#but i am active here so feel free to drop by and ask about things

[viaxslz]

OFFICE LOVE (C.BC)

Y/N, a hardworking office employee, catches the eye of her strict and demanding boss, Chan. As they spend more time together, Y/N discovers a softer side to Chan, and they develop feelings for each other. But with their professional relationship and past experiences threatening to complicate things, can they make their love work?

WORD COUND — 10.1k (I’m tired)

PAIRING — Ceo!bang Chan x secretary!f!reader (cliché)

GENRE — fluff, drops of angst, ceo x secretary, not so slow burn, there’s like one time skip, mentions of exes and previous relationships, jealousy and possessive behavior,the end is just so fluffy fluffy

NOTE — first ever work that isn’t headcanons, stayed up almost all night writhing this 🫠, if you have any ideas or suggestions feel free to slip it into my inbox but come with a mind that says “just an idea if you ever need one” because you might be disappointed if I don’t write it 😭 anyways watch me disappear for another two months

You groggily opened your eyes, only to be met with the harsh glare of your alarm clock. 8:47 AM. Your heart sank as you realized you were running severely late for the interview. You had spent hours researching the company, practicing your responses, and perfecting your outfit. Now, it all seemed like a waste.

You tossed off the covers and leapt out of bed, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You hastily got dressed, throwing on the first professional-looking outfit you could find. Your hands trembled as you tried to button your blouse, and you cursed yourself for not laying everything out the night before.

Grabbing your bag and a quick breakfast, you rushed out the door, hoping against hope that you wouldn't be too late.

You sprinted to the bus stop, relieved to catch the bus just as it was about to leave. The ride was a blur as you mentally rehearsed your interview answers and tried to calm your racing heart.

As the bus pulled up to the company building, you felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. You took a deep breath, grabbed your bag, and stepped off the bus.

The sleek glass tower loomed before you, its modern design exuding an air of professionalism and sophistication. You smoothed your blouse, took a final deep breath, and pushed through the revolving doors.

Inside, the lobby was bustling with activity. You spotted the reception desk and made your way over, trying to look confident despite your growing nervousness.

"Hi, I'm here for an interview," you said, trying to sound calm.

The receptionist, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile, nodded and checked her computer. "Ah, yes! You must be Y/n. The interview is on the 23rd floor, conference room 3. Take the elevator just down the hall."

You nodded, trying to commit the directions to memory. "Thank you!"

As you walked to the elevator, your nerves began to get the better of you. Your heart was racing, and your palms were growing sweaty. You felt like you were going to be sick.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the 23rd floor. As the doors closed, you took a final deep breath and tried to collect yourself.

It's showtime.

You stepped out of the elevator and made your way to conference room 3. You took a deep breath, smoothed your blouse, and pushed open the door.

Inside, a woman with piercing green eyes and raven-black hair stood up from behind the table. She smiled warmly and extended a manicured hand.

"Hello, Y/n. I'm Ms. Thompson, and I’ll be taking you for the interview today. It's lovely to meet you."

You shook her hand, trying to hide your nervousness. "Nice to meet you too, Ms. Thompson."

Ms. Thompson gestured to the chair across from her. "Please, have a seat."

The interview began, and Ms. Thompson asked you a series of questions about your qualifications, experience, and skills. You answered confidently, trying to showcase your strengths and enthusiasm.

As the interview progressed, you found yourself relaxing in Ms. Thompson's presence. She was warm and engaging, putting you at ease with her friendly demeanor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the interview drew to a close. Ms. Thompson smiled and leaned forward.

"Thank you, Y/n, for coming in today. We'll be in touch soon to let you know our decision. You should receive an email within the next few days."

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. You had been hoping for a more definitive answer.

"Thank you, Ms. Thompson," you said, standing up. "I appreciate the opportunity."

Ms. Thompson walked you to the door, her heels clicking on the polished floor. "We'll be in touch soon," she repeated, smiling.

You left the conference room, feeling a mix of emotions. You weren't sure how you'd done, but you knew you'd given it your all.

Now it was just a waiting game.

You stepped out of the office building, blinking in the bright sunlight. The bus station was just a short walk away, and you made your way there, lost in thought.

As you waited for the bus, you couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty. Had you done enough? Had you said the right things?

The bus ride home was a blur, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios and what-ifs.

When you finally arrived home, you felt like a nervous wreck. You paced back and forth in your living room, trying to burn off some of the excess energy.

To calm yourself down, you made a promise to yourself. If you got rejected, you'd spend the day wallowing in Korean angst dramas, with a bowl of popcorn and a pack of tissues by your side.

But if you got accepted... oh, if you got accepted, you'd cook up a storm! You'd whip up all your favorite dishes, from spicy kimchi stew to decadent chocolate cake.

The thought of celebrating with good food was enough to make your stomach growl with anticipation.

As you continued to pace, you couldn't help but wonder... which scenario would become a reality?

You sat on the couch, your eyes glued to your phone as you waited for what felt like an eternity. Your lower lip was trapped between your teeth, and your heart was racing with anticipation.

Suddenly, your phone beeped, signaling the arrival of a new email. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: "Silverstone Corporation."

Your hands trembled slightly as you hesitated, wondering if you were ready for the news. Taking a deep breath, you tapped the email, and your eyes scanned the screen.

Dear Y/N,

We are pleased to inform you that after careful consideration, we would like to offer you the position of Secretary to our CEO...

Your heart soared as you read the words, a huge smile spreading across your face. You did it! You got the job!

You let out a little squeal of excitement, pumping your fist in the air. All your favorite dishes, here you come!

You read the rest of the email, taking in the details about your start date, salary, and benefits. But your mind was already racing ahead, planning the celebratory feast.

Kimchi stew, check! Chocolate cake, check! Spicy ramen, check!

The possibilities were endless, and your stomach was growling in anticipation.

Here's a possible expansion of the scene:

The rest of the evening was a blur of cooking, eating, and laughing. You spent hours in the kitchen, whipping up a storm of delicious dishes. The aromas wafting from the pots and pans were incredible, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

As you sat down to eat, you realized you'd made way too much food. But you didn't care. You dug in with gusto, savoring the flavors and textures of each dish.

To accompany your feast, you put on a Korean comedy movie, laughing and snorting at the hilarious antics on screen.

As the night wore on, you started to feel uncomfortably full. You reluctantly pushed the food away, deciding to save the rest for leftovers.

After cleaning up the kitchen, you treated yourself to a quick warm bath, feeling the tension melt away as you soaked in the water.

You changed into cozy pajamas, climbed into bed, and snuggled under the blankets. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but feel excited for tomorrow.

Your new job, your new life – it all felt like a thrilling adventure waiting to happen.

—

You woke up to the warm glow of sunlight peeking through the curtains, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after a good night's sleep. You stretched lazily, enjoying the cozy comfort of your bed.

But as you glanced at the clock, your heart skipped a beat. 7:15 AM. You were supposed to start your new job at 8:00 AM!

Panic set in as you hastily threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed. You rushed through your morning routine, barely taking the time to brush your hair or apply makeup.

As you dressed in the outfit you'd carefully chosen the night before, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it – your first day as a secretary to the CEO.

You grabbed your bag and hurried out the door, rushing to catch the bus. The ride to the company building was a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of what the day might bring.

As you stepped off the bus, you took a deep breath and smoothed your dress. You walked into the lobby, greeted the receptionist with a smile, and made your way to the elevator.

You pressed the button for the top floor, your heart pounding in your chest. The CEO's office was located on the top floor, and you couldn't help but wonder what your new boss would be like.

As the elevator doors slid open, you took a deep breath and stepped out into the unknown.

You stood outside the CEO's office, your heart racing with anticipation. You took a deep breath, smoothed your dress, and raised your hand to knock on the door.

The rap of your knuckles on the wood seemed to echo through the silent hallway. You waited, your ears straining to pick up any sound from within.

Finally, a low, smooth voice called out, "Come in."

You pushed open the door and stepped inside, your eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice. That's when you saw him – the CEO.

He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his eyes fixed intently on you. His gaze was like a cold wind, sending shivers down your spine.

As you looked at him, you felt like you were staring at a work of art. His features were chiseled, his jawline sharp, and his eyes... his eyes were like two glittering icebergs, distant and unfathomable.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyes locked onto yours, holding you in place. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, suspended in a sea of silence.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. But then, the CEO spoke up, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"Are you my new secretary?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You nodded, trying to find your voice. "Y-yes, sir."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But then, you decided to play it safe. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Chan's eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn't comment on your formal address. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

"First task, get me a coffee. Black, no sugar."

You nodded quickly, trying to hide your nervousness. "Yes, sir. Right away."

You turned to leave, but Chan's voice stopped you. "And, secretary?"

You turned back to face him, your heart racing. "Yes, sir?"

Chan's eyes seemed to bore into yours, as if daring you to fail. "Don't spill it."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you nodded calmly. "I won't, sir."

You took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped out into the bright sunlight. The nearby coffee shop was just a short walk away, and you quickly popped in to order Chan's coffee.

"Black, no sugar, please," you told the barista.

A few minutes later, you were back in the elevator, coffee in hand. You returned to Chan's office and knocked softly on the door.

"Enter," his voice called out.

You pushed open the door and handed him the coffee. "Here you go, sir."

Chan took the cup from you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks. Now, I need you to get my schedule from the secretary downstairs."

You nodded, trying not to show your frustration at having to go back down again. "Yes, sir. I'll go get it."

With that, you turned and made your way out of the office, heading back to the elevator and the long trek downstairs to the secretary's desk.

You walked into the secretary's office, smiling warmly at her. "Hi, I'm here to pick up Mr. Bang's schedule."

The secretary handed you a sleek black folder, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint. "Here you go. And, honey, I hope you're not bothered by Mr. Bang's attitude. That's just how he is."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the secretary's words. But before you could ask any questions, the secretary just smiled and nodded. "You'll get used to it."

You smiled back, taking the folder from her. "Thanks for the warning."

As you walked towards the elevator, you could feel her eyes on you, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You made your way back to Chan's office, handing him the schedule. He nodded curtly, his eyes scanning the papers. "Thanks. You can go."

You nodded, taking that as your cue to leave. As you stepped out of his office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Your new boss was definitely intimidating.

You walked down the hall to your own office, a small but cozy room with a desk and a chair. You took a seat, looking around at your new workspace.

It was going to take some getting used to, but you were determined to make it work.

You were sitting at your desk, typing away on your computer, when your phone buzzed. You picked it up to hear Chan's voice on the other end.

"Ms.Y/n, I need you to accompany me to a meeting with a client," he said, his tone crisp and professional.

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "Yes, sir. Right away."

You grabbed your notebook and pen, and followed Chan to the meeting room. The meeting itself was a blur of business talk and handshakes, but you were diligent in taking notes and keeping track of the discussion.

As the meeting drew to a close, you noticed Chan glancing at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You felt a flutter in your chest, but tried to brush it off as mere imagination.

As you left the meeting room, you were stopped by the secretary from the other company. He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You look lovely today," he said, his voice friendly. "That dress really brings out the color in your eyes."

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of gratitude for the kind words. "Thank you," you said. "You look pretty sharp yourself."

Chan, who was walking ahead of you, seemed to notice the exchange. He shrugged it off, his expression neutral.

You watched as he walked away, feeling a sense of relief that the encounter hadn't been awkward.

But as you turned to follow Chan, you couldn't shake off the feeling that he had been watching you, really watching you, during the meeting.

Before you knew it, the day had flown by, and it was already time to head home. You packed up your things, said goodbye to Ms. Thompson, and made your way out of the company building.

As you sat at the bus stop, waiting for your ride, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Your first day had been a whirlwind of new experiences and emotions, but you'd made it through.

The bus ride home was a blur, your exhaustion catching up with you. When you finally arrived at your house, you stumbled through the door, dropping your bag on the floor.

You made yourself a quick and simple dinner, too tired to even think about cooking anything elaborate. As you ate, you couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring.

Would Chan be as intimidating? Would you get to know your coworkers better? And what about the secretary from the other company – would you run into him again?

As you finished your dinner, you pushed the thoughts aside and headed to bed, too exhausted to worry about anything else.

You snuggled under the blankets, feeling the softness envelop you. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but smile, wondering what the future held.

—

You walked into the office, feeling a bit more confident on your second day. As you made your way to your desk, you noticed a few of your coworkers glancing up at you with interest.

One of them, a friendly-looking woman with curly brown hair, caught your eye. She smiled and waved, and you returned the gesture.

As you settled in at your desk, the woman came over to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Danielle," she said, holding out her hand. "Welcome to the team."

You shook her hand, feeling a sense of gratitude for her warm welcome. "Thanks, Danielle. I'm... " You realized you hadn't told anyone your name yet. "I'm Y/N."

Danielle chuckled. "Well, Y/N, I'm glad to meet you. We don't often get new faces around here."

As you chatted with Danielle, a few of the other coworkers started to wander over, introducing themselves and welcoming you to the team.

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe this job wouldn't be so intimidating after all.

Just as things were starting to feel more relaxed, Chan's voice cut through the chatter. "Y/N, I need to see you in my office."

Your heart skipped a beat as you excused yourself from the group. What did Chan want now?

You walked into Chan's office, wondering what he wanted to see you about. But as soon as you sat down, he dropped a massive stack of paperwork on your lap.

"Get these done by the end of the day," he instructed, his expression unreadable.

You felt a surge of panic as you scanned the documents. There were reports, contracts, and financial statements, all needing to be reviewed and signed off on. You knew it was an impossible task, but you couldn't say no.

You spent the rest of the day holed up in your office, pouring over the paperwork. But despite your best efforts, you were still only halfway through when exhaustion caught up with you.

Your eyelids drooped, and your head nodded forward, coming to rest on the desk. You were out cold.

The next thing you knew, Chan was standing over you, a hint of amusement on his face. "Forget about the paperwork," he said, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it before. "Just go home."

You nodded, still feeling dazed. "Thank you, sir."

But as you stood up to leave, Chan surprised you by asking, "Do you want a ride?"

You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. "No, thank you, sir. I'll just take the bus."

Chan's expression was hard to read, but you thought you saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he said, turning away.

You watched him go, feeling a pang of curiosity. Why had he offered you a ride? And why did you get the feeling that he was starting to see you in a different light?

—

You walked into the office building, exchanging a warm smile with the secretary at the front desk. You pressed the button for the elevator, stepping inside just as the doors were about to close.

But just as you thought you were alone, a hand shot out and stopped the doors from closing. You felt a jolt of surprise, wondering who it could be.

As the doors slid open again, a tall, dark-haired man stepped inside. He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Morning," he said, pressing the button for the top floor. "I'm Minho."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Hi, Minho. I'm Y/N."

Minho leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, how's it going? Enjoying your first week here?"

You chatted with Minho for the rest of the elevator ride, exchanging small talk about the office and your job. As the doors opened on the top floor, Minho smiled again and nodded at you.

"See you around, Y/N."

You watched as he walked away, feeling a sense of curiosity about this new coworker. Who was Minho, and what was his story?

As you made your way to your desk, you couldn't help but wonder if Minho was someone you could trust.

You spent the rest of the morning working on your tasks, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of you. But your mind kept wandering back to Minho and your conversation in the elevator.

Just as you were starting to get into a rhythm, Chan's voice came over the intercom. "Y/N, can you come to my office for a minute?"

You felt a flutter in your chest as you got up and made your way to Chan's office. What did he want to talk to you about?

As you entered his office, you noticed that Chan's expression was neutral, but his eyes seemed to be gleaming with a hint of intensity.

"Close the door," he said, his voice low and smooth.

You did as he asked, feeling a sense of trepidation. What was going on?

"I heard you met Minho this morning," Chan said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, wondering where this was going. "Yes, sir. We rode the elevator together."

Chan's expression didn't change, but you sensed a hint of tension in his body. "Just remember, Minho is a colleague. Don't get too comfortable around him."

You felt a surge of surprise at Chan's words. What did he mean by that?

But before you could ask any questions, Chan nodded curtly. "That's all. You can go."

You left his office feeling confused and a little unsettled. What was Chan's problem with Minho?

As you were leaving Chan's office, Minho appeared out of nowhere, a charming smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N. I was thinking, since we're colleagues now, we should grab dinner sometime and get to know each other better."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Minho's invitation. You hadn't expected him to ask you out.

But before you could respond, Minho added, "Actually, I was thinking of hosting a dinner party at my place this evening. Would you like to come?"

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. Part of you was tempted to accept, but another part was wary of getting too close to Minho.

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond to Minho's invitation. But before you could say anything, Chan appeared out of nowhere, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Minho.

"Actually, Minho, Y/N is already committed to accompanying me to an event later this evening," Chan said, his voice smooth but firm.

Minho's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, sorry to hear that. Maybe some other time, then?"

Chan nodded curtly. "Maybe."

You felt a surge of surprise at Chan's intervention. Why had he stepped in like that?

As Minho walked away, Chan turned to you. "As my secretary, it's your duty to accompany me to events like this. I expect you to be ready and on time."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You had been saved from having to make an awkward decision.

But as you looked up at Chan, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. Was it possessiveness, or something more?

As soon as you got home from work, you started getting ready for the event. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had never been to an event like this before, and the thought of it made you anxious.

But you knew you couldn't back out now. You had to be professional and accompany Chan as his secretary.

You looked through your closet, trying to find something suitable for the event. You finally settled on a black cocktail dress that fell just above your knees. The dress was fitted at the waist, accentuating your curves, and had a subtle sparkle to it.

You paired the dress with a pair of high heels, wincing as you slipped them on. You weren't used to wearing heels, and your legs already felt like they were on fire.

But you knew you had to suffer through it. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves, and made your way to the living room to wait for Chan.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. What would the event be like? Would you be able to handle it?

Just as you were starting to get really anxious, you heard a knock at the door. You got up to answer it, smoothing out your dress as you went.

When you opened the door, you were taken aback by Chan's appearance. He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled, and his eyes gleaming with a hint of sophistication.

You felt a flutter in your chest as he smiled at you, his eyes scanning your dress. "You look stunning," he said, his voice low and smooth.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you smiled back at him. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him.

Chan offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a sense of trepidation as you walked out the door with him.

You arrived at the event venue, a grand ballroom filled with elegantly dressed guests. Chan led you through the crowds, nodding and smiling at various people as you went.

As you mingled with the other attendees, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the opulence surrounding you. The crystal chandeliers, the fine artwork on the walls, the exquisite cuisine being served – it was all so far removed from your usual life.

Chan seemed to sense your discomfort and placed a reassuring hand on your elbow. "Just relax and enjoy yourself," he whispered. "You're doing fine."

You smiled up at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for his support.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel more at ease, chatting with various guests and even managing to laugh at a few jokes.

But just as you were starting to relax, you saw a familiar face across the room – Minho.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Chan charmed the other guests. He laughed and joked with the men, and smiled warmly at the women.

You watched in amazement as he expertly navigated the crowds, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with ease. He seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to adore him.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like a fish out of water. You stuck close to Chan's side, trying to absorb some of his confidence and charm.

As you observed Chan's interactions, you began to notice something interesting. Despite his charming facade, there seemed to be a hint of tension beneath the surface. A flicker of intensity in his eyes, a tightness in his jaw.

You wondered what could be causing it. Was it something to do with the event, or was it something more personal?

Just as you were pondering this, Minho appeared at your side, a smile on his face. "Hey, Y/N. Enjoying the party?"

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of unease. What did Minho want?

As the evening wore on, Chan excused himself to mingle with the other guests. You sighed, feeling a bit abandoned, and decided to grab some food from the buffet.

As you scanned the tables, looking for something that caught your eye, you heard a friendly voice behind you.

"Hey, Y/N! Enjoying the party?" Minho asked, falling into step beside you.

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief at seeing a friendly face. "Hey, Minho! Yeah, it's been... interesting."

Minho chuckled. "I bet. These corporate events can be a bit much, huh?"

You nodded, laughing. "Definitely."

As you chatted with Minho, you felt a sense of ease that you hadn't experienced all evening. He was easy to talk to, and you found yourself opening up to him in a way that you hadn't with anyone else at the office.

Just as you were starting to relax, you caught sight of Chan watching you from across the room. His eyes narrowed slightly, and you wondered what he was thinking.

Minho followed your gaze and smiled. "Looks like the boss is keeping an eye on you."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Minho's words. What did Chan think of your conversation with Minho?

You laughed and brushed off Minho's comment, continuing to scan the buffet tables for something that caught your eye. Minho fell into step beside you, chatting easily about everything from the food to the music.

As you reached for a mini quiche, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You couldn't see anyone, but you could sense eyes on you, boring into your skin.

You shivered, despite the warmth of the room. Minho noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

You nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little... chilly, I guess."

Minho smiled and put a hand on your elbow. "Let's go get you a drink, then. Something to warm you up."

But as you turned to follow Minho, you caught sight of Chan standing behind you, his eyes fixed intently on you. You felt a jolt of surprise, and your heart skipped a beat.

Chan's hand closed around your wrist, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. You felt a jolt of surprise as he pulled you back, his eyes locked on Minho.

"I think Y/N should be with me right now, Minho," Chan said, his voice low and smooth. "As my secretary, she should be by my side most of the time."

Minho's eyes flicked to Chan's hand on your wrist, and you saw a hint of surprise and curiosity in his expression. "Of course, Chan. I didn't mean to monopolize her time."

Chan's grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "I appreciate that, Minho. Let's just say I need Y/N's attention right now."

Minho nodded and smiled, but you sensed a hint of tension beneath the surface. "No problem, Chan. I'll catch up with you later, Y/N."

As Minho walked away, Chan turned to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Let's get some fresh air," he said, his voice low and husky. "I think we need to talk."

Chan dragged you outside, the cool night air enveloping you as you stepped onto the balcony. The city lights twinkled below, but you barely noticed them, your attention fixed on Chan's tense form beside you.

There was an awkward silence between you, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustling of the wind. You fidgeted, unsure of what to say or do.

Chan stood still, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. You could sense the tension coiled within him, like a spring waiting to snap.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and rough. "I don't like seeing you with Minho," he said, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned to him, surprised by his admission. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to sound calm.

Chan's eyes snapped to yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean that Minho is not a good influence on you. He's... reckless. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Chan's words. Was he really concerned about your well-being, or was there something more to it?

You frowned, confusion etched on your face. "But Chan, Minho seems like a nice person. I don't see what's wrong with talking to him."

Chan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He seemed to be searching for words, but couldn't find any. "I just... don't trust him, okay? He's not good for you."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What do you mean? You don't even know him."

Chan's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "I don't need to know him to know that he's trouble. Just... stay away from him, Y/N. For your own good."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at Chan's intense gaze. There was something in his eyes that made you feel like he was hiding something, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

You shrugged off Chan's warning, chalking it up to his overprotective nature. As you continued to admire the view, you felt Chan's gaze on you, but you didn't turn around.

The event eventually came to a close, and Chan offered to drive you home. You accepted, and the ride was quiet, with only the soft hum of the engine breaking the silence.

When you arrived at your apartment building, Chan walked you to the entrance, his eyes scanning the surrounding area before nodding in satisfaction.

"Get some rest, Y/N," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You smiled and thanked him, watching as he turned and walked back to his car.

As you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted between you and Chan tonight. You freshened up and got ready for bed, your mind replaying the events of the evening.

You thought about Minho's friendly smile, and Chan's intense gaze. You wondered what had prompted Chan's warning, and whether you should be concerned.

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring.

—

You rushed to work, still feeling a bit sleepy from the previous night's events. As you stepped into the elevator, you let out a sigh of relief, looking forward to a quiet ride to the top floor.

But your peace was short-lived. The elevator stopped on a floor, and Chan stepped in, his eyes scanning the small space before landing on you.

The atmosphere in the elevator became awkward, the silence thick and heavy. You avoided eye contact, staring instead at the floor numbers ticking by.

But then, disaster struck. The elevator jolted to a stop, the lights flickering before stabilizing. Chan groaned and cursed under his breath, pulling out his phone to call for assistance.

As he waited for someone to answer, his gaze landed on you, and you could sense his realization that he was stuck with his secretary. The silence that followed was oppressive, the tension in the air palpable.

But then, Chan seemed to make a conscious effort to break the silence. "So, Y/N," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Tell me, how many siblings do you have?"

You were taken aback by the sudden question, but you answered readily enough. "I have two older brothers."

Chan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "And are you in a relationship?"

You felt a flutter in your chest at the personal question, but you brushed it off, trying to play it cool. "No, I'm not."

Chan's eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you felt like he could see right through you. But then, he looked away, apologizing for asking too many questions.

"I just wanted to get to know you better, Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "It's okay, Sir. I don't mind."

As you stood there, stuck in the elevator together, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection to Chan. It was as if, in this small, confined space, you'd found a sense of intimacy that you hadn't experienced before.

The morning flew by in a blur of paperwork and phone calls. When break time rolled around, you weren't really in the mood to eat, preferring to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk instead.

Just as you were starting to make a dent in the pile, someone knocked on your door. You looked up to see Chan standing in the doorway, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. "I noticed you weren't going out for lunch. What's wrong?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Just a lot of paperwork to get through, sir."

Chan's eyes crinkled at the corners. "No need to call me sir, Y/N. Just call me Chan."

You nodded, taking note of his request.

But before you could respond, Chan continued, "Leave the paperwork for now. Come have lunch with me."

You declined, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden invitation. But Chan was insistent, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You don't have a choice, Y/N," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Come on."

You felt a flutter in your chest as Chan led you out of the office, his hand resting on the small of your back. You tried to brush off the feeling, telling yourself it was just your imagination.

But as you slid into the passenger seat of Chan's sleek black car, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Where was he taking you?

As it turned out, the answer was a fancy restaurant that seemed to cater to the rich and elite. The waiter showed you to a cozy table by the window, and Chan gestured for you to take a seat.

The menu was overwhelming, with dishes you'd never even heard of before. But Chan just smiled and told you to order whatever you wanted.

"Even if it's the whole menu," he added, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I won't mind."

You felt a surge of surprise at his offer, but you tried to play it cool, ordering something that looked nice without going overboard.

As the food arrived, you couldn't help but stare at the mouth-watering visuals. Chan noticed the way your eyes sparkled, but he didn't say anything, just smiled to himself.

You took a bite, closing your eyes in appreciation of the flavors. Unbeknownst to you, you stomped your foot quietly on the wooden floor, a habit you'd had since childhood.

Chan's eyes flicked to your foot, a small smile playing on his lips. He thought you looked cute, but he didn't say anything, just continued to watch you as you ate.

As you gazed out the window, lost in thought, Chan's eyes never left your face, his expression soft and contemplative.

—

Months had passed since you started working with Chan, and you'd grown accustomed to his presence in your life. He'd become softer and gentler, his rough edges worn smooth by time.

But despite the familiarity, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted between you. It was a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on, a sense of awareness that made your heart skip a beat whenever Chan was near.

You'd tried to brush it off as mere imagination, but the feeling persisted.

As you sat in Chan's office, typing away on your laptop, the door burst open and a woman strode in. She was beautiful, with long, curly hair and a smile that could charm the birds from the trees.

But as she approached Chan, you could sense the tension in the air. Chan's expression turned cold, his eyes narrowing as the woman began to flirt with him.

"Chan, darling," she cooed, running her hand over his arm. "I've missed you so much. Can't we just... talk?"

Chan's voice was icy as he rejected her advances. "We have nothing to talk about, Sophia. Please leave."

The atmosphere in the room was thick and awkward, and you felt a strong urge to escape. You began to pack up your things, preparing to make a hasty exit.

But Chan's voice stopped you. "Y/N, don't go."

You turned to him, surprised. "Sir?"

Chan's eyes locked onto yours, a hint of desperation in their depths. "Please, just... stay."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. But as you looked at Chan, you saw something in his eyes that made you stay.

Despite Chan's plea for you to stay, you couldn't shake off the feeling of awkwardness that had settled over the room. You glanced at Sophia, who was watching you with a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

Feeling like an intruder, you decided to leave, gathering your things and making a hasty exit. As you closed the door behind you, you could hear Sophia's voice, sharp and inquiring.

"Who is she?" Sophia demanded. "What do you have going on with your little secretary?"

Chan's response was cold and dismissive. "She's none of your business, Sophia. Just leave."

But Sophia was persistent, her voice growing more urgent as she tried to win Chan back. You could imagine her moving closer to him, her hands reaching out to touch him.

Chan's patience finally snapped. You heard a loud, sharp sound, followed by Chan's voice, firm and commanding.

