this endless adventure. And as Eddie sat and listened to the ambient sounds of Coruscant, he thought back to the platform.

He thought about the Inquisitors. How they knew exactly where to look to find them. To find Thalia. He thought about the one inquisitor and how much he looked like the boy from Thalia's memory.

How much he looked like Steev.

Next Chapter: Episode 6 - Hopeless (2/28 at 7PM CST)

The Tag List for Luminous Beings is currently open; please comment/ask/DM to be added.

[heavenlymorals]

The Tragedy of Dutch Van Dir Linde

Warning: spoilers ahead for both Red Dead games.

Dutch Van Dir Linde is one of the finest characters I've ever come across and that I think about a lot because in many ways, he is represents the dreams that people have and the awful reality of it too.

Heytham, what the hell do you mean that this manic, selfish, delusional piece of shit is like you or me?

Here is an example. When you were a kid, did your parents tell you that your dreams will come true if you worked hard? And did you believe it? I know I did. I studied often, got a great SAT score, joined many extracurriculars, did volunteer work regularly, got a part time job, had all high grades in advanced level courses and in AP/honor programs and I had one goal. To get into my dream college.

I made my resume. I did everything right. I listen to what people better than me told me to do and I waited for that acceptance letter- so confident that I would get into the university. Never once did I imagine that I'd get rejected, but I did. For a 17 year old kid, it felt like the world was ending. I remember sobbing myself to sleep, waking up, and then just laying on my bed disappointed in the world and the lies it fed me. In a perfect world, I'd have gotten accepted. Worst people than me got accepted, why couldn't I?

But I moved on. Life continued and I was fine. I was bitter, sure, but I managed to get over it and work towards better paths and a better future.

But what if I didn't? What if I got hung up on that forever? What if I fought the rejection? What would I have done? What would I have not done?

This little experience, one that many people have gone through, is kind of a microcosm of the much bigger human truth that the world will never be an ideal place due to the human nature.

If I was like Dutch, I would have fought the rejection- I would stick so diligently to the ideal that I believed in so hard, even though that failure was more than likely a guarantee. I wouldn't find an alternative to be better and do better things. I'll get hung up on a dream and never move past it.

That's his dilemma. He believes in the ideal, like we all do, but he will fight tooth and nail to make that ideal real while we will sigh and realize that life will never be the way we want it to be.

Dutch feels betrayed by the world, or at least by his vision of the world- especially America.

America was a country built on the promise of all men being born equal under God and under the law. All men.

That was the dream, the hope, and the promise.

What happened instead? The continuing of the institute of slavery, the massacre of natives, the monopoly of magnates, and the constant discrimination of those not considered 'white'.

It was disgusting and awful and it should've never happened- but it did and people tried to remedy it in ways that were gradual but real. They found different paths and different dreams and though there is still much work to be done, people are finding a way.

Dutch couldn't do that though. He refused to do that. He wanted the ideal and he wanted it immediately, even though it was impossible. He killed for his ideal, he robbed for his ideal, and he led people to hell for his ideal.

But it didn't matter. His ideal will never exist and he couldn't accept that- which leads to his end.

He won't be caught. And he didn't get caught by commiting suicide- a final fight. He wouldn't surrender to John or the Pinkertons, because that would mean admitting that his entire life was a struggle for nothing because his vision will never be realized if people like Cornwall or Favours or the professor continue to exist. Life was hell because of those people and the American dream did not exist because of those people.

"What a beautiful dream. So poorly rendered," - Dutch to Arthur.

And Dutch is right! From the very beginning that this country was created, it relied on an ideal that turned out to be a lie.

And Dutch couldn't handle that and wanted a perfect world that can never be realized and he tried to get that perfect world by lying and stealing and cheating and killing. What a depressing dichotomy.

Now, of course, when it comes to the personal motivations of Dutch, whether pride, hubris, narcissism, or any of that, they can all by factors to Dutch's pointless battle, but his motivation has always been clear and it never changed-

"Yeah, I know it's tough. You like Dutch. He's a charming fellow. He makes sense. He's like one of those nature writers from back East. Only he takes things a tiny little step too far. Rather than just loving the flowers and the animals and the harmony between man and beast, he shoots people in the head for money. And disagreeing with him. Now, I'm not a great intellect, but the metaphysical leap from admiring a flower to shooting a man in the head because he doesn't like a flower, is a leap too far." Edgar Ross to John Marston.

