#i need several business days to process this information

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

people not only READ my fics but REREAD them????

[so-i-did-this-thing]

FLORIDA TRANS PALS, IT IS TIME TO PLAN

Especially if you are on HRT!

HB1421 is a bill that severely affects access to gender affirming care, including for adults. It outlines goals to:

1) Prohibit changing gender markers on birth certificates

2) Require that gender affirming care only come from physicians (not nurse practioners) who take on liability insurance for 30 YEARS after they provide care to a patient

3) Require informed consent forms at every single appointment, including distributing literature to dissuade patients

4) Ban transition care completely for minors

5) Make it so providers who accept state funds cannot provide gender affirming services (this is the big one that stands to affect anyone who takes medicare/aid, is a university, etc.).

6) Make it so providers who accept state funds cannot reimburse for gender affirming services.

We are facing a return to the Harry Benjamin days, or worse, an effective ban unless you are fortunate/wealthy enough to find a willing provider.

If it passes, this bill would take effect July 1, 2023. That is not a lot of time.

I would not count on any Rx or refill request to be honored after this date if the prescribing and dispensing sources no longer are allowed to grant care or decide to drop care because of the penalties.

July 1, 2023. Unless we hear otherwise, that is your clock.

This sucks, but there is comfort in seeing a clear date to plan around and the worst case is no longer completely unknown. It begins July 1.

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YOUR HOMEWORK, DUE ASAP:

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1) Get any and all your HRT appointments in now, including picking up your meds and doing bloodwork promptly.

2) If you think you will be living in FL come July, start looking now for providers where physicians - not NPs - provide the care. Get an appointment on the books for July. Be prepared to go in person for everything after July 1, because I believe telemed will also be shit-canned. Here is a map of informed consent providers.

3) If you are an old like me, also dig up your HRT permission slip from your therapist. Fuck, make a packet of all your transition documents, including Rx history.

4) If you are on private insurance, start budgeting now to prepare to pay out of pocket.

5) Create a simple spreadsheet of all your HRT dates (pls forgive, my experience is with shots on a 2 week cycle, so this is pretty easy for me to do) and plan out how long your current supply will last. Then, forecast how long all your upcoming refills before July 1 will last. Update it every time you pick up and take your meds. Refer to it for decisions like moving or finding backup providers.

6) Subscribe to the bill to get notified of changes asap

7) Follow this site to keep tabs on other very scary bills happening in Florida, including a bathroom ban and a child custody bill that is effectively kidnapping

8) If you need to change your birth certificate, do it now, pay the rush fees and write RUSH on the envelope. The Department of Health has the most up-to-date forms. Processing time for rush I last saw was around 18 business days.

9) Now that your own oxygen mask is on, so they say, boost mutual aid and recruit allies to assist in any way possible.

-----

Do try to continue seeing your current provider as long as possible, as they likely will need your support. Talk to them frankly about their plans if the bill passes.

Now. I am just a little guy and not a legal expert, but the aggressive enactment date on this bill makes me feel like everyone should plan now instead of waiting to see if it passes.

Be safe, plan, and then get a little rest. Do not lose hope - this bill could still fail.

[allur1ngs]

✮ a whisper of our love ✮

TW: don’t let the cute visuals deceive you this is pure ANGST to fluff, delulu bada strikes again, bada doesn’t know how to process her emotions but it’s okay she’s trying, reader is a chronic sweetie pie no one hate on her or i’ll find you, character death, guns, blood, descriptions of injury, grieving, emotional trauma, survivor’s guilt!! flashbacks in this fic are indicated by italicized text, sweet smut (dom & top!bada sub & bottom!reader, fingering–r!receiving, oral–bada!receiving, finger sucking–bada!receiving, scissoring/tribbing whatever you wanna call it–both!receiving obvs, tit sucking–r!receiving, a bit of spit… sorry, lots of praise & fluffy love–r!receiving) aftercare happens out of the fic

SUMMARY: bada confronts years of profound emotional turmoil to embrace the depths of her affection for you.

WC: 16.1k…no comment

A/N: find more information about this au on my masterlist! ...here it is!! the long-awaited official first kiss + first i love you, as well as first time together as a couple!! ngl i’m really proud of this one. many (not so obvious too) plot points come together this time so keep an eye out for them!! again–please ignore any spelling errors this is so long–& this one might be a bit heavy around the middle part so please take care of yourself!! but enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada or team bebe’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Several months after the Seong incident, it finally felt like things were going back to normal. You got back into the swing of things, embracing your time in the Lee mansion, and rarely leaving unless you got antsy. You became much more vigilant while out, carefully observing your surroundings and never straying too far away from Hyo’s side. Malls, grocery stores, and casual strolls became few and far between, but at your behest. You gained a sense of normalcy staring at the same large walls and divots in your home—happy with your life as it is, everything felt complete.

Bada, on the other hand, who had become increasingly protective to the point she had been somewhat clingy, was finally starting to ease back into her busy work schedule, her visitations becoming rarer. Although you felt a bit melancholic at the fact that she was pulling away from you, you accepted that work would always be a large part of Bada’s life – whether either liked it or not. 

Thoughts such as these swirl in your mind as you get ready for a new day, rays of warm beige sunlight peaking through your mesh curtains and swirling in the air of your room. Every part of your body feels relaxed, muscles moving fluidly as you dress yourself up. Today, you’d invited your friends over – with Bada’s permission, of course – for a small get-together. A real one.

They’d been nagging you for days on end about seeing you again, and after finally breaking under the pressure, you invited them to come over and have breakfast with you, then take a nice dip in the infinity pool. You could practically hear the squeals of excitement through the all-caps text messages they’d responded with, all agreeing to your proposal and before conversing about what bathing suit they’d bring.

Now, on the day of their arrival, you get ready slightly earlier than you normally do, preparing accordingly for your friends.

“Good morning, Hyo.” You greet your bodyguard with a smile as you step out of your bedroom.

“Good morning, kid.” She nods. “Up and about already?”

“Yup,” you begin walking down the hallway, Hyo following you without a second thought. “The girls are coming over today for breakfast.”

“Right,” Hyo acknowledges. “You bought all those groceries yesterday for them.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I need to get started on the cooking so that the food is ready for them when they arrive.”

“What a great hostess you are.” Hyo lightly teases you.

“Please, it’s just common courtesy.” You have a hand in dismissal. “Besides, knowing Jae, she’ll be crying about how she’s ‘so hungry’ the second she gets here.”

“Jae…” Hyo trails off, her mind wandering back to the day you’d been kidnapped, and how the woman had aided in your rescue. “I can tell you two care about each other a lot.”

“We do.” You turn into the kitchen, greeting the staff that’s already busy at work. "She's the first friend I made and the longest-lasting friendship I've ever had."

“How long?” Hyo asks, leaning against the counter as you begin to take out ingredients.

“Let’s see…” you pause, thinking to yourself. “about… fifteen years now, give or take a year or so.”

Hyo whistles loudly, sucking her teeth. “That’s a very long time.”

“It is,” you nod, “but really, it doesn’t feel that way. She’s always keeping me on my toes.”

Hyo snorts, “I can tell.” You lightly elbow her in the shoulder before focusing back on the food in front of you. “So, how’d you meet the rest of them?”

“Through my parents and school.” You start chopping some of the fresh vegetables on a newly cleaned chopping board. “I met Min-Ji not too long after Jae. She was the class president, and I was one of the top students, so we naturally clicked. Our parents also were long-time friends, so that was another factor, of course.”

“Min-Ji… which one was she?” Hyo crosses her arms across her chest, trying to remember the faces of your friends from the party.

“She was wearing a black cocktail dress. She has long black hair–”

“Ah, yes.” Hyo snaps her fingers. “I remember. She had a very mature look.”

“That’s because she’s the oldest out of all of us.” You nod. “Da-Eun is the second oldest. She’s the sporty type.”

“Was she the one that almost attacked me for pulling you out of the house?” Hyo scoffs.

“Yes,” you laugh, “that was Da-Eun. But don’t hold it against her, she’s very hot-headed and protective by nature.”

“I won’t.” Hyo shrugs. “I think it’s important to have friends that care about you.”

“I agree. They’ve all got me through some tough times.” You move around the kitchen, pulling out spices and seasoning the food. “What about you, Hyo?”

“My friends…” she lets out a long sigh. “Are all the Bebe girls, Boss, and you.”

You give Hyo a bright smile, nudging her shoulder, “Aww, you really do consider me your friend.”

“Are you really that surprised?” She chuckles.

“No, I knew you couldn’t resist my friendly disposition.” you wink at her playfully.

“Right…” she trails off. “So what’s on the menu?”

“I’m making kimchi pancakes, and egg rolls.” You say, while beating the eggs.

“Do you need help, Ms. Lee?” The head cook suddenly cuts in, offering to cook for you.

“Oh no, it’s alright.” You kindly dismiss. “I’ve got it.”

The head cook lightly bows before returning to preparing Bada’s breakfast.

You glance at Hyo from the corner of your eye, motioning her to come closer. She raises her eyebrows, but complies. “I still find it a bit strange that all the staff call me Ms. Lee.” You whisper to her.

“Well, you are engaged to the Boss,” Hyo whispers back.

“But we’re not married yet.” You point out.

“In their minds, you already are. You’re the Boss’s wife.”

Hearing it said aloud makes it more real. Although you’ve been living in the Lee mansion, and getting to know everyone, it slips your mind that this large building will officially become your home in a few months. That all the staff will be working for you – though technically they already are – that Bada’s business will, in some ways, be yours as well.

You will have her last name. You will be her wife.

As if in a trance, you move about the kitchen on autopilot, cooking, and eventually cleaning once you’re finished.

And like divine timing, the doorbell from the very front gate sounds, ringing in the living room and kitchen, taking you by surprise. “They’re here.” You mumble, hurriedly plating the kimchi pancakes, egg rolls, and their drinks.

It takes them a few minutes to get past security detail – although Bada agreed to let them visit, her only caveat was that they’d need to go through extensive security, for your protection, of course. But the second they step into the living room, all of their eyes widen, stars in their irises as they take in the diamond teardrop chandelier, and the golden-trimmed decorations glittering in the morning sun.

“This looks like the inside of Buckingham Palace.” Jae awes, her hand covering her agape mouth.

“How do you know what the inside of Buckingham Palace looks like?” Da-Eun raises an eyebrow at the younger woman.

Jae playfully glares at her friend, smacking her on the shoulder lightly. “It was just an expression.”

“Control yourselves.” Min-Ji cuts in, trying to contain the look of utter shock and amazement marring her expression. “We’re in someone else’s home now, so no funny business.”

“Where’s unnie?” Ryung speaks up, looking around the vast living room for you.

“Sorry–” you walk in from the kitchen carrying plates in your hands, Hyo following close behind with some across her arms as well. “I would have greeted you right when you came in but I just finished plating the food.”

“Food?” Jae exclaims, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. “You made food for us?”

“You really didn’t have to–” Min-Ji says humbly.

You give them lightly scolding looks as you place down their food on the long dining table. It’s decorated to perfection; a crisp white tablecloth draped over the walnut wood table. Lit candelabras that drip hot candle wax rest in the center and outermost edges, small vases with blossoming flowers accompanying them. And to top it all off, in front of each dining chair, fine china and crystal wine glasses with embossed detailing are set aside next to firmly polished silverware.

“I invited you all over for breakfast, did you really think I wouldn’t serve any food?”

“We thought you would just let the staff make it instead,” Da-Eun admits.

“No, they’re already very busy preparing breakfast for Bada and Bebe.” You wave a hand in dismissal. “I didn’t want to burden them with any more work.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” Jae practically squeals, throwing herself at you and squeezing you tight in a hug.

You let out a small “oof” at the action, but eventually laugh and hug your best friend back. You stay like that only a minute before the sound of tiny sniffles reaches your ears, making you take a step back with a worried expression. Jae stares back at you with tears in her eyes, and a distressed look on her face. “Jae?” You say softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Unnie…” she trails off, her voice getting gradually louder. “You scared me!” She lunges forward, holding onto you like a koala bear while she sobs.

“Wha–”

“When you got kidnapped I was so scared! I really thought I’d never see you again.” She practically wails.

You look up from your best friend’s figure, your eyes locking with the other girls. They all wear solemn expressions, either looking at the ground or staring at you hollowly. Your heart squeezes in your chest, the realization that you hadn’t seen your friends face to face since that day finally dawning on you.

For hours, they must have been waiting at home, terrified out of their minds, wondering if you were dead.

You pat Jae on the back, comforting her. “I’m so sorry I worried you all.”

“We felt like it was our fault,” Ryung speaks up, hanging her head. “If we hadn’t thrown that party, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”

“If I’d have just pummeled that creep when I got the chance–” Da-Eun clenches her fist.

“None of what happened was your fault.” You cut in, voice stern. “I agreed to go to the party, despite knowing it would be dangerous for me. It’s my fault.”

The girls seem to perk up at your words, but only slightly.

“And Da-Eun, if you’d punched Seong, you probably would have ended up being taken hostage like me, or worse.” You point out. “Now stop commiserating and eat the breakfast I made for you.”

The girls reluctantly listen to you, all of them choosing a seat before thanking you for the food once again and digging in. Conversation flows easily after that, the topic of Seong and your kidnapping left far behind. Instead, you talk about lighter subjects, like what the girls had been up to while you recovered.

Once you all top off your breakfast, you walk your plates over to the kitchen and place them in the sink to clean them.

“Ms. Lee, would you like me to wash the dishes for you?” The head cook pops out of the kitchen, standing in front of you with his hands behind his back.

“Oh, it’s alright, we should do it.” You say, the girls behind you letting out murmurs of agreement as well.

The cook once again looks surprised but nods, ducking back into the kitchen as you begin cleaning.

"Ms. Lee, huh?" Jae playfully bumps your hip.

You let out a long sigh while chuckling. "I haven't gotten used to it yet."

"Well, you'd better because, in a matter of months, you'll be Mrs. Lee, the wife of the most powerful mafia boss in Seoul." Jae looks up at the sky, a giddy grin on her face.

"When is the wedding, by the way?" Min-Ji asks.

"Ah, we still haven't decided on a date yet," you mumble, having finished cleaning your plate, "but I think sometime in December."

"Oh, winter." Da-Eun nods.

"That’s a beautiful time to get married," Ryung comments.

"You know,” Jae begins. “I always thought Min-Ji would be the first of us to marry,"

"Really?" Min-Ji looks around at you all, a flush painting the apples of her cheeks.

"Well, you've had a boyfriend for what," Da-Eun starts flipping up her fingers, counting. "five years now?"

"Jung-Hoon will make a good husband," Jae remarks.

"Why are you all speaking as if we're already engaged?" Min-Ji blubbers, clearly embarrassed. "We still have a few years before we should start thinking about marriage."

"Yes, you do, Min." You call your friend by her nickname, lightly nudging Da-Eun and Jae in their sides. "You don't have to get married early like I am. It's all on your time."

With your last assertion hanging in the air, you and the girls finish cleaning up before heading toward the infinity pool on the second level of the mansion. The excitement rises between your friends the moment you step onto the terrace, their expressions starstruck at the clear water rippling against the opal tiles at the bottom of the pool.

They hurry over to the pool chairs, set down their bags, and strip their clothes off, leaving them in the swimsuits they had underneath.

"The water's so beautiful." Ryung approaches the pool, dipping her fingers into the water. "Do you go swimming often?" She asks you.

"Yes," you answer while taking off your clothing, your swimsuit catching the morning light. "It's very relaxing on warm days like this."

"I would kill to have a pool this big." Jae grabs your hands, walking you over to the steps of the pool where your friends wait for you.

You all tread in, the water fresh as it cradles the skin of your legs and chest, making you let out a content sigh. There's nothing quite like taking a dip during stifling heat.

As it turns out, wearing a suit during one of the hottest days of the week wasn't Bada's brightest idea. The black-tinted window in her office only manages to absorb some of the sun's unrelenting heat, leaving Bada still sweating in her clothing, huffs of annoyance escaping her mouth every few minutes.

"Ugh," she groans, pushing her work away and sitting back in her chair. She spreads her legs, finding her calves unnaturally stiff—hours of sitting will do that to you, she supposes. Standing up reluctantly, Bada immediately removes her tie and suit jacket, as well as undoes the first few buttons of her dress shirt.

She fans herself with one hand, the other reaching down to grab a glass of water she'd been given with her breakfast. She chugs the liquid down in seconds, sighing when she's finished.

Steeling herself, Bada moves to sit down again but finds her legs still stiff and grunts in mild pain. So she decides not to sit down, and instead paces around her office. She loops about five times before she grows agitated and walks towards the door. She'd been working for five hours, pouring through the ceiling-high proposal documents from another group and was frankly going stir-crazy from staring at the papers.

She opens the door and leaves her office, trudging down the hallway without a destination in mind. That is, until the sound of lively chatter reaches her ears, making her pause and look around with a confused expression. She follows the noises, worry and curiosity itching at the back of her mind.

She finds the source on the second-floor terrace and pauses at the entrance, half of her body hidden in the shadows. Her eyes snap over to the unknown women swimming in her pool, the confusion in her mind only doubling. But then she sees you speaking to them casually, a bright smile on your face as you splash water at the women, all of them retaliating back and causing a water fight.

Then, it clicks in her mind. Today is the day her friends were to come over, Bada thinks. She mentally berates herself for forgetting about it—too caught up in her piles of work to remember. Before she can linger on the thought for too long, your friend's chatter dies down into a calm conversation. Bada steps back from the entryway quickly, her back laying flat against wall. She knows she give you your privacy, but despite her better judgment, she stays rooted in her spot, listening.

"This is so nice," Da-Eun mutters with a smile, relaxing so she's floating at the water's surface.

"So," Min-Ji swims closer to you. "What have you been doing all this time?"

"Not much," you admit. "Just... recovering. I had a pretty nasty bruise on my cheek. It just finished healing."

"Just finished healing?" Ryung frowns.

"But that was a while ago..." Jae adds.

"Seong had a heavy hand," you mumble, causing little ripples in the water by swishing your fingers back and forth.