"Back off, Sophia. I mean it."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, followed by the slam of a door. You peeked out of the nearby conference room to see Chan storming out of his office, leaving Sophia standing alone in the doorway, her face twisted in anger and frustration.

Sophia's face twisted with anger and humiliation as she watched Chan storm out of his office. She couldn't believe he'd rejected her so publicly.

But as she stood there, seething with resentment, a sinister idea began to form in her mind. She'd make Chan pay for his rejection, and she'd do it by targeting the one person who seemed to be getting in the way: Y/N.

Sophia's eyes narrowed as she thought about Y/N, the quiet, reserved secretary who seemed to have captured Chan's attention. She'd find a way to take Y/N down, to make her look bad in front of Chan and the rest of the office.

A sly smile spread across Sophia's face as she began to plot her revenge. She'd start by spreading rumors about Y/N, whispers that would erode Chan's trust in his secretary.

And then, she'd take it a step further. Sophia's eyes gleamed with malice as she thought about the ways she could sabotage Y/N's work, make her look incompetent and unprofessional.

Chan might have rejected her, but Sophia was determined to make him regret it. And Y/N was just the pawn she needed to play her game of revenge.

Sophia thought she'd cleverly manipulated the situation, spreading rumors and half-truths about Y/N to anyone who would listen. But she underestimated the loyalty and kindness of Y/N's coworkers.

As Sophia whispered her venomous lies, the other employees exchanged skeptical glances. They knew Y/N to be a hardworking, diligent, and kind person, and they weren't about to believe Sophia's malicious rumors.

One by one, they spoke up in Y/N's defense, sharing stories of her dedication and professionalism. Sophia's face grew redder and redder as she realized her plan was backfiring spectacularly.

Just as it seemed like Sophia couldn't sink any lower, Chan appeared, his eyes blazing with anger. "Sophia, what are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

Sophia tried to play it cool, but Chan wasn't having it. "You're being immature and petty," he snapped. "Stop spreading rumors about Y/N. She's done nothing to deserve your malice."

Chan turned to the security guards, his expression stern. "Please escort Sophia off the premises. And let me make one thing clear: if any of you allow her back into this building, you'll be fired. Do I make myself clear?"

The security guards nodded, their faces serious, and escorted Sophia out of the building. As she was dragged away, Sophia's face was twisted in a mixture of anger and humiliation.

Chan watched her go, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

—

You sat in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the computer screen as you tried to focus on the task at hand. But your mind kept wandering back to the awkward encounter with Sophia.

Just as you were starting to get lost in thought, you sensed a presence behind you. You turned to see Chan standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on you with a look of concern.

He slowly entered the room, his movements quiet and deliberate. "Y/N, I..." he began, his voice low and sincere. "I'm truly sorry about Sophia's behavior. She had no right to come here and cause a scene."

You looked up at him, surprised by the apology. "It's not your fault, Chan," you said, trying to reassure him.

But Chan shook his head, his eyes still clouded with concern. "I should have handled the situation better. I shouldn't have let her get to you like that."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Chan's words, his apology and concern touching a chord within you. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, you felt like you were drowning in their depths.

As the day drew to a close, you couldn't help but overhear the buzz of excitement among your coworkers. They were all talking about the company's upcoming New Year's Eve party, and how they couldn't wait to let loose and celebrate.

But as you listened to their chatter, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. You didn't have a dress for the party, and even if you did, you weren't really the partying type. And worst of all, you didn't have a date.

Feeling anxious and overwhelmed, you decided to come up with an excuse to get out of attending the party. You took a deep breath and knocked on Chan's door, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

"Chan, I'm so sorry," you said, trying to sound weak and feeble. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'm coming down with something."

Chan looked up from his computer, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

You tried to maintain the act, coughing weakly and clutching your stomach. "I don't know," you said, trying to sound miserable. "I just feel really awful."

To your surprise, Chan nodded sympathetically. "Okay, take the day off tomorrow," he said. "Get some rest and feel better."

You felt a surge of relief and guilt at the same time. You hadn't expected Chan to fall for your act so easily. But as you left his office and made your way home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and freedom.

You had managed to get out of the party, and now you had a whole day to yourself to do whatever you wanted.

You were having the perfect evening. You'd spent the day lounging around in your cozy pajamas, watching your favorite TV shows, and munching on delicious snacks. The party was the last thing on your mind, and you were grateful to have avoided it.

As you settled in for a relaxing night, the doorbell rang, breaking the silence. You frowned, wondering who could be visiting at such an odd hour. You weren't expecting anyone, and you were pretty sure your brothers were busy with their own lives.

You shrugged and ignored the doorbell, thinking it was probably just some silly teenagers playing a prank on you. But then the doorbell rang again, this time more insistently.

With a sigh, you hesitantly got up from the couch and made your way to the door. You peered through the peephole, expecting to see a familiar face - maybe your brother or your neighbor.

But to your shock, you saw Chan standing on your porch, looking as handsome and imposing as ever. You felt a jolt of surprise and embarrassment, realizing that you were still in your pajamas and your hair was a mess.

You stood frozen for a moment, wondering what Chan was doing at your doorstep. Had he somehow discovered that you weren't really sick?

You opened the door, trying to play it cool despite your embarrassment. "Chan, what are you doing here?" you asked, letting out a small cough in an attempt to remind him that you were supposed to be sick.

But Chan just ignored your feeble attempt at deception. "You're coming with me to the party," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And you don't look sick to me."

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you realized you'd been caught. "I...I just didn't have anything to wear," you admitted, hoping that Chan would understand and let you off the hook.

But Chan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I could've thought of that," he said, pulling out a dress from behind his back. "That's why I bought this dress just for you."

You mentally cursed yourself as you stared at the beautiful dress in Chan's hands. You'd been outmaneuvered, and now you had no choice but to go to the party with him.

You nodded reluctantly, feeling a sense of resignation wash over you. "Okay, I'll go change," you said, taking the dress from Chan and stepping aside to let him in.

As you went to change, you couldn't help but wonder what you'd gotten yourself into. What did Chan have planned for tonight, and why was he being so insistent on taking you to the party?

You came back downstairs, feeling a bit more confident in the beautiful dress Chan had chosen for you. You opened the door, and Chan's eyes widened in surprise as he took in your transformed appearance.

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in awe. You had to wave your hand in front of his face to snap him out of his trance-like state.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, laughing nervously.

Chan quickly recomposed himself, a hint of a flush rising to his cheeks. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, his voice a bit gruff. "You just...look really beautiful."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, but you tried to play it cool. "Thanks," you said, smiling up at him.

Chan held out his arm, his eyes sparkling with gallantry. "Shall we?" he asked, leading you to his car.

The drive to the event was quiet, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. What would the party be like? And why had Chan been so insistent on taking you?

As you arrived at the event, you were struck by the grandeur of the venue. The ballroom was filled with glittering lights, and the sound of music and laughter filled the air.

Chan led you onto the dance floor, his hand on the small of your back. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he pulled you close, his eyes locked on yours.

As Chan stopped to chat with his friend, you took the opportunity to glance around the ballroom. The music was lively, and the crowd was buzzing with energy. You spotted many familiar faces from the office, all dressed up and having a great time.

Just as you were taking in the sights, you felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned to see Minho, one of your close friends from the office, grinning at you.

"Hey, you look amazing!" he exclaimed, his eyes scanning your dress. "I'm so glad we can finally let loose and celebrate the end of the year."

You smiled back at him, feeling happy to see your friend. "Thanks, Minho! You look pretty sharp yourself."

Minho chuckled and launched into a conversation about everything from work gossip to holiday plans. You found yourself laughing and joking with him, feeling more and more at ease.

But just as things were starting to feel comfortable, you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You turned to see Chan, his eyes sparkling with a hint of possessiveness as he gazed at Minho.

As you stood there, chatting with Minho, you felt a sudden jolt of surprise. A familiar face had appeared in front of you, a face you hadn't seen in a long time.

Your ex-boyfriend, Alex, stood before you, a charming smile spreading across his face. "Y/N, do you remember me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You stared at him, your mind reeling in shock. What was he doing here? You hadn't seen or heard from him in years.

Alex chuckled at your reaction, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, it's me," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Come on, now, let's talk things out."

But before you could even process what was happening, Chan's grip around your waist tightened. Alex's eyes flicked to Chan, and he gently reached out his hand to touch your arm.

Chan's reaction was immediate. He shot Alex an angry glare, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. Alex's eyes narrowed, and he asked Chan to leave you alone.

But Chan refused. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, his voice firm and commanding.

You and Alex both widened your eyes in shock at the same time. Alex's face fell, and he apologized before turning and walking away.

Chan didn't waste any time. He dragged you outside, away from the crowds and the music. You found yourself standing in a quiet alleyway, the cool night air enveloping you.

Chan turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. "What's going on, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Who is that guy?"

You took a deep breath and explained the situation to Chan. "He's my ex-boyfriend," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "We broke up four years ago."

Chan nodded in understanding, his gaze softening as he looked at you. The air seemed to thicken around you, and for a few minutes, neither of you spoke.

The silence was palpable, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was as if Chan was giving you space to process your emotions, and you were grateful for that.

Finally, Chan spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "At first, I thought it was just your intelligence and your wit, but as I got to know you better, I realized it was so much more than that."

Chan's words sent a flutter through your chest. You could sense where he was going, but you couldn't believe it.

"I love the way you make me laugh, the way you challenge me, and the way you always know how to make me feel better," Chan continued, his voice filled with emotion. "Y/N, I think I might be falling for you."

Your heart skipped a beat as Chan's words hung in the air. You felt like you were melting into his gaze, and you couldn't look away.

And then, Chan went straight to the point. "Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, his eyes burning with intensity.r

Your heart was racing as you processed Chan's question. But deep down, you knew exactly what you wanted. You nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across your face.

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan's face lit up with joy, and he took a step closer to you. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You nodded again, your heart pounding in anticipation. Chan leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

The world around you melted away as you lost yourself in the kiss. But as the fireworks exploded in the sky, you both pulled away, gasping in wonder.

"Happy New Year," Chan whispered, taking your hand in his.

You smiled up at him, feeling a sense of magic and wonder. "Happy New Year," you replied, squeezing his hand.

Together, you watched as the fireworks lit up the sky, the colors and lights reflecting the happiness and excitement in your heart. You knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life, one that you were eager to explore with Chan by your side.

—

Chan leaned back in his chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. He was bored, and he needed entertainment. His eyes landed on Y/N, who was sitting beside him, completely absorbed in her work.

"Y/N?" Chan said, trying to sound pitiful.

Y/N didn't even flinch, her focus solely on her computer screen.

Chan tried again, this time adding a whiny tone to his voice. "Y/N, I'm boooored."

Still, Y/N didn't budge.

Chan's face scrunched up in a pout. He started to fidget in his seat, making annoying little noises to try and get Y/N's attention.

Finally, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. She chuckled and turned to face Chan, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Chan's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He grinned, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Hey," Y/N said, smiling. "What's wrong?"

Chan's response was to lean forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Nothing's wrong now," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "You're such a baby," she teased.

Chan just grinned, looking unrepentant. He was happy now that he had Y/N's attention, and that's all that mattered.

—

You were chatting with a coworker, laughing and joking around, when you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Chan standing there, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you interact with your coworker.

At first, you thought he was just checking in on you, but as the conversation went on, you realized that Chan was actually getting a little possessive. He kept finding excuses to touch you, his hand brushing against yours or his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

Your coworker didn't seem to notice, but you did. And to your surprise, you found it kind of cute. Chan's possessiveness wasn't aggressive or controlling; it was more like he just wanted to make sure you knew he was there, and that he cared about you.

As the conversation wrapped up, Chan leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. "Hey, can I steal you away for a minute?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest as you let Chan lead you away.

As you walked, Chan's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his warmth, his strength, and his possessiveness. And you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha

[andy-15-07]

could you write more ticklish stories with pedro or his characters it’s cutee

Breakfast Delights

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1456| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

The soft morning light spills into the spacious kitchen as you stir awake to the gentle hum of a coffee machine and the sizzling sound of something delicious on the stove. Today is different—there’s a playful spark in the air that you can’t quite place. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you notice him already at work: Pedro, effortlessly charming as ever, flipping pancakes with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Morning,” he greets with a warm smile as he turns toward you. “Sleep well?”

You stretch and smile back, feeling both relaxed and inexplicably alert. “I did, especially knowing I’d wake up to this view,” you reply, glancing around the cozy kitchen where ingredients and utensils are scattered with endearing chaos.

Pedro chuckles and slides a plate of perfectly golden pancakes toward you. “Breakfast is served,” he announces, setting the plate on the table with a flourish. “But I have a feeling this morning holds more surprises than just a good meal.”

Curiosity piqued, you take a seat at the table. As you pour syrup over your pancakes, you notice Pedro leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know,” he starts, voice low and teasing, “I’ve been thinking about how ticklish you are.” His tone is playful, and before you can even respond, he’s already stepped closer.

“No, don’t even think about it,” you warn, half-laughing, half-serious. “You know how I am about being caught off guard.” But there’s a glint of daring in your eyes that betrays your amusement.

Pedro arches an eyebrow and leans down conspiratorially. “Oh, I know exactly how you are. In fact, I might just have a surprise planned for you after breakfast.” His smile deepens as he watches your reaction closely.

You try to focus on your meal, but his teasing banter is impossible to ignore. “A surprise, huh? And what might that be?” you ask, your tone playful as you attempt to keep a straight face.

With a dramatic pause, Pedro replies, “Well, let’s just say it involves a little bit of mischief, a little bit of laughter, and a whole lot of tickles.” His words hang in the air like a delicious secret.

The conversation is interrupted by the clatter of a falling utensil—a stray fork that escaped from a drawer—prompting a shared laugh. Pedro quickly moves to retrieve it, and you can’t help but watch him with affectionate amusement. The way he moves, every gesture so natural and charming, makes your heart flutter in unexpected ways.

“So, what’s on the menu for today besides pancakes?” you ask as he returns, placing the fork back in its rightful place.

“Ah, I thought we’d experiment a bit,” Pedro explains, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. “Maybe some scrambled eggs with a twist—perhaps a sprinkle of adventure?” He winks, and you know that his idea of adventure today might not be limited to culinary experiments.

As Pedro begins whisking the eggs, you steal a glance at him. The soft hum of the mixer and the clinking of the bowls set the rhythm of the morning. “You really do like to keep things interesting, don’t you?” you remark.

“Life’s too short for boring mornings,” he says with a laugh. “Especially when I have a wonderfully ticklish partner in crime right here.” His voice drops teasingly, and you shiver despite yourself.

Before you can protest, Pedro’s hand darts out, aiming for your side. “Hey!” you exclaim as your laughter erupts uncontrollably. “Pedro, no!”

He grins widely and retreats just enough for you to catch your breath, the memory of his touch still sending delightful shivers down your spine. “Just making sure you’re awake,” he teases. “And who could resist a little tickling on such a beautiful morning?”

You playfully swat at him, still giggling. “You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head. “One day, you’re going to get me back for that.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” he replies, adopting an innocent look as he continues to stir the eggs. “I’m just enjoying the fun we have together. Besides, you kind of love it.” His tone is laced with affectionate teasing that makes it hard not to smile.

The kitchen fills with the sound of sizzling eggs and your shared laughter. The conversation drifts between plans for the day—talks about a movie marathon later, a possible stroll in the park, and even debates about who makes the better omelette. Every now and then, Pedro’s hand slips in a playful tickle, each time met with an eruption of giggles and mock protests.

“So, tell me,” you say between fits of laughter, “what other surprises do you have in store for me today? Besides breakfast and these unexpected tickles, of course.”

Pedro pauses, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “Well, I thought after breakfast we could take a walk by the lake. There’s something about the morning air and the gentle rustle of the trees that just feels… magical. And, who knows? Maybe I’ll find more ways to make you laugh.” He winks, and you can tell he’s already plotting his next playful assault.

You settle back into your chair, savoring the moment—the warmth of the morning, the delicious food, and the undeniable chemistry between you. “A walk by the lake sounds perfect,” you agree. “As long as you promise to keep your tickling to a minimum.”

Pedro laughs and shakes his head. “No promises there. I believe a little laughter is the best way to start any day.” He slides over a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs, still warm from the pan. “Dig in, and brace yourself.”

Between bites and sips of freshly brewed coffee, you find the conversation flowing effortlessly. The dialogue dances between light-hearted teasing and genuine moments of affection. “Remember the last time you tickled me in the middle of a serious conversation?” you reminisce, recalling a memory that still makes you smile.

Pedro nods, his laughter mingling with yours. “How could I forget? You were trying to explain your idea for a new project, and suddenly I couldn’t resist. You laughed so hard you nearly fell off your chair.” His tone is filled with fondness as he recalls the moment, a reminder of how your playful interactions have become a cherished part of your mornings.

“Maybe I’ll let you have another go later,” you tease, nudging him gently with your elbow. “But for now, I think I need to regain some dignity before I’m reduced to giggles again.”

He grins, clearly delighted by your banter. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. A little vulnerability keeps us real, don’t you think?” His eyes are soft as he watches you, and in that moment, it feels as if the world outside has faded away.

As the breakfast comes to a close and the dishes begin to accumulate in the sink, Pedro moves closer and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You know,” he says quietly, “mornings like these remind me how lucky I am to have someone who can brighten even the simplest moments.” His voice is tender, the tickling and laughter now giving way to genuine affection.

You lean into his warmth, smiling. “I feel the same way. It’s not just the food—it’s these little moments that make the day special. Even if you do have a habit of catching me off guard.”

Pedro chuckles softly and plants a quick kiss on your forehead. “I promise to try and keep my mischief in check… at least until after our walk.” His playful promise sends a shiver of anticipation through you, and you know that even as the day unfolds, there will be many more moments filled with laughter, playful tickles, and shared secrets.

Standing up together to tidy the kitchen, you exchange a look that speaks volumes—a silent agreement that every day holds the promise of joy, adventure, and the kind of playful intimacy that makes life unexpectedly delightful.

Later, as you both step out into the crisp morning air for your walk by the lake, the memories of the ticklish breakfast linger in your mind. Every step feels lighter, every laugh a reminder that sometimes, the best parts of life are found in the simplest, most unguarded moments. And with Pedro by your side, you know that even the most ordinary morning can turn into something magical—one tickle, one laugh, and one whispered secret at a time.

Enjoying the fresh breeze and the soft murmur of nature, you continue your journey, the morning’s playful start a cherished prelude to the day ahead. The kitchen escapades become a sweet memory, a reminder that sometimes, all it takes is a little tickle to make life infinitely more joyful.

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

Francis mosses x fem! reader

thick as blood

sweet as milk

"god i am down bad" you groaned getting up getting into the shower, it was.....nasty, the grout and limescale made a public bathroom seem more hygienic

but you didn't have time to think about it so you cleaned up and got out trying your best to not touch a thing, you looked over the makeup guidelines for your uniform, it had to be exact in order for the agents that came in to not suspect you. matching foundation no eyeshadow, black mascara and complimentary blush with matching lip stick

you looked in the mirror one last time before rushing out.

7 am sharp you sat at your desk watching Francis be the first heading out the door giving a small wave to you, your heart fluttered waving back. a few more residents left leaving you with a bit too much free time. most of them wouldn't come back till lunch and as stupid as dopples are for them to appear now is suicide, you look around and see a letter at your desk so you open it

dear agent 591138 it has come to my attention that no one has filled you in on your working conditions fully so I am here to do it for you. your working hours are 7am to 10 pm every full week then you will get the following work week off, we understand this is rather confusing but just know your best interest is our priority (among other things) this gives you time for recreational activities and self mental care. you do know how everything in the office works but we did just throw a gun to you like a baby. your DDD issued pistol has DDD issued bullets so we can verify the killing of the dopples or in serious cases murder of innocent civilians. an agent will contact you intermittently to check your mental health. best regards , agent 907811

what a letter. did they call you a baby with a gun? your 25.

you decided to open the filing cabinet under your desk to place the letter just to find it riddled with boxes of said bullets. you place it over them and close it staring straight into your reflection of the glass "ok lets just breath and get through it" you assured yourself before reaching into your bag for a bagel and milk, odd combination yes but its what you had in your icebox. you started to worry about your food supplies through the week from what you remember you had bread some fruit jam and POSSIBLY not rotten eggs to hold you over but you knew for a fact a grown person was not going to survive on jelly sandwiches. you looked to the phone wanting to call a cousin that lived nearby to get you some things but you decided against it for now, maybe at the end of your shift you could leave them a message with the operator. soon the middle of the day came and Nacha came in with her daughter looking rather feverish "hi so sorry we had to come back in early she's coming down with something" Nacha slid both their papers and ids through the slot holding her baby close, you looked over the info and all was in order. you even studied them and before opening the door "maybe a doctor would help more?" you asked not wanting to sound mean " oh we went to the pharmacy right before coming here, they said its probably something the kids are passing around" nacha responded happily, this woman was really upbeat it almost scares you " oh good, get better kiddo" her daughter coughed a quiet "whatever" before her mom chastised her passing the now opened door.

you looked to their papers, specifically Anastacha's.... then your stomach dropped. her eyes. her stand offish demeanor yesterday and today, you had a sinking feeling about her relationship to Francis but you weren't sure so you decided to drop the idea for now...

2 dopples came in, horrible replication so you just dropped the shutter and called the moment they spoke.

the phone rang and you picked up "hello, this is agent 907811 the one that sent the letter" the voice was manly but upbeat (imagine Gladiolus from final fantasy 15) you nodded to no one "oh hello, a little unprofessional to make wellness calls in the middle of my shift no?" you asked playfully to test the waters on the guy " intermittently, remember?" he said matching energy "noticed you got 2 already, might get more not to jinx ya" you hummed in agreement as he continued "anyway to make it easier for you instead of calling us and explaining the situation I want you to just say my name and ill know to send our boys in yellow, to save time and lives right?" he kind of lingered on the right so on que you answered "right." "great! ok the names rex." he spoke quick "wait really?" you asked absent for a minute "well no my real name is classified but everyone calls me rex, and whenever you dial 3312 it puts you straight to me~" he made you smile hearing his happiness so you giggled "well ok will do rex, time to get back to work" "yes ma'am" you heard hanging up. dreamboat was infront of you already sliding his papers to you "sorry about that Mr. Mosses" you read over the file, a blush overcoming you "boyfriend?" he asked catching you off guard "n-no, the DDD" you almost got up to let him know you were serious but fixed your seating position instead "mmm...ok" you thanked your god he had very prevalent verbal ques, made your job easy "were do you get your milk from?" he asked taking back his papers "my old apartment, believe it or not the DDD moved me in yesterday with everything I had" you chuckled thinking he took his job a little too serious and didn't want enemy milk on his turf "i give you milk now." he almost declared in an odd way. you turned red imagining unholy thoughts "the farm i deliver for also delivers here. the buildings day is Monday but ill grab a case for you tomorrow" he walked in before you could even form the words thank you but on instinct you shut the door behind him.

you tried to calm your blush to no avail, the way he just announced his caring for you! the way he said it made you swoon "i give you milk now" god it was weirdly hot!! you almost swore you heard a bit of a Russian accent when he said it. you kept holding your face praying to go back to your natural color "doll you look like a tomato" another male voice said "oh Mr. Gauss, I apologize its just allergies" you looked away for a minute before doing the usual "its winter. your a horrible liar" he tapped the glass teasingly "all is well, good day Mr. Gauss" you spoke restrained trying not to be angry with the fact he had no issue calling you a liar opening the door for him "see you later doll". you sat there a little peeved to say the least, munching on your slightly stale bagel you continue your shift.

the next morning you woke up to knocking, your heart raced putting on your robe and ran to the door opening it "its 7:30" francis looked down at you looking almost disappointed "oh my god really?? shit thank you for waking me up" you left the door wide open as you rushed to put on a fresh uniform and stuffing your makeup bag in your purse. francis watched you rush from bed to bath sighing and looking around, he placed down five bottles of milk on your counter and opened your ice box "how pitiful" he spoke looking at the carton of barely any eggs and a few rotting veggies. he took it upon himself to leave a milk out and put the rest in making you a single piece of toast. you looked actually quite presentable considering your rushing you walked towards the door hitting something hard "ow" at first you were going to cry because Francis just watched you almost break your nose but you looked up to see him looking down. god did he smell good. like bourbon and vanilla, thank god axe body spray wasn't invented yet. "I made you toast. I have to get to work." he furrowed his brows at the last bit and left you, you look to the counter to see well enough he set the toast with jam on a small plate and a glass of milk at your table.

days had passed and soon it was your friday

it was almost 10 pm but you had to stay an extra hour because the twin models were at a party. you've never really had a full conversation with them but they were nice to you even complimented you on your hair once, finally they came in beautiful gowns that made you get up to see them fully "y/n! so sorry it took so long!" Selenne said raising her hands up air hugging you from the glass which made you chuckle "its my job to see your safe return, beautiful dresses by the way" you placed your hand on the glass to match hers "why thank you, we'll show you the details in a bit" Elenois smiled passing their papers to you, you matched them up everything being in order "you should come to a party with us" selenne jumped a little visibly annoying her twin "sel she has a job to do. a stressful one at that she doesn't need more comingling with the upper-class that watches your every move" elenois huffed taking the ids back "oh actually my days off start tomorrow" you smiled "oh. nevermind, wanna wear airtight dresses and flirt with politics?" elenois laughed making you raise an eyebrow smiling, selenne slapped her sisters shoulder giggling "shes a little tipsy, yakn-" the girls went silent. all of you looking to your left to see it.

a dopple.

a twin dopple.

it was horrifying. a giant sharp mouth filled its face, no eyes no nose it snarled stretching its arm out to the girls as they screamed. you quickly opened the door hearing your own heart beat quicken with every thought, "get in the office NOW" you yelled banging on the glass to get thier attention, they did as told rushing passed El pushing her sister in forcing Sel onto the office floor next to you. the dopple sprung passed the door before you could shut it, it tripping and grabbing onto elenois' leg with its yellow claws you ran up your mind swimming from thier screams, you punched the side of its head forcing it to go down before turning its attention to you. you grappled with it on the floor yelling at the girls to get a grip and lock the main and office door, they were trembling...blood from Els leg soaking her dress as she held selenne nodding to you closing the door and locking the main one from the office. you were bloody , your fist scrapped its teeth cracking the bone a bit as you threw it againt the door earning another scream from the twins it snarled and screeched as you ran towards the stairs unclipping your gun from its holster going up a floor "all residence stay in your homes a dopple is in the building" you yelled repeating the phrase as you heard them all scamble yelling and some of the men even starting to descend the staircase before you hit the first step. the monster stood before you on the bottom step bleeding from its maw "YoU pICk uP A GOosd fiIIgHT MakeSS yoU moRe DeLishessssss" you trembled aiming "Fuck You" POW POW the pistol shot hitting its stomach, its screeches hurt your ears but you slowly backed away as it crawled to reach you it was fast ripping off quite a bit of your skirt as you kept pilling the trigger knowing it had no more than 8 rounds finally it hit its chest making the thing go down by the second floor.

you laid there on the steps breathing heavy hearing almost nothing as everyone crowded around you asking questions and tending to your leg, but you heard nothing.

you got up pushing poor mia to the side backing down stairs passed the body pulling it by the leg to the main floor and leaving it at the end of the steps, everyone but Nacha and nat following for obvious reasons. you walked to the office opening it with your key seeing the twins holding one another sobbing looking up at you, they smilied running up and hugging you close you could start to hear their voices thanking god and thanking you...the gun was still in your hand so you walked passed them slowly sitting in your chair and placing the gun on the desk everyone ran to the girls to inspect them as you dailed the number "....rex....i had to kill it in front of all of them.." you croaked "coming now kid hold on" his voice sounded shaky but you were still processing everything the smell of blood and what seemed like rot, the stinging sensation of your cuts and bruises...the sounds of your residence begging you to answer them. oh.

you breathed in a sharp breath finally being able to sense everything "please step away from the body" you stated to the mcoolys looking over at it "you really killed it" the older one spoke in shock "oh dear your skirt " gloria took off her head scarf to cover you but francis stopped her taking off his wrobe and placing it over you "the ...blood" you managed to get out "fuck the blood right now" he stated mia dressed you in it as the twins blocked you making sure your panty hose were no longer exposed, all of the men looking away either in respect or fear of thier wives.