Dutch lived and died to create an ideal that would never be real because he could never accept reality and that is one of the saddest fates a man could have.

[soniclozdplove]

Got more mermaid thoughts because of @skumhuu and their au. I guess you could consider thus a hasty continuation of my last one but it's really based on a fic I'm writing in my notes that will likely never see the light of day because I refuse to take credit for any writing I ever do

[hirokiyuu]

look at my alternate yuu concept boy

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[reiyaus]

imagine construction worker! toji being in the crew who’s helping you build your dream home.

visiting every week to almost everyday because it was your only way to see him, the thought of just asking him out never came to mind. you weren’t exactly as slick as you thought, however.

it’s when you only approached him everytime you had a question did he realize you had a thing for him. not that he minded, though. he liked how flustered you’d get when he’d flex his biceps or when he’d grunt extra loud if he sensed you getting near.

the way you took so much time to prepare talking to him was cute too. how your throat bobbed up and down before clearing your voice; gently poking his arm (intentionally) before muttering his name.

toji would pretend not to hear at first, and ask you to repeat until you were practically yelling- only because he liked the sound of his name with your voice.

if honest, he didn’t actually know the answers to half of your questions. like how you didn’t know what the stuff you were asking him about meant anyways. for both of you, it was just an excuse to hear each other’s voices a little longer, and to see each other before your house gets complete.

it’s so obvious to his boss and co-workers that you’re absolutely smitted, like he is with you. it frustrates them when the building process fails to meet the deadline, having to work overtime because of a little work romance.

it doesn’t bother you though. there was nothing wrong with staying at your grandma’s a little longer. and he had no problem ditching his friends to have lunch with you.

yet, when the house does get finished, you felt a sense of loneliness, failing to remember that you can still contact each other outside of work. he becomes gloomy too, but watching you walk around and surveil the interior made him proud to have taken part in making your life better.

you’re about to thank all of them when he pulls you aside and brings out a little flip phone, almost like a bread crumb in his hands. his lockscreen was a low-quality photo (fitting to his ‘old-man’ persona) but 3 figures were you able to make out: two furry friends and one young boy in between.

it takes you some time to realize that the picture isn’t him as a young boy, but rather this child. you glance at him, his face practically sweating bullets and a shaky grin on his lips.

“this probably isn’t the best time to say this but, do you want to go on a date… someday? an actual one this time- i mean. i’ll introduce you to my son, and hopefully we can take things further now.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[sunarc]

Geto’s tired of listening to you fail to get yourself off. It's another late night of your touching yourself but seemingly unable to bring yourself to an orgasm. He doesn’t think he can go another night listening to the frustrated sighs probably because your fingers don’t reach the spot you’re desperately craving them to touch. If you need help why don’t you just ask. He’s more than willing to give you what you need. 

He sat leaning against the wall listening to your whimpers. His hand moves in slow motions pumping himself to your voice. 

“Just let go baby it’s so easy” he whispers eyes closed listening to your harsh sighs.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock while his head lulls back. He knows you need him. He can have you cumming in seconds. His mind is running a mile per minute with thoughts of how pretty you probably look with your legs spread stretching yourself out with your fingers. His thoughts run rampant but they are cut short by a frustrated groan coming through the walls. Something takes over Geto because before he realizes his actions his knuckles knock softly against the wall. He hears you shuffling before you whisper softly.

“Yes?”

“Do you… need help?” he’s not sure what has possessed him. This can go one of two ways and he’s praying it goes how he's imagining it. 

You’re silent for a minutes presumably contemplating his question. The silence feels like it's clawing at his brain. He almost wants to take back what he said but it’s far too late for that. 

“I-” he’s cut off by your voice

“Yes” you whimper.

Geto’s heart feels like it might jump out of his chest. Did he hear that right? He scrambles to his feet realizing that he now has to act on his words. His feet carry him to your room and it feels like he might be floating. When he opens the door there you are spread out just as he imagined with a pout on your face. 

“Please help” you whimper. 

Geto is by your side within seconds eyeing the way slick drools down your cunt. “Fuck you look so good” he breathes. 