Away from your view, Bada rests her head against the wall, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as images of your injury flash in her mind. She feels a pit form in her stomach at the memory, as well as a fire burning in her veins. Although she knows Seong is already long dead, it doesn’t stop the deep hatred in her heart from festering.

"At least it healed well," Min-Ji nods, pointing her finger at your skin, which is now free of discoloration.

"Yeah," you ghost your fingers across the skin of your left cheek, remembering how swollen it had been, as well as painted with yellow and purple hues.

Jae watches your movements closely, sympathy in her irises until she realizes something, and her eyebrows furrow. "Wait..." She reaches over and grabs your hand, holding it up to the sun. "Where's your ring?"

You give her a confused look. "What ring?"

"Your engagement ring," Jae says, looking at you expectantly.

Bada freezes in her spot, a feeling akin to a cold bucket of water being dumped over her head washing through her body. A ring.

 How could she be so stupid? She never presented you with an engagement ring (not to mention she hadn’t bought one in the first place), although you're both several months into your engagement. If her mother were alive, she'd scold her for her lack of manners and for being inconsiderate of your wants—what most women want more than anything—a beautiful and heartfelt piece of jewelry that encapsulates their spouse's devotion and feelings.

"Oh..." you trail off before Jae’s words fully register in your mind. "Oh. I don't have one."

"You don't have an engagement ring?" All the girls blurt out at once, their expressions a mix between shock and horror.

“I guess we never really got around to it.” You stare down at your empty ring finger, not exactly knowing how to feel. You hadn’t even realized that Bada never presented you a ring.

“Never got around to it?” Jae’s mouth drops. “How do you ‘never get around’ to getting your engagement ring?”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a rock the size of Seoul on your finger.” Da-Eun remarks, shaking her head.

“We’ve been very busy–” you try to explain.

“But it’s a ring.” Jae asserts.

You say nothing in response, lips pressing into a line and eyebrows crinkling.

The resounding silence marinating in the air makes Bada’s stomach drop. You must think of  her as an inconsiderate fiancée.

She berates herself in her mind as she speed-walks away, determined to make up for her oversight.

She’ll find you a ring befitting of your beauty.

Bada quickly realizes that finding the perfect engagement ring for you is more challenging than she initially thought. She's scrolled through countless websites of high-end jewelers, observing the sparkle of gold, white gold, silver – every type of finery imaginable. However, every ring she inspects falls short.

"Too gaudy," she thinks as she scans a ring with a disproportionately large diamond and a small band. "Too simple," her eyes scrutinize another ring, containing the smallest diamond she’s ever seen, with an equally bland and thin band.

In frustration, Bada pushes away her laptop, pulling her glasses onto her head and rubbing her eyes. "Why are engagement rings so hit or miss?" she asks the open air, as if expecting an answer.

Funnily enough, she does get a response. "Engagement rings?" Tatter steps into Bada’s office, carrying a large stack of paperwork.

"Tatter, if you are about to hand me another day’s work of documents, I might just lose my mind," Bada groans.

"I’m not handing it to you," Tatter says sheepishly, "I’m placing it on your desk."

Bada only groans louder, dropping her head onto the desk and lightly banging it against the wood repeatedly. "Boss…" Tatter trails off, grimacing. "You’re making me feel bad."

"Good," Bada huffs. "You should feel bad for me."

"Why are you so stressed out?" Tatter sets the papers down before stepping back.

"The ring," Bada rasps.

"What ring?" Tatter asks, her face skewed up in absolute confusion.

"The engagement ring. The one I never gave to my fiancée."

"You never gave unnie a ring?" Tatter says incredulously.

"No," Bada hollowly laments. "Now I’m trying to find a ring for her, but none of them are suitable."

"Can I see?" Tatter asks, motioning toward her boss’s laptop. Bada pushes her laptop in Tatter’s direction, showing her subordinate the screen. Tatter scans the images of the rings, pressing her lips together in thought. "This one’s nice." She points at a ring with a diamond in the middle, and two smaller diamonds next to it, resting on a thin, gold band.

Bada looks at the ring, her eyebrows furrowing. "I guess. But it’s nothing special. Her ring has to be special–"

"You know, rather than stressing out about it, why don’t you just find out what types of rings she likes?" Tatter cuts her off.

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Bada asks monotonously.

"Reconnaissance," Tatter smirks. "And I know just the perfect people for the job."

Bada picks up her head, staring at her subordinate with a wry expression – not quite sure if she should be worried or relieved.

The following day rolls around, the heat from yesterday having subsided into a comfortable chill.

"Hey kid, are you ready to go?" Hyo steps into your bedroom, her hands in her pockets as she watches you finish getting ready.

"Yes," you nod, voice quiet.

Your bodyguard frowns, stepping forward. "What’s with the sad look?"

You glance at Hyo, shaking your head. "I just have a lot on my mind. Sorry."

"It’s okay." Hyo places her hand on your shoulder. She guides you toward the doorway, but not before discreetly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of your open jewelry box, your rings on full display.

"Why are we going out again?" You look back at Hyo, a dazed look on your face.

"You said you wanted to go for a walk and see the shops, remember?" She reminds you, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

"Oh, right." You nod, perking up a bit. "My mother asked me to pick up something for her at a store."

"Why doesn’t she pick it up herself?" Hyo steps up behind you, following as you begin your strides down the hallway and toward the spiral staircase leading to the first level.

"She’s packing for a trip." You sigh, "Can’t be bothered to leave her home for a second to pick up her designer dress."

"If you’ll let me speak a bit out of line…" Hyo trails off, her words pitching upward in a half-question.

"Yes, of course." You answer quickly. "We’re friends."

"...Your mother is quite the character." Your bodyguard asserts while digging out her phone from her pocket. She unlocks it while staying behind you and out of your line of sight, opening the picture she took of your jewelry box and sending it to Lusher.

She quickly types out, “Here it is,” with the picture attached to the message.

Seconds later, a gray bubble pops up, and Lusher responds. "Great, thanks!"

Hyo hastily sends another message, “We’d better get the ring ASAP. She’s been acting sad since yesterday…”

This time Lusher takes a few more minutes to respond, "Got it. Also, make sure to bring her to the right stores. Boss and I will be right behind you, so make sure to keep her distracted as much as possible."

Hyo texts back a thumbs-up emoji before closing her phone. 

"Character is an understatement." Your voice makes Hyo straighten up immediately.

"That’s the kindest way of expressing what I think about your mother. You are my boss, after all." Hyo points out, shoving her hands into her pockets causally.

"I’m not your boss." You say, turning back to glance at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Bada is."

"She’s ‘the Boss,’ but you’re my boss," Hyo explains. "She’s my employer, but my job is to watch over you when she can’t. You’re my superior."

"I don’t like how that sounds." You frown. "Can’t we just consider each other friends rather than deal with the semantics of superiors and subordinates?"

"If that would make you more comfortable." Hyo shrugs. “Anyway, what’s your mother packing for?”

"Her annual trip to Calivigny Island with my father," you sigh.

"Ah, in the Caribbean," your bodyguard whistles. "A private, luxury island that only accommodates fifty guests at a time."

"She usually travels during the summer, but she missed the trip earlier because she and my father were finalizing the deal between Bada and my proposal."

"Tragic," Hyo remarks sarcastically.

"Isn’t it?" you respond, a smile quirking up your lips as you finally reach the stairs and begin heading downwards. You quickly venture down them and out of the Lee mansion while Hyo heads to the garage, taking out your usual black sports car and parking it in front of the perron steps for you. She helps you in, closing the door behind you before pulling out of the driveway of the mansion and heading out of the open gates.

The doors of Louis Vuitton glitter in the darkening horizon like a beacon of illumination meant to attract wanderers in the chilly night. And like a moth infatuated with the light, you step in front of the doors, your eyebrows creased together.

“I don’t know why I feel so nervous,” you mutter under your breath.

“Hold your head up high, kid.” Hyo grabs the heavy handle of the door, using her strength to crack it open. “You have more power and influence than anyone inside that store.”

You take in a deep breath and nod, stepping into the store, a small draft of warm air caressing you like a friendly hug. Inside, a whirl of earthy perfume paired with notes of vanilla, makes its way to your senses. All the decorations are painted with a yellow and beige light, the bags hanging from shelves are highlighted like jewels.

And like a newly cut diamond, you remain unseen for only a second before the older jewels notice your radiance, their eyes finding yours instantly. Women and men in their most elegant and finest clothing appraise you, their irises barely swooping over you before they widen to impossible sizes. They start to whisper amongst each other, your appearance surprising them and causing their eyes to glitter with excitement.

You stride forward, remembering Hyo’s advice as you approach a saleswoman–who is notably frozen in her spot when she notices you coming toward them–before someone steps in your path.

A man carrying a tray with a single bottle of sparkling water stands in front of you, his eyes glistening under the light, and a friendly smile stretching across his lips. “Would you like a drink?”

“Oh–” you breathe out, surprised. “Yes, thank you very much.” You take the water bottle, and suddenly the man is out of your view, circling around you and grabbing the coat keeping you slightly hot in the already warm store.

“Allow me to hang your coat,” he mumbles, tucking the tray under his arm as he gently uses his gloved hands to pluck the clothing off of you.

You look back at the man with a slightly dazed expression but smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He bows in front of you before exchanging a brief nod with Hyo and stepping back.

You gather your bearings quickly and walk up to the saleswoman, slightly clearing your throat as you hear the giddy whispering from the shoppers increase. “I’m here to pick up an order.”

The saleswoman seems to have gathered herself in the time her co-worker had taken your coat and offered you the sparkling water because now she’s standing straight and has a semi-nervous smile strewn across her lips. “Yes, of course. I can take you to a private room if you’d like.” She gestures to a room concealed by a curtain carrying the “LV” logo.

“Oh no, that’s alright,” you wave a hand in dismissal. “I’m just here to pick up an order, I won’t be staying long.”

“Please, it might take a while for us to find the order.” The saleswoman insists. “You can relax and enjoy some refreshments while we fetch it.”

You glance at Hyo from your peripheral, who looks like she’s trying her hardest to hold in a laugh. Internally rolling your eyes at her, you nod at the saleswoman. “Alright. Thank you.”

“This way, please,” she guides you toward the secluded room, holding back the curtains for you and Hyo to step in.

Inside, there is a glass coffee table, a large ceramic vase sitting at the center of it with white club chairs circling it. Behind, there is a lit wall with water beading down it, and a large mirror across from it.

You move to sit in the chair, but Hyo’s fast, pulling out your seat for you, an amused smile still stretched on her lips. You give her a light glare but mumble a “thank you” nonetheless.

The saleswoman, who’d stepped out for a second without you even realizing it, emerges again, though this time she’s carrying a golden tray like the man from before with refreshments and towels.

“Would you like a hot towel?” She holds it out for you using prongs.

“Sure.” You say hesitantly, grabbing the towel and feeling its warmth awaken your (somehow still) cold fingers.

The woman sets down the tray on the coffee table, presenting you with small cakes and snacks. “Please, take whatever you’d like, and let me know if you need anything else.”

You nod back, glancing at the delicious slices of cake with an edacious stare.

“And what name would your order be under?” The saleswoman asks.

You mutter your mother’s name, and the worker quickly nods, bows, then leaves the room. The second she’s out of sight, you hear a chuckle come from behind you, causing you to whip your head around with a glare.

Hyo covers her mouth with her hand, as she laughs.

“You’re evil, you know that?” You huff.

“Sorry, it’s really just so funny.” Hyo can’t hold back her laughter anymore, essentially all-out laughing at you. “You looked like a deer in headlights.”

“Because I was!” You exclaim. “I just wanted to pick up my mother’s order; why are they doing all this?” You gesture to the room in front of you.

“I told you,” Hyo briefly takes off her sunglasses to wipe away the small tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. “You have more power than anyone in here. Of course they’re going to be kiss-ups.”

You sigh loudly, sitting back in your chair. “One order, that’s all I wanted… now I feel like they’re going to make me stay longer.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyo agrees. “Just say in the nicest way possible that you want to leave, and they’ll let you.”

“You know, the least you could do is help me out.” You scoff lightheartedly. “I’m still new to this stuff.”

“I could do that…” Hyo nods while trailing off. “Or I could watch you struggle. It’s much funnier.” She bursts into a small chuckle at the end of the sentence.

“I hate you.” You groan.

“Oh come on, lighten up.” Hyo finally stops laughing, but her smile never leaves her. “Why don’t you try some of the snacks she gave you?”

You perk up at the thought, casting your eyes back on the tea cakes and tiny, but expensive-looking foods. You pick up what looks like a small slice of strawberry shortcake and eat it, the creamy filling and delicious jam making you smile widely. When you finish chewing–it takes less than a minute–you hold up the tray for Hyo to see. “Do you want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.” She shakes her head.

You move to place the tray down before she suddenly speaks again.

“Wait. Is there any chocolate cake…?”

Your trip to Louis Vuitton ended up yielding many revelations. Number one, Louis Vuitton has to be the worst case of sucking up that you’ve ever seen or experienced, and number two, Hyo is absolutely obsessed with anything chocolate flavored.

“How many free products do you think are in those bags?” You turn to look back at Hyo, who’s juggling three large Louis Vuitton bags in her arms–one of them your mother’s order and the rest filled with gifts–while trying to take a bite of the chocolate decorations she’d taken off of a cake.

“Too many to count.” She says, voice slightly muffled by the food in her mouth.

You laugh before turning back and walking down the sidewalk, passing by other high-end stores. You continue walking for a long stretch until you register the sound of heavy footsteps not too far away from you. You furrow your eyebrows; Hyo never walks with a heavy step.

You pause, “Hyo, what’s that sound?”

“What sound?” Hyo stops as well.

“Footsteps…” you trail off, looking from your left to your right, then behind. You don’t see anyone else trailing after you, your confusion doubling. Perhaps it was just your paranoia manifesting into phantom noises.

Hyo immediately snaps into professional mode, looking back as well. She reaches under her suit and feels for her gun holster, stepping forward. “Stay back a little, I’m going to check it out.” She advances quickly, her eyes scanning the area with calculating expertise.

When she reaches the corner of a store and an alleyway, she quickly turns into it, her gun held up.

Through the darkness of the night, Hyo is just barely able to make out the shocked faces of her Boss, and Lusher crouched next to the side of the building. “Boss?” Hyo whispers loudly, looking between Bada and Lusher.

“What are you doing?” Lusher whisper-yells back. “You’re supposed to be taking unnie into a jewelry store!”

“I would be if you weren’t stomping your feet behind us so loudly!” Hyo shoots back, lightly glaring at her friend.

“Yah, I told you to be quieter.” Bada scolds Lusher, nudging her arm. “You walk like you’re carrying one hundred pounds of extra weight.”

“Why are you two ganging up on me?” Lusher whines. “I’ll try to be more quiet–”

“Hyo?” Your voice breaks through the chilly night air, causing the three women to stiffen up. “Is everything alright?”

“Yup, yes!” Hyo steps out of the alleyway with a forced smile, giving you a thumbs-up. “Everything’s perfect! It was just some drunk stumbling around.”

You give Hyo a hesitant look before nodding and turning to stare at the passersby across the street.

She quickly ducks back into the alleyway, tucking her gun back into its holster. “Lusher, if you want to keep following us, either lighten your step or stay farther back.”

“Okay, I will.” Lusher pouts, receiving another nudge from Bada.

Your fiancée looks Hyo up and down, noticing the Louis Vuitton bags hanging from her arms. “You’re carrying her bags. Good.”

Hyo smiles widely. “Thanks, Boss.”

“Did the trip go smoothly?”

“Yes, she was a bit out of her depth at first, but she handled all the attention well,” Hyo reports back like a proud sister.

Bada smiles to herself, thinking about you awkwardly speaking to the workers in the Louis Vuitton store, not used to being attended to like a high-ranking socialite. Everything you do is endearing to her–she only wishes she was there to see you sparkling amongst snobbish shoppers. “That’s my girl.” She whispers to herself.

Hyo and Lusher barely catch what Bada said, but in response, they both look at each other knowingly and smile.

“Alright, don’t keep her waiting.” Bada cuts in, shifting her demeanor back to cold. “And make sure she stays warm.”

“Yes, Boss.” Hyo nods then steps out of the alleyway, approaching you with fast strides. “Sorry, I took so long.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “I was just doing some people-watching while I waited.”

“Right, well, the car is this way.” Hyo motions forward, only briefly glancing back to see Lusher and Bada’s head peeking out from the corner of the store.

You walk forward without a second thought, your head up in the clouds as you take in the beautiful starry sky, and the cloud of perspiration released when you exhale into the icy air. You walk in silence for the length of a block before Hyo breaks the silence.

“Oh, look, a jewelry store.” She tries to say casually as she stops right in front of it. “All of the pieces are beautiful.”

You pause where you stand, turning to face the store, a pit in your stomach growing. Your bodyguard is right, all the jewelry is beautiful. From teardrop diamond earrings to pearl necklaces and dainty bracelets.

But all you can look at are the rings.

The sign above them reads, “Two hearts, one love, forever in your ring.” You turn away from the store, a lump in your throat and a frown on your lips. Clearing your throat, you mumble. “Should we keep walking toward the car?”

Hyo glances to her right again, seeing Bada and Lusher motioning frantically at her to get you to go inside. “Uhhm, don’t you want to look at the pretty jewelry? Maybe pick something up for yourself?” She suggests.

“No–” You begin, but are cut off by a loud sound.

“Ow!” Lusher’s voice rings from behind the store, her hand rubbing at her foot. “You stepped on me–”

Bada slaps her hand over Lusher’s mouth, her eyes wide and her pointer finger coming up to make a “shush” motion. Lusher immediately calms down, suddenly realizing her mistake and wearing a mortified expression.

“What was that?” You take a step forward, about to head toward the sound before Hyo stands in your way.

“Probably just another drunk.” She says quickly. “No need to worry.”

You try to look over her shoulder, but she carefully pushes you forward and in the direction of the jewelry store. “Okay…”

“Well why don’t we go inside the jewelry store–”

“Actually, can we go home?” You ask, avoiding eye contact with the store and stepping back.