DDD came escorting everyone upstairs as the other half stayed downstairs to clean up "didnt think we'd meet this way" you looked up from the chair the shmidts brought out for you to sit as DDD officers looked over your wounds. it was rex. a taller man in casual business attire with salt n pepper hair "you did good kid, you saved those girls and the rest of them" he held out his hand to you , you shook it nodding "thank you" he nodded back letting go to speak with a yellow suit qietly "well it seems theres no fatal injuries on any of you , they dressed your wounds so now you rest" rex looked down at you . some would say you looked like a beaten dog but maybe that was just rex "your one tough bitch y/n." he walked off with the hazmats in tow, "i think its time for you to rest baby...you look close to passing out" gloria squeezed your arm as your eyes fluttered, you were passing out and fast "ill take her home" francis spoke up "and we'll stay with her" El and Sel spoke together "she cant sleep in those clothes" el added , everyone agreed as francis picked you up slowly treating you like glass to your apartment the scent of his shampoo and his warmth made you pass out holding him tighter

you could almost hear him stiffle a tear as he held you closer.

end part 2

[kii-nami]

NIGHTBRINGER'S EPITAPH | PHAINON & MYDEI

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

cw: 10k words; ; fem!mc; mydei's spinoff is here, mc is involved with both of them at the same time but fujos dni; no actual cheating; part of a wider hsr au by me and my friend; written from a pov of my other oc from this fic; i am not a honkai lore scholar i'm simply freaky; if you have any questions feel free to ask

They meet you for the first time with the fog of the hot water settling heavily in their lungs.

Burdened by her unavoidable involvement with this world’s struggles, Stelle is a little tense beside Shuhua. Their close brush with death – curtsy of Aglaea’s fierce dedication to protecting the secrets of Amphoreus – left the group somewhat shaken. Everything has been overwhelming ever since the cart crash-landed; so much so that Alisa started doubting Stelle’s decision to stay, instead of returning back to the train.

Despite accepting and enjoying her life of Trailblaze, this time things felt somewhat different. There was too much at stake to simply vanish and end up dead now. And they just had to get stranded without any way to contact the Express and leave sick March behind to be looked after by that suspicious Memokeeper hitching a ride.

Maybe asking Sunday, who is yet to settle down properly without following her around everywhere, to stay back and keep an eye on the situation was a bad idea on Alisa’s part. Even Aventurine, unfortunately roped into their shenanigans by Shuhua yet again, is suffering the consequences of their decision to leave them behind to have a nice trip as a family.

And it’s not like Alisa hasn’t entertained the idea of trying to use the powers of Repudiation, but the possibilities of what-ifs were far too great for her to risk the lives of her friends. So none of this seems extremely enthralling now that Alisa has to constantly watch her companion’s backs, trying to make sure she doesn’t need to mend them together body part by body part.

At least now that Aglaea isn’t trying to actively kill them, the group can finally relax just a little. And now that they’re about to go on a quest to kill a Titan – a God? surely not an Aeon? – Shuhua decided that it’s the best time for them to be as greedy and lazy as possible and soak in the healing waters of Amphoreus.

Maybe this too, as per usual, is a bad decision.

From under the weight of warm waters everything is coated in haze. Despite the promise of these baths healing not only body and mind, but also soul, Alisa is yet to feel any different. Being immune to everything has its ups and downs and right now she got the short end of the stick, unlike the rest of her companions.

Shuhua, as restless and as dedicated to playing a martyr as she usually is, spots Phainon first. Her mood pers up instantly, wet tail swishing excitedly in the hot water of the public bathhouse, sprinkling the droplets all over her companions. Through half-lidded eyes Stelle groans slowly, almost spitting the bathhouse water that got into her mouth. Lethargically scooting away from Shuhua to not get assaulted by her enthusiasm any longer, Stelle continues her nap in relative peace.

Noticing how nobody seems to appreciate her elation, the foxian finally decides to calm down a little, pointing unceremoniously to the faraway corner of the bath, “Look. Over there.”

Dan Heng, bored and half-invested into Shuhua’s new scheme, follows her line of sight languidly, only to be met with a picture that is a bit too perplexing even to someone like him. “Is that Phainon?”

A rhetoric question it may be, but it surely wakes Stelle up from her warmth-infused drowsiness, “Where?” With one eye open, sleep still clouding her vision, she looks in the direction that holds Dan Heng’s attention, just to finally wake up when she does spot Okhema’s unwilling hero. “Oh… It’s not that I’m judging, but…”

“That’s a little shameless even by my standards.” Shuhua snickers, a little devious chuckle, before she sinks under the water to tug Alisa up to the surface.

Finally releasing the breath she was holding, Alisa wipes the water dripping from her lashes and focuses on whatever got Shuhua act all scandalized. And considering that the foxian had little to none of said shame in her body, it must be one hell of a scene. Involving Phainon of all people, no less.

Elbows resting on the edge of the bath, he’s leaning back against the tiled wall. It's almost odd to see him so exposed, or even visiting a public bathhouse of all places, especially when Aglaea offhandedly mentioned that the Chrysos Heirs had their own private one to use however they pleased. It must have been truly an exclusive place with no entrance for ordinary people for him to be here. And considering his obvious company, it wasn’t much of a wonder why he chose to come here instead.

You – whoever you are – slowly step out of the warm waters, wet hair sticking to your exposed back; white, lightweight fabric of your robe clinging to your body, clashing with golden and crimson ink all over your skin. You reach for a bowl of grapes on one of the tables with refreshments, returning back into the bath just as leisurely, and it is only when the waves pick up the length of your hair that Alisa realizes the extent of your undress. Nothing but a thin, flowy fabric of your robe hanging loosely off your shoulders, you press yourself close to Phainon’s side and he eagerly invites you into an embrace, tucking you tightly to his chest. You pluck a grape from the vine, passing one to Phainon, brushing the pink berry against his lips. He opens his mouth, all but literally eating out of the palm of your hand.

Picking one for yourself, you pop the grape into your mouth; only you don’t get to enjoy the taste of it, as Phainon leans close to you, lips pressed against yours in an unannounced kiss. It’s a long moment before you separate, wandering hands of the hero straying a bit too far along your waist for such a public setting, but when he does allow you to breathe again, you huff and scoot away, following with a playful roll of your eyes. As smug as always, Phainon grins triumphantly. The berry stolen from your mouth must have tasted a lot sweeter than the one you offered him.

Phainon says something, slow and well-enunciated, although all the words are lost between the hum of the waves and the chatter of other visitors. You reply, much less careful and much more hurried, yet it still brings a blinding smile to Phainon’s face as he laughs freely. And when he brazenly tugs you impossibly close, with you all but sitting on his lap, Phainon seems much more relaxed, almost free, as if completely unburdened by the expectations this world placed on him resting on his shoulders. It’s as if only the weight of your body against his that truly matters for him; the delicate softness of your touch as your fingers glide along his shoulders until you bring your lips together once more.

And maybe it is so. Alisa does not allow herself to ponder on it any longer, lest it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Jealousy is a vice, and she might not be holy, but envying someone else’s love this pure will surely drag her to hell if her past doesn’t already guarantee her a spot there. Maybe a little risk is worth a chance of seeing him even for a second.

Dan Heng’s deadpan voice brings Alisa back to reality, far away from the dangerous thoughts she will inevitably regret, “You have zero shame, Shuhua.”

The foxian scoffs, tugging on the tip of her ear to shake the excess water soaked into the fur right on the vidyadhara’s face, “Clearly they have negative shame, Dan Heng.”

 “Should we go say hi?” As if just woken up – full of mischief and yearning to wreak havoc – Stelle darts up to her feet, raining bathwater all over with her chaotic movements, “I feel like we should.”

Alisa has half a mind to stop her. It's neither time nor place and the two of you are clearly busy. Tomorrow is an important and, quite frankly, terrifying day for everyone in the Holy City, Alisa can only begin to imagine how you must be feeling sending Phainon away to battle a literal god. Logically, it’s better to give you some privacy, but has Stelle – or anyone other than Sunday, for that matter – ever listened to what Alisa had to say? The answer is predictably obvious, and whatever protests she voices are all lost on Stelle as she readies herself to march into the mayhem of her own doing.

“I strongly advise against it.”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to, tripping over her own feet, grasping for anything to hold onto and dragging Alisa along with her under the warm waters of the bathhouse. Shuhua and Dan Heng are quick to pull the two of them up, but their movements are far too sluggish under the influence of Thanatos’ power, and it does little to stop Alisa from inhaling some of the water.

“Miss Castorice…” She coughs out a greeting, although it seems to just make the matters worse as the woman takes a guarded step back.  “It’s okay! We’re okay! You just startled us.”

“I apologize, Lady Alisa. It wasn’t my intention.” Despite her rather poor repertoire of emotions, guilt is prominent on Castorice’s otherwise impassive features. Hands locked tensely in front of her, the Chrysos Heir sends another apologetic glance Alisa’s way before focusing on Stelle, “But please do not disturb them. It’s rare to see them here like this. Lord Phainon rarely has the time these days and Lady [Name] almost never leaves the Temple…” Castorice catches herself, putting an abrupt stop to her rambling, although the way she’s carefully watching you and Phainon paints a completely different picture for her sudden decision to stop talking. “Such an awful fate they were given.”

About to press for some answers, Alisa tries to find the question she wants the answer to the most, but none seem not invasive enough. Still, she imagines any would be more tactful than anything brewing in Shuhua’s head and judging by the ever-growing smirk tugging on the corners of her lips, she has a lot of those prepared already. Yet just like Stelle not so long ago, Alisa is not successful in her endeavor.

“Castorice!” Phainon’s voice is as clear as she remembers hearing it for the first time. “Esteemed guests, too.” He waves in their direction, hurriedly crossing the little distance between the refreshments table and their bath. “What a coincidence. Is the water to your liking?”

Dan Heng dips his head in lackluster appreciation, “It’s great, thanks.”

Satisfied with the answer, Phainon doesn’t offer any more questions, although the mysterious something woven into his self-assured smile is a little unnerving this time around, “If you’re free this evening you should come to the Garden of Life. My light has a way with words, her songs will not disappoint you.”

Castorice nods, accepting the offer easily. Even if Alisa wasn’t as intrigued by your relationship, she would have agreed either way. If not for the music, then at least for the rare investment sparking in Castorice’s eyes at the mention of you two.

“We’ll be there, Lord Phainon.” Maybe not everyone, most likely just Alisa and Dan Heng, but she would definitely not miss a free opportunity to listen to a ballad or two.

 “Not you too…” A disappointed sigh following his words, Phainon frowns slightly; blue eyes darting between Alisa and Castorice, he shakes his head, “No matter. I’m gonna go back now, can’t leave my lady alone for too long or she gets stolen by wild cats.” The smug arrogance paints his grin once more; Castorice – so uncharacteristically for her – looks almost amused by the nonsensical joke Phainon made. “See you later!”

He leaves in a hurry, just as fast and suddenly as he approached them, returning to your side. You welcome him, offering to take the wine pitcher off his hand but Phainon just shakes his head in silent disapproval. Opting to pour the pale peachy wine himself, he settles in the water next to you and lifts the goblet just enough for you to drink from it. And when you do take a careful sip from the silver cup, Phainon is quick to steal the wine from your mouth. Although you never seem to truly mind his unabashed behavior in the slightest, indulging it way more than you ever should have.

Maybe Shuhua is right for once, there are people with less than no shame.

Finally turning away, Alisa can’t help but muse over such unrestrained displays of affection. “He loves her a lot.” It sounds almost bitter, but Alisa is glad nobody notices. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Even with her escaping the grasp of Istanai, Alisa will never truly be free unless she returns back to his side. And she can’t right now.

“He does.” Castorice is as solemn as always when she agrees quietly, her next words distorted by the excited buzz of the bathhouse visitors, “I imagine when you have so little to remember of home, what you do have you cannot ever let go. Even in death.”

It’s silent after that. Only the distant hum of the chatter and Phainon’s laughter cutting through the wall of white noise once in a while. They watch Castorice carefully as her unreadable eyes, all but glued to the glow of the sun shining over your head, get mistier by the moment. Tense shoulders, she cannot seem to find peace amongst the foggy air of the bathhouse.

“Castorice?” Stelle calls her name tentatively, but Castorice, too deep in whatever thoughts torment her, doesn’t react. Shuhua nudges Alisa on the shoulder, a little spooked by the idea of a literal manifestation of death being so lost in her own thoughts, and having no choice on the matter, Alisa reaches carefully to tug on the skirts of Castorice’s dress.

The Chrysos Heir flinches ever so slightly, misty gaze clearing up as she looks at where Alisa is still holding onto the fabric of her dress. “Please don’t listen to the rumors. Lady [Name] is not a bad person.” Coming completely out of left field, Castorice’s warning confuses the group even more than her silence ever did. “And do come to the performance, you might gain a lot of insight on that which you never considered to ponder on.” She looks almost conflicted when she says this, as if fighting with reason itself to justify her decision. Although when Castorice does get it off her chest, she seems almost liberated from her self-imposed shackles. Then she blinks, hand pressed over her chest as if she just remembered something important, “I completely forgot… I came here to fetch you, Lady Alisa. Lady Aglaea is interested in striking a deal.”

Shuhua groans. Alisa gets out of the water without much thought. Control is order and you cannot control what you cannot see. Yet again, the daughter of Repudiation is the biggest enemy of order. Only Aglaea is nothing like Sunday. And it’s for the better that she isn’t.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Alisa killed an Aeon once, what a demigod compared to rejection personified?

If only things were that easy.

They meet you for the second time with the strumming of a harp and your soft voice barely audible in their ears.

You are dressed far more modestly than you were back at the bathhouse, which isn’t that hard to achieve all things considered. Much of your exposed skin is still painted with golden ink, intertwined with red lines where they form some kind of convoluted patterns all over your chest and back. Your fingers run over the strings with some sort of stiffness one would not expect from a professional musician, and despite the music being nothing short of heavenly, you seem far too detached from the tune you’re playing. Even your voice is far too muted for a crowd that gathered around, and although the people are eerily silent while listening to your romantic tale of a sun’s journey to greatness, nobody is asking you to sing louder.

It's strange. There’s something off about this evening that Alisa can’t place her finger on just yet. Castorice hesitantly learns to accept that the powers given to her hold no effect on the daughter of Repudiation, so she slowly takes some liberties in standing far closer to Alisa than any reason would allow. Alisa lets her, contemplating offering a friendly hand, but deciding against it at the end. She knows better than anyone how overwhelming change can be for a person.

Shuhua, despite her initial unwillingness to join the group for a night out opting to just wallow in misery as she always tends to do at any mild inconvenience, seems to enjoy herself right now. Stelle and Dan Heng stand a little to the side, the deadpan expression on his face gives away an idea or two about the topic of Stelle’s commentary.

Phainon is sitting on the grass close to where you are, unbothered and casual as he always seems to be. Aglaea and one of the fragments of Tribios – Tribbie – are conversing quietly in the far away corner of the Garden of Life, but the leader of Chrysos Heirs doesn’t look all that happy to be here. Even the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos is present, albeit it’s a little hard to read between the lines of his permanent scowl, even more so than through Aventurine’s carefully crafted, mildly amused poker-face.

It's not Mydei’s presence that rubs Alisa the wrong way, it’s the odd absent-eyed looks Aglaea keeps throwing the Nameless that bother her. Despite a quite innocent and harmless deal they struck today, Alisa can’t help but feel even more on edge around the woman. Aglaea admitted she can only see this world through the golden thread, so why does she keep eyeing them so intently? It’s none of Alisa’s business and yet… Survival of her family is her business, isn’t it?

People give you a round of applause and you lift yourself up from the grass, bowing shallowly. Phainon is quick to follow you, taking the harp off your hands and bringing your palm to his mouth in a fleeting kiss. Castorice shifts uncomfortably, closer to Alisa’s side. And Alisa truly doesn’t want to assume anything, but from the corner of her eye she watches Aglaea’s frown deepen.

The crowd disperses slowly. Shuhua attaches herself to Alisa’s arm with a tired groan and an annoyed twitch of her ears, nuzzling against the feathers of halovian wings. Stelle is still rambling about losing her login streak in Wandering Waves and missing some important character’s banner. Dan Heng is the only one to actually care about the performance and even if usually Alisa would be the first to jump into a discussion about arts, her mind is uncharacteristically elsewhere.

With a whine, Shuhua announces that she’s craving a late-night snack before the big day. Both Stelle and Dan Heng pretend they don’t hear anything, not that Alisa expected anything else from them. Not even fighting for custody rights, Alisa drags Shuhua into a different direction that will take them to the Marmoreal Market. Maybe some dromas steak will soothe her friend’s miserable longing.

Yet as per the rules of Trailblaze, its pathstriders can’t stop getting themselves in trouble. And even now Alisa is barely quick enough to tug Shuhua behind a row of shelves full of potted plants before they get spotted by the two shadowy figures standing under the torchlights of Amphoreus’ otherwise dim alleyways. The scene unfolding before them leaves quite an unpleasant aftertaste in Alisa’s mouth when she swallows thickly. And now the fur of Shuhua’s restless tail doesn’t feel all that pleasant against Alisa’s skin amidst the heavy, warm night air.

“Is that who I think it is?” the foxian mumbles, a little confused tilt of her head, ears pressed tightly against her head.

“Please be quiet.” Alisa is trying to save them from being inevitably discovered, although her efforts go unappreciated, as Shuhua huffs, scandalized and offended.

“Hey, don’t shush me!” Despite being nothing but a whisper, the sheer force with which Shuhua delivers her line is nothing short of a scream. “You start sleeping in the same bed that smug, undercooked chicken wing and now you’re turning evil.”

Turning blind eye on the usual, albeit even more colorful, insults thrown Sunday’s way, Alisa covers Shuhua’s mouth with the palm of her hand, “Shush.”

Shuhua’s exasperated hissing is muffled, but it’s not audible enough to reach outside the little corner they’re hiding at. It’s for the better that it is that way, as the shadows grow nearer, heavy footsteps fall to a standstill under the darkness of a little shop across from the shelves covering them and Alisa can only pray the plants are enough to mask the bright fur of Shuhua’s tail.

The skirts on the back of your dress drag along the dusty ground and you don’t rush to lift them, slowly albeit deliberately walking past Mydei who remains standing near the bakery’s window. The annoyed crease between his eyebrows deepens as he catches up to you, stopping you by your forearm, the gentle touch not matching his permanent scowl.

Your gaze is planted firmly on the ground, someplace where your shadows intertwine. Mydei steps closer to you, hands moving along your skin until he holds your face in his hands, lifting your head up. “Why won’t you look at me?” He speaks differently. Less brash. Way slower and just as well-enunciated as Phainon was addressing you not so long ago. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset.”

“Of course I am, Mydeimos.” You talk just as quietly as you sing, with a tiny rasp of hesitation to your tone. Yet right now it’s mixed with something so bitterly vulnerable, it’s almost easy to forget that you are a taken woman. And with how compromising your position is, it’s all but effortless to misinterpret the situation for what it isn’t.

“I am immortal.” Mydei states plainly and you scoff.

He’s still holding your face in his hands despite your arms hanging limply by your sides. It’s hard to see under the shadows of twilight, but even in such darkness the hurt pooling in your eyes is difficult to miss. “Immortality does not take away the pain of death.”

“I am used to it.” It’s unclear whether Mydei is trying to convince you or himself, but either way it doesn’t work.

The bracelets on your arm clink against each other when you finally lift your hand to press your palm firmly to Mydei’s chest. “I told you already, didn’t I?” Your voice trembles like the strings of the harp, as if you are on the verge of tears. And maybe it is so, “Your ache is my agony. Your suffering is my anguish. I must live this life knowing I cannot aid you in your endeavors. History does not–”

Thumb against your lips, dipping ever so slightly into your parted mouth, Mydei interrupts your fervent rambling, “I wowed to battle fate for you. This hasn’t changed.” You are a taken woman yet with the way the Mydei so effortlessly throws earnest promises of eternal devotion your way, it’s easy to forget it is not he who you are officially involved with. “But Deliverer is better suited for that Coreflame than I am.”

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

“You cannot defy who you are.” You whisper dejectedly, not bothered by the mention of Phainon but the fact that Mydei refuses to change his mind. You give up then, tense posture going lax as you sigh heavily in defeat, “But who am I to deny your wishes?”

“My wishes?” Mydei questions, a victorious glint in his eyes. “I have a lot of those, you know.” He steps closer and you step back until you reach the wall, Mydei’s arm against the back of your head so you don’t accidentally hit yourself against the white bricks. “I am insatiable in my greed. Or so they say.”

He doesn’t wait for any response, just dips his head down and presses his lips against yours feverishly. You reciprocate, eager and yearning, all but melting against his body until there is no more empty space between you. But even then, he still draws you closer, free hands itching under the missing fabric on the front of your dress.

Taking your preoccupied state as an opportunity for escape, Alisa once again drags Shuhua into the darkness of the alleyway. There are no words exchanged until they are far out of your hearing range. Marmoreal Palace is relatively empty this time of day, and Alisa feels like she can finally breathe properly. So many things running through her mind, she has no idea where she should even begin. All that Alisa truly knows that it’s wrong. They shouldn’t have been there to see that. You shouldn’t have been doing any of that at all. And yet...

Shuhua, however, never holds back when she has to say something, “This wench!”

“Shuhua, please.” Trying to calm her friend down is futile, but Alisa is known to enjoy suffering to its fullest.

“I have to give it to her though.”  Shuhua huffs in irritation, dusting her tail off any cobwebs it gathered during her stay at the dusty corner of an alley. “How hard is it to swindle those two at the same time?”

Acutely aware that she’s doing nothing more than playing devil’s advocate, Alisa is desperately trying to rationalize the situation, “Maybe this all is a big misunderstanding…” She knows nobody is inherently good, but she's always trying to look only for the best in other people. And Alisa really doesn’t want to believe that either you or Mydei would betray Phainon in such a way. Logic, however, is much harder to argue with.

“Her tongue was in places mine can’t reach.” An irked scoff and a roll of her eyes, Shuhua crosses her arms over her chest. It’s hard to believe such a thing is possible but once again facts win over delusions. “We should tell him about it the first thing tomorrow.”

“Shuhua…” Not liking Alisa’s tone, the foxian throws her glare of disbelief prematurely, before any stupidity can even cross her mind. But as it usually happens, disapproval doesn’t stop Alisa from speaking and she truly has had enough of Shuhua’s bad decisions in the span of these couple of months to last her for another ten years. “I am not condoning her actions, but… I don’t think this is the right time to drop something like that on him. We truly don’t need any bad blood between those two, considering they are quite literally on a quest to kill a god.”

Shuhua blinks, canines biting harshly into her bottom lip. She’s clearly searching for something to counter Alisa’s argument with but can’t find anything of equal value to reason. Eventually giving up, Shuhua sighs dejectedly, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” Then she grins, a little manic and sort of troubling curve of her lips, as she cackles sarcastically, “We just have to kill a god, how hard can it be…”

Not harder than it was to kill an Aeon. But it’s better for Shuhua to never remember what exactly transpired inside the Realm or Repudiation.

Alisa can only hope that after all is said and done, she doesn’t have to act out on her side of the deal with Aglaea.

They meet you for the third time amongst the sea of passersby, the shining gold of your jewelry flickering with your every movement.

They spot you at Marmoreal Market not long after they successfully take Nikador’s Coreflame to the Vortex of Genesis. They pass by Melpomene, and despite calling out to her, she rushes past them without even a greeting, an annoyed growl falling from her lips as she casts one last glare in the direction of Marmoreal Diner. Confused, Shuhua follows her line of sight, ears perking up and tail wagging when she finally spots you amongst the crowd.

Against both of their better judgments, neither Alisa nor Shuhua told Phainon about their unfortunate discovery after they returned to Okhema. And considering he is still locked inside Nikador’s trial, it is for the better that he is not aware of your infidelity. This, however, is a perfect chance to finally confront you, not only about your unfaithfulness but also about the rumors floating around the Holy City.

After that night in the alleyway, Alisa couldn’t help but put her meddling skills to good use and sharpened her ears as much as possible. Castorice’s cryptic warning aside, the rumors about your person are hard to ignore when one actually listens to what the public has to say. Turns out, people seem to have very mixed feelings towards you. Some deem you an important, vital figure to Okhema’s wellbeing in such trying times: a famous bard, an acclaimed hymnwriter, a renowned poetess, a revered High Priestess of the Temple of Silence. Others think of you as a rotten fruit, slowly corrupting the well-oiled dynamic not only between the Chrysos Heirs themselves but also between Aglaea and the Council of Elders.

And as it so happens, everyone is acutely aware of your not-so-secret affair with the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. All except Phainon himself. Even stranger thing is that despite your unfaithfulness being a well-known fact, nobody is rushing to inform the hero of it. Whether he lives under a rock or his devotion to you is that unshakable is unclear but whatever the reason for it is, Alisa can’t begin to sympathize with either you or Mydei.

Neither can Aglaea, it seems.

Goldweaver’s threads wrap themselves around Shuhua’s arm, planting her firmly in place, “I strongly advise you to stay away from that woman, Shuhua.”

The foxian clenches her teeth, and Alisa decides to intervene before things escalate someplace none of them wants to, “Lady Aglaea, good morning.”

Heavy blink of her sightless eyes, Aglaea turns to face Alisa albeit she can never truly pinpoint her location, “Good morning, child.” Despite the friendly, polite tone, Aglaea’s detachment from humanity prevents her from truly igniting the warmth in her voice. Alisa can’t blame her for it, neither can she condemn the woman for trying to protect her home by any means possible. Although now Alisa has a faint suspicion that her odd behavior during your performance had nothing to do with the Astral Express but everything to do with you. “Please heed my advice and stay clear of her, there is nothing the Temple can offer you that I cannot.”

“Of course, Lady Aglaea.” Alisa nods, agreeing with the woman without even trying to argue her case. Sometimes to reject something you need to accept it first, and who would understand that better than a daughter of Repudiation? “Please take care.”

Aglaea bows her head in a shallow goodbye, disappearing into the busy crowd just like Melpomene did not so long ago. Shuhua, still trying to come to terms with the fact that there might be a target painted on her back once more, gives Alisa a suspicious side glance.

"She's still spying on us, isn’t she?” Shuhua asks carefully. She is yet to get used to this new dynamic of being the one following Alisa’s lead for once. But to live is to survive and adapting is an integral part of survival, and Shuhua really doesn't want to meet her end here because of some light snooping.

Alisa shrugs, mumbling a barely audible agreement. Just because Aglaea’s golden thread cannot see her, doesn’t mean her spies cannot hear her. Breaking their agreement with the leader of Chrysos Heirs will put her family in danger, but despite his smug, overconfident attitude, Phainon is a good man. Sunday might be right: her kindness is her weakness ready to be exploited; but he’s not here to stop her, so what else Alisa is supposed to do?

“Lady [Name]!” It has been a long time since she needed to scream to get someone’s attention.

The people give Alisa an odd look or two, some stop to search for the source of a disturbance. You, however, head straight ahead. Box with honey cakes securely pressed to your chest, you never turn their way even when Alisa calls out to you for the second time. Some passersby give them confused side-glances; one quick look over your shoulder at the commotion, you never notice the outlanders, swept by the busy crowd of the market. Walking past them casually, you leave with only the scent of sunlit oranges, ripe pomegranates, and warm cinnamon clinging to the heavy air long after the flowing tails of your skirts disappear from view.

And so, you escape. And so, Aglaea wins.

“Can’t believe she ignored us like that!” Shuhua hisses. Angry and disappointed, she curses under her breath, icy glare digging daggers into the dense crowd of the market.

Something isn’t right at all about this. The omnipresent gaze of Repudiation calls for rejection of all, and even on the endless path of Trailblaze Alisa does not stop defying authority. Mokosha, Penacony, Amphoreus. Her guilt, her love, her longing. Karina, Sunday, Aglaea. To live is to survive. Survival calls for all sorts of risks.

“Maybe she didn’t notice us…” Alisa cannot see the golden threads, they dissolve into dust all around her, but she can spot them weaving through the market, trailing the scent of sunkissed oranges and sugary pomegranate you left behind.

Shuhua cannot see what Alisa can, however. “Stop playing devil’s advocate, I locked eyes with that wench.” But Shuhua wasn’t brought up with the oath of rejection woven into her every breath, so it’s understandable that she does not condone this doubt festering inside Alisa’s heart.

“I think it’s better we just talk to Lord Phainon.” Alisa knows it’s the only right thing to do. The only way to force you to be honest with yourself. The only way to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. The only way to not let Aglaea win ever again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shuhua grits her teeth, even more vexed than she was before coming here. “Now come on, I need breakfast, or someone dies.”