He moves your hand gently and replaces it with his own. His fingers feel so much better than your own. He reaches spots you can only dream of reaching. 

Geto’s eyes watch the way you arch into him feeling the way his fingers glide against your walls. A small smirk appears on his face as he watches you close your eyes feeling pure bliss. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good princess?” his voice is soft whispering the sweet words to you. 

You nod your head too focused on chasing after your orgasm to reply with words. 

“Look at you. You needed me didn’t you? Look at how your falling apart for my fingers. Wait until you get my cock baby.” He leans into you pressing kisses against your neck. His arm holds your body close to his while his fingers massage your core send sparks of pleasure through your body. 

“Come for me pretty, Let me see you make a mess” he groans in your ear. 

You body jolts from the orgasm. Your hands grip onto Geto shaking from the orgasm you were chasing. 

“That’s it, just like that, so good for me” he kisses your shaking form. 

You don't have enough time to come down from your before Geto is flipping you over and push you down into an arch. 

“Let me get a taste before I fuck you to sleep princess”

His hands spread your ass cheeks so he can see your slick cover cunt. His tongue glides between your folds. He licks and flicks your clit while his hand massages the fat of your ass. 

“Taste so good baby” he breathes 

His groans sound heavenly as he licks between your folds as i you’re his favorite meal. He’s in a land of pure bliss tasting you. He hums as his tongue dips in and out of your hole messily eating you. Geto has never felt himself losing control in this way. There’s something about you. Something that possesses him. He wants you, needs you in the most lewd way. Thoughts of you cumming on his cock plague his mind. His heart is beating in his chest harder than ever. This doesn’t even feel real. To have you in this way spread out with your ass in the air all for him has his cock achingly hard. 

“You ready for me Princess?” he groans pulling back taking a deep breath. Your slick pools down his chin. 

You nod your head desperately while your hand grip the sheet eager to feel him at your entrance. Geto places the tip of his cock at your entrance treasuring the way you whine for him to put it in. He loves how desperate you are for him. He lovees that you crave him the same way he crave you. 

“I’m gonna take my time with this” he whispers. 

His hand massages your hip as he inches his cock deep into you. He’s big and no amount of finger could have prepared you for him. You burn with pleasure feeling his cock stretch you out. 

“‘ S-so big” you whine.

Once he bottoms out he holds that position. He bites his lip while his fingers hold onto your hips.

“Fuck- you don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this” he lets out a heavy sigh as he closes his eyes. His pace start off slow. He wants you to feel every inch of his sliding inside of you. 

“You’re taking me so well baby” his voice soothes you as he fucks you. His thrusts are slow and long.

You look so pretty like this. Your back is arched, hands stretched outward taking all that he has to give you. Geto’s soaking in the moment. His heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. He finally has you and he’s taking advantage of every second. Your moans bounce off the walls echoing through the room. Your so loud taking his cock no wonder he could hear you through the walls fucking yourself. 

“This is what you needed isn’t it” he groans “You needed me, needed my cock. It’s okay I’m here now princess. All you have to worry about now is making a mess on my cock.”His thrust are filled with passion.   

His hands part your ass cheeks so he can get a view how how your cunt swallows his cock. 

“Look at how much this pussy loves me” he moans eyes low staring at where the two of you connect.       

He throws his head back groaning at the way you clench around him. 

“Fuck its so tight and warm” he can’t control himself. 

His picks up speed thrusting into you wildly chasing after an orgasm. 

“I need you so bad, Please fuck- please cum for me” he’s never known himself to lose control like this. 

His moans turn into whimpers as he continues fucking into you softly holding you. He can feel you’re close. Your face presses into the pillow muffling your moans. 

“Come on baby, Let me hear those pretty moans, don't hide them from me”his thrust are constant. 

He leans down to press kisses up your spine to your shoulder. His thrust are slow but they leave yo0u shaking on the brink of your orgasm. 

“Cum for me princess, I know how bad you need it” His voice is like silk whispering the words to you. 

His words send you over the edge. You completely lose yourself cumming around his cock. 

“That’s it, you're so good for me” he chuckles with a shaky voice. 

His thrust do not stop. He lets out a deep sigh before sitting up to fuck you faster. Your hand moves to push against his hips whining about how it’s too much. He chuckles and intertwines his fingers into yours. 