Hyo’s smile starts to twitch. “Come on, maybe just a peek–”

“Please.” You interrupt quietly, looking down at the floor.

Hyo sees out of her peripheral that Bada’s shaking her head and frowning, so she sighs and nods. “Alright, let’s go home.”

You turn and walk away quickly, eager to escape the thoughts plaguing your mind. Your bodyguard follows after you, having failed her mission terribly. Behind you, both Lusher and Bada step onto the sidewalk, the subordinate clutching her head in distress.

“She didn’t even look at the rings!” Lusher exclaims, deflated and looking dejected.

Bada remains quiet, watching you walk down the street, the wind whipping her coat around. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, clearly! We’ll never find a ring for her at this rate,” Lusher says, expressing her frustration.

“No, I mean,” Bada pauses, placing her hand over the right side of her chest. “My heart. It hurts when I see her sad.”

Lusher stops whining, facing her boss with a caring expression. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels like I’m getting stabbed,” Bada admits, her face scrunching up in confusion and pain. “I want to rip my heart out and give it to her. I want to do everything in my power to make her smile when she frowns like that.”

Lusher lets out a deep sigh, sympathizing with her friend. “Oh, Bada…”

“I felt like this when she was taken by Seong,” Bada whispers. “But back then, I thought it was because I was worried about bringing her home safe.” She turns to face her subordinate, clutching her chest tightly. “Why do I feel like this?”

Lusher smiles sadly at her friend. “You’re in love.”

“...In love?”

Love was not the answer, she concluded. No, love could never be the answer. Since you first arrived at her home, Bada made it clear to you that she’d never fall in love with you. So the mental and emotional anguish she’s been feeling for the past few days must have been due to the stress of her work… right?

Either way, whether it was unconsciously or consciously at first, Bada started to avoid you. She found that seeing you less would make the stabbing pain in her heart subside, and even if it didn’t fully fade away, throwing herself into her work was a perfect distraction.

But it wasn’t easy. Obviously, you began to notice that your already few-and-far-between visits from Bada became essentially nonexistent. So naturally, you started to make an effort to see her. You tried to bring her breakfast in the morning like you had during your first month in the Lee mansion but hit a wall.

“The Boss will be taking her breakfast alone from now on,” Lusher informs you, trying to hold back her frown when she sees the excitement in your eyes dim, and how you practically wilt.

“How long?” You whisper.

“For the foreseeable future,” Lusher says through gritted teeth. It’s taking everything in her to not just let you into Bada’s office. But at the end of the day, nothing is stronger than Bebe’s loyalty.

“Oh,” you take a step back, trying to wear a friendly smile but failing. “I’ll come see her later, then.”

Lusher hesitates. “Not to speak out of line, unnie…”

You perk up, looking into her eyes.

“But I think it’s best for your emotional state if you keep your distance,” she advises you, her tone gentle and full of care.

But of course, being the determined and stubborn woman you are, you don’t heed Lusher’s words… to your detriment.

After days of only traveling between her office and her bedroom, Bada finally emerges from her work, having signed and looked over all the documents she’d been given for the week. In her desperation for a change in scenery, she left her office, completely forgetting why she’d been hiding away in the first place.

“Bada!” You call from behind her, a smile stretching across your lips.

The sound of your voice makes Bada freeze. The pain in her heart spikes, and a wave of regret flows through her. She doesn’t respond to you but stays rooted in her spot.

You run to your fiancée’s side, making quick eye contact with her. But the look she wears surprises you. Her dark brown, almost gray irises stare back at you like an impenetrable stone wall, hiding away any emotion she may be feeling.

For the first time in her life, Bada feels like she’s able to successfully hide her emotions. Because hearing your voice and seeing you makes every fiber of her body come to life. Perhaps it's because it’s been so long since she’s seen you.

The days she’d spent locked inside her office or bedroom made the sight of you even more irresistible. Your eyes, which she hadn’t met in what felt like decades shine under the light with an endearing gleam. Your body, which she hadn’t touched makes her fingers twitch, every digit aching to caress any and all of your flesh. Your lips…

Bada has to use all her willpower to stop herself from wrapping her arms around you and kissing you. The yearning her body has to embrace you and touch you drives her mad.

“Lusher was right.” Is all she can think.

…The realization disgusts her.

How could she be so selfish? How could she fall in love with you knowing full well all the torment and danger her feelings will bring you? How could she allow herself to fall victim to your every smile and caring saccharine phrases? How could she when she knows that she may end up laying in the street, sobbing, holding your cold body in her arms while you stare up at her, the light gone from your eyes, and crimson falling from your chest?

Your smile starts to slowly wither, a slightly timid expression encompassing your face. “Bada?” You mumble. “You finally came out of your office.”

A deathly silence echoes in the hallway, not a sound leaving Bada’s lips. She only moves her gaze away from you, instead staring straight in front of her.

“Uhm, I was going to ask you if we could maybe spend some time together?” Your voice comes out low, nervous, and like you’re unsure of yourself.

Again, that nasty tugging on Bada’s heart hits her, but this time she reacts to it by closing her eyes and breathing out through her nose. For her, it’s a method of calming herself down.

But to you, it relays a sense of annoyance you assume she’s feeling.

Once again she doesn’t answer you, making you shift uncomfortably in your spot. You stare at her with pleading eyes, begging her to say anything to you. Even just letting you know that she’s listening to you, and not acting like you’re a pesky fly on the wall, buzzing in her ear.

“I have work to do.” Finally, when she speaks, her tone is clipped, and full of ice.

You physically react, your limbs shaking at her phantom frost. Before you can even open your mouth again, Bada turns and walks in the opposite direction towards her office.

You’re left in the hallway, stunned and wondering if Bada was aware of the trail of heartbreak she’d left in her wake.

And yet despite everything, you keep trying to get through to Bada.

You try because you care. You try because no matter how hard you remind yourself that your union to her was just business, you can’t stop yourself from falling in love with her.

She saved you from your parents, after all. She gave you a home that you could call yours–she introduced you to the Bebe girls, who you now considered your close friends. She brought you into a world of glitz and glamor, while still protecting you and watching over you with the utmost care.

How could you not fall in love with her?

So, with a world of fluttering butterflies nesting in the depths of your stomach, you take in a deep breath and knock on her office door. When you pull your fist away from the wood, you’re met with an uncomfortable silence. Swaying nervously, you play with your fingers, waiting another minute before mustering the courage to knock again.

This time, a small sound emanates from inside, perhaps a loud inhalation or the sound of an annoyed breath. Your stomach turns at the thought.

When you withdraw your fist from the wood, an uncomfortable silence engulfs the space. Swaying nervously, you toy with your fingers, mustering the courage to knock again after waiting another minute.

This time, a faint sound emanates from within, perhaps a pronounced inhalation or an exasperated breath. Your stomach churns at the notion.

"Who is it?" Bada's frosty voice compels you to stand tall, the butterflies in your belly fluttering wildly, creating a tempest.

“It’s me,” you speak cautiously.

For what feels like the millionth time, a hush falls between you and Bada.

“...I’m busy,” is all she utters in response.

You close your eyes and gulp, uncertain of your next move. On one hand, you don’t want to disturb Bada, especially when she sounds visibly irritated. On the other hand, the yearning to see your fiancée again is overpowering. Being separated from her renders the hallways of the Lee mansion colder, your life dimmer, and the world slower in its spin.

“Bada…” you trail off, your voice low and caring. “I haven’t spoken to you properly in days.”

This time, there's little dead air before a chair scrapes against the floor, and her footsteps approach the door. Surprised, you take a step back just before she opens the door, keeping it ajar so you can see her but not enter her office.

“I told you, I’m busy,” she says plainly, her gaze avoiding yours.

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to meet her eyes. “You should take a break; you've been working nonstop for days now.”

“I have to,” Bada defends her actions.

“I understand that,” you nod slowly, acknowledging the stress she must be under. “But it’s not good for your health.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to say it aloud, but Bada looks exhausted. Bags and dark circles under her eyes, absent before, now paint a picture of fatigue. Moreover, the expression she wears hints at an imminent collapse.

“You should take a nap, or if you really don’t want to rest, we can relax and watch this drama together–” you start to grow excited at the idea, a smile forming on your lips.

Meanwhile, Bada confronts a dilemma. She acknowledges her love for you, plain and simple. She wants to eschew work, opting to watch a drama with you, to hold you close and sleep with the comforting weight of your presence. Yet, her mind brands her feelings as selfish, a slow-acting poison disguised in sweet wine—pleasurable until it brings forth your demise.

“You expect too much of me,” Bada says through gritted teeth, spitting the words out with venom that extinguishes the small smile you’d nurtured.

“What?” You breathe, confusion clouding your expression.

“You ask me to spend time with you, you want us to watch a drama together,” she lists. “These affections you are asking of me–” She cuts herself off, shaking her head with a bored expression. “It is inappropriate. We are not a couple.”

In just a few words, Bada annihilates your world. The meticulously crafted memories of your time with your fiancée crumble, collapsing under the weight of her words. "We are not a couple." The phrase echoes in your mind, torturing you until your ears ring.

You visibly flounder, opening and closing your mouth in genuine shock. “Where is this coming from?” You ask incredulously.

“I told you I would not fall in love with you,” Bada argues. “Our union was a tactical business move that benefitted me and your parents, that is all. You are nothing more to me.”

As if your heart could shatter further, it bleeds in your chest, oozes crimson red, and cries out to be spared. For a brief moment, you're left so shell-shocked that you almost lose all sense of self. Rooted in your spot, you stare into Bada’s eyes as every part of your body pulsates with insurmountable pain.

“We don’t act like we’re in a marriage of convenience,” you fight back, words a hushed and hurt whisper.

She doesn’t respond, simply looks ahead, acknowledging the truth. She hasn’t treated you as a friend for months, let alone an acquaintance for longer.

“Bada. Look at me,” you order, your voice gaining slight confidence.

Slowly, Bada shifts her gaze to meet yours. In her dark brown irises, a storm rages—a tempest of unspoken feelings concealed behind a sheet of ice. Staring into Bada’s eyes, you shake your head with a hurt expression. The woman in front of you is unrecognizable. She doesn’t resemble your fiancée and the woman you fell in love with; she's a shadow, an imitation.

"Who are you?" Your eyes question Bada.

“I don’t know,” her eyes confess.

You take a step back from Bada, tears welling in your eyes. “You are cruel, Bada Lee.” Without uttering another word, you turn and rush away, almost colliding with Lusher, standing around the corner with Tatter by her side.

Lusher watches you leave with a disapproving look. She glances at Bada, who stands stock-still, appearing as if she’d been stabbed in the heart.

Her boss makes eye contact with her. “What? Aren’t you going to tell me off?” Bada says harshly.

Lusher only shakes her head disapprovingly, looking away from her friend.

Bada scoffs, clicking her tongue as she brushes past Lusher and Tatter, heading toward the stairs and the door to the Lee mansion.

Tatter takes a step forward, a worried look on her face. “Shouldn’t we go after them?”

Lusher holds her arm out to stop Tatter from walking ahead. “It isn’t our place,” she says softly. “It’s time for Bada to face her past.”

Blown glass casts colored shadows across Bada’s fair skin. Her grim expression contrasts with the bright colors, and the bouquet of sunflowers clutched between her fingers adds a touch of vibrancy. In front of her, a gold placard engraved with her mother’s name stares back at her.

“Hello, mother,” Bada murmurs into the open air. “I’m sorry; it’s been a while since I’ve visited you. I’ve been busy.” She shifts her gaze to the floor. “I met a woman.” She utters your name with reverence, “You would have loved her.”

She closes her eyes, envisioning your lively and beautiful countenance.

“You’ll be surprised to hear that I'm engaged to her now. We are to be wed in December.”

“You are cruel, Bada Lee.” Her mind echoes your words, and she opens her eyes.

“Well, perhaps not anymore,” Bada steps forward, exchanging the wilting flowers beside her mother’s grave with a new bouquet. The bright yellow sunflowers pop next to the gold, infusing the room with more color. “She made me feel strange emotions,” Bada confesses.

She thinks back to the first time she had a proper conversation with you. You’d come into her office and brought her breakfast, standing tall and confident as you poked and prodded, asking questions about her.

“When she’s happy, I’m at peace,” Bada reflects. Her thoughts then shift to Seong. “When she was taken from me, I was infuriated.” Her fingers unconsciously curl into a fist. She places her hand over her heart, feeling it beat wildly against her palm.

Her heart sings for you, no matter where she might be.

“But I know better.” Bada shakes her head. “I know better than to let myself care about her.” She thinks of the way she’d spoken to you an hour prior–how she’d lied to you– “So I hurt her.” She says, her voice low and full of shame. “I said whatever I could think of to make her hate me.”

Outside, the wind whips violently, thrumming against the mausoleum.

“...Because loving me is a death wish.”

13 years ago 

A bright-eyed, 15-year-old Bada Lee steps out of her private school, her eyes scanning the myriad of luxury cars to find a silver Ferrari LaFerrari, the hypercar her bodyguard drives. Suddenly, the sound of a loud engine pulls up next to the curb of the school, right in front of where Bada stands.

“Ms. Lee.” Chung-Hee steps out of the car, a pair of black sunglasses covering his eyes. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes!” Bada nods excitedly, heading toward Chung-Hee. He quickly moves to grab her backpack before opening the car door, the silver sides of the car shooting up into the air like wings. “Thank you,” Bada says as she piles in, a wide smile on her face.

Chung-Hee simply nods as he sets her backpack in the front passenger seat before sitting in the driver’s spot. He pulls out of the driving lot with ease, heading away from the school. “How was your day today, Ms. Lee?”

“Very good.” Bada nods. “Actually, I was talking to some of my friends…”

“Seoyoung Lee, right?”

“Yes.” Bada smiles. “She and some others were talking about taking some dance classes after school–”

“Ms. Lee…” Chung-Hee sighs. “You are already very busy with your English and piano lessons, not to mention horseback riding and taekwondo–”

“I know that, Chung.” Bada huffs endearingly. “But this is something I really want to do, not just another hobby my father makes me take up so that I can find a husband.”

Chung-Hee lightly drums his fingers against the wheel. “You’ll have to ask both your father and your mother–”

“Yes, I know that.” Bada makes a cheeky expression. “That is why I’m going to speak to my mother right when we arrive home so that she can convince my father.”

“Ah, your mother is not currently home,” Chung-Hee informs her. “She is buying groceries for dinner tonight.”

“Then will you take me to her, please?” Bada begs, pitching her tone upwards.

“I was instructed to take you straight home–”

“Pleaseeee Chung?” Bada continues, staring through the rearview mirror so that her bodyguard can see her properly.

Chung-Hee sighs in defeat. “One of these days you’re going to get me fired.”

Bada squeals in excitement, practically bouncing in her seat. “You know that’s not true. My father considers you a close friend.”

“I guess I am lucky in that regard.” Chung-Hee breathes.

“Well, anyway…” Bada sits back, her smile never dimming. “How is your daughter, Chung?”

Immediately, Chung-Hee sits up in his seat, a bright grin overtaking his lips. “She’s great, thank you for asking. And she’s doing wonderfully in school.”

“You must be proud of her then.”

“Yes, I am,” Chung-Hee says fondly. “She’s so intelligent, it blows my mind.”

Bada smiles sadly as she nods.

“And she looks up to me. Says she wants to be just like me when she’s older.”

“She sounds wonderful, Chung,” Bada whispers.

The rest of the car ride continues in a comfortable silence, although Bada shifts her gaze to stare out of the window. She counts every passing minute, becoming more and more restless to see her mother.

Finally, the car eventually slows down across the street from a grocery store. Bada starts to grin, practically buzzing in her seat. Sensing her excitement, Chung-Hee parks the car and quickly exits, opening the door, only for Bada to practically shoot out of the car and rush over to the grocery store.

Chung-Hee only sighs. “Yah, one day she really is going to get me fired.”

Inside the grocery store, Bada barely pays attention to the way the shoppers gape at her, only intent on finding her mother. She uses her long legs to quickly make her way through the aisles until she spots a familiar head of hair near the fresh produce. Bada makes her way over to her mother, calling out to her.

“Mother!” She says, only a few feet away.

Bada’s mother immediately turns around, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion until she spots her daughter rushing toward her. “Bada?” She responds, a smile growing on her lips. “What are you doing here?”

Bada stops right in front of her mother, throwing her arms around her in a hug that the older woman immediately reciprocates. “Chung-Hee told me you weren’t home, so I asked him to drive me here.”

“And where is he now?” Bada’s mother scans the store, searching for a tall man wearing sunglasses.

“Oh…” Bada unwarps herself from her mother and then turns to look behind her, only now noticing her bodyguard is nowhere to be seen. “I must have left him behind.”

Her mother sighs and shakes her head disapprovingly. “Where are your manners, Bada? You have that poor man running after you all day.”

“Sorry,” Bada mumbles out half-sincerely. Her mother glances at her before gently patting her back, prompting her to continue walking. “Are you done shopping?”

“Yes, I have everything I need to make dinner tonight.” Her mother smiles.

“Why do you come to grocery stores anyway?” Bada asks. “The staff bring in fresh ingredients and foods every day.”

“They do, and while I appreciate all they do for us,” her mother walks over to the cash register, placing her groceries on the counter. “It’s important to never become lazy. As your mother and the woman of the house, it’s my responsibility to prepare you and your father’s dinner, even occasionally.”

Bada listens to her mother’s words carefully, nodding along in agreement. She watches her mother hand over a heavy golden credit card to the cashier, who is about to refuse the payment, but her mother’s bright smile and persistence makes him give in and take the card, charging her for the food.

“Besides, the staff deserve to rest every once and a while, don’t you think?” Bada’s mother continues.

“Yeah.” Bada remains in awe of her mother’s humility and kindness.

“What made you so eager to see me that you came all the way here, by the way?” She asks her daughter, helping the worker bag her groceries, despite his insistence that he should do it himself.