Alisa doesn’t doubt it. She just hopes it won’t be Shuhua herself.

The golden thread trembles, yet its presence remains.

They meet you for the fourth time illuminated by the sunlight and scorched by fire, as you melt the ice of the memories of the world long gone.

It’s dark inside the Temple of Silence. Nothing but long corridors, dimply lit by torches burning deep purple flames, and imagery of the night sky painted in crimson and gold all over the white walls. Phainon is leading the way with well-practiced movements, all while entertaining Stelle’s barrage of ridiculous questions and Dan Heng’s polite yet distant commentary on some of the more captivating things that the hero has to say.

Shuhua is restless, even more so than usual since they got stranded on Amphoreus. Alisa fears it might be Shuhua's breaking point, but she will cross that bridge when she gets there and for now, they have far more pressing matters to deal with. Confronting you in your own temple is not going to be easy, but with Stelle and Dan Heng now involved in this against their will, things took a turn for the worse.

Noticing just how big the distance between them and Phainon grew, Shuhua exasperatedly mumbles something under her breath and picks up her pace, dragging Alisa along by her elbow. Phainon, finally stopping near the intricately carved door at the end of the hallway, is still entertaining Stelle’s curiosity without complaints. Shuhua throws him an apprehensive side eye, irked glow of her eyes spelling nothing but trouble for everyone involved, but Phainon misinterprets it as something it is not.

“You seem nervous.” He’s wrong, everyone except him is acutely aware of it, yet nobody is racing to correct his assumption. “I assure you, there is no reason for you to feel anxious.”

“It’s just…” Shuhua begins, a strained smile on her face, “It’s a little dark here, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Should have warned you.” Phainon rubs the back of his head, an apologetic smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Well, don’t worry. It’s very bright inside.”

Three light knocks. The dark, purple flames flicker to the rhythm of the drumming of Phainon’s knuckles. The heavy door opens on its own, light drowning the dimply lit corridor. For a split second Alisa’s vision goes blurry, as if blinded by the brightness of the light. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the new environment, but when they do, she almost wishes she stayed blinded forever. She should have known better than to trust Shuhua’s mad ideas, they’re always more trouble than they’re worth.

Shuhua’ grins, “Oh, isn’t it just great.” Dan Heng is quick to silence her before she drops any more unnecessary comments, but he can’t stop a little gasp that escapes Stelle’s parted lips.

Alisa diverts her gaze from the scene of the crime, trying to focus on something else other than the impending fight between an immortal man turned unwilling demigod and a hero acting as the muse to of almost all of your ballads. Eyes wide and pupils blown, Shuhua bites her lip to stiffen any more sounds coming from her, although most of it just seems like the foxian woman is trying to suppress inevitable cackle which is bound to worsen the tension even more.

Mydei’s arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, just to give enough support so that you don’t accidentally topple over and drop the goblet full of pomegranate juice all over the sofa. Or all over him to be precise. On your knees between his parted legs, one gold painted arm pressed against his naked chest, you’re carefully pouring juice into his mouth. He doesn’t as much as blink when some escapes his lips, sliding along his skin and leaving the dark crimson trail until it gets lost in what little fabric is covering his chest. Mydei simply slides his gloved hand along the expanse of your bare back, moving your hair away from your neck and bringing your face closer to his.

Dropping the empty goblet in your hand, you let it hit the white marble of the room with the deafening noise that makes everyone in the room flinch. You don’t seem to mind the noise, just sink even closer to Mydei, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and when you part at last, you glide your tongue along the crimson trail. Then you sink your teeth into the slope of his neck, an apologetic flick of your tongue over the rapidly vanishing indent of your teeth in his skin. Mydei leans his head against the arm of the sofa, half lidded eyes watching as you leave a trail of bites along his chest.

Phainon, for all his recklessness and flair, is awfully calm even when he positions himself in a way to cover most of your exposed body from their prying eyes. Posture lax, no tension in his shoulders, he doesn’t seem astonished or betrayed, or even simply angry. If anything, Phainon seems almost embarrassed to subject his guests to such an indecent display of affection between his – girlfriend? wife? Alisa isn’t even sure who you even are to him with the way the hero keeps addressing you – and his brother in arms. Knuckles rubbing against his forehead, Phainon clears his throat.

Mydei, unbothered by the presence of another man in your private chambers, doesn’t spare Phainon even a quick glance, “You’re late, Deliverer.”

Canines digging into her lips, Shuhua is barely holding herself together from cackling. Alisa has to admit, that all of this is sort of funny in some twisted way. But all of this snooping around just for them to end up here, intruding into whatever you three knowingly have going on. Oh, how embarrassing indeed.

Phainon, back still shielding most of the view on your nude body, tugs his coat off, “Please inform [Name] that I brought in our esteemed guests for an appointment.”

With a deep, annoyed sigh, Mydei finally looks over his shoulder, “Really now, hero? Couldn’t find any other time?” You lift your head, watching him with mild worry in your eyes as if you just now noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Three light taps on your shoulder, Mydei whispers something extremely slowly and you nod, sitting up straight, moving your hair to cover your chest. “Or person, for that matter?”

Phainon shrugs dismissively, as if trying to play his mistake off as something that is not his fault and then throws his coat towards Mydei, “They seemed really eager to meet our Lady of Eternal Fire.”

Mydei scoffs, catching the piece of clothing and dropping it over your shoulders the next very second, “Oh, I’m sure they were.”

You slip your arms into the sleeves of the coat and get up from the sofa, “Phainon.”

Despite the tender kiss you give him, you acknowledge the hero with some sort of detachment when you say this name of his. But it must be because you, as Castorice pointed cryptically all the way back at the bathhouse, are the only one who knows of Phainon as a son of Aedes Elysiae, and his true name is far dearer to you than the one he chose for himself.

Then you divert your attention to the members of Astral Express, a peculiar smile curving your lips, “Mysterious outlanders from beyond the stars. Welcome to the Temple of Silence.” You beacon them to follow you to the large marble table in the center of the room with a gentle wave your hand, the sleeve of Phainon’s coat flapping as you do so, “Please take a seat.”

They do as you say, albeit a little hesitantly, and settle into a long ottoman, just barely big enough to fit the four of them. Phainon joins you on your side of the table, immediately resting his head on your shoulder, and despite reluctantly leaving the comfort of the sofa, Mydei remains standing behind you with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What brings you here?” You ask, hand running through Phainon’s hair. “Against Aglaea’s… insistent suggestions to stay away from me, too.” There’s a little teasing to your hushed tone. You are far more playful than Alisa initially thought, way less intimidating too.

Despite Stelle expectantly watching Shuhua, nobody says anything. What is there even left to say now that Shuhua can’t hold your trysts against you for her own entertainment? And neither she nor Alisa herself were here with any hopes of actually getting in contact with the Express.

Dan Heng, however, tired of constant childish tantrums of his temperamental fox friend, takes one for the team, “We were looking for a way to contact our friends back home, and Phainon lead us here. He told us there’s a chance you can help us reach through the barrier to contact them.”

One moment. Then two. Three and then four. You say nothing, your puzzled gaze drifting from Dan Heng to Shuhua, to Stelle, to Alisa and then back to Dan Heng. You mutter something under your breath; quick, single word sentences, as if you are trying to decipher something but keep failing at doing so. Phainon lifts his head from your shoulder, once again oddly guilty shine in his blue eyes.

It’s tense, unnerving kind of confused silence that never seems to settle and only continues to grow. “Deliverer.” Mydei sighs, heavy and exhausted, “You didn’t tell them.”

The frustration in Mydei’s usually mildly agitated tone is almost palpable, and Phainon chuckles awkwardly, “I thought it was obvious.”  Then he quickly gets onto his feet to leave the table only to return a couple of seconds later with a heap of yellowish parchment, a bottle of ink and four quills. He sets everything on the marble surface carefully and you thank him, passing the paper to the group. “Apparently not. My apologies, I must have complicated things way more than I initially assumed.”

A simple complication doesn’t even begin to cover the level of mental gymnastics you three forced them into, but even Shuhua’s confused ear twitch is met with Mydei’s almost-warranted exasperation, “Don’t look so damn lost, outlanders. You’ve never met a deaf person before?”

Oh, complicated indeed. Alisa was right to doubt everything, but with the way Shuhua’s ears fall flat against her head she can guess the guilt of assuming things is catching up even to her.

“It’s quite alright.” You dismiss the sudden pitiful glances with a careless shake of your head, instead pointing to the parchment you offered to them. Phainon once again takes a seat next to you, although his posture is far less relaxed than it was before, observing carefully as Stelle twirls the quill in her hand. “Before we begin, you must give an offering to the Temple. Please describe a memory you cherish and feed it to the fire.”

Dan Heng gives you an apprehensive look, doubting your words despite doing exactly what you told him to. Stelle does the same, quickly scribbling something on the paper and dropping it into the purple flames flickering in a large ceremonial goblet installed into the indent in the middle of the table. It takes some time for Alisa to think of a memory she is willing to share with a stranger, and next to her Shuhua grins, folding her paper neatly in half and throwing it into the fire as soon as she can.

Mydei rolls his eyes at such behavior, finally giving up his watch to sit down next to you. He tugs the armored gloves off, placing them neatly near the ottoman and rests his hand on the marble, fingers barely grazing the edge of the ceremonial goblet. You give him a pointed look, the one of a concerned warning, but he dismisses you with a slight, teasing tug to the pointed tip of your elf-like ear poking through the dark strands if your hair. You are about to continue playing a losing game when Phainon once again drops his head on your shoulder, lifting your left hand up to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. Those two, despite all of their differences, know how to distract you when it works to their advantage and succeed in doing so with the ease of a well-oiled machine.

Giving up, you return your attention back to your guests with a fleeting, barely audible apology, then dip your free hand into the fire and pull out five cloudy crystals, dropping them into a silver bowl placed in front of you. Picking the magenta gemstone up, you bring the copper colored one along with it, clicking them against each other. Phainon laughs, the joke is lost on not only Alisa but also on the rest of the Astral Express, although even Mydei seems to get it.

“You two are very special. One is an empty slate, unable to be recorded.”  You begin suddenly, dark eyes drifting from Alisa to Stelle intently. “Another blessed by the gaze of your local gods. What a peculiar life you have, Stelle.”

Upon hearing her own name, despite never introducing herself, Stelle asks a couple of questions you are never meant to catch nor would ever want to answer. You just toss the stones back into the fire and pick a green one, discarding this gem almost instantly as well.

“Rebirth? How interesting…” Looking at Dan Heng, you are searching for something Alisa isn’t sure you can find. But with how the Vidyadhara goes rigid upon hearing your words, something tells Alisa it is not only a single cherished memory of theirs you now have access to. “I am sure that whatever this jade abacus you are thinking about is, it will not help you to leave this world, Dan Heng.”

Smugness on Shuhua’s face deflates exponentially once you get to the pale peachy crystal, her scheme backfiring on her so unpredictably. “Oh, an odd choice for sure, and yet…” You quirk your brow, chuckling lightly under your breath and leaning forward to pass the stone directly into Shuhua’s hands. “Who would have thought that man had it in him to…”

Embarrassed, Shuhua hurriedly hides the peach-colored gem in the pocket of her shorts. You don’t say much more, just sit quietly with an oddly familiar glint in your half-lidded eyes, well-manicured nail in between your teeth. Phainon says something that is lost not only on you but also on the rest of the group. You swipe your tongue over your painted lips, crimson hue glistening even more under the glow of sunlight, and pick up the quill to write a couple of quick notes just to pass them to Phainon as soon as the last drop of ink hits the parchment.

Phainon skims over what you written, a choked cough contracting through his chest, and he crumbles the paper carelessly. “Shuhua’s chosen memory sparked sudden inspiration in me.” You explain then, a teasing lull to your voice, while your nimble fingers straighten the parchment Phainon so thoughtlessly ruined. “I am sure it will not disappoint you either, husband.”

“Aren’t you forgetting anyone?” Mydei asks, fingers that were toying with the edge of the ceremonial goblet now completely engulfed by the purple flames.

“This one sees the appeal of wild cats just like I do…” You say distantly, a subtle shift to the air around you as you tuck the note you wrote into the pocket of Phainon’s coat. “So I have something else for you in mind, Mydeimos.””

 Despite shedding light onto the meaning of Phainon’s bizarre joke and thoroughly embarrassing Shuhua even further with the knowledge of all her previous affairs, your provocative tone contradicts your appearance. Even while replying to Mydei as if you can hear him, you do not look a slightest bit happy or relieved to be able to perceive sound once again. Instead, you hastily free yourself from Phainon’s hold, swatting Mydei’s hand away from the fire and cradling it close to your chest.

Unlike you, the prince does not return from the flame unscathed, although the burnt skin mends itself almost instantly. You were right, immortality does not take away the pain of death, yet Mydei endures the turmoil with ease. True to his promise of battling fate for your love, he is willingly walking into the scorching fires just for a chance of you hearing his voice.

Love of such kind can bring all realms to ruin, yet it is the only kind that you can accept.

As if trying to brighten the mood, a little pink creature that has been following Stelle around ever since her conversation with Oronyx, finally shows itself. Curiously peeking out from behind Stelle’s shoulder, Mem says something that only she can decipher, and receiving a lackluster shrug from the Nameless it slowly floats up to you, fluffy tail swatting Phainon across the face. You watch it with an oddly nostalgic sense of longing littered all over your face like gold dust, strained fingers gripping Mydei’s hand harder. If you know something about Mem’s origin – which Alisa does not doubt even for a second – you keep it to yourself and let the pink fairy playfully bully Phainon some more, until it is completely satisfied and settles on top of his broad shoulders, tail wagging excitedly.

“Are all memokeepers so… eccentric?” Shuhua whispers right into Alisa’s ear and it startles her, dragging her away from her lingering thoughts. “What's up with that fifth memory bubble, anyway?”

Albeit a welcomed distraction, the idea of you being a pathstrider of Remembrance makes things even more convoluted than they initially were, although that power of yours is easily justified by that simple explanation. And considering how easily Fuli extended Their blessings to Stelle, it would be only natural that They gaze upon someone so closely intertwined with memories.

Soft smile of yearning all but completely gone, you look away, returning to the matter at hand. Last, bright pink crystal left lying in the silver bowl, you disregard its existence as if it's just a figment of your imagination. The subtle shift of the air does not seem so subtle anymore.

“Thank you for your kind offerings, Trailblazers.” You speak at last, although there is some sort of tragic finality to the way you deliver your line that tells Alisa you cannot fulfill their wishes. “I must disappoint you, however. What you desire of me is far too ambitious.” Alisa already expected as much, so it does little to disappoint her, but a discouraged sigh that Shuhua and Stelle share hurts her nonetheless. Yet your deeply apologetic expression seems extremely sincere, as you bow your head, “I am not a Chrysos Heir, neither am I gazed upon by an Aeon like the two of you. I am a mere preserver of truthful memories. A dedicated historian, if you will.”

Despite not truly acknowledging yourself as a pathstrider of Remembrance – knowing little of Aeons beyond the information you gathered from their memories – you almost openly recognize yourself as a memokeeper. Just as odd as Black Swan and Reca, albeit a little less suspicious in your intentions and far less invested into the overarching plot of this adventure.

Mydei seems to find some amusement in your claims, however, if a muffled snort coming from his person is anything to go by. He tugs on your ear again, the gold chain hooked to a tiny circular earring in your cartilage dangling as he does so. It's weaved with crimson and navy gems, uncannily reminiscent of Mydei’s own jewelry and the sentimental charm of it is oddly heartwarming.

A huff from you makes Phainon stiffen a laugh, yet another inside joke that goes right above the heads of the ignorant Nameless. He presses his lips against your knuckles once more, far more reserved in his affections than he was back at the bathhouse. Mem shuffles on the spot in his shoulder, tail wagging faster at the sudden disturbance as a bright pink paw hits Phainon square in the face. You giggle, murmuring a couple of teasing apologies in Mem’s stead, yet do not reprimand Stelle to keep her companion at bay. You simply watch Phainon, overflowing fondness in your eyes threatening to spill over.

When you do turn to look at Stelle, your gaze hardens exponentially, “Natural enemy of Goldweaver I might be, but I cannot restore memories like your little friend here does, nor can my power reach beyond these skies. I am truly sorry for wasting your precious time.”

Guilty as you seem to be for not being able to help them, there is something else to the way to shift in your seat. The hand with which you were holding onto Mydei so tightly just a moment ago drops on your lap. Phainon quits his pretend battle with Mem to give you a once over; nothing too out of the ordinary, yet it strikes a suspicion of doubt, nonetheless.

The last memory bubble remains untouched, but from the corner of your eye you keep a vigilant watch over the pink hazy crystal. A memokeeper always has their secrets and all their cards are always tucked close to their chests, under a hundred locks where the destructive forces of time cannot reach them. And right now, you too are hiding something in plain sight, masking your own troubles under the grievances of the Nameless travelers.

“Your time ran out, outlanders.” Mydei states suddenly, no room for discussion left in the way he gets up on his feet to stride towards the exist. “I’ll see you out.”

Stelle is about to say something when Alisa interrupts her, “At least we tried, right?”  It's a rhetorical question and she can only hope her friends get the hint and listen to what she has to say for once. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Lady [Name]. We will be off.”

They do. Confused and a tad bit worried, they follow Mydei to the door. You wave them goodbye, but don't get up to see them off. Neither does Phainon. Spirits low, Mem hops off his shoulder to float back to Stelle’s side.

Three knocks. The doors open on their own. One last glance at you that Alisa is quick enough to steal reminds her how easily her heart aches for others. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Whatever you saw in that last memory was enough for you to keep your knowledge to yourself. And it is for the best that you can trust yourself to make such decisions. Alisa isn't sure she can say that about herself and not turn out to be a liar.

Mydei is far less of a competent guide than Phainon is. The journey is far too fast and now it's evident why this place is called the Temple of Silence. None of the questions they had were answered, none if them were even brought up in the first place. At least Shuhua can sleep soundly now with her conscience clear of any doubt that she's secondhand complacent in someone else’s infidelity. It doesn't seem like enough, however.

So even when Mydei comes to an abrupt stop near the gates of the Temple, Alisa has half a mind to ask at least something. She knows he won't indulge her curiosity, the prince is not Phainon and cares not about faux pleasantries of keeping up with appearances. But as it turns out, Mydei was itching to share a word or two with them already.

“Deliverer is too soft on you, so I’m going to say it myself.” It's one way to put it, but who are the humble Trailblazers to argue with a disgraced prince of a fallen nation. “This is the last time you come here for favors of such matter. That fool might deny it and say we and the Dressmaster reached a compromise, but he made his choice a long time ago. And my pact with Aglaea is fragile and I hold little to no attachment to either the Goldweaver or the Holy Maiden.” A slow yet steady pace at which a warning turns into a thinly veiled threat, “He’s delusional and living on borrowed time. I am immortal and I cannot forget. If you bring danger to her doorstep, I will pay you tenfold.”

Nobody responds. What is even there to say to such a declaration? Even more questions than before, Alisa can't help but wonder just how exactly Phainon and Mydei came to an agreement when it came to sharing your love and how you had it in your heart heart to tie both of them down to your soul so selfishly.

Not like Mydei would ever give her a clear explanation. No longer truly human, Mydei owes the Nameless even less than he did when he was just a Chrysos Heir. All have their own memories to preserve and it's none of their business, anyway.

“You keep bringing up Aglaea but what exactly did we do that's illegal?” Stelle is rarely as tactful as she should be, however. Maybe that's why she gets what she wants so easily. Audacity gets you places tact cannot. “Is your… arrangement not up to her moral standards? Or is it about the–”

Mydei chuckles bitterly, a sarcastic undertone coloring his humorless laughter and Stelle shuts her mouth quickly. “If there's someone who has those so-called arrangements you speak of, then it would be the Goldweaver. You should ask her about it if you are that invested into other people’s private lives.”  For the first time in a long time it feels like they finally crossed the line with the meddling in affairs that do not concern them. Mydei doesn't allow them to wallow in self pity, unceremoniously showing the group to the gates. “That being said, you’ve exhausted your question quota here. Leave.”

No goodbyes are exchanged but nobody expects the prince to send them off with a warm pat on the back. Shuhua, once again melancholic, dejectedly scratches on the shiny fabric of the pincushion strapped to one of the belts of her outfit. Mem is babbling away about something that leaves Stelle in less than elated mood. Dan Heng will surely scold them for snooping when they return to their room, but for now Alisa must embrace the shame.

“And learn to hide better next time, outlanders.”

To live is to suffer. To dream is to survive.

The tears you wept into the silver bowl cover the pink gemstone like ocean water drowns the corpses of the fallen. Even in death, you yearn to preserve a memory that remains nothing but a distant dream in the eyes of those who remember.

Maybe killing an Aeon is easier than salvaging broken pieces of rapidly melting ice.

Only one way to find out.

[rjthirsty]

Clavis Exhibitionism

Words: 2.1k

Tags: College AU, Sound Exhibitionism, Female Reader - Insert, PIV Sex, Creampie, Kinktober2024

“Perhaps we should be indulging in each other somewhere else.” Clavis offered as you snuck into his dorm room again.

Your very affectionate, very passionate, and very horny boyfriend somehow scored the room at the end of the hall, next to a fire exit that he'd let you in through, and the two of you had been making the most of it. To say you were fucking like rabbits was not far off. Every time you visited him you both ended up with your clothes stripped off, and utterly exhausted and pleasantly sore afterwards. Clavis had stamina for days. And you'd never been so taken care of before. 

“Wait, somewhere else? Why?” You went through the normal routine of removing your shoes and dropping onto his bed.

“The shifty fellow next door has made it clear he is aware of our activities.” Clavis shot a disapproving look at the wall he shared with his neighbor. 

That was quite the sentence. A multitude of emotions and thoughts simultaneously sprouted causing your jaw to drop and eyes to go wide as you turned to also look at the wall Clavis was frowning at. Your eyes darted back to Clavis and a surprised chuckle bubbled out from you as you tried not to grin too big. “You mean he can hear us?” You asked, stage whispering because now you're a little self conscious about being too loud.

“Apparently.” Clavis frowned deeper.

You bit your bottom lip, fingers covering your mouth as you touched your fingertips just above the peak of your top lip. It was shocking and delicious and kind of exciting and oh so very wrong, but incredibly bold for him to have said anything. “He's not going to snitch, right?”

“Oh, no. I don't believe that's the case.” Clavis answered, his golden gaze finally coming back to you. 

“Did he say what he heard?” Once again you bit your bottom lip, a devilish smile threatening to take over. 

“You're surprisingly inquisitive about this. Are you interested in that sort of thing?”

You set your palms on the mattress and give a small shrug with a playful head tilt, allowing the grin you've been trying to hold down to finally freely form. “And what if I am?”

Clavis’ lips quirked up in a teasing smirk. “Is that so~?”

He swept across his small bedroom to kneel in front of you, his low bed putting the both of you at nearly the same height. His fingers ghosted along the back of your ankles, sliding up your calves with the pressure of his touch increasing as he moved up your legs. “And here I thought you were an innocent one.”

You can't help but chuckle at his musing on your innocence. You were anything but. “We've all got something that excites us.”

Clavis’ hands pushed up your thighs, crossing onto your shorts where he hooked his fingers in the waistband. Eager for what was to come, you leaned back on his bed, resting on your elbows so you could lift your ass as he pulled your shorts and underwear free at the same time. He spread your legs and edged closer so he could sit between them. His fingers gripped your thighs, he had always loved your legs.

“What about you, Clavis? Doesn't the thought turn you on?” You rocked your hips from side to side, gently rolling your sex in front of him teasingly. “To know that despite our best efforts to keep me quiet, he can still hear how you make me moan. How many times have you had to cover my mouth because I couldn't think to do it myself? How many sounds did I bite down? All so we wouldn't get caught.”

His cock was steadily growing more stiff the more you spoke, and you were becoming more wet. You liked when he shushed you. You liked the thrill of being caught while he was fucking you senseless, how he had to kiss anywhere else but your mouth because to let your voice out would be the end of the fun you two had.

Clavis’ lips warmed your inner thigh. His hands gently caressed your naked legs. When he spoke, you could feel his mouth on your skin. “When you put it like that, it's almost flattering.”

“Mmhmm.” Your teeth toyed with your bottom lip. He was being a tease tonight. “And he's over there, getting turned on by us. But now how about I get the chance to moan your name? Can you imagine how sweet it would be to hear your name on my lips. He'd know how good you make me feel. He'd hear how often you were buried deep inside me. How many times you'd make me cum.”

Clavis slowly kissed up your inner thigh as you spoke. His tongue touched before lips met your leg, creeping ever closer to your waiting cunt. An appreciative groan came from him as an answer to your fantasy put into words.

“Let's make him wish he were you. Let's be noisy for once. Just this time. Let's make him envious. He could never have the real thing because I'm yours and you're the only one that can fuck me so good. Ah–” You gasped as Clavis finally reached your pussy, drawing a long lick between your folds. He repeated those delicious licks, wetting your clit by swirling his tongue around it. “Haah… nghn, Clavis.”

He moaned and the reverberation of his voice buzzed your sensitive bud. His lips puckered around it and he sucked your clit into a kiss. Fuck, he was so good with his tongue. He flicked the tip, caressed with flat licks, and varied the pressure as he played with your pussy. You could feel yourself leaking as your wetness dripped down your perineum.

Quiet keening leaked out of you. You were allowing yourself to make your enjoyment known, but still didn't want to get too loud. One neighbor knowing was fine. The whole hallway was not. Shifting, you brought your hand above your head and knocked purposefully against the shared wall. Clavis huffed mid-lick, his chuckle feeling foreign but decadent as he hummed before he spoke. “What a naughty vixen you are.”

“Uhnn--Clavis,” you moaned, his tongue circling your entrance. You wanted the guy next door to hear you call your lover's name. Imagining him pressing his ear against the wall to be certain he heard your moans thrilled you in a way you'd never experienced before.

The build up when Clavis used his mouth was always wonderful, but if you really wanted to scream you needed his cock inside you. “Mmmmn, Clavis?” You threaded your fingers through his hair. “Fuck me? Please?”

Clavis lifted his head to look at you, his golden eyes smoldering with lust. “Already? Impatient today? Or is it that you can't bear to be empty of me?”

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth to wipe your fluids from his face and worked his belt and pants loose. You crawled around the bed, turning so you were in it properly instead of short-wise how the two of you started. Knees bent, feet planted on the mattress, fingers fondling your stiff clit and the bundle of nerves that ran under the skin there, you licked your lips in anticipation as Clavis positioned himself between your knees.

“Fill me up.” You whispered seductively as you spread your labia and legs wider for him to fit.

Clavis sank into you. You were so wet he didn't need any additional strokes to bury himself fully in your cunt. He filled you and you pulsated around his cock. “Oh fuck, oh God, haaahnngh– Clavis!”

Your voice must have sparked something in him, because he gave you no time to adjust, pumping into you right away. His cock pushed into your cunt, rubbing your walls that were still trying to manage his size while also flexing around him. Ah, he felt so good, so hard. You loved to feel him bare inside you. 

Clavis scooped up your ankles, one at a time, setting your knees on his shoulders, kissing the inside of your leg as he put each one into place. Your pussy squeezed him tighter with your legs pressed together rather than spread wide around his hips. He loved the way you felt, too. The way your folds slid against his dick, the way your inner walls fluttered around him and how you felt where his tip rubbed your insides.

A moan escaped you, low and drawn out as he adjusted to push you into a mating press. His cock going even deeper and nudging against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. One of his hands grabbed your hip, as if to hold you in place as he pumped faster and pounded harder. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, leaving marks that wouldn’t bruise but would stay red for some time to come.

Instinctively, you went to cover your mouth, but remembering that you intended to put on a show for Clavis’ neighbor, you instead bit your knuckle as you let your squeaks and gasps pass through clenched teeth. Clavis was more enthusiastic than usual, his hips slapping against your ass, literally pounding the sounds out of your throat with every thrust, his weight rocking you and the bed.

Your fingers on your free hand dug into the comforter. You were close, the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter. Spreading your legs to drop them from Clavis’ shoulders, you opened your hips for him and felt him sink that last half-inch from nothing padding between your hips and his. His cock bottomed out, his pelvis completely flush with yours. Just a little longer and you’d be coming, you were so. Very. Close.

The noises you were making must have clued him in because after a few thrusts as deep as he could reach, Clavis ground his sex against yours, churning his cock inside you. The way his pubis mons rubbed against your clit while his dick rubbed you from the inside was exactly what you needed.