“Too much? We’re just getting started princess” a sly smirk grows across his face.

“I told you I was going to take my time. Let’s see how many times I can get you to cum tonight”

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest. 

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

[rindreamery]

like a fever, i ache for you.

how intensely the blue lock men yearn for you. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, michael kaiser ─ content: suggestive

note. drove myself insane while writing this actually 🧍🏻‍♀️WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

itoshi rin sees you in every daydream.

every time rin closes his eyes, you’re there— it’s as if the image of you is permanently burned into the space behind his eyelids, like a never ending dream. (yet, he never wants to wake up from it.) the mere sight of you makes his heart burn and his head spin, and that desperate feeling of wanting you bleeds into his fingertips that makes him reach for you in his sleep. you trap him in his own mind. it feels as if you consume his every thought and occupy the space of every moment he’s awake. you’re a distraction, but one he can’t seem to get enough of.

when he blinks, you’re there, and everything blurs together. he starts to lose sense of where you end and he begins— you’ve become a part of him.

the concept of you even begins to seep into his passions, into his goals. rin thinks of you when he’s on the field, and he can’t deny the rush of adrenaline that shoots through his body at the thought of you cheering for him. he’s hooked to the feeling, he needs more. the thought that you’re only thinking of him too at that exact moment— watching him, holding his dreams close to your heart— that you’re both thinking of each other. connected. it’s a dream that drives him to try even harder.

because you’re not just a distraction anymore; you’ve become his sole focus.

during his next game, he plays with the image of you patiently waiting for him at the entrance of the tunnel. so when he catches his breath after a hard match, his body on the brink of collapsing and covered in sweat, it’s not the sweet taste of victory that revives him. it’s not the cheers of the crowd, praises of his name falling from their lips, that brings him back to life. no— it’s the thought of you. close and real, hand pressed against his chest as you lean in, with your warm skin pressing against his own as you whisper into his ear, “i knew you could do it.”

he knows he'll dream of that feeling from now on too, of your breath against his ear. he can’t escape you— but he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.

itoshi sae searches for you in the crowd.

without fail, sae’s eyes will always gravitate towards you— even in the chaos of the stadium, even when you think you’re lost in the blur of the people surrounding you. his eyes always seem to find yours. when he finally catches sight of you in his jersey, it’s hard to miss the way his gaze sharpens with intensity, his eyes darkening in a way you’ve never seen before. it’s electric; the only word that could describe the feeling he gets when he sees that you’re staring back at him with the same intensity.

something about you— the way you proudly wear his jersey, and the look of pride that swims in your eyes as you look at him— awakens something deep in him.

sae feels a satisfaction he's never quite felt before you. it’s a possessive and all-consuming feeling. like his ego is inflated to its limits and makes him uncharacteristically greedy for you. his thoughts become filled with the need to become the center of your world, to stake some sort of claim on you so no one else can. (he wants his teammates to see what he comes home to every night.) this feeling that makes him want to throw away all rationale, and before he realizes it, it's this feeling that has him walking over to you before the match even begins.

he doesn't care for the alarmed look on your face as he rips your (his) ring off your finger. around the two of you, shocked gasps fill the stadium, as he loops your ring into his necklace. but they become lost in the background, and his focus is on you. "look at me," and when he brings his necklace up to his lips, your ring now dangling by the string, his eyes never leave yours. there’s an almost dangerous edge to it now— his eyes gleaming possessively at you.

he wants you to think of this moment, to embed it in your thoughts, and crave for him the same way he craves for you.

nagi seishiro can't stop staring at your lips.

light pink lip gloss looks the best on you. it’s a thought that clouds nagi’s mind every time he sees them. the way its glossiness catches the light, making the soft pink of your lips stand out and give it a subtle, irresistible fullness. they’re so plump, inviting, that it becomes dangerously intoxicating. (it must be on purpose, he often thinks, because you smile every time you're applying it on.) he doesn’t care if you notice the fact that he’s unable to fight the urge when his eyes flicker towards them— like it’s impossible to tear his eyes away from them— he wants you to notice.

they’re just so alluring, yet troubling, the way it gets his heart pumping in excitement.