“Ah,” Bada suddenly smiles nervously, grabbing two of the heaviest bags to help her mother carry out of the grocery store. “Do you remember my friend Seoyoung?”

“Of course I do, she’s your oldest friend, isn’t she?”

Bada nods. “Well she and some of my other friends wanted to take some dance classes after school, and maybe join a dance club afterward–”

“I see.” Her mother nods. “So you came to ask me to convince your father to let you, is that right?”

Bada stares at her mother with a sheepish expression. “Yes.”

“I don’t know, Bada. Won’t you be much too tired after school? And don’t forget you have piano lessons right after–”

“I promise I can handle it.” She says with conviction. “I’ll do all my lessons and taekwondo every day even after dance.”

“You’ll be exhausted–”

“I won't,” Bada argues with a small pout. “Please, mother: I think dance is something I could be very good at.”

The older woman pauses, turning to look into her daughter’s eyes. She sees them shine with confidence and pure hope, which makes her smile. “Okay,” she nods. “I’ll speak to your father about it.”

“Yes!” Bada cheers, side-hugging her mother the best she can with her hands preoccupied. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The older woman laughs, leaning into her daughter’s side. “Of course. If dancing is something you think you’ll enjoy, then I fully support you trying it out.”

That evening, under the warm Seoul sun, Bada experiences her last moments of pure happiness, unencumbered by worries or fear. She simply laughs with her mother, her heart bursting at the seams with love for the woman who cared for and nurtured her.

Her happiness blinds her to the moving figure across the street.

Ji-ah, Bada’s mother’s bodyguard has his head down as he crosses the street. Her mother smiles at him, greeting him again with a wave. But her eyes catch something, a glint of silver clutched in his right hand and almost completely concealed from her by his suit jacket. Her smile fades, confusion stretching across her face until she spots another man peering from the corner of a building, a nasty smirk on his face.

A blur of motion crosses Bada’s eyes before a loud popping sound fills the air.

The neighborhood falls into silence after, Bada jolting at the noise in shock. She looks around the street blearily, her mind still trying to catch up as her ears ring.

“Mo–” Before Bada can call out to her, the body of her mother falls into hers. They collapse in the street, grocery bags broken and food spilling out onto the concrete as Bada lets out a small huff of pain and surprise. She looks down, finding her mother splayed across her lap, a gunshot wound in her chest. “M-Mother?” Bada stutters in shock, her eyes growing wide in horror as she wraps her arms around her mother’s body.

In her daughter’s lap, Mrs. Lee breathes heavily, her eyes glazing over as pools of crimson fall from her chest, staining Bada’s hands bright red.

“No, no, no.” Bada breathes, placing her hand against her mother’s wound. “Ma… ma please stay awake.” She pleads, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as her heart pounds in her chest, a stabbing pain puncturing the organ. 

“Are you hurt?” Her mother barely manages to choke out, raising her pale hand to clutch the side of her daughter’s face.

“No.” Bada shakes her head, now fully sobbing.

A few feet away, Chung-Hee finally arrivies near the grocery store, having been held back by a group of men. He recognised them to be lackeys of a rival of Mr. Lee, and swung before they got the jump on him. He managed to beat them all to a pulp before rushing down the street, his mind racing with thoughts of Mrs. Lee and Bada being in potential danger.

Before he could make it to them he spots Ji-ah brandishing a gun, and holding it up in their direction. He fires without a second thought, hitting Mrs. Lee. 

Chung-Hee pulls out his gun quickly, shooting at Ji-ah across the street. He manages to hit him in the chest, then quickly fires again, emptying five more rounds into the traitor before Ji-ah falls to the concrete, dead.

Bada, unable to focus on the chaos around her only stares at her mother while sobbing, rocking back and forth. “Umma,” she cries, “Umma please, stay awake!”

Mrs. Lee only smiles, brushing her thumb against her daughter’s cheek. “You are beautiful.” She utters, her eyes filled with pure love and adoration. “I could not have asked for a kinder, gentler daughter.”

“Umma,” Bada closes her eyes, shaking her head as her tears grow hot, their salty liquid burning her cheeks.

“I love you.” Mrs. Lee whispers.

With the last of her strength gone, her eyes glaze over and her hand falls away from Bada’s cheek, hitting the concrete with a thud.

“No, umma!” Bada practically screams, clutching her mother’s body close to her chest as her frame starts to physically shake. “I love you too, please don’t leave me! Please, umma!”

Chung-Hee rushes over to Bada’s side, trying to separate her from her mother’s dead body. Bada only shoves him away, her eyes full of pure sorrow.

The sound of fast-approaching cars–her father’s men– just barely registers in Bada’s mind, reminding her of the shooter.

Bada shifts her gaze to the dead body across the street, her eyes going ice-cold at the sight of Ji-ah sprawled across the concrete.

Poison.

“Would you hate me for what I’ve done?” Bada speaks to her mother’s headstone. “For pushing her away?”

The wind thrashes against the windows.

“Because I do.” Bada admits.

The sunflowers next to her mother’s headstone quiver withthe breeze.

“I don’t know what to do with myself.” Bada places her hands over her eyes, feeling tears build inside them. “I should be happy that she hates me. I should be happy that she’ll stay away from me and be safe, but–”

The tears she’s been holding in finally break through. For what feels like the first time in 13 years, Bada Lee cries.

“I hate myself. I want to tear myself apart for all the things I said to her.” She confesses, sobbing. “I love her. I love her more than anything.”

The sunflowers shake.

“I want to be with her. I want to tell her that I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.” Bada’s heart races in her chest as she heaves. She tears her hands away from her face so she can see her mother’s headstone. “I wish you were here to guide me–to tell me what to do–”

Suddenly, the violent winds from outside cause the door to the mausoleum to whip open, the strong breeze blows past Bada, swiping the tears from her cheeks and rushing toward the sunflowers. The sheer force of the wind sends flower petals into the air, making Bada stare up at them in shock.

Then, a memory comes rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

22 years ago

Six year old Bada races through the garden next to her father’s office, giggling at the small birds nesting in a tree above her. She tries to reach for them–but although being very tall for her age–she can’t touch the branch they reside on.

Bada tries to stretch her legs even further, standing on her tippytoes as she reaches her arms up–but she immediately loses her balance, making her wobble until she falls back.

Unfortunately, Bada’s excitement made her blind to the fact that just behind her lied a bushel of roses, their thorns giving her a painful greeting as her back and arms get caught on the spikes.

“Ouch!” She hisses, quickly removing herself from the flowers. She now has a few cuts and scrapes littering her arms, which makes tears rush to her eyes. She starts to sniffle, about to begin crying–

“Bada.” The sound of her mom’s voice distracts her, making the young girl look up.

“Umma.” Bada says tearrily.

“What happened?” Mrs. Lee rushes over to her daughter’s side, her eyes filled with worry as they take in the small cuts all over her arms.

“I fell into the–the thorns.” Bada hiccups, pointing at the offending flowers.

“Bada, I told you not to play near the roses.” Her mother softly scolds her, gently picking her daughter up and placing her in her lap.

“I’m sorry umma.” Bada sniffles, wiping her tears away with the palm of her hands.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Mrs. Lee looks over her daughter’s injuries. “Thankfull, none of the cuts are too deep, but I’ll clean them–”

Bada, now much less emotional, shifts her attention away from her mother, instead staring up to find the birds in the tree above them. They rub their beaks and heads against each other, their eyes closed as they rest in their nest.

“Umma.” Bada suddenly interrupts her mother.

Mrs. Lee pauses, noticing her daughter is looking upward, and glances up as well. “Yes?”

“What does being in love feel like?”

Her mother looks down at her in surprise, a small smile growing on her lips. “Why do you ask?”

Bada looks away from the birds and at her feet instead. “Some of my friends were talking about love because Valentine’s Day is coming up. They said we should give chocolates to boys we love.”

Mrs. Lee’s smile widens, “Ah, I see.”

“But I don’t feel anything when I think about the boys in my class.” Bada mumbles. “So I want to know what I should be feeling.”

Mrs. Lee caresses the top of her daughter’s hair, completely endeared by the young girl. “You’re still young, Bada. You might not feel such strong emotions yet.”

Bada looks up at her mother, her eyes wide and pleading.

Mrs. Lee sighs, then nods. “Alright.” She moves her daughter around in her lap so she’s facing her. “When you’re in love, all you can think about is your partner. You wake up in the morning and your mind instantly goes to them. ‘What are they doing right now?’ ‘Have they eaten breakfast yet?’ ‘Did they sleep well?’” Bada’s mother mumbles. “When you’re with them, you smile very wide.” She reaches over to pinch her daughter’s cheeks, stretching her lips into a smile. Young Bada giggles at the action, her lips easily forming a grin.

Her mother laughs along with her, removing her hands from her daughter’s cheeks.

“And when you’re away from them, you’re very sad.” She makes a small frown, which Bada mimics cutely. “You want to be with them every waking moment.”

Bada glances down at her lap, her eyebrows furrowing. “And what if I can’t tell if I’m in love or not?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Mrs. Lee nods.

“How?” Bada pouts.

Her mother thinks for a moment before smiling. She grabs her daughter’s arms and slowly starts to place kisses on her small cuts. Bada looks at her mother in surprise, a few giggles slipping from her lips at the action.

“You'll realize you're in love when you see your partner hurt, and all you want to do is make them feel better,” her mother mumbles. “You wish you had magical powers to heal all their wounds–” She places a kiss on Bada’s last cut. “So, you end up kissing every injury to help them heal.”

Bada breathes in wonder, her eyes glittering under the sunlight. “Is that why appa always gives you a kiss when you get hurt?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Lee nods, grinning widely. “He helps me get better, and it’s his way of telling me he loves me.”

“But what if one day you get really hurt, and appa isn’t there to give you a kiss?” Bada asks. “Will you not heal?”

“In that case, I’ll have to be strong and get better on my own.” Her mother whispers softly. “Although I wish I could, I can’t always rely on your father to take care of me. I need to be independent as well.”

“I think I know what it means to be in love now.” Bada smiles. “I’m excited to fall in love!”

Mrs. Lee laughs warmly. “That’s good, sweetheart. You should be very excited to find someone who will also kiss your wounds.” Together, mother and daughter sit in the garden, their heads and hearts filled with love. 

A strong breeze suddenly whips around them, plucking a few sunflower petals from the bushel next to the roses. They dance and flutter in the air, making both Bada and her mother stare up at them in amazement. 

As yellow sunflower petals fall onto the mausoleum floor, Bada smiles widely. She closes her eyes and nods. “I understand now, mother.” Opening her eyes, she glances at her mother’s headstone. “I know what I must do.”

She says one final goodbye to the resting place of her mother before racing out of the private cemetery, and toward her Porsche 918 Spyder. She’s about to pull out of the parking lot when her eyes catch a store across the street. She freezes in her spot, mesmerized.

There, on display, a misty gem sat atop a golden band surrounded by small diamonds, with flower-shaped gold holding onto the gem. It’s a unique, but beautiful ring.

“Perfect.” Bada breathes.

Arriving back at the Lee mansion, a cloud of sorrow and heartbreak fills the halls. Bada winces as she trudges up the stairs, guilt causing her throat to close up. Her feet take a mind of their own, leading her on autopilot to the place where she longs to be most, with you.

Bada stares at the wood of your door, suddenly feeling immensely nervous. She wonders if you’d felt this way when you bravely knocked on her door hours prior.

She raises her fist to knock, her ears just barely picking up the sound of small sniffles behind the door. Her heart screams in her chest.

She waits a few moments with no response before grabbing onto the doorknob, and twisting it open. Bada steps into your room hesitantly, her eyebrows furrowing at what she sees.

You’re sitting in your bed, your hands covering your eyes as you silently weep into them. Lusher sits beside you, rubbing your back soothingly as she tries to calm you. She looks up at the sound of Bada coming in, her eyes moving to Hyo who stands next to the door.

Hyo does nothing, simply glances between you and her boss while gnawing her bottom lip.

Lusher casts her disapproving gaze onto Bada, but her friend quickly shakes her head. Bada steps forward and walks to your side, kneeling next to the bed.

“Hey,” She says to you softly.

You don’t look up at her, only inch closer to Lusher.

Bada closes her eyes and swallows a lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.” She whispers sincerely.

Your cries seem to slowly die down at her words, now becoming small sniffles.

“I’m ready to tell you everything if you’re willing to listen.”

You finally take your hands away from your face to look up at Lusher. She stares back at you and smiles, nodding kindly. You take in a deep breath, “Okay.”

Sand crunches below you, and the sound of ocean waves whipping against each granule soothes your nerves. The night is cold, which makes you regret wearing the beige, glittery dress you’d chosen. You clutch at your arms, feeling goosebumps rise from your skin.

Bada notices you shivering and takes off her black coat. “Here.” She whispers, draping it over your shoulders and rubbing her slim hands up and down your arms to warm you up.

You stare at Bada, hating how your heart leaps in your chest at her tender care. You want to stew in your anger and hurt, but the way she looks at you with so much warmth and regret makes you melt. You’re weak.

Bada, now in a simple black shirt and brown slacks steps back. “Is that better?”

“Yes.” You mumble, looking at the sand pooling under your feet.

Bada nods, breathing out deeply. “Okay.” She looks incredibly nervous in front of you, and you almost want to soothe her worries. “I’m not sure how to start this…” She trails off. “But I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

You look up from the sand to stare into Bada’s eyes.

“The things I said to you were disgusting lies.” She admits, shame encompassing her expression. “You are more to me than just a business deal. You have been from the start.”

In the background, the ocean waves begin to calm.

“I never told you this, but…” She shakes her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “the day that we met, I came to talk to your parents to break off the deal.”

Your eyes go wide, and a look of confusion grows on your expression.

“I’d been having second thoughts about our engagement.” She closes her eyes, remembering that day vividly. “I was going to tell them that I wanted to call it off, but then–” her smile turns soft. “You walked in.”

Suddenly, you no longer feel cold, the heat of Bada’s coat and confession making every part of your body burn.

“And you were so beautiful. Like nothing I’d ever seen. So beautiful, and so smart.” She opens her eyes, taking your hands into hers. “I knew then and there that I had to go along with the deal. That I had to make you mine.”

You squeeze Bada’s hands, tears beginning to flow into your eyes.

“But I was terrified. I was so terrified of my feelings.” She starts to tear up as well. “If I were to let you fall in love with me, I would be putting your life at risk. I told myself I was being selfish.”

You want to cut in and deny everything that she says, but you let her talk.

“When my mother died…” Bada chokes on her words–she has to close her eyes and steady her breathing to continue. “She stepped in front of a bullet for me.”

The tears you’d been trying to hold back release, your heart aching in your chest in sympathy for your fiancée.

“Her bodyguard betrayed us... he was aiming to kill me but–” She takes another deep breath. “My mother took the shot.”

“Oh, Bada…” You whisper, throwing your arms around her to pull her into a hug.

Bada breaks down in the comfort of your arms, sobbing violently, and finally releasing 13 years worth of guilt. You hold onto her the entire time, rubbing her back and whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

"I should've been the one to die that day," she cries. "My parents could have had another child—a son. Someone they could be proud to pass on the business to."

“Bada Lee, you are the most hardworking woman I’ve ever met.” You insist. “Your parents would be so proud of what you’ve made of their business.”

Bada tightens her hold on your waist. “I’m sorry.” She slowly unravels herself from you, wiping her tears as she steels herself. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to wake up next to you every morning. I want to stay by your side for what little time we may have together.”

You bite your lip, trying to stop your sobs from passing beyond your lips.

Bada takes your hand and suddenly starts walking toward a faint light in the distance of the beach. You give her a confused look but follow her anyway until you finally see what she’s bringing you toward.

Rose petals are scattered on the beach sand to create a makeshift walkway, lanterns with burning candles lighting up the sides of it while a small arch in the shape of a heart lies beyond the petals.

You instantly clasp your hands over your mouth, breathing out in shock and awe, turning to face Bada who only smiles at you. She takes both of your hands once again, then slowly starts to lower herself onto the sand, taking one knee in front of you.

“When I look at you, I see my future in your eyes. I know who I am with you.” She places a kiss on your knuckles. “I am selfish. I am a woman who will devote her every waking moment to caring and protecting you.”

She slips her hand into the pocket of her brown slacks and pulls out a black box. You start to openly sob when she opens it and reveals a beautiful engagement ring.

“So, will you allow me to be a selfish woman, and love you until the end of my days?”

“Yes!”

A mess of kisses and wandering hands, you and Bada trail into her private beach house. It’s small but cozy and intimate, exactly what you two need.

Bada guides you in the direction of the master bedroom, never separating from your soft lips. She huffs, her hot breaths caressing your skin as she opens the door and walks toward the bed. It’s decorated in even more rose petals that you crush when she lays you down, and hovers on top of you.

“I’ve said some terrible things to you today,” Bada whispers. “So let me make it up to you.” She places her hand over your right breast, squeezing it and making you moan. “Will you let me?” She asks. “Will you let me…make love to you?”

“Yes.” You breathe. “Yes, Bada.”

Bada smiles, closing her eyes in bliss at the way you alluringly say her name. “I love your voice.” She trails her slim fingers down your body before bringing them up again, and carefully helping you peel your shining dress off your body.

You’re left in your panties and your bra, heaving, passionate breaths making your chest rise and fall in quick succession. Bada stares at your breasts unabashedly before dragging her eyes over every inch of your body. She looks in complete and utter awe, taking in a sharp breath.

“I love your body.” She continues, lowering her hands to your panties, slowly pushing them aside. She finds your pussy glistening with slick, her eyes drinking in the sight with fiery irises. Bada parts your lips, watching carefully as strings of wetness cling to them, revealing your pearly, throbbing clit.

As if in a trance, she brings her thumb up to it, rubbing it up and down with varying degrees of pressure, studying how you cry out in pleasure at each motion.

“Do you like that?” She whispers, staring to trial kisses on your neck and breasts.

“Yes.” You immediately respond, losing yourself in the simple pleasure your faincée gives you. All the months of being untouched have made you so sensitive–so, so sensitive to the point that you’re releasing ridiculous amounts of slick onto Bada’s fingers.