The stimulation sent the pressure bursting inside you. It snapped, cracking like a whip to the back of your skull. You might have been whimpering and keening before, but now you let out full blown moans that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Every breath, every exhale had you loudly crying out as your cunt spasmed and clenched again and again while Clavis refused to relent, continuing to stimulate you and draw your orgasm out.

He rode through it, enjoying the way you squeezed and milked him. Dropping down to press kiss after kiss against your parted lips, he resumed rocking into you once you finally regained the ability to control your voice again. He hadn’t yet finished, and from the way he was stroking himself with your pussy, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Clavis always slowed down right before coming, like he needed to draw out the feeling of you on his cock.

“Mmmmmn. Haaaah.” You allowed yourself to make pleasurable sounds, feeling every part of his dick rubbing against your sensitive insides. Unintentionally, your cunt clenched, perhaps you liked to hear yourself too? You had never really considered it before. “Nnngh, Clavis.”

As his name passed your lips, Clavis bucked into you. Without pulling out, he thrust against you again, and then a third time, trying to bury himself deeper, his biological need to pour his seed as deep as he can taking over.

“Oh fuck–nnngh!” You couldn’t feel his seed spilling inside you, but the way his cock throbbed, and the way his hips connected with yours was telling enough. And damn! It felt so good to have him thrusting so deeply, unable to pull himself free of his instincts. Like your sexes were communicating, you couldn’t help as your pussy spasmed in response to his cock pulsating inside you. 

Clavis cuddled against you on top of you, and you brushed your fingers through his hair. It wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again, his cock rarely ever got soft once it was hard. The both of you took your time to catch your breath, nuzzling in the warmth of each other and the heat you had generated. Your lips connected, and wet kisses were shared between the both of you. His tongue sought yours and you matched his enthusiasm.

Clavis’ hands began to wander over your body, groping all the places he hadn’t had a chance to, yet. Then an uncommon sound came from the wall shared with the neighboring room. A purposeful knock. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your jaw dropped and Clavis’ eyes went wide before you both erupted into laughter.

“What do you say we give him another round to listen to?” You giggled, fingers trailing over Clavis’ lower back.

“Only if you make those same sounds, again. You sang beautifully.” Clavis shifted, covering your mouth with his and coaxing a low moan out of your throat.

[simpingforbots]

Big scary Grandpa - part 4

Humans are really easily hurt, but also very resilient, watching as Rob play brawl with one of terrans, Jawbreaker, having fun of his life, playfully bumping heads. Letting a heavy sigh, not with heavy spark, Megatron scanned aorund, mentally counting all the kids and feeling proud at their slow but steady development, yet it still felt like someone was missing. Crossing his arms on his chassis, big bot wondered to him self what were you up to today, knowing well that you will brag about your activities, smiling to him self.

Its been a week and a half now and he’s been diligently visiting small human every night, this time not scaring you half to death. And slowly started running out of stories to tell about Cybertron, now speaking about recent events and just how his day was, and you happily sharing your daily events, particularly proud of earning coins and able to fish. Though so far you did not managed to catch anything, but not giving up, a good trade to have. Makes him proud. And he can not wait to bring you, just needs to find right timing to take you here during the day, grumbling about the plan. He can try to sneak you away during one of “free time” where kids are let loose to do what ever they want in camp, yet it is a short window to be able to accomplish it without alarm.

“Something on your mind, big guy?” waking up from his thoughts, Megatron looked down, smiling at Dorothy, who was enjoying her morning coffee, wrapped in a soft blanket, enjoying watching kids play fight as well. She is an amazing person for adopting all five terrans and handling things well so far, and the kids respected her in return. He almost fainted from laughing form that one time when Nightshade attempted to upgrade her prosthetic leg in mothers day.

“Something like this” bot tilted his head from side to side, still keeping eye on kids to make sure non will get hurt, though Terrance knew well about humans and their fragility. “How things coming along with young once, they do not give you to much trouble, do they?”

“Non at all. In fact they help around. But I do wish they did not” a snort escaped her and Megs let out a chuckle as well, knowing well what she meant by this. Bee was now trying to get their attention for another training, or a play-training, just to keep kids attention on him, getting all worked up “So, how things going so far? Heard you disappear of to somewhere every night now?”

“Let me guess, Prime is concerned and he is asking you to enquire about my whereabouts?” big bot rolled his opticks.. he can already picture the text filled with emojis. Why is he using so many emojis?

“He is concerned about you, Megs. You’ve been disappearing off to somewhere without telling anyone. I am worried as well.”

“I can asure you it’s nothing to be that concerned about, Dorothy” Meg sighed, shoulders dropping “Say, do you know by any chance what young ones like?”

“Well they do love soft and cute stuff, poor fluffy ears is now getting pampered with all the love I am scared they will spoil them rotten.”

“Hmm”

You yanked on fishing rood, able to feel hook dig in to flesh and something started to fight back. Glee spreading though your body and able to feel your heart pumping like crazy, you started riling the catch in as fast as you can, feet digging in to the splintered wooden planks of an old pier, grunting as the fish fought quite hard. For weeks now you came here during the free time, throwing in line after line, coming empty handed and with less bait, making you angry and curse all that lived in water for not daring to be caught in a hook. But finally your work paid of and you managed to pull out quite a big  yellow perch that you knew for sure thanks to animal crossing. Letting squeals of excitement, you struggled to unhook the fish, getting scratch in prosses, you tossed the fish in to bucket of water, letting it suffocate slowly while you will fish for it’s bodies, leaving it to a cruel death... yeah, not a good way to go, but you did not care, tossing another hook with bait in to water after hours in grilling sun, hiding beneath shadow of your cap and sun-cream protection, you manage to rill in more fish and now were running to kitchen to show of your catch to cook, who ruffled your hair, praising the skills. You grinned, posing for the photos with the catch as to show your proof to Megatron about your successful catch. You honestly looked forward to seeing him every day now, even if the first time scared you so much. The big bot felt more like a grandpa to you now, someone you can go to yap about your day and get treats, a big scary grandpa that was in interspecies galactic sized war, and being a redeemed war criminal. Yet you felt safe and secure every time you were held by big bot, cradled and called something in strange alien language.

With photos on your phone, you skipped out, skipping over to the shop to get something nice on coins you got, trying to think on what yoou can spend it on. So far you spend the coins on useful things and fish bait, so a little treat will be nice. Walking in to the building, you happy to see that the arcades were free of people, leaving you to play them alone, which you will do. Shoving in the coin, you watched the black screen blink in to life, colorfull character showing up on set of metal bars and a huge gorilla climbing up with lady in it’s hand. Classic, smile spreading on your face, you pushed the joystick, forcing character to move, venturing on dangerous journey to safe the lady. Eight-bit music played along, deafening your perception of reality and failing to hear footsteps approaching from behind and only reacting to touch when your small handmade coin purse was yanked of your hip, forcing you to abandoned your noble quest and spin around, shooting daggers out of your eyes at a very familiar bitch.

“Give it back Dupeng!!!” you barked out, swiping at the little pouch, which were easily pulled away. You knew well that you are not be able to fight them, not because you were outnumbered but because who they were. This was a team of your school cheerleaders, one of the best and because you dared to get your hair done on colour, after begging your parents for it, you were suddenly a target. You got shoved, lunch stolen and even one time got locked in toilet. You tried telling teachers but they turned blind eye because Dupeng was Principals daughter. You hated how she got away with so much where others would get punished for vaping in restrooms.

“Well well well, look who it is. How are you doing?” trying to act all sweet, Dupeng flattered her huge fake eyelashes at you, hiding your purse behind her back while other girls giggled as if they knew something you did not. “So, you know, me and the girls are wondering, where is it you sneaking of every night? Are you like, dating someone here?”

“What?” you frowned, cocking one of the eyebrows on confusion. “Pardon?”

“I mean with your ugly face it must be Dave, huh? Are you two like ugly ducklings couple?” girls chuckled “did he give you this?”

Your eyes grow wide as your little secret is pulled from behind on of the girls back, passed to the front with disgusted expression. Every person seeks comfort for the night, it’s normal, but being surrounded by mean teens made it difficult, but you just could not get any rest unless you are hugging mr. Teddy – a generic looking teddy bear that once had soft fur, now curled from all the love you gave him. Blood boiled inside your body, fist tightening up and ready to jump pink haired bitch that held Teddy by the foot with two fingers, making faces as if she was holding a bag of trash instead. You were sure you hid it well, even zipping up your tent, going as far as being placed on the edge, yet those fucks still went out of their way to get it.

“Dupeng. GIVE. IT. BACK” you snarled out, eyes focused on her and venom sipping in to the tone. You can take all the bullying just fine, you are used to it, but Teddy was a step to far overt the line. “NOW”

“I would, but it will be so boring JUST to give it back, you know” Dupeng snorted, hooding plush to the side “I mean I went though all the rouble to get it, right girls?” the group nodded and hummed in agreement “So it will be un-fare to give it back without something in return”

“You can have the coins” you blurted out quckly. Money here was one of necessities for her type and you hade enough to pay the fee to free your toy, plus you can always earn more, just need to think of ways to keep your night comfort even more well hidden, maybe getting a small lock and shoving him in to bag?

“Nah, that is to easy” She snorted and a wicked smile slithered on her face.

---

“FUCK fuck fuck fuck!” you swore under your breath, quietly making your way though the forest, flashlight of your phone acting as the only light once more, only this time there is no path to follow, no safety of predetermine path and knowing that Megatron will be there. The task you were given to complete in return of safe return of teddy was to go to an old abandoned out post and bring something from there. It was of limits and further in to the forest, out of bounds of legal camp site, and surpunded by scary rumours. Ghost, ghouls, homeless people, cannibals, killers – it had every thing and now you had to go in to the tall building and bring something from it. Shuddering, you cursed even more jumping at every frogs croaks and owls hoot, cursing your self for not being tough enough to fight back, yet with how your parents raised you it become difficult to. And it just had to be fool moon, shining high above the dark forest. Slowly making your way though the forest, you strated catching corners of warning signs pooping in your light, meaning you were on the right track, keep pushing though. The warning increased with every step and soon enough the old post showed up on the horizon, the old wooden building standing proudly above the ground and towering over the forest. You shivered, pulling jacket over your self and climbed through the hole in the chicken wire fence, over-grown with greenery and weeds, getting closer. The wooden beams were long time plagued by moss and rot, bugs eating in to it, making nest and spiders webs in the corners of the building. Old metal stairs creaked loudly beneath your weight, cursing to bend and drop you down any second you were not carful and the fear bit at your ankles.

“Fuck you Dupeng!!!!” you screamed out once you finally reached the top, able to have a little break and look aorund. The old building was covered with planks, shards of broken glass scattered around and covered with leaves that were miraculously blown up here. Light zapping around, you can see some letters, rusted metal dish and some other stuff. You can see a crack in one of the boarded up windows, allowing you to peek inside. Right it looks like every thing was left behind in a hurry – the old bed was right there, still unmade and pillows tossed around, grey from all the time and dirt, table still had some plates on it and what ever it was molded and rotted long time ago, old radio was covered in spider webs and dust bunnies. Right this place clearly have not been touched by human hand for a very-very long time, meaning you can grab something quickly and leave. Pulling away from dirty wooden boards, you scanned the area, hopping to find some way in, prying on the door, which creaked loudly and screamed, but did not budge. Right, okay, walking all around the small mini house, with wood sinking in a few places, making your heart skip a beat, you managed to find a hole big enough to crawl in, with skin getting scraped by wood and leaving a few splinters in palms, which you removed with a hissing pain, shocked at how huge they were. It did not smell to nice inside the old building, making you cough immideatly and cover mouth with fabric of your shirt, glansing around for something small to grab and leave, really not wishing to extend your welcome here.

There was a lot of things here – old gramophone, old radio, plates, books and many other things, all is needed to be done so grab smallest thing with a date on it and leave quickly. Walking a bit around, circling the table, eyes shifted aorund the place, spotting an old calendar with date and year, perfect proof that you did visited the cursed place, finally taking a step back and just look around, chuckling at them self. The place, even if abended, did not look that scary, just getting the bad rep like any other old building left to rot and to it’s fate, with teens covering walls in grafity. Though it still smelled bad. Crawling back out, you took your time to enjoy the view, inhaling fresh minty air and leaning on old rail, ignoring all the voices inside your mind screaming about danger. The view from here looked better – the huge full moon shine now pleasantly from above, hanging in the vast space of star filled void, the soft pale light of moon shined gently on the forest, reminding you of one of the famous painting you once saw in museum – Moonlight night on the Dnieper. The way artist perfectly manage to depict light reflecting from the river made it look fascinating and the small moon seemed to glow in the dark it self. From this height you can see the small glitter of fire form the camp, the only indignation people were there. Letting a heavy sigh you grumble a bit, hand clamping on the old calendar, listening to the natures orchestra. It was nice to see something like this, maybe it was not to bad that you were forced to come here, taking out your phone and taking a picture of the scenery, knowing well that the phone wont depict the moon just as glorious as you see it. Suddenly the whole forest went quite – no longer hearing he croaks, crickets no longer sung and the owl went silent, the only noise was the howl of the wind. Your skin prickled with worry and goosebumps run down your spine, getting alert immideatly. Its not a good sign how quickly it all went quite and you knew that it was not Megatron, because by now he did not scare the life in to silence. A quite rumbled echoed somewhere behind and out of curiosity, you circled the building, eyes peering in to the darkness. You can see trees shake valiantly, and the movement to quickly getting closer to the tower.

Okay, never mind, this place is cursed, with bated breath you ran towards stairs, wood creaking loudly and it gave under, dropping you to the floor. You yelped in pain as old wooden floor scraped your knees and you can hear your jeans getting torn, thankfully it was one that you did not regret tearing up, but still. Sucking in the air to ease the pain, you crawled up, back on your feet, the booming getting louder and a clear sound of metal clashing forced your heart to beat faster. Yet seemed luck was not on your side as the loud sound of crashing rattled the entire building and a loud creaking and splintering of wood echoed though the forest with building shaking and slowly tilting, you screamed, rushing to grab on to something for support, eyes wide as the building started falling down with you still in it, lungs burning with scream. You can feel guts shift and blood going cold, wind whistling in your ears and eyes tearing up, watching line of trees getting closer with every nanosecond. You can see life flashing before your own eyes, from childhood to the last second, regretting every thing that you were not to brave to do, the building slamming in to first of trees, wood splintering loudly and you flying out, despite dead mans grip, flying through the forest and hitting the gorund with quite a force to knock the air out of your lungs and you swore you could hear something crack in your body. Immideatly the pain flooded your body, tears swelling up in your eyes and painful lump threatened to choke you, but you did not had time for self pity, able to hear scuffle just inches away from you. Rolling on your stomach, you crawled away cus every time you got up the legs would get all jelly and just fall down. You kept crawling, feeling gorund shake from the fight and actively looking for a way out. Yet it seemd like luck was not on your side ever since Dupeng had her sights on you, huge metal hand wrapping around and pulling you swiftly, air whistled again in ears, world going dizzy and you felt like you were about to hurl.

What is Mandroid and his bugs doing here!? Megatron grumbled, tossing another bug to the side and sending an angry field blast after it, making sure they will not get up back again. He was coming over to see small one, bringing something for them as well. It was difficult to obtain and even harder to leave the base as Prime seemed to go out of his way to talk to him, trying to figure out just were ex decepticon was heading every night, with Elita-one not to far behind with her own questioning. Yes, he had respect for both of them, but had no reason telling them about his privet life, let alone where he was going and got a bit heated about Prime involving Dorothy in to it. It was decided to just let him be and on that note he left to the camp, fuming a bit about the talk. Landing further from the camp then he ususaly does, Megatron slowly started walking towards it, the faint light aiding him with directions what he did not expect is to hear something cliking behind, turning in time to swat flying at his helm metal bug creature, legs spread and screeching. Just what he needed, because if there is one of those things surely the other swarm was not to far behind. And he was not wrong, those things immideatly swarming and forcing him to fight. Blasting at them, forced to fight and praying to Primus that the camp wont hear the fight. Moving around, he was a bit overwhelmed when they combined in to centipede, sending him flying through forest and though some structure, breaking poles and support in process. A blood curdling scream filled the air and something slammed not far behind him, his head snapping to side and opticks growing wide at small little form landing not far from were building collapsed and crawling to get away. There was no good place for you to hide here and you already looked hurt, so he had to quickly grab you and roll as centipede slammed it self. You screamed louder, prying his fingers, propably to confused to even realize it was him, banging on his fist and kicking legs. It made him feel incredibly bad, but now your survival depended on him fully. Blasting at the thing, he manage to break it apart, finally, and stood up, quickly pushing you to his chassis, glaring at surrounding him spider-bots, jumping up to his peds.

Are they seriously gonna attack him with an injured youngling in his servos? It really did not surprise him as dr. Meridian was not above hurting Malto’ kids just because of their mother conection, so hurting another human in order to save humanity form his kind sounded a lot like him. Growling, big bot bared his sharp denta, his plasma gun warming up as one and only warning to the creatures, servo tightening just a bit aorund the small body, his digits pressing just a bit tighter in to small body, able to feel little spark inside your chest flattering like a bird inside the cage, earning for freedome. The creatures did not heard to his warnings, immideatly jumping at him only to get blasted. It will be hard to fight with a human in his hand, but he head to as to run away right now will out him in easy spot to get captured, so fighting was the only way.

Warm fingers tightened around you, you kiked and yelled, to blinded by panic, fear and pain that still was in your back. It felt like a fire and every breath hurt, so you could not speak at all, only clinging on while the huge bot let a deep growl and started fighting again. You just clung, eyes shut tight and waiting for the outcome it seemed like big bot came victorious and let a sigh of relief, you finally opening your eyes one by one, staring around, trying to see what will happened next. The ground was littered with broken bodies of huge spiders made out metal, some twitching time to time, but not functioning at all. The rumble from inside the big bot slowed down a bit, calming down and you finally were pulled away from the chest, eyes staring at familiar face, who you were more then happy to see now. Without more words, you let a heavy sigh of relief, feeling every thing finally hitting you and eyes growing heavy, slumping down, last thing you hear is Megatron worried call or you.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Two: Convergence

Chapter WC: 10,048

Chapter Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of war, blood and medical stuff, child injury, i am not an expert in the Force or in medicine, there are good things in this chapter i promise, very good things some would say

A/N: i have the unfortunate habit of making everything a three-part ordeal. what was originally just this chapter has ballooned into three, last week's chapter and then next week's. thanks for being patient with me, we'll get our man back soon enough. though this chapter isn't without a little bit of Rex 👀

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Nadiem, 20 BBY

A hand shoots up from the rubble, clawing at the air and reaching desperately for the sky.

“Over here!” you shout, and two of your men rush forward and dive into the mess, their hands working furiously to clear the rocks and debris. A cry of pain comes from somewhere within, and the clones move faster, their hands digging and pulling, tossing the rocks aside.

The air burns your throat as you lift your arms and call on the Force to aid their efforts, using it to clear a path. The rubble shifts and moves, and soon, a gap appears. Screwball dives forward and pulls a body free, dragging them out into the open.

“We've got a live civilian, sir," he yells. "It's the kid."

You release a breath, your knees going weak.

The battle was over, and you had just begun the process of evacuating the civilians, the area cleared and the wounded accounted for, or so you'd thought. A nagging feeling had settled in your chest, and it was only after the first transport was off the ground that the source of the disturbance became apparent.

It had been a little boy. Just a boy, buried beneath the ruins. You hadn't sensed him until it was almost too late.

You watch as the men lift the small body and begin carrying them towards the aid station where Wise is waiting. Screwball lingers, his gaze locked on the ruins.

"Are there others?" you ask.

Screwball shakes his head. His helmet is smeared with dust and grime, nearly obscuring the twin flames painted across the sides, and you frown when you notice a gash along the edge of the helmet's visor. You reach up and brush a finger along the split metal, a shiver running down your spine.

"I'm fine, sir," Screwball assures you, his voice low. He glances at the aid station and takes a deep breath. "We've got more important things to worry about."

You can't argue with that. There's a flurry of activity in the distance, and the distant shouts of medics and wounded carry through the air.

You let your hand drop and nod. "Take Dash and do another check. Then report to Wise so he can patch you up."

Screwball doesn't hesitate. He's off, calling for Dash, and you watch as the two clones make their way through the ruins, checking every corner and every shadow. A few others join in the search, and it's not long before the entire company is involved, digging through the wreckage.

Once they're a safe distance away, you allow yourself to collapse, your legs giving out and your body hitting the ground hard. You close your eyes and take a moment to steady yourself. The pain is excruciating, a constant ache radiating throughout your entire body. Your head feels like it's going to explode, and every breath burns. You're exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you can't stop shaking.

This is the worst you've felt in a long time.

It's the aftermath of the battle. The adrenaline is gone, the battle rage spent. It leaves you weak, your limbs heavy, and your mind foggy. The weight of what happened is pressing down on you, the enormity of the destruction bearing down on your soul. You can't shake the feeling of wrongness, the sense that something is missing.

You know it's the darkness. You can feel its absence, its loss. You don't know how, or why, but you know that this is the price you've paid for holding back the tide of the dark side.

But that's nothing new.

You've had that feeling for weeks.

The vision flickers through your mind, the images sharp and vivid. The screams echo in your ears, the smell of burning flesh filling your nostrils, and the taste of blood coats your tongue. You can't shake the image of Rex holding a blaster to your chest.

For a moment during the battle, you'd thought that would be the end of it. That the vision was about to come true. That this was the beginning of the end.

But no. It's still a long way off. You still have time.

Maybe it’ll never come.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to the present, and you suck in a sharp breath. Your eyes open, your hand falling to the hilts of your lightsabers, but the sight of a familiar gold-and-white helmet eases the panic.

"It's okay," Snap murmurs. "They're safe."

You sigh and let your shoulders slump, the exhaustion washing over you. You wipe your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Thank the Force," you whisper as you turn  and find him kneeling beside you. You're not sure how long he's been there, but worry is emanating from him. You touch his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I'm alright."

"Sure you are," he says, his tone flat. "Come on, let's get you up."

He lets out a breath, his gaze shifting to the battlefield, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. Snap pulls you to your feet, and the two of you stand, surveying the carnage. The fighting has stopped, the smoke has cleared, and the wounded are being treated. But the damage remains.

"We'll need to send a team down here," you say, more to yourself than to him. "Clear out the rubble and get the rest of the supplies unloaded. Make sure the survivors have food and water."

"Booker's taking care of it," he assures you. He lets his hand fall from your shoulder and looks back at the battlefield. "Once the wounded have been cleared, we can start the repairs."

"Good," you murmur as you sigh and run a hand over your face. Your skin is slick with sweat, and the dirt and ash cling to your fingers. You grimace and wipe your hand on your robe. "C'mon."

The two of you step back into the street and join the rest of the attack battalion. The fighting is over, but the work is far from done. Nadiem is a mess. Buildings have collapsed, the roads are filled with debris, and the streets are littered with the bodies of droids and clones alike. The dead will need to be collected, their armor removed and their bodies given a proper burial.

It was a victory, but it didn’t feel much like one. Nadiem is a remote world, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The only reason the Separatists were here at all was because the Republic had chosen to defend it. Now, it was nothing more than a scar. A reminder of a war that had gone on too long.

Master Unduli, Barriss, and their men had come and gone, leaving you behind to handle cleanup, and in some ways you're glad for it. Being left to do what is necessary has always suited you, and with Luminara gone, there was no longer any need to maintain the facade. No more pretending that everything was fine. No more pretending that you could ever be the kind of Jedi Master she is.

You and the troopers have a routine now. Every time a battle is over, you go through the same process. Check for survivors. Treat the wounded. Collect the dead. Dispose of the fallen droids. And, finally, begin the rebuilding. You've done this a dozen times in the past few months, and the process has become rote.

The only difference now is the size of the battle. It's bigger. Worse. And the carnage is even more gruesome.

Still, the men don't complain. The full brigade is spread out around the city and the countryside, and Booker and Wise have been working tirelessly to get the injured into transports and the supplies delivered. You've made it a point to thank them both, and each of the men under your command, but you know the words are never going to be adequate.

These men have risked their lives for you, over and over. They've fought by your side, protected you, and supported you. You're grateful for them, and you're determined to repay their loyalty in whatever ways you can.

For now, the best you can do is keep the fighting going. To protect them, and to ensure that they are ready, no matter what comes. No matter how dark things become.

Your feet stop, your gaze lifting to scan the ruins. The buildings are a mixture of stone and metal, the facades crumbling and the windows blown out. There's no power. No lights. Just a thick darkness and an eerie quiet that's only broken by the sounds of your men trudging through the streets.

“What a mess," you murmur. You take a deep breath, your hand coming to rest on your chest. It hurts to breathe, a sharp stabbing pain in your ribs. "This is going to take days to clean up."

Snap nods, his helmet tilting toward the horizon. The sky is streaked with orange and red, the clouds heavy and dark. Night is coming. The air is still, and the faint smell of smoke lingers. There's no wind, no breeze, no sign of life. The city feels like a tomb.

”Yeah," he agrees, his voice quiet. 

He reaches up and removes his helmet, tucking it under his arm. His free hand runs over his face and his buzzed head, his fingers lingering on the tattoo at the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I hate this," Snap mutters, and you study him, his words making your chest ache. He gives a slight shake of his head, his hand tightening around his helmet. "I hate it so much."

"I know," you murmur.

You look away, trying not to let the emotion show.

In the early days of the war, the clones had been enthusiastic and eager to fight. They had a purpose. Something to believe in. And their dedication and passion was infectious.

Now, after so many months, that passion has shifted into a grim determination. One borne of necessity and the need to survive. To protect their brothers. It's still there, and it's still strong, but there's an exhaustion and a resignation. An acceptance.

It's a reality you don't like to think about.

The truth is, this is all just a stepping stone. It's a path you know you have to walk, but a path you hope will eventually lead to a place where your men no longer have to fight. No longer have to sacrifice their lives. No longer have to die for a cause they didn't choose.

It's a goal, a distant hope. But it's a hope that you'll do anything to see realized.

You glance over at Snap and see him watching you, and there's something in his gaze that you can't quite place.

"Is everything alright?" you ask. "You seem...off."

He sighs and drops his gaze, his hand tightening around his helmet.

"No," he says, and his shoulders slump. "But I think it will be. Eventually."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, and he blinks. Snap's hand tightens on the back of his neck as he looks away, his gaze returning to the crumbling streets, and you can see his expression softening.

"There's a group of kids playing a game a little ways down the street," he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "I…I'm afraid they'll get lost, or hurt."

You smile and rest a hand on his upper back, giving him a gentle pat. "Go. Keep them safe. We can handle the rest."

His gaze lingers on yours, and he smiles, his eyes lighting up.

"Thank you," Snap murmurs.

"You don't have to thank me," you reply. You return the smile and push him lightly toward the group of children, who are gathered around a small crater. "Just get out of here before I change my mind, Captain.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. He's off, jogging down the street, his armor flashing in the dim light. You watch him go, your smile fading with every step he takes until he's nothing more than a blur of white.

Then you close your eyes and let out a slow breath, your shoulders sagging. Your hand reaches into the folds of your robes and grabs hold of the smooth stone hidden there. It's warm to the touch, and a familiar peace settles over you, faint, but enough to aid you in pushing the fear and grief away.

Ever since your vision, you've found yourself reaching for Yaddle's necklace more often. Holding it in your hand. Clutching it tight. Trying to find the same calm, the same peace that she seemed to exude. The same certainty.

But it's difficult. So difficult. And you've begun to wonder if there will ever be an end to this war. If you'll ever have the chance to make things right and give the clones the lives they deserve. To find peace, and justice.

The thought is troubling, and you shake it away, focusing on the here and now. You take another deep breath and exhale slowly, letting the darkness settle back into the corners of your mind, and the necklace falls back into your tunic. You turn and continue on your way, heading for the center of the city.

Your footsteps echo off the buildings, the silence broken by the occasional shouts and whistles from the troops. You can hear the rumble of speeders in the distance, and the distant cries of the wounded. The air is thick, heavy with dust and ash, and you find yourself coughing, your eyes burning.

"General!"

You look up and see Booker approaching. He's carrying a crate full of ration packs, and he looks exhausted, his hair disheveled and his mustache unkempt. But there's a hint of satisfaction on his face, and he's moving with an ease and grace that's been absent in recent months.