the jealous part of him wants to be the only one to see you like this. because there’s just something about the way you react to him, something about the look in your eyes when you catch on to his wandering gaze. he’s entirely drawn to the way your breath hitches just a little when his eyes flick down to your lips, and then back to your eyes. and the way the corner of your lips pulls into a little smirk at this, eyes focused on his, as your tongue teasingly drags across the gloss to get a taste. his mind becomes overcome with thoughts of you— what would they taste like? would it be something fruity, like strawberry? or maybe something even sweeter, like birthday cake?

but you never give him the satisfaction of knowing, and it pulls him in even deeper. you push away from him, every time, and it’s maddening. it’s always with the same sweet smile and playful glint in your eyes, that you tell him, “it was nice talking to you.” then you’re turning around, leaving him behind.

nagi’s left wondering what it would be like, to see if that sweetness on your lips tastes as inviting as it looks.

mikage reo thinks of you in every song.

with every beat, every lyric, with every tune that floods reo’s ears— there you are, vivid in his mind, as if you were woven deep into the addicting melody. it’s as if the lyrics were written with you in mind, and he’s forever stuck thinking of you. his heart burns for you in the songs that you send, and he clings to every playlist you share. he imagines you in these lovesick songs— having you in his arms, intertwining his fingers with yours as you dance slowly to the tune— like his mind is desperately trying to tell him something he’s still too afraid to say out loud. it’s a silent confession, words he can never bring himself to say out loud, spilling from the speakers instead.

he plays the same song on repeat; he wants to keep hearing your name in the lyrics, and to feel the ghost of your presence as if you’re right there with him.

but as silent as his affections are, reo doesn’t want his desperate longing to be one-sided. he wants to worm his way into your every thought, invade your mind, the same exact way you had done with his. he wants you to see flashes of him when you hear a familiar tune, to smile to yourself whenever you realize it’s his favorite song playing in the background of a random store.

so reo pours his heart into a playlist for you. "these songs remind me of you," and to him, it’s enough. he hopes you can hear everything he feels in the space between the lyrics, to read between the lines of the words as they dance across your screen. every song is a dedication to his love for you. to him, it’s a love letter he can never bring himself to write but can’t help and send. he doesn’t want to speak it out loud— this playlist, with a strange mix of soft longing and quiet desire, does the work for him.

it’s a playlist of his soul’s quietest confessions, and he hopes you can hear how much his heart longs for you.

michael kaiser is haunted by thoughts of your touch.

kaiser doesn’t know when it started— the obsession, the craving for you, the fervent need to feel your skin on his. maybe it was when your fingertips grazed his hand as you passed him a water bottle, lasting for a second at most, but sending sparks flying across his skin where you touched. or maybe it was when you put your hand against his back, palms pressed firmly into the planes of his muscles, as you guided him out of the way (because he was blocking you, but he chooses to ignore that detail.) you’re his manager; you’re simply doing your job.

but he’s started to find himself stuck in the fantasy of your touch— imagining the way your fingers would trace over his tattoos, or having them run through his hair as you brush it out of his face.

and his breath always catches in his throat as he imagines the sensation, having to swallow at how dry and constricted his throat becomes. he thinks of the warmth of your hands, the way your fingers would subtly dance on his skin, and he shivers. he imagines that you wouldn’t rush—no, you’d take it slow. you would let it linger, and maybe he would press his hands over yours to trap it there. just to savor the feeling.

his fantasies of you could never compare to the real thing, though, he realizes one day.

he’s sat on the bench in front of you, tense with heightened sensitivity. the surface of his skin feels like it's on flames from your words, “your tattoos are so pretty,” and from the way your index finger trace over the inked vines that wrap around his arms. his stomach starts to form tight coils as your fingers travel up and up— at the feeling of your thumbs grazing his jaw as you brush his hair out of the way to look at the blue rose — and he’s sucking in a harsh breath as he tries to keep himself grounded. to keep himself from losing his mind. and when you pull away, he can't ignore the emptiness the washes over him.

his heart is greedy and insatiable; he's never satisfied. now that he’s gotten a taste of what it feels like, he finds himself wanting even more of you.