“I want to feel you,” Bada confesses, moving her fingers away from your clit and to your hole. She traces her finger around it before gently inserting one in, your pussy sucking her in without any complaint. “Ah,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “You’re so warm.”

You let out a strangled moan at her words, begging her to continue.

She does as you ask, pushing her finger in deep before dragging it out–again and again she does this, slowly building up her pace until she’s driving her finger into you at an incredible speed. “You’re so warm, honey. So wet.” She repeats, stars in her eyes as she moves to kiss you passionately, all tongue and spit.

“More, please.” You ask again.

“Of course.” She whispers against your lips. Bada takes another finger and inserts it into you, the almost painful but pleasurable stretch makes you cry out, grabbing her unoccupied hand to squeeze it. “There you go.” She says fondly. “Make as much noise as you want to, honey. It’s just us.”

So you let yourself go, practically moaning like a porn star as Bada pounds her fingers into you, your slick sloshing against them and pruning up her digits. She doesn’t seem to care at all, instead changing their position to crook them upwards, dragging them along your walls, indulging you in sexual gratification like you’ve never felt before.

“I want you to cum all over my fingers.” She breathes, the words so heavy you can barely make them out. “Cover me in your juices. Do it.”

Driving her point, Bada lowers her face to your pussy, licking her long tongue against your clit. She flicks it, then takes it into her mouth, swirling her tongue against it.

You immediately cry out in pleasure, your mouth gaping open and eyes closing shut as your fiancée smirks against your clit. She continues her pace, pistoning her fingers in and out of you until she brushes your sweet spot–

“Oh my god!” You scream, your eyes almost rolling back in sheer bliss. “Right there, right there!”

Bada opens her eyes–her lids heavy as makes eye contact with you. “Right here?” She pushes her finger in once again, crooking it up perfectly so that it hits your g-spot perfectly. “Oh yeah, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” She mutters to herself, a proud smile finding her lips.

That, coupled with one long, hard suck and swirl from her tongue on your clit makes your eyes roll back, insurmountable pleasure flowing through you as you cum.

“Soak me.” Bada guides you through it, holding onto your hand tightly to ground you as you embark on a world of bliss, her fingers and mouth never slowing down until you start to whine. 

“Please–” you choke out, your pussy sensitive from her touch.

Your fiancée slows her fingers and pops her mouth off your pussy, licking her lips before she fully pulls out her digits from inside of you. When she does, a gush of cum follows in her wake, trailing down and falling onto the linen sheets. She smiles at the sight, lifting her fingers to her mouth and sucking on your juices.

“I love the way you taste.” She separates her fingers to show you the beads of her spit and your slick combined into one debauched substance.

You sit up from bed, crawling over to her with a mischievous look. You grab her hand and bring it up to your lips, sucking on her fingers gently, moving your head up and down in a sensual motion.

“Fuck.” Bada watches you in awe, her cunt pulsing against her boxers and layers of clothes. “How are you so effortlessly alluring?”

You look up at your fiancée, dragging her fingers out of your mouth. “Bada…”

“Yes?” She asks, using her clean hand to brush her thumb over your cheek lovingly.

“Can I touch you too?” You drag your hand down Bada’s chest, stopping just before the waistband of her slacks.

Bada smiles and nods, grabbing your hand and beginning to take off her black shirt. She pulls it off of her body easily, letting it fall to the floor as her hand moves to remove her sports bra as well. You take the time to also remove your bra, now fully exposed while Bada takes off her slacks.

You try your hardest not to stare at her, but with every movement she does, her lean abs move, and her muscled arms strain. Bada Lee has an amazing body, and you can’t help but gape.

Your fiancée, unaware of your stare finally strips herself of her boxers–which she notes are wet with slick–and moves back onto the bed.

“You’re so pretty.” You whisper to her bashfully, moving your fingers up and down her abs.

The action makes Bada release a heavy breath from her nose, your feather-light touch making her abdominals stretch. “Thank you.” She smiles, leaning in to place a warm sweet kiss on your lips. 

You break away after a moment, leaning your head down and motioning for Bada to lay back. She does so immediately, encouraging you to do as you please with a hand on the back of your head. 

You slowly lower your head so you’re face-to-face with Bada’s cunt. You notice a few beads of wetness fall from her folds, making you smile proudly. She’s just as riled up as you.

Without a second thought, you part her lips like she had yours and place your hot mouth on her cunt, making her hiss. She throws her head back, once again her abs stretching as her long hair falls against her face. “Ah, fuck.”

You move your tongue inside of her, eyes going doe when she stares down at you with burning irises, so full of passion and heat that you unconsciously rub your thighs together, slick building between your legs again.

“You’re so good at that, baby.” Bada moans, grabbing your hair with enough force so that she can move you while still keeping her grip painless. She has to hold herself back–remember that this is about making love not fucking. Her full strength could truly hurt you. “Fuck yeah.” She curses, moving your head up and down as she uses you to pleasure herself.

You slip into a submissive role, allowing Bada to move and use you in any way, happy to bring her the same amount of ecstasy that she’d given you. You move your tongue in and out of her hot, gummy walls, slick running down your chin and the column of your throat until it dribbles in between the valley of your breasts.

Bada watches every movement and groans loudly, turned on out of her mind. She moves your head up and down faster, feeling every drag of your tongue and the pressure of your nose against her clit.

She’s so close, right there–

“Wait–” She breathes, letting go of your head. “Wait.”

You instantly shoot up, worried you’ve done something wrong. “Wha–”

Bada flips your position so you’re below her again. She takes your leg and crooks it against her hip, placing her cunt just inches away from your pussy. “I want to cum with you.” She heaves.

You stare up at your fiancée, your heart swelling in your chest to the point you’re worried it’ll burst. You grab her unoccupied hand and nod, smiling sweetly at her.

She smiles back, running her thumb over the engagement ring resting on your ring finger. She places a kiss on it before she uses her strength to lift herself up, and slowly lower her pussy against yours. She lets out another kiss, her cunt still sensitive from her almost release just minutes prior.

She starts out slow, rubbing up and down and positioning herself so that her lips meet the parting of yours. She encourages you to move with her, using her grip on your thigh to help you gain a rhythm in rubbing yourself against her.

You’re both so wet that loud squelching noises fill the air, your skin parting with strings of juices touching each other’s skin lewdly. Bada then starts to speed up her pace, rubbing up against your pussy as she sighs blissfully. She drags her hand up to your breast, grabs your nipple between her fingers, and starts to rub.

You let out a small moan which makes your fiancée twist your nipple with a bit more force, and then angle down enough so that she can flick her tongue against it. She takes your breast into her mouth, sucking rather harshly to pull out a louder moan from your parted lips.

She pops off your breast to smirk, pushing both of them together. “I love your tits.” She spits on them, then flattens her tongue and drags it across your nipples.

“Bada…” You trail off, tears of pleasure falling from your eyes.

“I know baby,” she mutters, her voice hitching when she angles her hips down at the perfect spot and applies just the perfect amount of pressure–she does it again. A mix of her groan and your cry ringing in the air. She slaps her pussy against your own, the shock of bliss shoots up her spine, and makes her curse. “Fuck, cum with me.” She closes her eyes, losing herself in the pleasure. “Fucking cum with me, honey. Let go and give me your all. I want it.”

So you give her what she wants.

Both you and Bada cum seconds later, both of your eyes closed tight in ecstasy as your pussies still rub against each other’s, riding out the high until you no longer can.

Your fiancée is the first to pull away, gently letting go of your thigh and stretching it onto the bed. Exhausted, she flops beside you, breathing heavily.

“How do you feel?” She checks up on you, her eyes finding yours in an instant.

“So good.” You admit with a smile.

Bada grins back at you, scooting closer to you until her body is pressed against your side. She flips you around so that you’re facing her as she wraps her arms around your waist. “Hi.” She mumbles sweetly.

“Hi.” You mumble back, holding back a giggle.

Both of your bodies are hot and shining with sweat, but neither of you cares. You stay tangled together, simply staring into each other’s eyes.

This time when you look into her irises, there’s no storm brewing–no icey wall keeping you separated from her. Just her pretty, dark brown irises. This is the woman you’d fallen in love with.

Your fiancée’s eyes say, “I know who I am.”

“I’m glad,” yours say back.

Bada leans forward, rubbing her nose against yours in a sweet gesture. Then she moves to place her lips inches away from your ear, whispering, “I love you.”

❝ the pain of grief is just as much a part of life as the joy of love; it is, perhaps, the price we pay for love, the cost of commitment. ❞

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[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eleven: Normalcy

Chapter WC: 11,172

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is 95% dialogue, and yes I could’ve cut it but…I didn’t want to.

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After a fitful sleep, one fraught with nightmares, you wake early the next morning. 

You’ve taken to writing down your dreams when you wake, no longer confident that the nightmares are truly that and not something more prophetic. After Felucia, you know better. 

You don't write down much, just the barest of details, and a vague recollection, but it's enough. And, when you read them back, a pattern emerges. Ever since you awoke in the medbay, you've been dreaming about golden fields, dust and smoke, and a searing pain in your chest so intense, you wake up gasping. 

There's no one else, just the grass, and the dirt, and the wind, and, above it all, the feeling of something horrible about to happen. It's the same every time. Over and over again in a loop, and you're growing tired of it. And despite your efforts, you're no closer to understanding it.

You haven't told anyone, and you're not sure what to do with the information. So, for now, you've decided to keep the details to yourself, at least until you figure out what they mean.

You set the dream journal aside, and you dress quickly, slipping into a fresh pair of robes and leaving your quarters to resume your duties at long last.

Overnight, there was a fire in the Undercity, and the Council dispatched you to investigate the issue. It's far from the first time such an event has occurred, and after a quick debriefing, you head out. The fire had originated in the abandoned warehouse district and had spread to several nearby structures, making cleanup tricky. You spend the better part of the day assisting in the recovery effort and meeting with the survivors, taking note of their injuries and asking questions where you can.

The next few days pass in a blur of activity, and, before long, you've forgotten about your conversation with Obi-Wan and your evening out together. He doesn't bring it up, and neither do you, and the two of you continue on, acting like nothing ever happened. 

It's not exactly a healthy choice, but some things are better left unsaid. It's not like either of you have had the time to talk about it, either. There's always something going on, and the War keeps everyone busy. It's easier, and safer, and the Council doesn't need any more reasons to scrutinize the two of you. Well, mostly you, but you were doing your best to make sure you were on their good side.

By the end of the week, you and the Coruscant Guard are able to catch the arsonist. A local crime boss, known for his use of black market chemicals, had set the blaze in an attempt to cover up the evidence of his operation. You bring him and his crew to justice, and after a long debriefing with a Senate committee, another subcommittee, and then the Council, you're finally dismissed.

With the issue resolved and your report completed, you find yourself with some unexpected downtime. And for the first time in a long time, you're able to enjoy a bit of a break. 

It's still early when you decide to go for a run, and you're out of the Temple and onto the streets in no time. The weather is mild, and the sun is shining, and despite the constant buzz of the traffic, it's pleasant. You've missed running, the only thing that seems to actually clear your head these days, and it's not long before you're lost in thought, the city fading into the background.

It's been weeks since the incident on Felucia. And since then, you've barely had a chance to process what happened. In fact, aside from the nightmares, the only time you've really been able to stop and think was the night you and Obi-Wan snuck off to the cantina. 

Now, as you jog through the city, the air crisp and cool, and the noise of the world dulled, the memories come rushing back. The conversation with Rex in the woods, the pain of the explosion, and the way the Force had screamed at you. You'd been trying to forget, but, somehow, the memories are clearer than ever. As though the alcohol had stripped away the fog, and now, all you're left with are the images.

The war has intensified in recent months. More troops, more missions, and the losses have only increased. Every day, there's a new report of another battle gone wrong, another platoon lost, another planet captured. 

It's getting harder and harder to keep up, and you can only hope that when you return to the frontlines, you're ready. You can’t afford to let yourself panic as you did on Felucia, and the consequences of your failure would be even worse.

The thought makes you grimace, and you force yourself to run faster, pushing the memories away. There's no use dwelling on what's already happened, and you need to focus on the present. And on what’s yet to come.

Your run takes you through the Upper Levels of the city, and as the day progresses, the crowds thicken. Soon, the streets are full of people, and you're weaving between them, ducking and dodging, apologizing under your breath. 

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you keep moving, not paying attention to your surroundings. Until, eventually, you stop in front of the clone barracks.

You look around, and when you realize where you are, a frown tugs at your lips. The building looms in front of you, and you stare up at it, more than a little stunned. You hadn't intended to come here. Or maybe you had. You're not really sure.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you watch at the entrance for a few moments before shaking your head. There's no reason for you to go inside, and there's certainly no point in bothering him. He's busy. So are you. The two of you don't need to worry about the other. And you certainly don't need to complicate things.

"General?"

You jump and turn. Rex is standing a few feet behind you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He looks exactly as he did the last time you'd seen him, only this time, his eyes are wide, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Captain," you say, smiling. You wave and nod toward the barracks, trying to keep your voice casual. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you on leave? I thought the 501st was still stationed on Devaron."

Rex doesn't respond, his gaze drifting down momentarily before he quickly refocuses on your face. He looks a bit startled, and more than a little flustered. 

It's only then that you realize you're still wearing your workout clothes, a sleeveless shirt and shorts that reveal quite a bit of your body, your windbreaker tied around your waist. You're not really one for modesty, but Rex has never seen you like this. In fact, none of the clones have. And it's obvious that he's struggling to keep his eyes on your face. 

Your cheeks heat slightly, and you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow. 

"Rex?"

"Yes?" he mumbles. His widen before they snap back to yours, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. General. It's...you...look good—healthy. Healthy. It’s good to see you looking healthy."

"Well, thank you," you say, your amusement growing. He looks so embarrassed, and yet, he hasn't stopped staring at you, and it's making it hard not to laugh. You shift your weight and tilt your head. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, sir," he stammers. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. "I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting to run into you. Here. At the barracks."

"Right," you chuckle. You take a deep breath and shake your head. "I was just taking a run. Got a bit lost. Guess I was distracted."

"I see."

"Mhm." 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. You're not quite sure what to say. Rex is cute when he’s flustered, but the tension is awkward, and you can tell he's not comfortable. So, after a few seconds, you force a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your morning. I'm sure you have a lot to do,” you say, giving him a friendly nod. You glance over at the barracks and then back at him. "I should get going."

"No, no, you’re not interrupting," he assures you quickly, and he shrugs, his eyes meeting yours. “I was actually on my way out."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," he replies, and he gestures to the door. "We got in last night. Just finished debriefing. They're giving us a few days of downtime. Figured I'd take a walk, see the city."

"Ah.”

You look down and fiddle with your jacket, biting the inside of your cheek. This is exactly why you shouldn't have come. Things are too complicated, and you're making it difficult. 

You let out a quiet sigh and look up. He's still staring at you, and he seems genuinely happy to see you, his eyes bright. He's always been so kind, and attentive, and respectful. And he's never once asked anything of you. He's just...Rex. Rex, who treats you like a person, and not just a Jedi.

And, selfishly, you like that. You like having someone who doesn't see you as an asset, or a tool, or a weapon. Someone who isn't afraid to challenge you, and who makes you laugh. Who gives you his full attention and doesn't look at you like a disappointment or a disaster waiting to happen.

While it might be the height of foolishness, and you know that nothing can come of it, it doesn't mean you have to cut yourself off from him completely.

“Would you...like some company?" you ask slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "On your walk."

Rex blinks, his eyes widening, and a hint of red creeps up his cheeks. He looks so surprised, and a little pleased, and a warm feeling blooms in your chest.

"I'd be happy to show you around," you continue. "If you'd like. I know the city pretty well."

He opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks a bit like a fish, and, again, it's cute. Really cute. You find yourself smiling wider, and you wait patiently, the awkwardness dissipating and your confidence returning. 

When he doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes. 

"Unless you don't want to hang out with me, and then I'll leave you alone. You know, I can take a hint. I won't be offended."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I...would love some company. But you must have better things to do."

"I'm off duty.” You shrug. "And I've been meaning to get back to the city. Besides, you could use a guide. The last thing you need is to get lost in Coruscant. Not a great look for a representative of the Republic."

"Right," he says, laughing. He takes a step toward you, and he smiles, his eyes warm. "In that case, lead the way."

You grin and turn, heading down the walkway. Rex falls in step beside you, and you set off down the street, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you. You lead him down several winding pathways, weaving through the crowds, the buildings towering over you. The sun is high overhead, and the air is warm, and the city is filled with noise, the hum of the traffic, the sounds of the people, the buzz of the air.

You point out various sites and monuments, telling him a little about each, and Rex listens intently, his eyes moving from one structure to the next. He doesn't ask any questions or press for details, and he seems content to let you ramble, his gaze focused on the city.

You continue like that for a while, chatting and strolling through the streets. The city is beautiful, and it's nice to have a bit of a break. A chance to do something, anything, normal.

As you walk, you sneak glances at him, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks a bit more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, but you’re starting to notice he’s making a concerted effort not to look directly at you. 

You wonder if he thinks you haven't noticed, but it's impossible to miss. Anytime he catches your gaze, Rex looks away, his cheeks turning pink. It's not a bad look on him, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't find his efforts to cling to professionalism as frustrating as they are amusing.

You decide to take pity on him and put on your windbreaker, zipping it up to cover your exposed skin. As soon as the fabric is covering your chest, his shoulders drop, and his eyes flick back to yours. He smiles, and you smirk back before turning to point out a statue. The conversation resumes, and his gaze never leaves your face.

You spend the next hour wandering the streets and taking in the sights. It's been a long time since you've gotten to enjoy a day without the weight of responsibility and duty, and even longer since you've been able to show someone around. You almost forgot how much you love this city. Or how much you used to.

At one point, Rex stops and tilts his head, looking up at the tall spires of the skyscrapers, the sun shining down on him. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and it makes your heart ache. He doesn't get a chance to do this. None of them do. They're constantly fighting, constantly at war, and, if it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his armor, he would look like anyone else out for a stroll.