"You look like shit," you quip, and he snorts.

"Speak for yourself," he retorts. He comes to a halt and sets the crate down, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The medics have got everything under control, and I think the last transport should be leaving soon."

"Any issues?"

"None worth mentioning," he replies. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he scans the surrounding area. "Dash has already started working on the comm tower. The rest of the supplies should be here soon. Hopefully, we can get the power running and the civilians can start settling back in."

"And the wounded?"

"We're bringing the ones who can make the trek to the aid station in the next town over," he says. His eyes return to you, and there's a flicker of concern. "Are you sure you don't want to join them? You look like you could use a breather."

You shake your head.

"I'm fine," you assure him.

His lips thin, and he doesn't look convinced. He glances at the crate and picks it back up, balancing it on his hip.

"Well, if you won't rest, at least take a ration pack," he says as he throws one of the packs at you. "You've barely eaten anything since we landed."

You catch the pack and turn it over, the plastic crinkling. Your stomach rumbles, and the realization that you've gone most of the day without eating suddenly hits. You hadn't noticed.

Booker chuckles and shakes his head, giving you a small salute.

"I'm gonna make another round, check in with the guys," he says. "Let me know if you need anything."

He's off, disappearing around the corner, and you watch him go, the ration pack still in your hand. You look down at it, the hunger pangs intensifying, and you sigh. You’ve all been eating nothing but ration packs and instant caf for weeks now, interspersed with the mess hall meals served on your ships. The Oracle, Utterance, and Pathfinder are all more than adequate, and the crews have done their best to make sure you have food that's edible, but it's not the same. Nothing tastes right. And as the days go on, you find yourself looking forward to that dinner with Rex more and more.

The thought sends a wave of warmth through you, and you smile, tearing open the pack and taking a bite.

You'll need to talk to him soon, you know. Tell him the truth. About the vision, about the darkness, about the fact that you love him. But as always, the timing is off.

You haven’t seen Rex in person since you were on Coruscant, and the only communications have been brief exchanges via holo. It's not a conversation you want to have through a screen, and the distance has been a blessing. It's made it easier to hide the truth, and you're grateful for the opportunity to have time to think, and plan, and prepare.

Rex has his own struggles, and the stress of the war is wearing on him. His missions have become more dangerous, and his responsibilities have increased. It's no longer uncommon for him to disappear for days with no communication. None of those stints were as long as the two months you’d spend in the jungle on Drongar, comm silent and cut off from the galaxy, but it had still felt like an eternity.

But, he'd come back. Every time, he'd come back.

The last message you received from Rex was encouraging, promising a dinner and a drink and a hug the next time you were both on Coruscant, and despite everything, the thought had put a smile on your face.

The fact that he's still interested, that he still wants to be with you, means more than you can say. And even if he can't admit his feelings, or doesn't want to, you're grateful for the chance to be close to him, and the fact that he's willing to try.

You take another bite and let your gaze wander. The street is mostly empty, and you can see the beginnings of repairs beginning to take shape. Apparently, Screwball is capable of more than blowing things up. His expertise with demolitions and architecture has proved useful, and he's already barking out directions to a group of clones and civilians as they work to repair the damaged facade of a nearby building.

It’s a relief to see something be created instead of destroyed for the first time in days, and you find yourself breathing a sigh. You tuck the wrapper into the folds of your robe and turn on your heel, heading towards the aid station. The sun is setting, and you want to check in with Wise and make sure everything is going well before the darkness settles.

You speak into your comm as you walk, fielding reports from the other battalions about their progress and their efforts. It's been a long day, but things are starting to come together. It won't be long before the civilians can start returning home, and you'll be able to return to the ships, and maybe even return to Coruscant, if you’re lucky.

The door to the makeshift aid station creaks slightly as you shoulder it open, and the smell of blood and bacta washes over you.

What used to be a small schoolhouse is now a large triage unit, with rows of cots filled with injured civilians and clones. Medics are scurrying around, attending to the wounded, though there isn’t a droid in sight, as per Wise’s instructions. He claims it’s easier on the wounded civilians, but you both know it has more to do with his personal distaste for droids.

It seems the worst of the injuries have been treated, and the remaining patients are being tended to. You make your way around the room, taking deep, steady breaths and trying to spread a sense of calm, the way Master Yaddle taught you. You stop to offer a reassuring word or two, but most of the injured seem content to just sit quietly, the exhaustion and the pain apparent on their faces.

"Sir."

A voice calls to you from across the room, and you turn to see Wise approaching, wiping his hands on a towel. He looks haggard, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dull, and he stops a safe distance away. The usual grumpy scowl has been replaced with an expression of weariness and worry, and your chest tightens.

"What's the status?" you ask, and his eyes dart over your shoulder, toward the far wall. 

You follow his gaze, and your stomach clenches at the sight of a boy asleep on the cot. His head is wrapped in bandages, his arm is in a sling, and there are several bruises and cuts on his exposed skin. You recognize him as the boy Screwball and his men had pulled out of the rubble. You can't help but wonder if he has any family left, and your throat constricts.

"He's stable," Wise mutters. He rubs his neck, his expression grim. "We lost a few more on the transports, but I've got the worst of them under control."

Your eyes snap back to him, alarmed by his tone. His words are flat, his voice monotone, and his usual sarcasm is absent. You've seen this before. Many times. It's a look of resignation, of acceptance, and it never means anything good.

"How many?"

"Six," he replies. He sighs and rubs his forehead, his hand trembling slightly. "And that was just today. It's only a matter of time before the number rises."

You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He's staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, and his fingers drum nervously on his leg.

"I'm sorry," you tell him. His eyes dart to yours, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"It's not your fault," Wise mutters, but the words are hollow. "It's not anyone's fault. It's just the way it is."

"I know," you answer quietly. "But, still...I'm sorry. You're doing all you can, and—"

"Hey," he interrupts, his tone softening. "It's not your fault, either."

You don't reply. You know he's right. You can't blame yourself for every tragedy that happens. But it's difficult, especially in the wake of the vision. Especially after days like this.

"It's fine. Really,” Wise continues. He takes a deep breath and takes your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it drop to your side. “It's just part of the job. You know that."

"Yeah," you murmur, and a heavy silence stretches between the two of you. Wise shifts awkwardly, his gaze returning to the boy on the cot, and you know the conversation is over. There's nothing left to say. No more platitudes or reassurances. Just the grim reality of the situation.

You watch him, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the exhaustion in his gaze, and after a while, you let out a heavy sigh and straighten.

"You should rest," you tell him. "The others, too."

"Yeah," he agrees, running a hand over his face. "I think we could all use a few hours."

"Get some sleep," you order, and he nods and turns, making his way through the rows of beds. He murmurs something to the other medics, and they nod, moving away from the cots and heading for the door. 

Wise lingers behind, and your eyes follow him as he goes around the room, checking the IVs and adjusting the blankets, a tenderness and care in his movements. He stops by the boy's bed and places a hand on the child's forehead, his thumb brushing a strand of hair away. His shoulders slump as he pulls away, pinching the bridge of his nose, and a wave of sadness washes over you.

Wise is the last of his batch, and he's seen more death and destruction than most. He's spent most of his life in Kamino’s sterile medical facility, watching his brothers die from defects that never should have existed and training regimens that were meant to break them. The sight of a child, so young and so full of promise, is no doubt bringing back a host of painful memories, and it's all you can do to hold yourself together.

“Wise," you call, and he starts, his head whipping towards you. He blinks rapidly and straightens, his expression hardening.

"Sir."

"I'm serious," you say. "Get some sleep."

"Yeah," he says, his voice low. He gives a slight shake of his head, his eyes flitting back to the bed. "Right."

“You should go now while you can. I'll watch him,” you offer.

"No," Wise protests, his eyes moving back to yours. His jaw tightens, and a spark of defiance appears in his eyes. "Sir, you need sleep, too. You can't—"

"I'm fine," you assure him, holding a hand up. "Besides, I can't sleep right now. My mind is...well, it's not quiet."

“And you think mine is?”

The sharpness of his tone catches you off-guard, and your mouth snaps shut. Wise pauses, a flash of regret crossing his face, and he clears his throat and gives a slight shake of his head.

"Just...just let me stay. Please. I...I don't want him to be alone."

"Wise—"

"Please," he says, his voice cracking. His eyes are wide, pleading, and you know there's no point in arguing. Not now.

"Fine," you relent. He lets out a breath, and his shoulders relax. “I guess we’re both staying, then.”

Wise doesn’t argue. Instead, he just nods and moves around the bed, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the sleeping boy. He settles into the seat, his hands reaching out and gripping the sides, and you make your way across the room, settling down in the chair opposite him.

The boy doesn’t stir, and the silence is deafening. You lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Your head drops, your eyes closing, and for a few minutes, you sit like that, listening to the steady beeping of the monitors and the faint rumble of the engines and voices outside.

It's peaceful, in a strange sort of way, and you can feel yourself drifting off, the exhaustion and the adrenaline crash finally taking their toll. It's tempting, the thought of giving in, but you fight it, knowing that the nightmares are waiting just below the surface. Ready to swallow you whole.

The darkness has been a constant companion, a weight hanging over your shoulders and a threat always lurking just out of reach. Ever since the vision, the fear has been almost overwhelming, and it's all you can do to keep the paranoia and the anxiety at bay.

The only time the darkness abates is when you’re around your men, and you’ve spent more time than you probably should surrounded by them. Playing Sabacc. Training. Talking. Doing anything, really, that would take your mind off the darkness and the visions and the ever-present threat.

The truth is, they have become your lifeline. Your source of light and hope and strength. Their presence is a reminder of the goodness and the beauty of the galaxy. Of the things worth fighting for. Of the reasons to continue, even in the face of the darkness.

There's a reason you were given this brigade, and not another. It's not a coincidence, not a fluke. You know that. The Force has led you here, to these men. And for whatever reason, they need you, too. They have a purpose, and so do you.

You're not sure how long it is before Wise breaks the silence, his voice low and rough.

"I couldn't save them," he mutters, and you open your eyes, glancing over at him. His face is drawn, his gaze fixed on the child, and his shoulders sag, his eyes moving to the floor. "I...there were so many. And, I just..."

His words trail off, and he takes a shuddering breath, his head dropping into his hands. They slide up, his fingers digging into his scalp, and he exhales a ragged gasp. 

"It's not your fault," you murmur, and his fingers tighten, his head shaking. You reach out and rest a hand on his arm, your thumb finding the spot between the plates at his elbow, and you can feel him tense.

"I could have done more," he mumbles. "I should have done more."

"You did all you could," you assure him, and he shakes his head again. "Wise, there was nothing you could have done. You can't save everyone. And that's not your responsibility. That's not on you. You have to understand that."

"I should have done more," he insists. He pulls back and meets your eyes, his own red and watery. "They deserved more. Better. I..."

He sighs, his hands rubbing his face, and you lean forward, your grip on his arm tightening. You're not sure what to say. There's nothing you can say. Nothing you can do. So instead, you reach out with the Force and wrap it around him, hoping that your presence, your support, will be of some comfort.

"The men...they don’t understand,” he mutters, his hands falling into his lap. "They're different. They didn't...they never saw the others. The ones that didn't make it."

His voice is barely above a whisper, and his gaze falls to the floor. You can see the tears glistening in his eyes, the emotions threatening to burst free. But he doesn’t cry. Instead, his hands ball into fists, and he looks back at the boy, a grim determination crossing his face.

"I'll save this kid," he mutters. "I have to."

"I know," you say quietly, and his eyes flick to yours, the pain and the anguish reflected in their depths. "And you will."

"He didn't ask for any of this," Wise murmurs. He shakes his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "He's just a kid. Just a fucking kid, and now, he's..."

His voice cracks, and he lets out a choked noise, his eyes closing as he struggles to breathe.

Your hand tightens on his arm, and you pull him towards you, wrapping him in a hug. He stiffens, his breath catching, and for a moment, neither of you move. Then, slowly, his arms lifts, his hands coming up and gripping the fabric of your robe. His face presses into your shoulder, and his shoulders shake, the tears soaking through the thin fabric.

You close your eyes, wrapping him in the warmth and the safety of the Force, and hold him, your hand moving up and cradling the back of his head. You can feel the weight of his grief, the pain and the loss, and it's almost too much. But somehow, you manage to stay strong. To hold it back. To stay in control.

It’s easier, you think, to help someone else deal with their pain. There’s something in it that calms the darkness, something that pushes it aside, and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief. You may be haunted, you may be a wreck, but this...this you can handle. This is something you can do.

After a while, his silent sobs subside, and his breathing slows, his body relaxing in your embrace. You keep him close, holding him tight, and it's not until his grip loosens and his head shifts that you finally release him. Your hands come up to cup his face, wiping away the tears, and you give him a small smile. Wise isn't the only brother who has ever cried in your arms, and you know better than to think this is the last time.

You reach into your robes and retrieve a cloth, handing it to him, and he accepts it with a quiet thanks, his voice hoarse.

"Sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be," you reply easily. You lean back and fold your hands, resting them in your lap. "We all need a good cry now and again. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Wise huffs a laugh, wiping his face and blowing his nose.

"It's been a while," he admits, his cheeks flushed, and you hum in response.

"Guess you were due."

"Guess so," he grunts. He takes a deep breath, the air rattling in his lungs, and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Thanks."

"You don’t have to thank me. I'm just glad you trust me," you say, and his head jerks up. He opens his mouth, a protest forming on his lips, but you hold up a hand, silencing him. "No, it's true. I am. And I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. But I want you to know that I'm here. I may be your general, but I’m also your friend. Whether you want me to be or not."

Wise scoffs and rolls his eyes, though the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile.

"I don’t think that’s how friendship works, sir," he points out, his eyes returning to the boy. His brow furrows, and he reaches out, brushing the hair away from the child's forehead. "Not that I'd know."

“Yeah, it’s…a pretty new concept for me, too," you admit. "But I think I'm getting the hang of it. You should give it a try."

He laughs. It's a short, harsh bark, and his hand falls away. His gaze turns inward, his expression pensive. After a while, he lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his forehead.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

He huffs a breath, shaking his head.

"I guess you're not the worst," he concedes. "For a Jedi."

"Wow, thanks," you reply dryly.

"I mean, at least you're not Skywalker," he continues. Wise lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. "That guy is a fucking mess."

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sudden laughter, and his mouth curves into a grin, the first genuine smile you've seen in days. You’re a little delirious, maybe, but you can't help the laughter that spills from your lips.

You haven't seen much of Anakin lately, or any of the other Jedi for that matter, but you've heard plenty of rumors. You have no doubt that Rex has seen more than his fair share of reckless behavior and dramatic stunts recently. It's no secret that Anakin and Ahsoka have gotten themselves into more trouble than most, and the image of Wise being assigned to the 501st instead of the 419th has you struggling to breathe. 

“You should’ve seen him when he was a Padawan," you say after your laughter subsides. "He made me look sane and rational."

"You're shitting me," he deadpans.

"Not in the slightest," you reply. "Trust me, it's better that you ended up with us. He'd probably drive you insane within a week."

Wise snorts, the grin fading.

"I didn't ‘end up’ anywhere," he says quietly as he reaches out, fixing the corner of the child's blanket. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze darts away. "I chose to serve with you. It wasn't an assignment."

"I...well, that's..." you stammer, his words catching you off guard. He clears his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck, and you blink a couple of times. "Oh."

You had assumed he was assigned, the same way Booker was. And the rest of the men, for that matter. That the Republic had decided to pluck him from the clutches of the Kaminoans, and the recommendation from Booker and Rex had only helped seal the deal. You had never considered that he had actually chosen to be here, and the realization is almost more than you can take.

"I wanted a change," he mumbles, and his fingers drum nervously on the side of the cot. "Booker and I talked about it, and...I knew it was a risk, but, well, we're clones. Risks are part of the job. And you're the best we've got."

"Oh."

You don't know what else to say. The words are stuck in your throat, and it's all you can do not to start crying, too. He chose this. He chose you. He came to the 419th because he thought you were the best, and he was willing to risk his life and his future to fight alongside you. Not because he had to, not because someone ordered him to, but because he wanted to.

And, if that isn't the biggest sign of respect you could ever receive, you don't know what is.

You take a deep breath, swallowing hard, and Wise shifts, his gaze fixed on the blanket.

"Don't let it go to your head," he adds, his voice gruff.

"I'll try not to," you murmur, and his gaze flicks to yours, the corners of his mouth curving upward. He looks tired. Exhausted, really. And a little sad. But there's a hint of fondness, too. A sense of affection.

You smile back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest, and the two of you settle back in your seats. Neither of you speaks, and the silence stretches on. It's not long before a yawn escapes your lips as the exhaustion finally catches up with you, the weariness settling into your bones. Your eyes are starting to droop, and you lean your head back, resting it against the wall. 

You can feel Wise watching you, and after a while, his chair creaks, and you hear his footsteps receding. You don't open your eyes. You're too tired. Too comfortable.

It feels like no time passes before you're suddenly being jolted awake by a noise, a soft whimper. You start, your eyes snapping open, and for a moment, you're not sure where you are. There's a blanket draped over you, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the monitors above the bed. You blink a couple of times, taking in your surroundings, and your gaze lands on Wise, slumped over a nearby desk, his face pressed against his folded arms.

The boy is still asleep, but his forehead is creased, his eyes moving behind his lids. There's a sheen of sweat on his brow, his breathing rapid and uneven. The monitor above his head beeps in warning, and a low groan escapes his lips as his hands scrabble at the sheets, his legs kicking.

You leap from the chair and cross the space between the beds in a flash, your hand reaching out and grabbing his wrist. You can feel his pulse racing, and the bandages are wet with sweat. The beeping intensifies, and the boy starts thrashing, his head shaking from side to side, and his eyes snap open, his gaze unfocused.

"Kid?" you whisper, your fingers brushing the damp hair off his forehead. He whimpers again, his body going limp, and his eyes close, his head lolling to the side. "Shit. Wise!"

Wise jerks awake and straightens, his chair falling over as he leaps to his feet. His eyes land on the boy, and he crosses the distance between the beds, his hands reaching for the bandages around the child's head.

"It's okay, kiddo. It's gonna be okay," he murmurs, his eyes darting to the monitors. "Help me sit him up. I'm going to have to change the bandages and check the wound."

You nod, reaching for the kid's shoulder, and the two of you carefully roll him onto his side. Wise reaches for the bandage on the back of his head and gingerly peels it away, exposing a nasty gash, the edges blackened and bloody.

Wise sucks in a breath, his eyes widening, and his hand moves, gently parting the hair and touching the area. He pulls a medscanner out of his belt and runs it over the wound, his brow furrowed in concentration. He mutters under his breath, his fingers prodding the area, and a curse escapes his lips.

"What? What is it?" you hiss, and his gaze snaps to yours. He holds the scanner out, and the display blinks rapidly, a long list of words flashing across the screen. You squint at the numbers, trying to make sense of the information, but the medical terminology is unfamiliar.

“Subdermal hematoma,” he mutters. His hand moves away, and his eyes dart to the child's arm, his lip curling. "And an infection. He's going to need a bacta tank and a brain surgeon. A real medical facility. Now."

You hesitate, knowing that it's impossible. There are no facilities nearby, and the only ships are transport vessels. They have no medical capabilities, and the journey would be too risky for a child this young. Even the Venators' medical bays are no substitute for a proper infirmary, one capable of performing a procedure this complex. 

"There has to be something," you insist, your hands moving to the boy's shoulders. He's still, his breathing shallow, and you can feel the panic rising. "Something we can do."

"There's not," he replies, and his voice is flat. "It's not like the Republic is going to send in a team of neurosurgeons to save a kid from a planet that they've abandoned."

"Wise..." you begin, but the words die in your throat. 

You know he's right, and it hurts, a dull ache spreading through your chest. This child, this innocent kid, will die because the Republic has forsaken him, and there's nothing you can do about it. 

You look down at the boy, at the blood and the bruises, and the anger wells up inside you. It's not fair. None of this is. He doesn't deserve this.

"We can't," Wise mutters. He leans over the child, his hand moving to the IV port in his arm, and he begins to remove it. "It's too risky."

"No," you gasp, and your hands shoot out, wrapping around his wrists and pulling him away. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"It's over," he says simply. "He's not going to make it, and you know it. It's better if we just—"

"Stop it," you snap, and the words echo in the room, reverberating off the walls. Wise stares at you, his eyes wide, and you tighten your grip. "Stop it. Now."

He doesn't answer, and you can feel him trembling beneath your hands. Your grip tightens as your mind races, trying to come up with an answer, a solution, a way out. But the truth is, there isn't. Not for this. Not without a miracle.

The realization hits you like a blaster bolt, and you glance at the child, your chest tightening.

There's only one option, and it's not a pleasant thought. You know the risks, the consequences. But if there's a chance, even a small chance, that you can save this child, you have to take it. You owe him that much.

You take a deep breath and let go of Wise's wrists, your hands falling to your sides.

"I can heal him," you murmur.

"What?" Wise hisses, his eyes narrowing. He leans back, his gaze searching yours. "You can't be serious."

"I can heal him," you repeat. "I've done it before."

"General, no. I—"

"It's fine," you insist. Your hand moves to the folds of your robe, reaching for the necklace hidden there. "I can do it. Just trust me."

He stares at you, his eyes flitting between the wound and your face, and you can see the conflict on his features. He's torn, his medical training and experience telling him that it's not a viable option, that it's not a risk worth taking. But there's something else there, too. A glimmer of hope, a spark of desperation, and after a moment, he nods, his eyes hardening.

"Will it hurt him?"

"No," you assure him, and his shoulders slump. "Not if I do it right."

"Okay," he says. He reaches into his belt and pulls out a pair of gloves, tugging them on and moving around the bed. "Let's do this."

"Lay him down," you instruct, and Wise gently lowers the child onto his back. You kneel beside the bed and take a deep breath. Your eyes close, and you reach out, feeling for the child's pain. His agony is palpable, the wound a source of searing heat, and you can't help but wince.

“Just so you’re prepared,” you murmur, your hands hovering over the child's head. "I might pass out. If I do, just make sure I'm not bleeding anywhere."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me," you mumble, and you place your hands on the boy's head. The Force flows through you, a wave of warmth and light washing over the room, and the child gasps, his eyes opening wide. His body tenses, his hands clenching the sheets, and a soft groan escapes his lips. "Just keep an eye on me, and if I start bleeding from the ears or nose, try not to panic."

"Oh, that's comforting," he mutters, his voice tight.

"I'm serious," you say, and his fingers flex.

"So am I."

You shake your head and ignore him, turning your focus inward. Your breathing slows, and the world around you fades with each breath.

The sounds of the room disappear, replaced by the steady musical hum of the Force, a chorus of voices and energy, and you let the music wash over you. It's beautiful, intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the song, letting it guide you.

Your hands begin to move, finding the places where the wound connects to the child's mind, and you reach out, sending tendrils of your fading energy into the damaged area.

As soon as you make contact, you’re pulled under. 

It feels like drowning, a current pulling you down, and it's all you can do to keep from being swept away. You fight against it, struggling to stay afloat, disoriented and terrified. Pain lances through your skull, and the world seems to shift and spin, the colors and the shapes morphing into a kaleidoscope of light and shadow.

There's a ringing in your ears, a high-pitched whine that grows louder and louder, and the pain intensifies. It's a blinding agony, and you cry out, your mind trying desperately to process the flood of information, to fight against the torrent and take control.

It's a losing battle. You're no match for the power of the Force, the connection between the child's mind and yours. The strength of it is overwhelming, and it's all you can do to hang on, your thoughts and memories becoming muddled and distorted. Flashes of your vision, your childhood, the Temple, the men, the darkness, Rex. They mix and meld, twisting together, and you let out a strangled scream.

You’re grasping at the threads, chasing, trying to hold onto them, but they slip through your fingers, dissolving into smoke. It's impossible. There's too much, and you can't find the answers, can't make sense of it all.

And then it hits you.

The memory of Yaddle, her calming voice as she instructs you to be the current, to give yourself over and allow the Force to flow through you. To be the leaf, to let go of your expectations and allow yourself to be carried along, to trust that the Force will show you the way.

You take a deep breath, focusing on the song of the universe. The rhythm and the melody, the steady beat, and the hum of the energy surrounding you.

And you surrender.

The darkness rushes in, and for a moment, you’re consumed. The world disappears, and you find yourself adrift, alone and afraid. But the fear is fleeting. You're not scared anymore. You know what to do.

You can feel the Force now, the song and the current, and you let yourself drift. There's no resistance. No fighting. No struggle.

The child's presence is a bright light, a beacon in the void, and you focus on it, letting it pull you closer. As the distance between the two of you lessens, the world around you starts to materialize, the images and the feelings solidifying. You can see a golden field, a meadow filled with strange plants and flowers, and the sun is shining, the air warm and fragrant. There's a distant sound of children playing and laughing, and a gentle breeze blows, rustling the leaves of the trees.

It's peaceful, and you can't help but smile, the sight of the meadow a welcome respite.

For a moment, you simply stand, taking it all in. It's not the first time you've seen this place, but the past glimpses of the vision have always felt like just that—glimpses. Fleeting and brief, the memories coming in flashes, hazy fragments of a larger picture. 

But this time, it's different. This time, it feels real, the details sharp and the colors vivid. And perhaps more importantly, there is no sense of urgency, no need to flee, no fear.

This is a place of safety. A sanctuary.

You take a deep breath, the smells of the meadow filling your lungs, and the warmth of the sun settles over you, easing the aches and the pains that had plagued you since the battle. You let your eyes close, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and a wave of contentment washes over you. You can't help but marvel at the simplicity of it all. The calmness.

The feeling is so familiar, and yet, so foreign.

It's been a long time since you've experienced such peace. So long, in fact, that you almost forgot how wonderful it is. How amazing it is, to not be afraid, to not have the weight of the galaxy resting on your shoulders. To simply be.

A soft voice calls your name as a hand settles on your shoulder, and your breath hitches. The last time you had this vision, you turned too quickly and saw nothing. But now, there's no fear, no panic, no anxiety. Only calm and acceptance.

And finally, there is no surprise.

You already know who’s standing behind you.

"Rex," you breathe, and he gives your shoulder a squeeze. 

You open your eyes, and he's there, the sunlight bathing his features, his skin glowing and his eyes filled with warmth. He looks so real, so tangible, and the urge to reach out and touch him is almost irresistible.

Rex smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he gives a soft chuckle.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks. His tone is gentle, but there's a hint of teasing, a spark of mischief, and your mouth curves into a grin.

"I don't know," you admit. "What are you doing out here?"

"Trying to find you," he replies. His brow furrows, and the sparkle fades from his eyes. "I was worried about you."

"You don't have to worry about me," you assure him, and he snorts, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“I know.”

He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't have to. You’ve had this conversation many times, and you’re certain you’ll have it many more. Round and round in circles, the two of you going back and forth, neither able to let the other go.

"I'm glad you found me," you whisper, and his fingers dig into your shoulder, his hand moving down your arm and his fingers entwining with yours. He steps closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I'm always going to find you," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. "No matter what."

The words hit home, and you can't help but smile. It's a sweet, gentle reassurance, and it's exactly what you need. What you've always needed. The simple reminder that someone cares, that someone loves you, even if the rest of the galaxy seems against you.

And it's not just anyone. It's him. Rex. The man who's been by your side since the beginning, the man who's been fighting alongside you, the man who's loved and cared for you despite all the obstacles and challenges. Despite all the risks and the dangers. The man who's always had your back, no matter what.

Your gaze flickers to the field, the sun and the grass, and the thought hits you. This isn't just a dream or some hallucination. This is the reality you've been craving. The peace and the serenity. The freedom. The quiet, simple life you've been longing for.

You want this. You need this.

And if the Force is showing it to you, maybe...maybe there's a chance.

Your gaze flicks back to his face, and the hope blossoms in your chest, the possibilities unfolding before you.

You could have this.

It could be possible.

But before the idea has time to take root, a voice calls your name, the faint echo shattering the moment. Rex's brow furrows, his fingers tightening around yours.

"That's not good," he mutters, and you frown, his words snapping you back to the present. The memory of the child, the injury, and the wound flash through your mind, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"I have to go," you murmur, and he nods. "I don't want to, but..."

His hand comes up, cupping your face, and his thumb rubs your cheek.

"I know," he murmurs. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, a warmth blooming beneath his lips. "Just be careful."

"Always," you whisper, and he chuckles. He leans back, his gaze meeting yours, and his eyes sparkle with affection and pride.