© rindreamery, 2024

[oh-no-its-bird]

Sakumo being a super popular borderline sex symbol in his era will never stop being my favorite hc, I need to see more of it

All the people his age and younger had a crush on him. It was just a Thing(tm) where 9 times out of 10, a Konoha shinobi's first crush was probably Sakumo. Even other villages young shinobi hung up his bingo book picture above their bunk and dreamed of both killing him, being killed by him (in a hot way), having a battlefield fling with him, and more. There was blackmarket fanfiction. He was incredibly popular among civilians all over fire country. Some popular romance novels had love interests very blatantly based off him.

Even before they were on a team together, Obito and Rin both had a silly kid crush on Kakashi's dad (Obito more than Rin) and he was aware of it. This did not help make him like them any more. (By the time hearing smthn positive ab his dad would have made Kakashi softer, they'd both gotten better at hiding the crush, so to Kakashi it looked like they'd gotten over Sakumo.) Even Minato had a bit of a thing for him, not really but like— strong, popular, feard and very friendly ninja who is now paying him some attention (bc hes his kids teacher) he's not immune. Kushina understands, she is also not immune. (Kakashi is going to throw a fucking fit)

Even after his failed mission, when his reputation crashes and burns within the village, he still can't completely shake his admirers— they possibly just get more disrespectful ab the attraction when it mixes with the hate. (Which tbh could make for an interesting discussion all on its own)

Kakashi is haunted by his father's insane popularity for decades after his death. He does his very best to ignore the lingering evidence of people being insane ab his father.

One day he realizes one of his favorite romance novels has a romance interest based off Sakumo and has a break down ab it and can never read the series again.

When raiding an old abandoned enemy camp w Team Ro, he finds an old, autographed photo of his dad covered in lipstick marks in the communal bathroom. He chooses to ignore it but it's quickly spotted by his teammates, who do not know who Sakumk is, and v quickly begin to remark on the poster, who this mysterious Konoha nin is, and ahaha damn he is kinda good looking, huh? (Kakashi wants to DIE)

Shisui ends up taking the poster back to Konoha with them and hangs it up in the ANBU communal quarters where it is VERY quickly recognized. And also some of the people in that room recognize it so quick bc they also used to own a similar poster. (Kakashi wants to DIE someone PLEASE kill him now)

Its only when he's given team 7 that he finally thinks he's escaped the legacy of his father as Konoha's Most Sexiest Shinobi. Only for Naruto, when being trained by Jiriyah, to find his drafts for Icha Icha very clearly inspired by his dad. Which he can never publish for multiple reasons (lingering respect for Sakumo. Also for Kakashi, who is his biggest fan and would probably never look at him again.)

Naruto somehow accidentally brings this up with Kakashi who like. Has war flashbacks and immediatley stands up and walks away as Jiryah scrambles to try to explain himself and Tsunade looks on in scorn (she will approach him later to carefully ask for the drafts while trying to seem like she's not really asking for them bc she's too proud to admit it)

Naruto and Sakura discover Kakashi-sensei's dad was a sex symbol. I don't even know how they'd react but like. Oh my god. Oh my god you guys.

Funniest option would be they accidentally revive his popularity a little bit by being so loud ab it they like, remind people ab him. + introduce another generation to the idea of him

Kakashi is crouched on the floor with his face in his hands. When will he be freed from this hell.

Sasuke does not escape tho, he goes to sound and finds a picture of Sensei's dad in Orochimaru's office (???????)

This is such a shitty sketch but the vision:

Itachi, who learned who Sakumo was from that poster thing, goes on to find a photo of him in ""Madara's"" belongings and gets super weirded out but ultimately doesn't. Super care. But also. Like. What. What.

After Itachi finds the photo, which Obito genuinley forgot he fucking had and keeps in part just bc its like one of the only belongings that remained from his Konoha days, he shoves it somewhere in Kamui to forget about.

But then in the Obito vs Kakashi Kamui fight, it fucking flutters down in the middle of the fight and Obito fucking dies of humiliation as Kakashi realizes he will truly Never Escape and that this reality is his own personal hell

Uhh endgame Kakashi becomes Hokage and accidentally retreads his father's path in becoming the new Konoha Sexy Man. Which simultaneously crushes him (he will never escape) and fills him with delight (he will now be able to impart the pain of having your father figure be lusted after by all ur friends and acquaintances onto his students)