He deserves this. To feel normal. To live a life that isn't dictated by the needs and wants of others. To know freedom, and happiness, and joy, and love. And you don't know if he ever truly will. You hope he will. But the chances are slim, and it's hard not to feel a little guilty.

"Something wrong?"

You blink, realizing you've been staring at him, and you smile. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You look around, taking in the scenery, and you try to distract yourself. "It's just...been a while since I've been able to do this. I forgot how much I loved this city."

"I can see why," he says. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," you agree. "It is."

You watch him as he takes in the cityscape. He looks so at peace, and so carefree, and the sadness that had overtaken you disappears, replaced by a different kind of ache. An ache that you're all too familiar with. One that you've felt more than once since you were brought back together.

You push it aside and clear your throat. 

"So...where to next? Got any place in particular you'd like to see?"

"No," he replies. Rex turns his attention back to you and grins. "Just thought I'd follow your lead."

"Are you sure?" you tease as you nudge him with your elbow. "You don't have a hidden desire to visit the Museum of Fine Arts? Or the Opera House? You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an all-Bith performance of the Cantina Cantata. It's a Coruscanti classic."

"Ha, ha," he says dryly. "Very funny."

"What?" you ask. You bat your lashes in a show of innocence, and he scoffs. "It's a legitimate question."

"No, thank you,” he says, rolling his eyes, and he gives you a look. "I'll pass. Unless, of course, you want to."

"Force, no," you groan, and Rex lets out a laugh that has your heart fluttering. You smirk and start walking again, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "There is one place I'd like to go, if that's alright with you. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he admits with a sheepish smile. "We've been eating rations for two weeks straight. Haven't had real food in ages."

"Perfect."

You're getting close to the industrial district, and you take a left down an alley. It's a narrow path between two towering buildings, and the air is hazy, and there's a smell of smoke and fuel. The street is mostly deserted, and you're careful not to trip over any loose stones or stray bits of scrap. 

It's not the best area of the city, but, if there's one thing you've learned, it's that the best places are often in the worst neighborhoods. And this one was the best.

"You sure this place serves clones?" Rex asks warily as he follows you. He's looking around the alley, his hand resting on his blaster. "Seems a little rough."

"Trust me," you tell him. "This place is great."

The alley ends abruptly and you're greeted by the familiar sight of the small diner. It's an older building, and it's been there for a long time, a relic of the old days. The rounded durasteel walls glint in the afternoon sun, the neon sign blinking in the window, and the door is open, the sound of conversation spilling into the street. A few patrons are standing outside chatting, their eyes watching the two of you, but no one says a word as you enter.

"Hi honey," a cheerful voice calls. A waitress droid wheels over, her round eyes shining. "Welcome. Welcome. What can I get for you today?"

"Table for two, please," you say. “Thanks, FLO.”

"Right this way," she chirps, and she spins around, heading toward the back of the diner. 

You nudge Rex, who's looking around the room nervously, and you nod your head toward FLO's retreating form. "Come on. She won't bite."

"I've never been to a place like this," he mutters as he follows you, staying close. "It's so...normal."

"That's kind of the point," you laugh. You glance over your shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a little normal."

"Fair enough." He takes a deep breath and gives you a half-smile. "Thanks for doing this."

"Of course," you say.

You follow FLO to a booth at the back, and you're about to slide into the seat across from him when a large shadow falls over the table. Rex tenses immediately, his hand moving to his weapon, and you whirl around, expecting the worst. But, instead, you're greeted with the wide grin of an old friend.

"Hi Dex," you say warmly. "Long time no see."

You wince as you're immediately wrapped up in a hug, four arms squeezing you tightly and lifting your feet clean off the ground.

"Hey kid!" he booms. "How the hell are ya?"

"Good," you squeak. "And yourself?"

"I can't complain," Dex says. He releases you and sets you back on the floor, his hand on your shoulder to keep you from toppling over. "Can't complain at all. How've you been? Haven't seen you in forever."

"Busy," you reply with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Always working," he sighs. He looks around, his eyes landing on Rex for a moment before focusing back on you, a frown bisecting his face. "Where's Obi-Wan? Not used to seeing one without the other."

"Offworld," you explain. "The war’s keeping him busy."

"Ah," Dex says. "And this is...?"

He nods toward Rex, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. Dex isn't an aggressive man, but he's no pushover either, and he doesn't suffer fools. You have no doubt that, should the need arise, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you're equally certain that he won't hesitate to put a few bolts in anyone who threatens his customers.

"This is Rex, captain of the 501st Legion," you tell him. "My friend."

"Your friend," Dex echoes. He stares at Rex for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing, before he grins and offers one of his hands. "Dexter Jettster. Welcome to Dex's Diner."

Rex hesitates before he takes the offered hand and shakes it. "Thanks. It's a nice place."

"It's a dump," Dex laughs. "But it's mine. And it's been a good place for years."

"Well, it's a great dump," Rex replies. He looks around and grins. "Very welcoming."

"Glad to hear it," Dex chuckles, and he glances down at you and gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Don't be a stranger. You’re always welcome. You tell Obi-Wan, too.”

"Thanks, I will." You smile and watch him go before turning back to Rex. "You good?"

"Yeah," he says. He lets out a deep breath and gives you a wry grin. "For a second there I thought he was going to throw me out."

"Nah," you tell him. You slide into the booth, and Rex does the same across from you. "He has a very strict 'no questions asked' policy. As long as you're a paying customer, he won't bother you. Unless, of course, you're bothering someone else. Then he'll break your legs."

Rex snorts. "Noted."

FLO comes back with two menus, and you both order your caf, the droid zipping away on a squeaky wheel.

"You two are close," Rex says, his eyes scanning his menu.

"Dex? Yeah," you agree as you do the same. "He's a good friend to have."

"I meant you and General Kenobi."

"Oh." You're taken aback by the question, and the tone in his voice. There's no judgement, no accusation, but the statement still manages to catch you off guard. You set your menu down and meet his gaze. "I suppose we are. Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. He glances at his menu and then back at you. "It's just...the two of you seem like a good team. That's all."

"We've known each other a long time," you reply, not entirely sure what he's trying to get at. "And we're good friends."

"I've noticed," Rex says quietly. His expression is guarded and unreadable. He's not being hostile, and his tone isn't rude, but the conversation feels oddly...tense. You desperately want to reach out and sift through his thoughts, but you don't, your curiosity not enough of an excuse to cross such a line. So you wait, your hands clenched under the table, your eyes searching his face for some clue as to where this is going.

Rex seems to sense your apprehension, and he sighs. He puts his menu down and leans forward, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're different around him," he says carefully. "Around everyone else, you're..."

"Distant," you offer. Your voice is soft, and a bit sad. You're not proud of the fact, and you're not sure how else to describe it. "Unfriendly. Cold. Difficult. Take your pick."

Rex is quiet for a moment. He's not judging, and he doesn't seem angry. In fact, if anything, he looks a bit hurt.

"I was going to say intimidating," he corrects, frowning. He tilts his head. "Is that really how you see yourself?"

"Isn't it how everyone sees me?" you challenge.

"I don't."

"Liar.” You scoff. You lean back in the booth and arch an eyebrow. "We barely know each other."

"I think I'm beginning to understand you pretty well," he argues. "And I don't think I've ever met someone more selfless or compassionate." 

"You should get out more."

"Seriously," Rex says. He sits up and holds your gaze. "I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Everyone else, they just...don't know you well enough."

"You don't know me at all," you tell him. "Not really."

"Maybe not," he says. "But I'd like to."

You stare at him, unable to believe what you're hearing.

"Why?"

He's silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing. His jaw is set and his eyes are focused on the table, his fingers tapping against the surface. Finally, he looks up at you, and he sighs.

“Because I think it’s important to know who you're fighting beside," he explains. "And I'd rather die knowing the person standing next to me."

"That's a pretty bleak outlook," you mumble. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the words still sting. You've never been much for talking about yourself, and even less for sharing personal information.

You pick up your menu and hide behind it, pretending to look over the lunch options. "And there’s not much to know."

"I find that hard to believe." Rex reaches out and gently pulls the menu down, his eyes meeting yours. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you. Or pry. I just—"

"I'm not offended," you say, and you shrug. "Just surprised."

"Why's that?"

"It's just rare to hear someone say they'd like to get to know me," you explain. You pause, and then, after a moment, you decide to continue, "Most people either already know who I am or don't want to know. There's no middle ground."

"That's unfortunate," Rex replies. He picks up his menu again and looks it over. "And unfair. You're not all that bad."

"Not all that bad," you repeat with a small smile. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," he says. He glances up at you, and his face is serious, but his eyes are shining with mischief. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

You chuckle, and the tension breaks as FLO returns with two mugs and a carafe of caf. You manage to persuade her to leave the pot, and Rex can't hide his delight at the first sip, his eyes closing as he takes a deep drink, a content sigh escaping him. You bite your cheek in an effort to disguise your smile as he practically moans.

"I take it the stuff in the mess hall isn't as good as this?" you tease.

"Nothing's as good as this," he murmurs. He opens his eyes and gives you a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It’s been a while since I've had a proper cup of caf."

"I can imagine," you laugh, and you nod toward the pot. "There's plenty more."

"You're my hero," he jokes. He picks up the carafe and refills his cup, taking another sip, his eyes fluttering closed again. He shakes his head and smiles at you. "Best cup I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad you approve," you say as you pour your own drink and spoon sugar into it, trying to hide your amusement. 

You're not sure why, but you like watching him enjoy things, even something as simple as a mug of caf. There's something sweet and charming about it, something almost innocent. He's seen far too much for someone his age, and yet, he still manages to hold onto his optimism and his spirit. He's not jaded or cynical. He's a good person, one of the best you've ever met, and you're finding it hard not to admire him. 

You pick up your mug and lift it in a toast. "To proper caf."

"Proper caf," he echoes. He knocks his cup against yours, and the two of you drink. He sets his mug down and leans back in his seat. "So, what do you recommend?"

"What do you like?"

"Honestly? No idea," he answers. He gestures toward the menu. "I'm a bit out of my depth here. Never had real food. Only rations, or whatever the mess serves."

"Right," you say. You take a sip of your caf and scan the page. "How about I order a few things, and we can share?”

“That would be great,” he says, sounding relieved. “Don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, please," you snort. You wave a dismissive hand and give him a smile. "No worries. It'll be our secret."

You flag down FLO and order, and Rex falls silent, his gaze focused on the window, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. The droid wheels away, but he doesn’t look back over. He takes another drink and sighs, his fingers drumming the table, his brow furrowed slightly. 

You tilt your head, waiting, and he lets out a breath, his expression becoming neutral as he turns back to you. 

"If I ask a question, will you answer honestly?"

"Depends on the question."

"Fair enough."

He drums his fingers on the table again, and then he squares his shoulders and clears his throat, his eyes focused on your face. His expression is calm, but you can feel a hint of apprehension. Whatever he's about to say, he's nervous. And that makes you nervous.

"The last time we spoke, you seemed certain that the Jedi Council was going to punish you," Rex says slowly. "And you knew how they were going to handle Ahsoka. Like you were speaking from experience."

You stiffen and take a sip of caf, avoiding his gaze and hoping that he doesn't notice your sudden discomfort, but it doesn't take a genius to know that you've been caught off guard. And that you're not particularly keen on talking about the subject. 

You'd thought you'd done well to avoid the topic of your past indiscretions during your time with the Order, but apparently, you hadn't been as subtle as you'd hoped. Rex was too smart for that. You should have known better.

"That's not a question," you tell him. It's an obvious deflection, and the way his eyes narrow makes it clear that he's not buying it. But it's a deflection nonetheless, and you're not inclined to give him an honest answer. 

"Would you be willing to answer if I asked it?" Rex asks cautiously. He hesitates, and you can feel him probing, trying to gauge how receptive you are. 

You give him nothing, your face a carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. It's the expression you'd perfected as a youngling, and the one that has served you well for years. It's kept people from asking questions, and it's kept you from having to answer them. 

Rex seems to recognize it immediately, and he lets out a breath, a rueful smile on his lips. He leans back in his seat, his eyes studying your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"What?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"Nothing," he says. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Just starting to understand why you and General Skywalker get along so well.”

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the two of you are both stubborn," Rex chuckles, and he picks up his mug and takes a sip. "He does that same thing, the whole stone wall routine."

"Does he?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him."

Rex scoffs and shakes his head again, but he doesn't say anything, his gaze drifting back to the window. There's a slight crease between his brows, and you can tell he's debating whether or not to drop the subject.

“Look,” he starts. He turns back to you and meets your eyes, his face serious. "I can tell you're not comfortable talking about it. I just...want to know what to expect. What I can do. How I can help."

"I don't need your help," you tell him. It's a knee-jerk response, one that has always been your go-to, and you know it's not exactly true. You sigh and shake your head. "I mean...it's not that simple."

"Okay." He nods, his face patient, his eyes kind. "Can you explain?"

"It's...complicated." You hesitate, and you pick at your nails, staring at the table, your mind racing. You're not sure how to begin, or where to start, or what to say. How to put into words the shame and guilt and regret. You open your mouth, and the words are there, but they're stuck in your throat, refusing to budge.

Rex watches you for a few seconds, and then he sits forward and picks up the carafe, pouring more caf into your mug. You blink, the spell broken, and he pushes the cup toward you along with the sugar you’ve been using.

"Here.”

"Thanks," you reply, grateful for the interruption. You add the sweetener, and stir, your eyes on your mug. 

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me,” he says softly. His hand is resting on the table, his fingers tapping the surface. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed."

"It's not that I don't want to," you tell him, the words tumbling out. “Well, okay, it is, but...not for the reasons you're thinking."

"Then what are they?"

You sigh, and you rub your eyes, the exhaustion from the night before settling in. You don't want to lie, and you're tired of secrets, and he's been nothing but understanding and supportive. If there's anyone who might understand, it's him. 

"I'm just...not a very good Jedi."

"You can't be serious," Rex says. He looks appalled, and a little indignant. He shakes his head, and his mouth presses into a thin line. "Of course you are.”

"Hardly." You scoff, and you gesture vaguely in the air, not meeting his eyes. "I have a very complicated relationship with the Council. One that involves me doing the opposite of whatever they want me to do. On multiple occasions."

Rex smirks. "Another thing you and General Skywalker have in common."

"Maybe," you admit. "But I've been on their shit list longer than he has."

"And what have you done to earn that?" he asks. His tone is light, but his words are direct, and a little pointed. He's not judging you, but he wants an answer. A real one. And you're not sure you can give him one, but you try anyway.

"I...have a lot of opinions. And I'm not very good at keeping them to myself, as you know. The Council doesn't appreciate it, and neither do some of the other Jedi."

"That's hardly a crime," he points out.

"Maybe not," you concede. There's a moment of silence, and then you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's...something else."

"Something else?"

"It's not just the opinions."

You fiddle with the spoon, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how much you should tell him. But the truth is, you don't want to have any more secrets. You trust Rex, perhaps more than you should, and the idea of sharing this particular secret with him is oddly appealing And maybe, just maybe, it will help.

"I'm...not always in the best place, mentally," you finally confess. You keep your voice low, and your eyes on the table, afraid to look at him. You've never said the words out loud, you’ve never had to with Obi-Wan, and he’s the only one you’d ever spoken to about this. The only one still alive, anyway. "Obi-Wan's been...kind enough to overlook it. For the most part."

"For the most part?"

"He has his limits," you explain. You run a hand through your hair, your eyes still downcast. "There are certain things that are...not permitted. Or rather, certain ways that Jedi shouldn't behave. And, as far as the Council is concerned, my behavior has crossed that line on several occasions."

"What sort of behavior?" Rex asks quietly.

"You mean besides arguing with them and disobeying their orders?" you counter.

"Yeah."

You hesitate. You've come this far, and you know you've already said too much, but there's no turning back now. You take a deep breath, and you push aside your pride and your anxiety, your eyes meeting his.

“This doesn’t leave this table, alright? If I tell you, it doesn't go any further. No one can know. You understand?"

"Of course," he agrees immediately. "I won't say a word."

You take a long drink of your caf and let out a sigh, your gaze falling back to the table. It's now or never.

"When I was a youngling, I was apprenticed to a Master," you tell him, keeping your voice low, even though the diner is mostly empty. "Her name was Yaddle. She was one of the High Council members. By that point, I’d had a...history. Of trouble. Of making trouble. I was a handful."

"A handful?" Rex asks, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Oh, yes." You roll your eyes, and you can't help the smirk that crosses your face. “Starting fights, running off, talking back, getting in the way, breaking rules. Anything and everything I could think of to get attention."

"And why would a kid like that be apprenticed to one of the most important people in the entire Order?" he asks. "Didn't anyone else want you?"

"No," you admit, and you laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "Not really. Most people didn't want anything to do with me. The Masters all thought I was too much of a problem. Too difficult."

"Why'd she take you?"

"I don't know," you confess. “At first, I thought it was a punishment, but...after a while, I realized it wasn’t. She genuinely wanted me. And she was the first person who did. I mean, really wanted me."

Rex nods, his face solemn. "What happened?"

"She died," you answer bluntly. You stare at the table and shrug, your eyes burning, and you bite the inside of your cheek. "After the Naboo incident, I’d gone to attend the funeral of Obi-Wan’s Master. She was supposed to come with me, but she said she needed to stay on Coruscant. She said she'd catch up later. But later that night, I felt it. The moment she was gone. I just...felt it. It’s hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. The severing of the bond."

"That must have been rough," Rex murmurs.

"It was," you agree. You swallow hard and look up at him, and the concern and sympathy in his eyes almost breaks you. "And the worst part was, no one believed me. They told me it was my imagination, or a trick of the mind, or a hallucination. But I knew what I felt. She was gone.”

"That's terrible," he says, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can’t say it was entirely unwarranted." You let out a bitter laugh and take a drink of your caf. “After she was gone, I was...angry. Really angry. And the Masters and the Council were so busy trying to keep the Order together, no one paid any attention to me. Which meant no one noticed when I started investigating. On my own."