You smile, the warmth spreading through your chest. There's a lightness to him, a calmness and a happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, and it's almost too much. There’s still a tiredness in the way he holds himself, a heaviness to his shoulders, but there's no darkness. No pain or sorrow or fear. Just him.

And it's beautiful.

A small, contented sigh escapes your lips, and he grins, the dimples appearing.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises, his words filled with the conviction that only a true believer could muster. You nod, knowing that he will, and you give his hand a final squeeze before stepping away. His hand slips from yours, his fingers trailing across your palm, and when you turn, he's gone.

There's a gentle tugging at your hand, and you look down, surprised to see the child next to you, his eyes wide and his face flushed. The rest of the vision falls away around you, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, surrounded by a swirling, hazy mist.

He's so young, and the realization sends a pang through your heart. He looks up at you, his lips turning down, and he wraps his arms around your leg, pressing his face into the fabric. He's trembling, and you place a hand on his head, your fingers gently brushing his hair.

"It's okay," you murmur. "You're safe."

His eyes dart to yours, a question in their depths, and you nod, offering a small smile. His shoulders relax, and he releases his hold, looking up at you expectantly.

"Are you ready?" you ask, and he nods. You smile again, reaching down and taking his hand, and the two of you walk into the fog.

There's a light shining ahead, a small pinprick, and the boy moves a little faster, his steps sure and determined. You reach out with the Force, parting the mist, and together, the two of you step through.

The world rushes in, a sharp intake of breath filling your lungs, and your eyes fly open. 

There's a pair of hands on your shoulders, and they're shaking you, the grip almost painfully tight. You blink, the bright lights and the noise of the schoolhouse coming into focus, and you find yourself staring up at Wise. His eyes are wide, his face pale, and he's saying something, his words garbled and indistinct.

You try to reply, but your tongue is heavy, the words stuck in your throat, and you settle for a simple shake of the head. It's all you can manage, and it's clearly not the response Wise was hoping for.

"Shit," you hear him mutter. "Shit."

He releases you, and your head lolls to the side, the motion sending a wave of nausea through you. You gag, bile rising in your throat, and Wise curses again, moving to grab a wastebasket and thrusting it in front of your face. You retch into it, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief as the contents of your stomach are expelled. The taste is disgusting, and the smell is awful, but the nausea and the dizziness begin to abate.

You cough and sputter, and Wise takes the basket, placing it aside.

"Wise," you mumble, blinking a few times and trying to clear your vision. "Did it work?"

He looks back at the boy, his expression grim. After a moment, he sighs, his eyes meeting yours, and the ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

"It did."

The relief that fills you is overwhelming, and you can't help but laugh, a giddy, slightly hysterical giggle escaping your lips. You reach up and wipe your mouth, wincing as the pain in your head spikes, and you slump, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath.

"You're bleeding," he grumbles as he kneels next to you.

"It's okay," you tell him.

"Like hell it is," he snaps. His thumb swipes under your nose, and the familiar copper tang fills your mouth. He presses a handkerchief to your face, holding it against the stream of blood, and you reach up, covering his hand with yours. "You could have killed yourself."

"Worth it, though," you manage, and his eyes narrow.

"You fucking—dikut’la, dini’la jetii," he curses, his free hand gesturing wildly. He lets out a string of profanities and insults, the words mixing together until you can't even distinguish individual phrases, but you’re too busy laughing to care, the joy and the relief overpowering any concerns.

You've never done that before, not like this. Your attempts at healing had always felt forced, like you were trying to hold back a flood with your bare hands. But this time was different. 

This time, you had given yourself over, and the results had been incredible. Not just the success of the procedure, but the feeling, the way the Force had flowed through you, filling you with peace and light. It had been...indescribable. Wonderful. A feeling you hadn’t felt in so long.

But the moment is short-lived, the euphoria giving way to the pain, and you groan, your head throbbing. Wise is still ranting, his voice rising in volume and intensity, and you can't help but wince.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you mutter. You push his hand away, the cloth soaked with blood, and lean back, propping yourself against the wall. "I'm sorry."

He snorts, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

"No, you're not," he grumbles. "You're never sorry. You just...you..."

His words trail off, and his gaze drops to the cloth. Wise shakes his head, his eyes returning to yours, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"You scare the shit out of me, you know that?"

You offer him a weak, bloody smile.

"Aw, we are friends, aren't we?" you tease, and he huffs a laugh, his eyes rolling.

"If anyone asks, I'll deny it."

Wise clears his throat and hooks his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up and depositing you in a nearby empty cot. You wince, the sudden change in position causing a fresh wave of pain, and Wise frowns and reaches for a cloth and a bowl of water.

"You should get some rest," he tells you, wringing the cloth and dabbing at your nose. The water is cool, and you let out a sigh of relief. "I'll watch him."

"Mmhmm," you murmur, your eyes already drooping. You lean back, the pillow supporting your head, and your eyelids slide shut. "Wake me if anything changes."

"Sir, yes sir," he mumbles, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You're about to reply, but the darkness is already pulling you under, the exhaustion taking hold, and before long, the world fades away.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831

[percygranate]

⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

——————————————————

They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

[valley-of-headcanons]

I just stumbled across your blog and I really love your headcanons! If you had the time, I was wondering if you could do the bachelors reacting to a mute farmer?

bachelors with a mute!farmer || headcanons

being mute isn't as hard when you have these considerate men around <3

warning: this is under the assumption that the reader cannot speak at all! all include sign language as a form of communication :) other warnings are that certain townies are VERY SLIGHTLY ableist (jodi, george). take this whole story with a grain of salt, as i am not mute! i tried my hardest, however, please let me know if something is wrong/offensive/just straight up stupid! i'd love to learn where i went wrong :)

requested by: anon, thank you so much for requesting! and i deeply apologize for the fact that this took around a year to come out ... oopsie daisy ... my stardew valley hyperfixation went bye bye but guess who's backkkk?? anyway! here you go, better late than never :)

alex

• Alex honestly had no idea what to do when he realized that you were mute. He had no idea what to do, and you saw it on his face. He wanted to interact with you, you looked pretty interesting, but ... he had no idea where to start. So, you offered to teach him sign. He was surprised to see that you had that much faith in him, and he rejected initially, but ... he really wanted to have a new friend. It seemed like you were a genuine person, and he needed that in his life. So he did.

• You taught him sign, and this was probably one of the hardest things he's done. He believes he's not very bright, so he's incredibly nervous. But he works so hard for you! He didn't really know why he did, as you were just a new neighbor. Maybe you could be more? You could be a true friend! That's what he's looking forward to the most.

• As he began getting fluent and he learned more about you, the more he enjoyed being around you. Someone actively took a chance on him, and he's forever grateful. He opened up a lot to you, and you reassured him through all of it. He was the smartest person you knew because of how well he picked up sign ... he cried a little bit, although he really doesn't want to admit that.

• He realized how close you've gotten, and how his feelings haven't stopped growing for you. So, he had to do something about it! A soft, well-candlelit dinner was prepared for you, and he asked you out fully through sign! He had worked so hard on preparing a fully thought-out speech through sign for you ... it was so incredibly sweet. He really does love you.

• Alex was incredibly defensive of you, and would probably fight anyone who tried him. He even had several arguments with George. He wasn't the most supportive and definitely had some comments, especially since he literally couldn't see the sign ... but through Alex, he was convinced. Everything was fine, especially with Alex doing his best to convince those around him.

• Overall, Alex loves you and it shows. It shows through every piece of sign that he learns, every action that he does for you, and everything that he says to you and others. He adores every aspect of you, and he loves your bravery and your amazing soul. He can't get enough of you.

elliot

• Elliot is definitely a romantic, and when you didn't respond to his minor flirting, he was very confused. But when he realized you were mute, he dramatically gasped and apologized, basically dropping to his knees. He felt horrible, and promised to make it up to you.

• For a while, you talked back and forth through letters, since he was often stuck at home writing. He finds that he can write a lot more through his letters to you than he can his own book. Isn't that strange? He brings it up to you in one of his letters, and he eventually invites you over to his cabin. He bounces ideas for his book off of you, and strangely, it's so much easier to communicate with you ... how strange.

• He ends up learning sign for you in his free time, although it takes a while due to his busy schedule. He still prefers to write letters to you, it seems much more personal and definitely more romantic. He eloquently writes about his life and inquires you about yours.

• Elliot realizes that maybe this situation isn't just romantic to be romantic ... maybe there were feelings underneath, feelings that Elliot had never truly felt before. He ended up writing poetry about you, pages and pages. He can't get you out of his head! He had to let you know. You found out through a book of poetry sitting in your mailbox, and after reading through it, it was undeniable that it was about you. He was infatuated ... and so were you.

• He's incredibly protective of you, making sure to keep you out of harm's way as much as possible. If anyone were to say so much as one hateful word to you, he'd make a scene. With his dramatic flare, he'd declare them an imbecile and swoop you away to a safe place. It's in his nature, did you think anything less?

• Elliot'e romantic side has never been greater than with you. Romance and genuine feelings have always been apart in his mind, but they've both culminated in a beautiful love with you. He doesn't mind your muteness, he finds it beautiful and inspiring. You're his muse, of course.

harvey

• Harvey is incredibly understanding, and he tried his best to understand you as much as possible! He has no problem learning how to communicate with you and how to help you out as much as possible! He's the most understanding of your condition, and asks many questions about how and why you're this way. Not in a hateful way or anything, he just wants to understand you fully!

• As your doctor, he's definitely concerned for your health at first, but his nerves are calmed eventually. He slowly works toward getting to know you despite your condition, and he loosens up a little bit. He's so sweet and kind toward you, and he can't believe he's befriended someone as lovely as you.

• He opens up about his color blindness soon enough, and how debilitating it can seem. You bond over that, and he finds it easy to open up to you. He's used to being the listener, it's literally his profession, but it's nice to be listened to for once.

• Harvey realized this was a lot more than just a friendship, due to his heart racing when he's around you ... wow. He didn't expect this, and he really doesn't know how to act on it. But as you two hang out on the pier of the beach one night, he can't help but admire you instead of the stars. You notice, and he can't hide it anymore. He asks so nervously if you feel the same way he does. You answer with a gentle kiss on his cheek. He melts.

• He is very defensive of your condition, if someone says anything slightly derogatory, he will go off on a medical tangent. He justifies everything with an array of medical terms, enough to put anyone at a loss for words. Once Harvey silences the other person, he apologizes heavily, but still defends his love.

• Harvey loves you, and it shows through his concern for you and his deep affection for you. You're such an amazing and brave person, and he admires every bit of it. He admires you more than anything, and he would reshape the world if it meant to keep you safe.

sam

• Sam, despite his loud and energized nature, doesn't mind the fact that you're mute! He finds interacting with you regulating, in some kind of way. He has to calm down a bit to concentrate on communicating effectively with you. He enjoys talking to someone who has such a different viewpoint on life!

• Sam actually knew sign language before he met you! While in the war, Kent had sent a letter home that he had gone have deaf due to the constant noise of the war. Jodi then forced her family to learn sign language as soon as possible, so communicating with him was incredibly easy!

• Being able to actually use his sign language is actually pretty fun! He's very fluent, and he enjoys seeing your personality through your sign. He also enjoys your personality in general, how you overcome not speaking and your bravery. He finds that you both enjoy music, and it's a major bonding point between the two of you.

• Showing each other different songs that you enjoy was a staple of your hangout sessions. He finds those evenings the ones that he looks forward to the most, watching you smile and bop your head to the music. It's soft, it's sweet, it's ... lovely. As his feelings approach him, he can't get you out of his head ... his writer's block comes to an end. Eventually, he ends up playing a song for you. The love that he has for you is evident through the lyrics. And then ... a soft kiss as the song goes on, you would probably scream in joy if you could.

• His mom is ... not the most fond of you being mute. He doesn't really care, as he mostly just ignores her. He loves her but good god, her views ... so, he chooses your friendship more than anything. And when you two travel to something more, he chooses that over the relationship with his mother. She has a few passive aggressive comments, but she eventually gets over it enough to only give you a few side-eyes.

• Despite every hardship, Sam loves you. Every aspect of you is perfect in his eyes, and he wouldn't change anything about you. Sam adores your wonderful personality, despite not ever really hearing a voice behind your wonderful words. He doesn't care, you're you, and that's what matters.

sebastian

• Sebastian is the most quiet of all of the bachelors, so it makes sense that he would be naturally drawn to someone with a similar vibe. He doesn't mind the fact that you don't speak, and he finds ways to adjust.

• At first, he doesn't put too much effort into learning sign language to communicate. He doesn't see the reason why, you're just another person in town. But after Sam started speaking to you through sign language and you crossed paths more ... he decided to, why not?

• After talking to you, he realized that you have a lot in common. This makes him excited to finally have someone to relate to, and more and more, he asks you to hang out. Most of the time you end up doing things together in silence, but when you do talk, it's deep and personal.

• Falling for you was not his intention and came out of absolutely no where. He thought he was destined to spend the rest of his life shrouded in darkness, but this one quiet beam of light pulled him out of that. Huh. How odd. It took a lot of mutual pining for this to come to the surface, however. You called out that he accidentally used the sign for “I love you” when saying goodbye ... his pale face went bright red. Safe to say, you didn't say goodbye that evening. A long talk and a kiss goodnight, you two ended up together. As you should be.

• He doesn't really give the time of day to the people who don't understand you. A deep side eye and an aggressive sigh usually escape him, but he tells you not to worry about it. He shows you that he loves you no matter what, and “people fucking suck.”

• Sebastian relates heavily to you, and really loves you. He can't believe he's found someone who relates to him so well, but also has such a kind and genuine soul. He loves you more than life itself and enjoys your company more than anything on this planet.

shane

• Shane is probably the most guarded person in Stardew Valley, and it shows when he meets you. He could care less about you at first, pretty much ignoring your every movement. He doesn't really care that you're mute, he just doesn't care about you period. He's not really there yet, mentally.

• However, things change when you offer him a beer. He's confused by your kindness, and you can't really explain yourself because he doesn't understand sign. His curiosity is piqued. So, he asks Marnie if she knows any sign, and she refers him to Jodi, who eventually refers him to Sam. He hates the idea of having to work with Sam, but he can't help himself. He was too curious.

• After picking up a bit, he ends up offering you a beer in solidarity. He then thinks for a moment before showing the sign for beer. Your excitement warms his rather cold heart ... that's new. He just communicates by speaking, but he can read sign, so that seems like enough in his eyes.

• He finds it easy to talk to you, as you're such an interesting and perseverant person. It inspires him to begin working on himself. He pushes himself to work hard ... for you. Huh. Then, as if the sky was falling around him, he realized he was falling for you. He began pushing you away, until you basically cornered him at the bar. You took him to a private room where he rambled on about how perfect you were and how he was just going to ruin you. You eventually just signed “love ?” He looked like a scared child and just nodded. He signed “I love you” with shaking hands. But of course, so did you.

• His assholery is on full display when someone tries to come at you. He doesn't do it as eloquently or kind as some others, he just curses and insults until they shut their trap. They have no room to talk in his eyes.

• Despite his cold nature, Shane really does love you. He has no problems with your nature and sees it as a contrast to his own nature. He finds that enamoring and beautiful, unlike himself. He's working on himself, for you.

[megtrns]

announcement 03/12/2024 from @wifetomegatron !

hi everyone 💌 after a year long hiatus, i am back. no promises on how active i will be, however, i wanted to get back into writing because i miss it very dearly. but i also want to start fresh and give more exposure to my works without scrapping the lovely feed that i've curated so far on my @wifetomegatron blog. so i've decided to continue being active on tubmlr, but move my writing exclusively to my sideblog. if you've written a request or want to ask for one, please ask it in this new blog here. otherwise i'll continue to answer my remaining inbox as best as i can before semi-migrating ! because i will continue to reblog things on my main, but this is just to have a clear and organised set of work sorry to leave without warning and leave some of you hanging. unfortunately i am not so active on messages, but always feel free to drop in on my inbox ! masterlist will come soon :) (p.s. i've also read all the lovely comments on my inbox about my writing, thank you for the encouragement. i will do my best in contributing to the transformers fandom <3) sincerely, @wifetomegatron (now otherwise known as megtrns)

[spoonfulofmilo]

Could you do fic for Peter 'Bono' Bonnington with wife reader? For the past few years, the Merc's performance has dropped immensely that the engineer's was affected, especially Bono. He felt that he was disappointing Lewis and thinking that was why he wanted to go to Ferrari. So, she comforts him and tries to lift his spirit up. With, It was never about winning; Don't be afraid. It will be over soon ; I am just so tired. Sorry if it's too much. But I think it was important. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :)))

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

peter 'bono' bonnington x wife!reader

Bono sat at his desk in the quiet Mercedes garage, the hum of activity just beyond the walls of his office. The day had come to a close, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever truly leave. The weight of the past few seasons, the missed opportunities, and the constant pressure to deliver perfection was overwhelming. He had worked so hard to get the team back to the top, to ensure that Lewis Hamilton had the best possible car to chase another world championship. But lately, it had felt like no matter how much effort he put in, the results just weren’t there.

The talk around the paddock had only added to his anxiety, the rumors of Lewis potentially leaving Mercedes for Ferrari, the whispers of dissatisfaction, of a lost edge. The thought of losing Lewis hit Bono harder than he expected. It wasn’t just the team; it was the bond they had formed over the years, the countless hours spent strategizing, analyzing data, and facing both triumph and failure together.

But now, with Mercedes’ performance slipping, Bono couldn’t shake the thought that he had somehow failed his driver, failed his team, and most painfully of all, failed the one person who had always trusted him implicitly, Lewis.

“Love, what’s going on?” Y/N asked gently, walking over and sitting beside him, placing a comforting hand on his.

Bono shook his head slowly, his fingers absentmindedly running over a pen on his desk, his eyes distant. “I just… I don’t know, Y/N. The results… the car’s not where it needs to be. Lewis is frustrated, and I can’t help but feel like I’m letting him down. I’m letting the team down.”

“Pete, you’ve never let anyone down,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the turmoil inside him. “You’ve given everything you’ve got to this team. You’ve been through thick and thin with them, and especially with Lewis. You’ve never once let him down.”

Bono’s eyes were still locked on the desk, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t convinced, not yet. “But what if I can’t fix this? What if I’m the reason things aren’t working? I don’t think Lewis is happy with me anymore, Y/N. I can’t help but feel like… like I’m not enough.”

She took his hand in hers, giving it a firm squeeze. “Pete,” she said, her voice more insistent now, but still full of love. “You’re more than enough. I don’t care what anyone else says or what’s going on in the paddock. You are an incredible engineer, and you’ve been the steady force behind everything that this team has achieved.”

He finally looked at her, his tired eyes searching hers. “But the results… they aren’t there, Y/N. We’re slipping further behind.”

“I know it feels that way right now, but one race, one season, it doesn’t define everything,” she said softly. “You’ve been through ups and downs before. We both have. And you always come out stronger. This is just another hurdle. A tough one, yes, but not impossible. And you’re not alone in this. You have a whole team, and you have me. I’m not going anywhere, Pete. We’ll get through this together.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but it was a lie. His voice betrayed him, thick with exhaustion and frustration.

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her gaze soft but knowing. “Are you, though?”

Bono let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he stared down at the papers scattered across his desk. “I don’t know, Y/N. I just feel like I’m failing. The car’s not where it needs to be, the team’s not where we want to be, and Lewis… I can’t help but think I’m letting him down.”

Y/N walked over to him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as she knelt beside him. “Pete, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes tired but searching for some semblance of clarity.

“You’re not failing,” she said softly, her voice a calming balm to his racing mind. “You’ve been here for years. You’ve poured your heart and soul into this team. You’ve helped bring Mercedes to the top, and nothing that’s happening right now changes that. It’s just… a bump. A tough one, yes. But not the end.”

“Pete, listen to me. It was never about winning. Yeah, the wins were great, and we all love celebrating those moments. But it’s never just about the wins. It’s about what you’ve built here. It’s about the dedication, the work, the countless hours you’ve put in. It’s about the heart that you’ve put into every race, every decision. You’ve given your best, and that’s never going to change, no matter the results.”

"It will all be over soon if you want it to be. If you want to retire this year, no one is going to stop you, Pete."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was complete silence. It was not a threat, not an ultimatum, but a simple acknowledgment of the fact that he could walk away whenever he chose.

"Retire?" Bono looked up at her, a little startled by the suggestion. "I… I don’t want to retire, Y/N. I just… I feel like I’ve lost my way."

Y/N's eyes softened as she leaned closer, her voice calm and full of understanding. "You don’t have to retire, Pete. But you also don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. It’s okay to let go, to take a step back when you need it. It’s okay to not have all the answers right now."

“I’m just so tired,” Bono whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His voice was strained, carrying the exhaustion that had been building for far too long. “I’ve been at this for so long, and it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep pushing.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She knew he had been struggling, but hearing him admit how tired he truly was hit harder than she had anticipated. She had always seen him as the rock, the one who held it all together, but now, she saw how deeply the weight of everything was affecting him.

Sitting down beside him, Y/N took his hand gently, the warmth of her touch grounding him. “Pete,” she said softly, her voice steady and full of empathy. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I know things have been tough, but you don’t have to keep shouldering all this pressure.”

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

[ily-sunghoon]

The Omen of Sterling | CHAPTER I

Pairing : vampire!enha x fem!oc (a lot of jungwon in this chapter)

Genre of this chapter : vampire, fluff if you squint

POV : Author’s

Words count : 4k

WARNINGS : food, mentioned of blood, curses, mentioned of menstrual cycle, sarco is mean and crazy but he's just silly! trust (lmk if i miss anything)

Note : thank you for your excitement, guys! i feel loved <3 feel free to ask if you have confusion about anything!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @nshmrarki @capri-cuntz @millieinyourarea @strxwbloody (let me know if you want to be added)

CHAPTER I: BET

“Jusarlie Grieffang.” Jusarlie shakes the guest’ hand softly. Afraid to hurt her since it has been so long since he interacted with humans.

“Iolana Sterling.” Their guest smiles.

That last name was a jumpscare for Jusarlie, but he managed to put on a poker face.

“Hey, your name is familiar… are you a writer?” Iolana squints her eyes a little.

“Oh! Yes, I am. Do you like to read books?” Jusarlie’s eyes immediately lit up when Iolana mentioned that.

“I love books! I think the very first book that I read so willingly is one of your masterpieces. Mind Ruler? That was amazing and mind opening.” Iolana tries to recollect her memory.

If Jusarlie’s eyes were not sparkling before, they really sparkling now. His books reached outsiders! She is a Sterling, but still, this lifts his mood so much!

“Even your first book? I’m truly honored! Thank you for enjoying my works, Iolana!” Jusarlie giggles like a teenage girl in love.

“I’m the one who’s feeling very honored to meet you unexpectedly like this. You’re such an amazing writer. I love your brain.” Iolana totally adores Jusarlie’s books.

“Writing is just my hobby, I only do it when I have a spare time.” Jusarlie is still on cloud nine after what Iolana just said.

“Your lore is very amazing, what is your daily activity, then?” Iolana is still in awe.

“I’m a beginner professor at one of our schools here in Krashoviel.” Jusarlie smiles with his eyes too, his fangs are showing and they’re so perfect. Wow, good dental hygiene.

Iolana is not even hiding her jaw drop expression. “You’re the coolest in the world. There are no such things as beginner professor…”

“Iolana, stop… you’re complimenting me too much.” Jusarlie giggled.

“What is your favorite book, Jusarlie?” Iolana had no idea how Jusarlie loved that question so much.

“Finally, someone asked me my favorite book!” He looks so excited. “It’s Endless Cycle by Roberto Cairneye! It’s amazing.”

“Classics! I swear we have it in my father bookshelf, I regret the fact that I haven’t read it now.” Iolana sighed, real sigh, unlike Jusarlie’s.

“Hey, it’s fine. I can always give you a copy! Now, tell me your favorite book!” Jusarlie is beginning to feel interested in Iolana.

“It’s your masterpiece, Under the Solid Ground! I really love how you picture history perfectly with your words. I had such a wonderful time learning the basic history of Krashoviel with that amazing book.” Iolana is truly a loyal reader.

“Iolana, you made my day hundredfold better. Thank you so much for loving my works. Truly, I’m very grateful.” Jusarlie swore he will protect Iolana if the others still want to eat them.

“It’s the other way around, Jusarlie!” Iolana giggled.

“By the way, is your book lover dad the Tearle Sterling?” Jusarlie asked curiously.

“Yes, that’s right! He is my beloved father.” Iolana nodded.

“Ah, I knew it. He was my favorite teacher back then when he was still young.” Jusarlie admitted. “He was a legendary professor. I wanted to be one because of him.”

“Really?!” Iolana found this really interesting.

Time passes by as they’re talking, it doesn’t feel like a burden anymore to Jusarlie. Iolana is such an amazing person. She is far more brilliant than any other humans he had encountered before, he even dared to says that she’s probably the most brilliant person than any of the people in their kingdom. It’s like a fresh breath of air for a prisoner.

“Apologize for making you wait.” Jestel made them stop their conversation. He smiled at Iolana and offered his hand to shake hers, “Jestel Sinflame.”

“I should be the one who’s apologizing, Mr. Sinflame.” She smiles back at Jestel, her eyes are smiling too. She shakes his hand, “Iolana Sterling.”

“You can be casual here, just call me Jestel. I’m not that old.” Jestel is still smiling.

“You clearly have aging blindness, Uncle.” Jusarlie giggled.

“We’re in the same age, Nephew.” Jestel threatened Jusarlie. “Now go and see Saine to see what task you have to do.”

Jusarlie nods and doesn’t forget to say goodbye to Iolana, of course. He knew that they wouldn’t have to eat her today. He feels relieved. Iolana is a brilliant girl and she is very fun to talk to. It’s rare to find it these days, at least for him.

“Iolana,” Jestel suddenly brought Iolana’s attention back to him again.

“Yes, Mist—Jestel?” Iolana immediately responds.

“My deepest condolences for what happened to your family. Tearle Sterling was a legendary fighter.” Jestel pays some respect for Tearle.

Iolana smiles, she could feel the sincerity in Jestel’s voice. “Thank you, Jestel.”

“I’m so sorry for you. I know how it feels to lost a whole family… it feels so heart breaking, yet…”

“So fast… like a blink of an eye.” Iolana finishes Jestel’s perfectly.

“Exactly.” Jestel nodded. “Your father’s note… he said you’re a good fighter. Is that true?”

“He exaggerated that one.” Iolana giggled. “I can fight, but I won’t say I’m that good.”

“Based on what I remember, Tearle is never good at exaggerating things. I believe everything he said.” Jestel smiles.

“Alright, I give up.” Iolana chuckled softly.

“Let me walk you to your room.” They walk side by side, Jestel guides her through that big mansion of his.

“You have to acknowledge this,” Jestel paused for a second. “We’re going to give you our best facility, education, and training that you need.”

“Oh? I really didn’t expect that. I thought you were thinking about turning me into your dinner or something. Thank you so much, Jestel.” Iolana is very grateful. She was so ready for any kind of bad probability, but here she goes with the best one.

“You’re the last Sterling alive, Iolana. We wouldn’t risk witnessing the whole of Sterling go extinct. Sterling is very legendary for us.” Jestel admitted. “Did your father tell you what Sterling did during the wars?”

“He said Sterling are the doctors?” Iolana is a little unsure. They’ve been saying that Sterling is legendary, is doctor strong enough to be legendary? In the field where their patients mostly regenerated and heal so fast?

“That was after the war.” Jestel giggled after almost a decade not even caring to smile. “Sterling are our heartless fighters. Best of the best along with Phelanflame, Sarco’s family.”

Iolana listened very carefully.

“We only put them in the battlefield when the other are exhausted or the important people of our rivals show up in the battlefield.” Jestel continued. “They were vampire killers after all, even if they’re vampires themselves. We were on cloud nine when they decided to join our nation.”

“Wow, they’re a huge deal…” Iolana nods, beginning to understand why Jestel call her family legendary.

“We wouldn’t have won the last war without Sterling’s help. That’s why Slevado and Axadel tried their hardest to make your family turn their back on Krashoviel. Every nation wants Sterling on their side.”

“My father never told me about this… it’s not on the books neither…” Iolana is dumbfounded.

“Now you know, Iolana.” Jestel chuckled again. “How did you get here, by the way? It’s almost an impossible task for human.”

“Well, I know the borders are tough. I chose the west border. I used a big blanket and a rope to just… well, fly off the cliff! It’s the fastest way even though the risk is big.”