"Investigating what?"

"Her death." you say. You finish your caf and set the cup down, turning it between your fingers, and you let out a long breath. You glance around and lower your voice even more, and Rex leans forward, his brow furrowed. "It was murder. I know it was. I managed to find a few clues, but nothing concrete, and I…”

You trail off and stop, suddenly unable to continue. Your mouth goes dry, and you feel sick. You know what you did. You know what you've done, but saying it out loud makes it real. It means you're acknowledging the worst thing you've ever done, and, while you've done some terrible things, this was different. This was personal. And it hurt. More than anything.

"You did something." Rex's voice is soft, and gentle, and there's no judgement, only understanding. You don't deserve it. You know you don't. But it's hard to ignore the warmth that fills your chest. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. "What was it?"

“It wasn’t intentional. It wasn't like I'd planned to do it. It just...happened," you explain. Your hands shake slightly, and you curl them into fists to steady them. "Obi-Wan and I had an argument, and I stormed out. I went off alone to the Undercity, and I was angry, and hurt, and...and I wasn't paying attention."

"You weren't paying attention?" Rex repeats, his brow furrowed. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth is a tight line. "What do you mean? You weren't paying attention to what?"

"I let my guard down," you tell him. You hesitate, and then continue. "I should've known someone would be after me. After what happened. But I was too busy trying to figure out what to do next that I didn't even think..." 

You trail off and close your eyes. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over. You open your eyes and force yourself to meet his. "I was tricked into entering a trap. By the time I realized it was a set-up, it was too late.

"I found some of Yaddle’s things planted there, and then I was attacked. They used the Force to restrain me," you say evenly. "They put me in a chokehold somehow. I couldn't move or speak or fight back. They told me that I should've stayed away. And then, they..."

Your throat closes and your chest tightens as the memory flashes across your mind, as fresh as the day it happened. You can feel the cold, damp air of the Undercity, the pressure around your neck, the sound of their voice in your ear, the taste of blood in your mouth. 

The rage and fear and shame are just as strong as they were back then, and you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, the urge to scream and break something almost overwhelming. You take a few seconds to calm yourself, and when you speak again, your voice is hoarse.

"They tried to kill me," you say. "And something inside me…clicked. A power I didn’t know I had. I lost control. I nearly collapsed a building on us both. The attacker escaped." 

You pause and take another deep breath. "I don't remember much after that. I was barely conscious. All I could think about was getting out. I don't know how I made it back to the Temple. I only found out later that some civilians were caught in the collapse."

Rex doesn't respond. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set, and his eyes are focused on you. You’re taken aback by his reaction, the force of it a surprise. You had expected sympathy or concern. Pity, maybe. But not anger.

"What?" you ask.

"How long ago was this?" 

“I was twenty, so...about ten years ago."

"Ten years," Rex repeats, his expression darkening. "You've been carrying this around for ten years?"

You sit back and fold your arms across your chest, watching him. You can’t help but feel defensive, and more than a little irritated.

"You seem upset."

"You almost died," he snaps. He lets out a huff and shakes his head. "Someone set a trap for you, and you almost died."

"That's generally what happens when you're careless." You try to keep your tone light, but the look he gives you is fierce. His eyes are hard and cold, his jaw tight, and his shoulders are tense. He's furious. You frown. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"What?" Rex asks. He blinks, and his face softens slightly. "No. No, I'm not angry with you. I'm just...concerned."

"You don't need to be."

"I think I do," he counters, and he leans forward, his eyes searching your face. “Who was it? The person who attacked you?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "I never saw their face. But I have a few theories that I’m still trying to confirm."

"Any suspects?"

"One."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Maybe."

Rex's frown deepens, and he leans back, his expression wary. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, which makes you smile. "I'm not trying to be coy. There's just a lot of information that isn't relevant to the current situation. Or your job."

"I disagree."

"You would," you scoff. You sit back and cross your arms over your chest. "Look, this is...really hard for me, okay? And I'm not exactly eager to relive the whole thing. Especially with someone who could easily report me."

"I wouldn't," he says, quick and earnest, and his brow furrows. “I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But, if there's someone out there who wants you dead, we should be aware."

"There are a lot of people who want me dead," you reply with a huff of laughter. “That comes with being a Jedi. We tend to piss people off."

"This was personal," Rex argues. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his hands folded on the table. "You said the attacker told you that you should've stayed away. They knew you."

"I did."

"Which means they're likely connected to your investigation into Master Yaddle's death," he points out. “Potentially even the murderer themself.”

"Maybe."

"So who do you think it was?"

You give him a long, hard look, and he meets your gaze. His eyes are unflinching, and his jaw is set. He's not going to back down. And, even though you know you shouldn't, you can't help but admire him for it. He's stubborn and tenacious, and it's hard to refuse him. Harder than you'd like to admit.

You sit forward, folding your hands in front of you, and your voice drops to a low whisper. “Dooku.”

"Count Dooku?" Rex repeats. He blinks, and his eyes widen. He glances around, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Dooku," he whispers. His mouth sets in a grim line, and he shakes his head. "That's...that's a pretty serious accusation."

"I know." You sigh and lean back, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and it makes sense. Dooku has the resources and the ability. Plus, he has a personal connection to Yaddle, and he was missing from the funeral the night she died, despite Qui-Gon being his Padawan. The only thing I’m still shaky on is the motive.”

"That's a solid theory,” he admits, his tone resigned, as he rubs the scar on his chin with his thumb. “On Geonosis, you wanted to go after him. I stopped you.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out to be a good call." You snort and shake your head. “If I had, I'd be dead. He probably would've killed me before I even got close."

"Still," he insists. He takes a deep breath, and he studies your face. "So what happened next?"

"Next? I tried to forget it ever happened. And, for a while, I succeeded," you answer. You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice. "I didn't tell anyone. Not the Council, not Obi-Wan. Nobody."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't have proof. I had a necklace and a few vague memories."

You shrug, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You let out a frustrated sigh, and you drop your gaze to the table.

"It was easier, alright? I was afraid. If I told them the truth of what happened, and the power I used, they'd send me away," you confess. You pick at your nails, and your voice is quiet. "The Council was already looking for a reason to get rid of me. If they found out what I'd done, that I'd nearly killed civilians, even if it was an accident...I’d have been expelled or sent to rot in the Citadel."

"They'd do that?"

"Without hesitation," you tell him. "They're not exactly big on second chances when it comes to the Dark Side. And they were already convinced I was going to fall."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" You glance up at him and smirk. "They were right, in the end."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"No, it isn't."

"Rex—"

"No," he says firmly. He reaches out and gently tugs your hands away from where they're picking at your nails, and he squeezes once before dropping them. "Whatever happened, whatever you did, it doesn't define you. You're a good person."

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head. "I’d hold your applause until the end."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," you snap. You sit forward, your hands curling into fists. "You're acting like I didn't do anything wrong, or that I'm somehow an innocent party in all this. I’m not. What I did was terrible. And the consequences were severe."

"I understand, but—"

"You don't," you say flatly. "You can't."

He opens his mouth, and you hold up a hand, stopping him. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, forcing yourself to calm down.

"Sorry," you murmur. You rub a hand over your face and shake your head. "This is a lot harder than I thought."

"You don't have to explain anything," Rex says quietly. His voice is warm and soothing, and when you look up, his eyes are kind. He offers a small smile, and you try your best to return it.

"I know. But I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"No," you sigh. "But I'm doing it anyway."

Rex nods, and you let out a breath. You can feel the anger and shame and guilt still simmering below the surface, but it's tempered by his reassurance. 

"So," you continue. "Where were we?"

"After the attack," he answers, his eyes on your face.

"Right. Well, things were...awkward, to say the least," you admit as look out the window. "For a while, no one would talk to me. They avoided me, or looked the other way, or pretended not to see me. Which was fine, I guess. I wasn't exactly keen on talking to anyone either."

"What about General Kenobi?"

"Obi-Wan? No. Not really." You hesitate, and then you shake your head. “Actually, no. Not at all. He didn't say a word to me."

"That doesn't sound like him," Rex remarks.

"No, it doesn't," you agree. You can't hide your bitterness, and Rex seems to notice.

"Did he say why?"

"Not at first. We didn't really speak to each other for the next decade, actually," you say, your tone dry. "We kept our distance. He was busy training Anakin, and I was busy..."

"Busy what?"

"Busy trying not to lose my mind," you answer, your voice hollow. You swallow hard, and force yourself to look him in the eye. "The isolation was hard. No one wanted anything to do with me, and I was...paranoid. I thought everyone was watching me. Waiting for me to slip up. So I kept my head down. I did my duty. I served, I waited.”

"Waited for what?"

"An opportunity." You let out a slow breath, and you can't stop the bitterness from seeping into your words. "Turns out, that opportunity was the Clone Wars. You know what happened on Geonosis, but later, before we were…reunited, I was sent on a mission. I encountered the man who lured me into the trap, and, when I realized it was him, I...lost control. Again."

"You lost control." Rex frowns, his eyes narrowing. He leans forward, his hands on the table, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened?"

“I left my charge to track him down. He didn’t have much to offer, just that he was paid anonymously to lure me into the Undercity." You rub your temples, the memory flashing through your mind. "While I was interrogating him, the Senator that I was protecting was attacked. 

“I hurt people that day saving her, and when I returned to Coruscant, the Council decided that enough was enough. They suspended me from duty and placed me under constant supervision. I was a liability, and an embarrassment. They told me that, if I continued to act like a child, I would be treated like one."

"That's harsh."

"It was fair," you say, and he scoffs. "They didn't trust me. I didn't trust myself. I was angry and reckless and out of control, and I hurt the people I was supposed to protect. The only way I could protect anyone was by staying out of the field and away from the war. I'd failed. I'd let my emotions get the best of me, and it had almost cost me everything."

"That doesn't make it right," he argues. "What you did, losing control, it was an accident. They shouldn't have treated you like a criminal."

"I was a danger," you remind him. “And the Order can’t afford to have unstable Jedi. It's our job to maintain order and peace. We can't do that if we can't control ourselves."

"You weren't dangerous. You weren't unstable," he argues. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You were scared. I may not be a Jedi, but I know what fear does. It's a survival instinct. And, sometimes, the body does things to protect itself that the mind doesn't understand. You weren't in control of yourself. It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter," you reply. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. “We’re supposed to be able to control ourselves. Our feelings, our actions, our thoughts. We're trained to use the Force, it's not supposed to be the other way around. What I did...what happened...it was wrong. And it can’t happen again. Not ever."

Rex falls silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on your face. After a moment, he nods, and he sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" you repeat incredulously. "That's all you're going to say?"

"Yes," he answers. His mouth twitches, and his eyes meet yours. "What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," you confess, and you can feel a small grin forming. "Kinda expected you to lecture me, honestly. Maybe argue with me a little bit more."

"Do you want me to?" Rex asks, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wry grin when you roll your eyes. "Because I can. You seem to enjoy arguing with me."

"It is fun," you admit, and his lips curve into a full-blown smile, his eyes sparkling. "And you are good at it."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He chuckles, and it's such a genuine sound that you can't help but join him. The tight knot in your chest loosens slightly, and you let out a breath, a wave of relief washing over you.

You feel lighter, as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. There's a quiet calm in the air, and you allow yourself a moment to relax. You can't help the small flutter in your chest when Rex’s eyes meet yours, his smile bright.

He looks younger when he smiles, the stress and tension gone from his face. You like seeing him this way. Happy and relaxed. It suits him.

"Thank you. For trusting me,” Rex says, voice soft and sincere.

"Well, thank you for listening." You take a drink of caf and smile at him over the rim of your cup. "And thank you for not judging me."

He shakes his head. "You don't need my judgement. You're doing enough of that yourself."

"I am not," you protest. He raises an eyebrow, and you scoff. "Okay, maybe I am. But only because it's true."

"Maybe," he says. "But, if you don't mind me saying, it's also unnecessary."

"I do mind,” you mutter. "I was reckless and arrogant and stupid, and a lot of people got hurt because of it. Including me."

"You made a mistake." He shrugs, and his smile fades, his expression becoming serious. "Everyone does. That doesn't make you a bad person. Or a bad Jedi."

"Then what does that make me?"

"Human."

You snort, and you take a long sip of caf, trying not to roll your eyes. Rex chuckles and ducks his head. "All right, that was cheesy, I'll admit. But it's true. That's what makes us different from droids. We're flawed. We make mistakes. It's how we learn."

"Some of us more than others."

"True."

"You're being too nice to me," you tell him, only half-joking. You finish your caf and set the mug on the table, folding your hands in your lap. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"I'm not," he argues. He tilts his head, studying you. "I'm being honest."

"Same difference."

Rex huffs, exasperated, and his eyes roll up. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

"It doesn't," you say. You smile, and it's a real one. "Just most things."

He starts to reply, but FLO returns before he can, rolling to a stop beside the table with a tray floating beside her. It's overflowing with food, and the smell is incredible. Your mouth waters. You're hungrier than you realized.

"Here you go," she chirps. She lowers the tray onto the table, and she starts unloading the plates. Rex's eyes are as wide as yours, and the both of you sit in stunned silence, watching as the diner droid arranges the food with a flurry of mechanical arms. "This is the breakfast platter, the lunch platter, and the dinner platter. Enjoy."

"FLO, wait," you call, but the droid is already rolling away. "There's way too much food here."

"Not a problem," she says cheerfully. She stops and turns around, her mechanical arms whirring. "Anything for you, honey. You just let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," you say, smiling. She lets out a pleased beep and rolls away, leaving you alone with Rex and more food than either of you could possibly eat. "Wow."

"Wow," Rex echoes. He's staring at the table, his eyes wide, and you're pretty sure you've rendered him speechless. He shakes his head, his mouth hanging open, and he meets your eyes. "Is it always like this here?"

"I mean, yeah, but this is a lot, even for her," you say. You glance at the tray and let out a low whistle. "She must really like you."

"Lucky me," he mutters, and you snort. He frowns at the pile of food, his brow furrowed, and he glances at you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You need a strategy for everything, Captain?” 

"No."

"Then stop stalling," you tease, and he fixes you with a flat look. "Just try what looks good. If we can't eat it, she'll pack it up. Don't worry."

"Right," he says. He hesitates, and you roll your eyes and snatch a slice of toast from the plate. "How are we splitting this?"

"I don't know. You pick first, and I'll grab whatever's left." You take a bite of the toast, and Rex gives you a long look. You shrug, your mouth full. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then quit looking at me and eat."

He sighs, but he reaches for a bowl, and for a few minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence. You keep an eye on Rex, watching him from the corner of your eye as he tries everything FLO has given him. His expression is thoughtful, and he takes his time, trying to decide what he likes best. He's savoring every bite, and every time he takes a sip of caf, his face relaxes, his shoulders sagging. 

It's kind of endearing, in a weird sort of way. And, as you watch him, a small, traitorous part of your mind wonders if it'd be so bad to have this every day. This quiet. This calm. You quickly banish the thought, and you shove another piece of bread in your mouth.

You can't think like that. You can't allow yourself to become attached.

You don't realize you've been staring until Rex looks up, catching your eye. His cheeks flush and he puts down his fork.

"Sorry," he says, a little sheepishly. He gestures vaguely at the food. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry," you cut in. You shake your head, and the words come out without your permission. "It's cute."

Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a short, sharp laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. "Cute?"

"Yes," you say, and you try to sound confident, but you can't quite keep the edge of embarrassment out of your voice. You duck your head and take a bite of fruit, keeping your gaze focused on the table. "Relax. You're fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You can feel him watching you, and you resist the urge to hide behind your hands. Instead, you take another bite, and you're careful not to look at him, afraid you'll make things even more awkward than they already are. You can still feel his eyes on you, and the heat rises in your cheeks, your ears burning.

"So," you start, the silence suddenly unbearable. "Any big plans while you're on shore leave? Aside from eating.

"Not really," he admits. He takes a long drink, and he leans back in his seat. "I was just going to rest, honestly. Catch up on reports. Maybe spend some time in the sims."

"You can't just spend a day relaxing?" you ask. He shrugs, and you can't help but smile. "What do you do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah." You gesture vaguely in the air, and you tilt your head, watching him. "Like, something that doesn't involve work."

"Oh." Rex frowns and stares at the table. His expression is thoughtful, and you get the sense that no one's ever asked him that question before. He meets your eyes and shrugs. "I don't know. I read, sometimes. Watch the holonet. Train. Nothing exciting."

"You like to read?"

"I like to learn," he says. He gives you a half-grin, and he picks up his fork, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "You can learn a lot from military history. And there's not much else to do on a starship other than train or sleep. Reading's a good way to pass the time."

"Fair point."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," he says. "What do you do when you're not on duty?"

"Honestly? The same thing as you," you confess. He snorts, and you shrug. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly, if you haven't noticed. Most of my free time is spent in the library, or the Temple gardens."

"I have noticed."

"Well, there you go."

Rex smiles, and he shifts in the booth, stretching out his legs. His knees brush yours under the table, and you ignore the rush of warmth that courses through your veins. It's strange. He's wearing armor, and the touch should be cold, hard, uncomfortable. Instead, it's the opposite. His armor is warm and solid and sturdy. Comforting, even. 

You shift your legs away from his. You need to stop.

"Tell me," you start, and Rex glances up. He's still smiling, and he's watching you intently. You gesture at the empty plate in front of him. "Was that better or worse than the rations?"

"Better," he answers immediately. He grins, and his eyes meet yours, soft and bright. "Definitely better."

"Good." You smile back, and you can't help but be proud. Your foot nudges his under the table. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for this," he says, nodding towards the tray of food. His gaze meets yours, and his voice is warm and sincere. "For bringing me here. It's...it's nice."

"Of course," you say. You duck your head and try to ignore the sudden rush of warmth in your chest. You swallow hard and focus on the table, pushing down the feeling. "We can come back again, if you want. There's plenty more I can show you. If you're interested."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he says. His smile is gentle, and he tilts his head. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," you say. You smile back at him, and his lips twitch. His foot nudges yours, and, this time, you don't move away.