“Fly… to the gate?” Jestel is dumbfounded now. What an odd girl.

“Yes, I got nothing to lose. It was so therapeutic.” Iolana laughed at herself.

A sudden wind brush over Jestel and Iolana. It was Jusarlie who brought Iolana’s bags to her new room.

“Oh, sorry about that. Vampires have so many capabilities, I’m assuming you know about it.” Jestel continued to walk upstairs.

“Yes, I’m aware. I will train myself to get used to it, since my father barely use his power at home.” Iolana nods.

“By the way, your room is—oh, no. I apologize.” Jestel realized he made a mistake. “Your room is on the 3rd floor. I can move—”

“No, no, it’s okay! I could get a better view from the 3rd floor, right?” Iolana doesn’t want to burden Jestel.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I will love it.” Iolana smiles widely.

“As your wish, then.” Jestel finally nods.

“Although, I have one question…”

“And that would be?” Jestel tilts his head.

“My menstrual cycle.”

“What’s that?” Jestel is purely confused.

“I bleed naturally every month through my reproduction area. Would that be a problem?”

Fucking hell, Jestel is in shock.

“What do you mean? Like bleeding? Literal blood coming out of you? Does that hurt?” Jestel is worried.

“For me, no. For my mom, sometimes. Depends on the person. Yes, it’s literal blood, it lasts for about 5 days maximum for me.” Iolana explained.

“Well, that is a problem. You have a set schedule for it, right?” Jestel is worried sick. “I should give your room high-level security.”

“It usually ends on the full moon, so around five days before full moon?” Iolana is starting to worry now.

“Alright, I’ll figure something out.” Jestel nods. He holds the door handle, “Welcome to your new room.”

Iolana eyes wander over the whole room. It’s such a big room. The right side of the room is her bed, vanity, and some sofa. On the left side of the room is an open two-story, where the upstairs are full of books and underneath the area is her walk-in-closet and bathroom. There’s also some big windows and a balcony. She loves this room.

“Wow, this room is beautiful.” Iolana adores her room.

“Hi, Iolana! I left some books for you on your desk. I arranged everything except your clothes.” Jusarlie is so smiley.

“This room is clean, because the maids clean empty room once every three days. And I left some incense! It’s good for relaxation.” Saine also smiles at her.

“Thank you, guys! I love it!” Iolana is so thankful for the fact that they welcomed her nicely like this.

“Go get some rest, while we wait for dinner time. Tonight, I’ll take you for a personality test.” Jestel informed Iolana. “Jusarlie and Saine are living on the 3rd floor as well. Saine is right across from you and Jusarlie is next to you.”

“Thank you, Jestel. Thank you so much.”

“You deserve all the love, Iolana.”

Oh, really? All the love, Jusarlie and Saine hit Jestel with their mind links.

I’m being nice, Jestel replied in their mind links.

“Alright, let’s head out. Iolana needs to rest.” Jestel is ready to go and he’s already behind the door, but Jusarlie and Saine are not moving anytime soon.

“Five minutes.” Jusarlie told him.

“No, let her rest.”

“I want to join them.” Saine plead to Jestel.

“No, I need you to do your task. Jusarlie could stay.” Jestel threatened Saine. “Come on.”

“Bye, Iolana…” Saine looks sad.

“Bye-bye, Saine!” Iolana waves and smiles.

“Bye, Uncle Jestel!” Jusarlie mocked the annoyed Saine.

“I’m going to educate you about anything you need to know!” Jusarlie sits on the floor. Iolana follows him.

“How old is Jestel again?” Iolana asked curiously.

“Three hundreds this year.” Jusarlie answered excitedly. “And I’m two hundreds ninety-eight soon!”

“Wow, is it boring?” Iolana is curious. “To live for so long…”

“Sometimes? Unless there’s a war going on, they’re kind of fun.” Jusarlie nods.

They talked for a while until it was finally two hours before dinner time. Jusarlie excuses himself because Jasper called him through mind links.

—

“Where’s Jusarlie?” Hiael asked Saine.

“With Iolana. Ugh, he’s so annoying.”

“Still with Iolana?” Sarco laughs.

“Besides from her annoying smell and the fact that she is cute, what’s so special about her? Most of you just seems… in love?” Jasper is unsure.

“Not me,” Ricardo chuckled.

“Saine, Jusarlie, and Jestel.” Jasper specified.

“I’m not in love.” Jestel shook his head calmly.

“Give him a day or two.” Sarco laughs at Jestel’s confidence. They’re best friends, Sarco could read him like an open book. Jestel is in love for sure.

“Jusarlie is in love.” Jestel is sure about his feelings.

“Quit it. Let him be, it’s been long since he found a friend that he could talk to like that.” Hiael is wiser than them. “Who knows? Maybe she could bring the bubbly side of Jusarlie again.”

“Absolutely not. Let’s make a bet.” Ricardo laughed.

“I bet he will not change, and he will just be soft towards that girl. If I’m wrong, I’ll get you guys shoes fresh from Cynfael.” Sarco chuckled.

“I bet the old grumpy Jusarlie will be gone. If I’m wrong, I’ll teach the kids at Underwood Orphanage how to fight.” Hiael made the others shocked.

“Now this is getting serious!” Ricardo couldn’t believe Hiael. “I bet Jusarlie won’t change. It’s just temporary. If I’m proven wrong, I’ll look after the kids in Derrick Orphanage for a month.”

“Oh, wow!” Saine nods. “I bet he’ll change. I’ll teach the kids in Derrick Orphanage a table manner class for my bet.”

There are two main orphanages in Krashoviel and they are two different kinds for sure. Derrick Orphanage is where the crazy and naughty kids live. While Underwood Orphanage is full of insecure kids who are afraid of everything, they give up so easily.

“He will change. I’ll buy you guys new suits from Charson if it’s turn out to be wrong.” Jestel took his part in the bet too.

The others are surprised by that. If Jestel took a part in a bet, then it’s a serious bet indeed.

“He won’t change. You can order me around for three days if I’m wrong.” Jasper shrugged his shoulder.

“Have some manners, putting a bet over me? Where’s the morality?” Jusarlie appeared in an instant.

Ricardo tries to hug Jusarlie roughly and mess his hair up, but to their surprise, Jusarlie is still smiling and has no interest in being angry like he always did. Sarco is dumbfounded.

“Would you like to teach at Derrick Orphanage?” Jestel asked just to make sure it was real.

“Sure! Oh, and… Iolana said that children behave the way that behave based on their caretakers. You might want to investigate our main orphanages, Jestel. They’re our new generations, I wouldn’t want a mix of insecure kids and rebellious kids.” Jusarlie informed him.

“Oh, really? Thank you, I’ll investigate the caretakers.” Jestel nods.

“If possible, you have to ask to the children instead.” Jusarlie continued.

“What if the caretakers threatened them? It would be difficult.” Hiael speaks his mind.

“Sorry for suddenly catching up, you must ask them very smoothly. Children are naturally honest and innocent. It won’t be that hard to make them open up about their feelings. You can also watch their body language! It tells a lot.” Iolana appeared out of nowhere. She is already standing next to Jusarlie.

They’re all shocked. None of them felt her aura or even her sweet scent.

“How the hell did you do that?” Ricardo panicked.

“Do what?”

“Hiding your presence?” Jestel is as confused.

“Oh, easy! Just don’t make a sound and believe that you’re not actually there. Bad affirmations about yourself would help.” Iolana gladly shares how to do her thing.

“Why don’t you meet Hiael and Jasper? They’ve been eager to see you.” Jestel pushes Iolana softly towards Hiael and Jasper. “The others please follow me, we have to make sure our food is ready.”

“Yes, Jestel.” They headed out from that dining room to the closest office room they found.

“Hi, I’m Iolana.” Iolana smiles at Hiael and Jasper.

“Jasper.”

“Hiael Von Ruden, nice to meet you.” Hiael smiles slightly. “Sorry, Jasper is a new vampire. He hasn’t gotten used to human scent. So, if he’s being a little rude…”

“It’s totally fine. I hope you feel well about your transformation soon, Jasper.” Iolana is kind enough to say that.

Jasper smiles and nods at her. Her sweet scent is very annoying.

—

“What in the hell was that?” Jestel is furious.

“I fucking told you she’s the girl in the omen.” Saine chuckled.

“That was NOT normal.” Ricardo shook his head. “Her scent is very strong, she can’t just hit us with invisible aura like that.”

“She’s a Sterling, why are you so surprised by the fact that she can just make herself invisible?” Sarco giggled at their confusion.

“Because she smells like the most delicious food ever?” Ricardo is still confused. “I mean, okay! She’s in that legendary bloodline, but her scent!”

“Did you really don’t feel her presence?” Jestel asked Jusarlie again.

“I would’ve said hi immediately if I knew she was there.” Jusarlie admitted. Frustrated at Jestel’s weird panic moment.

“I wonder what she capable of in fight field.” Sarco is zoning out. Imagining how brutal she would fight him, or the other way? Maybe she has silent-killing skill?

“Jusarlie, Saine, let’s take her to Idris after dinner.” Jestel made up his mind.

“Uh, oh.” Sarco was a bit surprised when Jestel made his choice. He gets it if they’re scared of her, but taking her to Idris? The best wizard in town? That’s just comedic, they have Saine, Idris’s son, at home for a reason.

“Something is not right.” Jestel shook his head. “By the way, we have a problem. She has this menstrual cycle.”

“What is that?” Sarco is confused. “Menstru—what?”

“She basically bled through her private part every month for five days.” Jestel explained. “She said female humans have that.”

“Absolutely not.”

—

The talk with Hiael and Jasper only lasts for like fifteen minutes? They’re too reserved for Iolana. So, she made her excuse to go back to her room again. She chose to pick up a book from Jusarlie, the one that he said was his favorite. She reads it while waiting for dinner time.

Reaching page fity-two, Iolana heard a bell chime. Must be dinner time. She left her book open on her bed and walked out of her room. Just in time! Cause a moment later, Saine got out of his room too.

“Iolana!” Saine yelled in the corridor. “Wait up!”

“Hi, Saine!” Iolana gives him a sweet smile.

“Do you want a ride?” Saine offered.

“How do we do it?” She wanted to say yes, but she was confused.

“Excuse me,” Saine puts his hand on her waist. They instantly reached the dining room. Iolana has no idea of what just happened.

“For the love of Alexander Grieffang, what is wrong with yo—oh, hi!” Jusarlie’s sudden change of behavior shock Sarco to the core.

“Thank you, Saine. Hi, Jusarlie!” Iolana greets Jusarlie who said hi to her.

“Are you not feeling nauseous after he gave you that deathly ride?” Hiael is confused.

“Am I supposed to feel nauseous?” Iolana scratches the back of her head slowly.

“Does the effect not work on humans?” Jasper is also confused.

“Maybe not yet.” Sarco chuckled, mocking Saine.

“Or maybe she’s just stronger than you, losers.” Saine spat back.

“Even our handsome Jestel always feel nauseous if you gave him a ride.” Jusarlie reminds him of the fact that Jestel hates Saine’s little ride trip. “Humans should’ve felt the worst nauseous they ever had.”

All of a sudden, Sarco throws a vase at Iolana. Fortunately, she’s fast to catch it so it doesn’t break and make her bleed while Jasper is in the very same room with them.

“Or maybe she’s not an ordinary human, guys.” Sarco declared.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jusarlie and Saine are visibly angry.

“I was just testing wave.” Sarco admitted.

“She could’ve bled and that is my favorite vase, Sarco.” Hiael reminded him.

“Are you alright?” Saine asked worriedly.

“As good as ever. I’m glad the vase didn’t break.” Iolana gave the vase gently to Hiael.

“Thank you, Beautiful. Pardon him, he’s a little sick in the head.” Hiael smiles gently to Iolana.

“For the love of Amadeus Cairneye, Iolana. We’re glad you’re okay.” Saine is worried. Iolana seriously could’ve died.

“Are you in love, Saine?” Sarco giggled.

“Get lost, Sarco.” Saine is still angry at him.

Just right on time, Jestel and Ricardo arrived in the dining room. Seeing angry Saine and Jusarlie, Jestel is curious about what just happened.

“You may sit.” Jestel asked them to sit on their chair at the dining table while he sits at the head of the table.

Sarco sits on the right side, Jusarlie on the left side. Iolana sits between Jusarlie and Ricardo. While the others are on Sarco’s side. Jasper is right across from Iolana, she tried to smile at him, but he quickly looked at the other way. She expected that.

They wait for the food to be served by the maids. Iolana feels this tense atmosphere when they serve the food. The maids are probably hating on her too, that’s alright! They’re just not used to living with humans, right?

“You may eat.” Jestel informed them and took the first bite. The others follow along except for Ricardo who’s still figuring out how to use knife and fork.

Iolana hits him softly on his leg with her own leg, and Ricardo looks at her in confusion. She slowly uses her own knife and fork, showing Ricardo how it’s done.

Sarco, Saine, and Hiael are observing that scene very carefully.

“What happened earlier?” Jestel asked them.

They turned their heads to Jestel, then to each other’s. Who’s going to tell him?

“Sarco threw Hiael’s favorite vase to Iolana. Luckily enough, Iolana caught it right on time.” Saine eyed Sarco sarcastically.

“I was just testing something.” Sarco admitted.

“You could’ve killed her. Apologize.” Jestel’s voice is calm but dominating. Iolana takes a mental note not to make him angry.

“I’m sorry, Iolana.” Sarco said half-heartedly.

“Be genuine.” Jusarlie scoffed.

“I’m sorry, Iolana.” Sarco did it wholeheartedly now.

“It’s okay, I feel relieved that the vase—”

“Go finish that sentence, I dare you.” Saine scolds Iolana. “You must be worried about yourself more than we do, Iolana. Seriously. You could’ve bled and died.”

“Sorry…” Iolana feels good. They care about her, but at the same time? Saine is scary.

“I haven’t properly introduced you to them, Iolana.” Jestel remembered his actual responsibility. “This is Sarco Phelanflame, the one who just went out of his mind and threw that vase at you.”

“Hi, Sterling.” Sarco smiles at her. Seems genuine? Iolana thinks he’s a bit odd.

“Right across you, that’s Jasper. Our new vampire. He joined eight months ago.” Jestel continues.

“Hi.” Jasper gave her the cold shoulder.

“That’s Hiael Von Ruden. He is our eldest.” Jestel continued again.

“Von Ruden? As in the Von Ruden?” Iolana was clearly surprised. Von Ruden is the royal bloodline of Slevado.

“I betrayed my nation.” Hiael explained shortly.

Iolana nods, showing that she understood now.

“And that’s our youngest, Ricardo. He’s twenty years old this year. How old are you, Iolana?” Jestel asked her curiously.

“Twenty-one this year.” Iolana answered while smiling at them.

“We’re about the same age, then.” Ricardo giggled.

Sarco couldn’t believe that. Even Ricardo is enchanted by Iolana’s charm now.

“I have a niece who usually sits next to Sarco. She is staying in the palace for a few days right now. I think you will get along with her, Iolana.” Jestel explained.

“Can’t wait to meet her.” Iolana chuckled nervously.

“I hope you feel at home, Iolana. Even though, it must be hard since we live under the same roof as this maniac.” Saine smiles at Iolana and then stares at Sarco like he wants to kill him.

“Won’t you forgive me, Saine?” Sarco fakes a sigh.

“Never.”

“Just scream whenever he’s being out of normal, we’ll be there in no time to save you from him.” Jusarlie makes sure Iolana felt safe.

“You make me sound like a creep.”

“Because you are.”

“You are creepier than me, Saine.”

“Pardon me?!”

They keep bickering with each other, Iolana loves this. She loves it when others get into an argument. That dinner unexpectedly feels warm for the first time in a hundred years.

TO BE CONTINUED...

; YOUR CUTE REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MAKE ME FEEL REALLY GRATEFUL <3 ; FEEL FREE TO HIT MY ASK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTION ABOUT THE WORLD BUILDING OR CHARACTER!

© ily-sunghoon, 2024 DO NOT COPY, STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORM DO NOT TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION

[shukraastro]

you also concluded that jk’s spouse possibly originates from persia/Middle east? because I also did & I found it weird how nobody pointed it out until you

I think people shy away from giving too direct statements, because of the potential backlash they may get from readers who may be triggered by these type of information.

But classical scriptures say, very clearly: Navamsa 2nd house Venus will connect a native to Persia through the spouse. When the talk is about Persia, it refers to ancient Persia. Ancient Persia is todays Iran, Asia-Minor (todays Turkey) and the Middle East.

Another key point I discovered is his Venus line in his Astrocartography map. It avoids every land on earth, mostly passing through the oceans and suddenly drops down straight through western Russia and then comes Turkey, Egypt, Sudan, Congo and South Africa. So here again Turkey and Egypt is present.

But all of this also starts to make sense if we get reminded of his solo activity in Qatar for FIFA2022 and also interestingly his last Calvin Klein photoshooting which was done by a Turkish photographer. I am not really well informed about him or BTS in general. But maybe y'all can give me some more examples like this from his activities or his interactions with these cultures? Nevertheless, one thing is for sure: His higher self is already pushing him into the right direction as his chart is pointing it out.

If there's any further questions feel free to ask.🌺

[flightlessangelwings]

An update on the future of this blog and a happy new year!

Hi all! 💖

I know the last couple months I’ve been scarce here and I’m sorry about that. I had major burnout and I’ve just been busy with work and irl stuff. Plus I’ve been trying to consciously not spend all my free time scrolling social media in general. I have no plans to leave completely or delete this blog at all so don’t worry there!!

I’m still active on my main as well reblogging gifs and other fun stuff so feel free to follow me there too cause I would love some more mutuals!! @pspspscal

I do want to do some things differently in the new year tho. One of my goals for next year is to read more actual books so I want to do reading updates here. I’ll be using the tag #fawreads to talk about the books I’m reading and my book recs in general and I’ll share them to my update blog as well if you want to keep up! Maybe if there enough interest I can start a book club discord or something if y’all want to share book recs yourselves or talk about books and reading! And please feel free to drop any book recs in my inbox if at any time!!

I’ll still be writing as well it’ll just be less scheduled and more when the inspo/mood strikes. I am going to be completely doing away with my taglist however and only using the update blog so please have post notifs on for @flightlessangelwings-updates to stay up to date on when I post. I’m also in ao3 under the same name and I post most everything there as well if you wanna follow my writing that way.

Please still feel free to tag me in things I love to be tagged I’ll just be slower at responding to them! I have a bunch of tag games saved in my drafts to reply to 😂😂 And my ask box is always open too!!

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and a happy new year!! Much love to you all!! 💖💖

[burning-academia-if]

Hello, I am mostly back and recovered at the time of writing this lol. June wasn't very productive writing wise (...for BA), which is fine because I needed that break! Look at everything I did do in June:

RELEASED CHAPTER 2 FINALLY

Spent like 2 weeks fixing bugs (dw chapter 3 I'll get beta readers so it doesn't happen again LOL)

Participated in the Raffle for Palestine + wrote and sent out the story to the winner!

Wrote about 5k words of Chapter 3

Wrote and edited Zoe's back story

Wrote most of Lars back story because I was inspired (sorry you won't get this until after Chapter 3 drops)

I'm pretty happy to have released Chapter 2! I'm gonna be honest, this felt like such a daunting release lol When I started BA, I was expecting no one to read it save for a handful of people and I'd just be chilling and writing mostly for myself like usual, so releasing it with over 1.5k followers was very daunting. With that said, I am glad people overall enjoyed the new chapter! The plan is for Chapter 3 not to take as long, but life is still hectic so we'll see. At the very least, it hopefully won't be any later then October (BA's one year anniversary month!).

I also just want to give another shout out to everyone who participated in the raffle for Palestine! Raising over two thousand euros in two weeks is still amazing to me, and I'm happy the IF community could come together like this to help out a cause! This was lowkey another thing I was nervous about since I've never really done anything that's felt like a personal commission before (asks definitely feel different lol), but other then my initial nerves the whole thing was a really nice experience!

Now, going into July, I want to focus on the UI updates I want to make. I have some things I want to shift around and change, and since coding is my biggest weakness I know it's one of those things I'm going to have to focus on. If things go well, I'm hoping to do a pure UI update by August. It'll mostly be the menu pages (achievements/stats/relationships/etc), but there are a few other things I want to add in and adjust outside of it. As for Zoe's backstory, that should be out soon, so keep an eye out of that! Finally, I also might not be too active in July. For personal reasons, July is always a hard month for me. Hopefully it isn't obvious, but just in case I'm not around as much as usual, that's why!

OH and before I forget, here's this month's chapter preview ft Angry Rook:

Lastly, I made the questionable decision to make a side IF. Updates will be very sporadic since BA is and will always be my main project until its completion. But if you want to follow it, it's To Taste Sweet Silver. An 18+ gaslamp fantasy about trying to steal the Fruit of the Old Gods in order to bring the world to an end. It's a little more niche I think, but feel free to check it out! The demo shouldn't take too long to get out since I did accidentally write most of opening already.

[q-gorgeous]

Nice Try

yoooo sorry for posting this so late 😭 but here your truce gift :D @amabsis i might have some art incoming some time in the new year as a separate thing because i thought one part might be fun to draw >_>

ao3

ffn

prompt: nice try, but you cant kill whats already dead

hehehe

She felt so free.

Sam flew through the air on her hoverboard, doing loops as she smiled into the open sky. 

She finally got him. That ghost that was terrorizing the town. She had finally won their little feud they had going on between them. 

It was over. 

She was upside down in the middle of another loop when she saw a familiar mop of white hair. Startled, her hoverboard disappeared and she started falling towards the ground. 

He looked up at her and his poisonous green eyes pierced straight through her. They widened when he must’ve realized she was falling. He shot up into the sky towards her.

Shit. Shit. She had to orient herself properly to get her hoverboard activated again. She did not want another repeat of hoverboard whiplash. 

Sam finally got herself rightside up but before she could call on her hoverboard he caught her in his arms. They felt strong, sturdier than she’d think a ghost's arms would feel. 

She smacked him in the chest and tried to push herself out of his grasp. “Let go of me, ghost scum!” 

His grip on her tightened as she almost fell again. “You must love pancakes if you’re really this insistent in turning into one.” 

She growled at him. “I know what I’m doing. Let go of me.” 

The ghost boy shrugged and dropped her. Sam gasped as the wind rushed through her hair again. 

This time she wasn’t turning and struggling midair, so she was finally able to call on her hoverboard safely. It materialized underneath her and after a few deep breaths she looked up at him. He was still watching her. 

“How are you here?” She shouted up at him. “I killed you. I watched you melt into a puddle last week.”

He barked out a short laugh. “Nice try, but you can’t kill what’s already dead.” He shook his head and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I thought I was dead. I don’t know how I’m here.” 

Her heart clenched against her will. Danny did that a lot when he was stressed out. 

Sam willed her hoverboard to lift until she was next to him. He was still covering his eyes. She moved to sit on her hoverboard with her legs dangling off and he flinched as her boot scraped the surface. If she made him so nervous, why was he still here?

He laughed again but this one was different. It caught in his throat like he was trying to hold back tears. “I don’t even know why I’m here. You literally tried to kill me. You did kill me. And then I came back again. It didn’t take my ghost form long to reform but my-” He took a deep breath and pulled his hands away from his eyes and looked at her. His green eyes shone with tears and they looked at her with such grief. “I don’t want to fight you, Sam.”

She frowned at him, her brow furrowed. “Don’t you get yourself into fights all the time? Don’t you ghosts enjoy fighting? Isn’t that how you ruined my life?”

“I don’t get myself into fights. The other ghosts are either causing problems or come to pick a fight with me and I have to stop them. I don’t mean to cause trouble. I didn’t mean to ruin your life. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.” He brought his legs up to his chest and tucked his head into his knees. “I wish it didn’t happen. I wish none of this had ever happened.” 

Sam was both stunned and wary about this display. She shouldn’t trust this but part of her felt like she could. Like she wanted to. 

“Why are you telling me this?” He peeked his face out from behind his knees when she asked. “What would you have to gain from talking to me like this?” 

Phantom looked away but didn’t hide his face again. “I’m alone in this.”

“But what am I supposed to do with all this information?” Sam asked, confused. “I hate ghosts. I literally killed you last week. Why are you picking me of all people?”

He looked at her again. “You’re friends with the Fenton kid, right? You’ve known him for a long time?”

She gave him a confused look. Why the sudden shift in topic? “Yeah. We’ve been friends since elementary school. He’s one of my best friends.”

“When he came out to you, did you judge him?”

“What?” She pulled back at that question. Why would he even ask that? “Are you serious? Of course not. What does this have to do with our conversation? How do you even know about that?”

He ignored her and kept talking. “If he had something to tell you that would change everything you thought about him, would you hate him for it? Is your friendship strong enough to survive it?”

Why was Phantom even talking about Danny? There was no reason for him to know anything about Danny. “What are you talking about? I’d never hate him. Are you trying to turn me against my best friend?” She shouted at him. 

“He’s thought of telling Tucker, but Tucker wouldn’t understand quite as much as you would. He’s struggling with this secret and he wants to tell you but he can’t. You’d hate him. He has to watch you hate half of him without you even knowing it.” 

Sam’s anger swelled. “What do you even know? Why would you even be talking to Danny? His parents are ghost hunters. You don’t know anything about him.” 

He choked out another laugh. “Ironic, right? I know more about him than you’d think.”

“How?” She asked. He just shrugged. “Are you spying on us?”

“What? No, I mean- No! Not technically.” He lowered his knees back down. “It’s complicated.”

She closed her eyes. She could feel him dancing around something. Like he wanted her to pry it out of him instead of him having to admit it. 

“You’re not spying on us?”

“No. I-” He looked away. “It’s not something you’d ever imagine.”

What?

She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“Okay.” Sam glared at him. “Twenty questions.” 

He sat up a little straighter, another lighter laugh escaping him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She stared him straight in the eyes. “His birthday?” 

“April third.” Phantom said. He turned to face her fully. 

“That ones easy enough.” Sam took a moment to think. “Least favorite class in school?”

Phantom did a fake gagging motion. “English.” 

“What did he really want as a kid?”

“That one’s also pretty easy since a lot of kids want one. A puppy.” 

Sam could feel Phantom waiting for something. Is he waiting for her to ask something he can’t answer? Is he hoping that something slots into place for her? Like she's seconds away from finding the last puzzle piece?

“What’s Danny’s favorite model rocket?” 

His eyes widened and he looked at her like she just asked the winning question. She doesn’t know what answer she’s looking for but she knew she was about to get it.

“His favorite space model isn’t actually a model rocket. It’s his opportunity rover model that sits on his bedside table.” 

A feeling she can’t name bowls over her. “How do you know that? That’s…” 

“Something he shared with you and Tucker at the last sleepover you had?” His lips quirked up into a cautious smile. 

“Which was a couple weeks ago. So my equipment would’ve picked you up if you’d been spying on us. It only picked up-”

“Danny’s ectosignature.”

The piece finally started moving into place. She stared at him with wide eyes, her heart racing. “You know I always wondered why Danny had an ectosignature.”

“He said it was because he lived so much of his life around ectoplasm.” Phantom said softly. 

“But his parents don’t have ectosignatures.” Sam whispered. 

Phantom shook his head. “No. They don’t.” 

He floated over and sat down next to her on her hoverboard. She could hardly breathe through her mounting horror and she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him. Her heart was trying to hammer its way out of her chest and Phantom’s expression implied his was doing the same. 

“I can’t say it.” She whispered through her short breaths. “You have to.” 

He broke their eye contact as a white ring appeared around his waist, dragging her gaze down to it. As it split and traveled across both halves of his body, a tear rolled down her cheek. 

From in between the rings a very familiar tshirt appeared. Sam’s eyes trailed the ring as it moved up and Phantom’s white hair turned into inky black. The rings disappeared and tears were silently racing down Sam’s cheeks. He looked back up at her slowly and the eyes that looked back at her were Danny’s comforting blue eyes instead of Phantom’s green. 

Sam couldn’t hold it in anymore and a sob tore itself out of her chest. She threw her arms around Danny’s shoulders and she felt him tense up for a moment before he wrapped his arms tightly around her back. Her shoulders shook with her sobs and she could feel that Danny was crying now too. 

She raised a hand to the back of his head to card her fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t know. If I had known- I wish I hadn’t-”

“I know.” Danny shushed her. “Me too. But it’s okay now. I’m okay. I’m here.”

She tightened her grip around him as her body shook. “You’re okay. You’re here.”

He was okay. He was here.