The rest of the meal passes quickly. You finish eating, and the two of you sit for a while longer, chatting about everything and nothing until the sun begins to dip lower behind the buildings towering over you.

Eventually, though, it's time to leave. You pay for the food, ignoring Rex's protest with a quip about the Republic’s illimitable pocketbook, and you head outside into the late afternoon sun. The street is busy, filled with the bustle and noise of people going about their lives, and the two of you stand on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do next.

"So," Rex starts, and he rocks back on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks awkward, almost nervous. "I guess I should go."

"Yeah," you say, and, despite the fact that you've been telling yourself all day that this is a bad idea, your heart sinks. You gesture vaguely toward the Temple looming in the distance. "Me too. I've got some things I should probably deal with."

"Right."

The silence stretches between the two of you, and neither one of you moves. After a few seconds, Rex clears his throat, and he meets your eyes.

"Thank you again. For bringing me here," he says, his voice soft. "And for the food."

"Don't mention it," you reply with a small smile.

You look down at the ground and kick at a stray stone, trying to bury the sudden pang of sadness. You'd had fun. More fun than you'd had in a long time, but you're not naive enough to believe that this is something that can happen again. Your schedules are far too erratic, and you're not sure you can trust yourself around him. The brief physical contact is already beginning to wear on your resolve. 

"I'll see you later then," you tell him, forcing a casual tone.

"Later," he agrees. 

He takes a step forward and hesitates. For half a second, you think he might hug you, which is a ridiculous thought. He wouldn't. And you certainly wouldn't let him. But there's something in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes flick down to your lips, the way his hands flex at his sides. 

For a moment, everything feels frozen. Neither of you move, and neither of you speak. The noise of the crowd seems distant, and the world falls away. It's just the two of you, standing there, waiting. Waiting for something, anything.

And then Rex nods stiffly, his hands resting on his hips, and he takes a step back. "Take care, sir."

"You too, Captain."

You turn and walk away.

When you finally make it back to your room in the Temple, you flop down onto your bed, your head buried in the pillow. You let out a long sigh and close your eyes, the sound of Rex's voice still ringing in your ears. 

He'd been kind and charming and sweet, and he'd listened to you and laughed with you and made you smile. And, for a brief moment, you'd forgotten all about the war, the Order, and everything else. You'd just existed.

It was stupid. You were stupid.

But you'd had fun.

It'd been nice.

Really, really nice.

"Shit," you mumble into your pillow. You roll over and stare up at the ceiling, and you groan.

This is going to be harder than you thought it would be.

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[mybelovedwoo]

sound of love pt.2

hongjoong x f!reader

fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, work rivalry/ wc: 2.9k

warnings: arguments, kissing

note: part 2 is finally here everyone!!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here!

hongjoong masterlist - main masterlist

"Your sister?" Hongjoong repeated, his mind struggling to process the information.

The room fell into an awkward silence, the tension palpable. Maddox stood there, his fists clenched, glaring at Hongjoong. Y/n shifted uncomfortably, caught between her brother and the man she was just kissing.

"Yes," Maddox said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Y/n is my half-sister. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't mess around with her."

Hongjoong's eyes flicked back to Y/n, who looked at him with a mixture of worry and apology. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I... I didn't know," he finally said, his voice softer.

Y/n stepped forward, placing a hand on Maddox's arm. "Maddox, please, it's not what you think. We were just—"

"Just what?" Maddox interrupted, his eyes never leaving Hongjoong's. "This place is important to all of us, and I don't want personal issues to interfere with our work."

Y/n sighed, trying to keep her voice calm. "I promise, Maddox. This won't affect our work."

Maddox exhaled slowly, his expression softening slightly as he looked at his sister. "Fine. But remember, Y/n, I'm watching out for you."

Hongjoong, his mind still reeling from the revelation, took a step forward. "This won't happen again," he said firmly, looking directly at Maddox. "I respect Y/n and our work here. I won't let anything jeopardize that."

Maddox gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied with Hongjoong's response, and left the room, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. Y/n and Hongjoong stood in the silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between them.

-

In the days that followed, Hongjoong made a conscious effort to stay away from Y/n. The complications of their situation were too much for him to handle. He was mad that the truth had been hidden from him and the others, and he was mad that he liked her very much.

Every morning, Hongjoong arrived at the studio early, hoping to avoid any interaction with Y/n. He buried himself in his work, headphones clamped over his ears, eyes glued to his computer screen. When she entered the room, he barely acknowledged her presence, offering only curt nods and monosyllabic responses.

Y/n, noticing his cold demeanor, tried to reach out to him several times. She approached him during breaks, hoping to have a private conversation. "Hongjoong, can we talk?" she would ask, her voice tinged with concern.

He would look up briefly, his expression blank. "I'm busy," he would reply, turning his attention back to his work.

The distance he put between them was palpable. In team meetings, he avoided sitting next to her, choosing seats at the opposite end of the table. During brainstorming sessions, he directed his ideas to others, rarely making eye contact with Y/n.

Their once lively collaboration had become a series of stilted, professional exchanges. The creative energy that had flowed so naturally between them now felt strained and mechanical. The rest of the team noticed the shift, their curious glances and hushed whispers only adding to the tension.

Y/n, frustrated and hurt by Hongjoong's behavior, found herself constantly on edge. She didn't understand why he was pushing her away, and the more she tried to bridge the gap, the more he seemed to retreat.

One afternoon, she cornered him in the break room, her patience worn thin. "Hongjoong, we need to talk," she said firmly, blocking his way.

He sighed, avoiding her gaze. "There's nothing to talk about, Y/n. Let's just focus on our work."

"Don't give me that," Y/n snapped, frustration coloring her voice. "You can't keep shutting me out. What's really going on?"

Hongjoong's eyes flashed with anger. "You know exactly what's going on. This whole situation is a mess, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"At least let me explain the situation," Y/n pleaded, her voice softer now.

But Hongjoong shook his head, his expression hardening. "No, Y/n. I don't want to hear it. Just leave it alone."

Y/n's shoulders sagged with defeat as she watched him walk away, the distance between them growing wider with each passing day.

-

As fate would have it, the team had a scheduled work trip to a cabin retreat for brainstorming and team-building exercises. The idea was to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and focus on their creative processes in a peaceful environment. The entire group was excited, but the tension between Y/n and Hongjoong cast a shadow over the trip.

They arrived at the cabin in the early afternoon. As everyone unpacked and settled in, Y/n and Hongjoong tried to keep their distance. Their interactions were limited to polite, strained exchanges, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air.

While everyone was busy unpacking the car, Y/n approached Hongjoong, determined to break the ice. "Hey, do you need any help with the luggage?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Hongjoong, struggling to lift a heavy music device, glanced at her briefly. "No, I can handle it," he replied curtly.

Y/n watched as he continued to struggle, the device clearly too heavy for him to manage alone. Before she could insist on helping, Hongjoong lost his grip and the device fell to the ground with a loud thud, causing him to stumble and fall with it.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, rushing to his side to help him up.

But Hongjoong, his frustration boiling over, snapped at her. "I said I didn't need your help!" he shouted, brushing her off.

Y/n stepped back, hurt by his harsh words. Hongjoong stood up, wincing as he put weight on his hurt foot. Without another word, he limped inside, leaving Y/n standing outside alone.

Later that afternoon, the group gathered in the main living area of the cabin, the atmosphere a blend of camaraderie and creative energy. They settled into their respective corners with their instruments and equipment, ready to work on the music for the album. Drinks were poured, laughter echoed, and the cabin buzzed with the vibrant chaos of collaboration.

Y/n, seeking a bit of solace amidst the lively chaos, found a quiet corner with her piano. She gently pressed the keys, letting soft, soothing melodies flow through the room. Hongjoong, who was strumming his guitar nearby, glanced at her every now and then, unable to completely ignore her presence.

As the hours passed and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the cabin windows, Y/n's playing grew more introspective. She began to hum, her voice blending seamlessly with the piano. The melodies were hauntingly beautiful, filled with emotion that tugged at the heartstrings of anyone who listened.

Hongjoong watched her from across the room, his curiosity piqued. He couldn't hear the words she was humming, but he could see the shift in her expression—eyes closing, brows furrowing, lips quivering. The music took on a melancholic tone, and Hongjoong's chest tightened with an inexplicable ache.

Suddenly, Y/n's playing stopped. She stood up abruptly, her face a picture of suppressed pain, and hurriedly left the room, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Hongjoong's heart sank as he watched her retreat up the stairs, disappearing into her room.

The room fell into an awkward silence, the previous joviality replaced with a sense of concern. Maddox, noticing his sister's sudden departure, frowned and glanced at Hongjoong, who looked away, guilt and confusion etched on his face.

"Should we check on her?" one of their colleagues asked, breaking the silence.

Maddox shook his head gently. "No, she just needs some time. Let's give her some space."

But Hongjoong couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something. He stood up, setting his guitar aside, and without a word, followed Y/n up the stairs. The hallway outside her room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint echo of her soft sobs.

He knocked gently on her door. "Y/n? Can we talk?"

There was a long pause before she replied, her voice shaky. "Go away, Hongjoong. I don't want to talk right now."

"Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his hand resting on the door frame. "I... I want to understand. Let me in."

The door creaked open slightly, and Y/n stood there, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked at him with a mix of sadness and vulnerability. "Now you want to talk?"

Hongjoong took a deep breath, his expression earnest. "Yes, now I want to talk. I know I've been distant and cold, but I care about you, Y/n. Seeing you like this... it hurts."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "So why did you keep pushing me away? Why now, Hongjoong?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Everything became so complicated, and I was scared. But I don't want to keep hurting you."

Y/n looked down, her shoulders trembling. "It's been so hard, Hongjoong. I thought we had something special, but then you just... shut me out."

He reached out, gently lifting her chin so she would look at him. "We do have something special. And I don't want to lose that. Can you tell me what happened? I want to hear your reasoning."

Y/n took a deep breath, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. "Alright. Maddox and I are half-siblings. We share the same mother but have different fathers." She paused, then continued, "We agreed not to tell anyone about our relationship. We didn't want anyone to think that I got the job because he is my brother. I wanted to show my abilities, what I'm capable of. I wanted to be respected for my work."

Hongjoong nodded, his expression softening as he listened. "That makes sense. But why didn't you tell me once we got close?"

"Because," she continued, "I didn't want you to think less of me or to think I was hiding something important. And by the time I realized how much I liked you, it felt like it was too late to explain. I was scared you'd be mad, and it turns out I was right."

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I understand now. It just hurt to think that you were keeping such a big part of your life from me. I felt like I couldn't trust you."

Y/n nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. "I get that. I really do. But I never meant to hurt you, Hongjoong. I was just trying to protect my relationship with Maddox and keep things professional."

He took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "I'm sorry for pushing you away. I was just overwhelmed and didn't know how to handle everything. But I want to try again, Y/n. Can we?"

A small smile broke through her tears, and she nodded. "Yes, Hongjoong. We can try again."

Y/n pulled him into her room, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise as she closed the door behind them. She stood in front of him, looking down, her demeanor suddenly shy and uncertain. "Now can we talk bout that kiss that happened between us?"

Hongjoong took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. "Okay, let's talk about it."

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "That kiss... it was unexpected, but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you, or was it just in the heat of the moment?"

Hongjoong stepped closer, his gaze sincere. "It meant a lot to me, Y/n. I didn't plan it, but I don't regret it. It made me realize just how much I care about you."

She blushed, her heart swelling with hope. "I care about you too, Hongjoong. I was scared that my feelings were one-sided, and that maybe you kissed me out of anger or frustration."

He shook his head, gently taking her hands in his. "No, it wasn't out of anger or frustration. It was because I couldn't hold back my feelings any longer. I've been pushing you away because I was scared, but I don't want to do that anymore."

Hongjoong stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. He reached up and gently stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. The tenderness in his touch made her heart flutter.

Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, tentative kiss. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed as she melted into the kiss, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them wrapped in the moment.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate and urgent as their emotions spilled over. Hongjoong's hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. Y/n responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him close.

They stumbled slightly, their movements uncoordinated but filled with a desperate need to be closer. Hongjoong's legs bumped against the edge of the bed, and they tumbled onto the mattress, their lips never breaking contact.

Y/n found herself lying beneath Hongjoong, his body pressing down against hers in a way that sent a thrill through her. She arched her back slightly, her hands roaming over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the strength and warmth of him.

Hongjoong pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Y/n..."

She smiled up at him, her own breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "Hongjoong, I..."

He silenced her with another kiss, this one even more fervent than the last. His hands roamed over her body, exploring the curves and lines that he had only dared to imagine before. She responded eagerly, her own hands caressing and pulling him closer.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as they lost themselves in each other. The kiss became a conduit for all the emotions they had been holding back—fear, desire, hope, and love—all mingling together in a heady, intoxicating blend.

Eventually, they pulled back, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. Y/n's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but this time, they were tears of happiness. 

They lay in each other's arms for a while, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. The warmth and comfort they found in each other felt like the beginning of something beautiful.

Hongjoong gently brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's face and asked, "What was that song you played earlier on the piano?"

Y/n looked at him, her eyes softening with affection. "Do you want to hear it?"

He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I'd love to."

They both stood up, and hand in hand, they walked downstairs to where the rest of the team was gathered. As they entered the room, their colleagues looked up, curious and slightly surprised to see the newfound closeness between them.

Y/n made her way to the piano and sat down, glancing at Hongjoong who gave her an encouraging nod. She took a deep breath and announced, "I wrote a song, and I'd like to share it with you all."

The room fell silent, all eyes on her. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation as Y/n positioned her fingers on the keys and began to play. The melody flowed effortlessly, capturing the room's attention with its beauty and emotion.

Her voice joined the music, soft and haunting, as she sang the words that had been pouring from her heart:

"In the quiet of the night, I found a melody, A whisper of the stars, A secret symphony.

In the shadow of the moon, I felt a gentle breeze, A story in the silence, A heart's sweet release."

Her colleagues listened, captivated by the raw emotion in her voice and the poignant lyrics that seemed to resonate with everyone in the room.

Hongjoong watched her, his heart swelling with pride and admiration. The song was beautiful, a testament to her talent and the depth of her feelings.

"Every note a tear, Every chord a sigh, In this song of love, We will learn to fly.

Though the path is long, And the night is cold, With this melody, We'll find our way home."

As she finished, the last notes lingering in the air, the room erupted in applause. Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting Hongjoong's, and she smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment and connection.

Maddox was the first to speak, his voice filled with pride. "That was amazing, Y/n. Truly beautiful."

The others chimed in with their praises, each one expressing their admiration for her talent and the song's emotional impact.

Hongjoong made his way to her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You were incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

Y/n's heart fluttered at his words, and she leaned into his touch. "Thank you, Hongjoong. It means a lot."

As the night continued, filled with music, laughter, and camaraderie, Hongjoong glanced at Y/n, her smile radiant as she interacted with their colleagues, and felt a warmth in his chest.

In that crowded music store, he had been so frustrated, so determined to get his hands on that last speaker. But now, as he looked at Y/n, he realized how glad he was that he hadn't. If he had, he might never have met the woman who had changed his life in ways he could never have imagined.

It felt like destiny, like some cosmic force had orchestrated their encounter, setting the stage for a symphony of emotions, challenges, and ultimately, love. The rivalry that had sparked between them had been the catalyst for something beautiful, a perfect harmony that resonated deeply within him.

Hongjoong knew that their journey was just beginning. There would be more challenges, more disagreements, and more moments of doubt. But there would also be more music, more laughter, and more love. Together, they would create something extraordinary. 

-

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[morganwrites12672]

1995 - Thirteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After her entire world gets turned upside down, the Winchester Boy's show up. She wants to be alone right now. Dean doesn't let her.

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: PG-14

A/N: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles helped me with so many things on this fic! Thanks so much to them!

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1995 - Thirteen Years Old

She hadn't meant to be nosy but she couldn't stop herself from eavesdropping on her father's phone call. He was talking to John about something. She heard him mention a city, one that sounded familiar. Had it been where he had visited on a business trip a few weeks ago? She thought so.

Her father had been leaving a lot more lately. She had asked why and he had given her a stupid answer. Something about having to drive farther. Being clueless about the truth, she assumed he might have been mad at her. Maybe he would say something to John about it. She hoped he would. Her father had been acting different too. She needed to know why.

Pressing her ear against the door to his office she began listening.

"-your help. This vamp nest is killing me," Bobby said with a chuckle over the phone. Her eyes went wide. What the hell? After a few more minutes of listening, everything began adding up. How he got those mysterious wounds, why he had been leaving so much recently.

Her throat felt dry. She took a step back. In her haste to get away from the door she knocked over a stack of books. Her face turned white as a ghost as she hurried to pick them up. She heard Bobby moving around in his office. He opened the door and looked at her.

Upon seeing her face it was obvious she had been eavesdropping. He let out a sigh and spoke, "Balls!" He exclaimed.

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It had been over a week since that day. She still wouldn't speak to her father. It felt like her world had come crashing down around her. Finding out the truth and the Supernatural, and her mother's death, had thrown her for a loop. Her father had been lying to her for years.

He didn't leave on business trips. No, he left to go hunt monsters! The thought both shocked and terrified her. Handling this much information at once was difficult.

She didn't just have to handle teenage hormones. No, she had to handle the damn Supernatural! Her father had mentioned something about teaching her more. The more she thought about it, the now that made sense. The lore books she had grown up reading were awful specific about how to kill monsters.

She thought back to all of the practice she had with her father in using a shotgun. He had always told her it was just something she needed to know for whenever she was left home alone.

Her father had knocked on her door several times, always getting no reply and finding the door locked. She did have to leave her room sometimes though. She always waited until he was elsewhere.

Having to look at him hurt right now. After all of the lies he had told she wasn't ready. She needed time to process everything she had found out. Lots of time. Finding out monsters were real was something that would take time for her to adjust too.

"The Winchester boys are staying here for a while. John's helping me with the. . . case," Bobby said, speaking to her through the door.

She didn't reply, instead pulling her blanket over her head. She was still pissed. Her father was leaving again. Now that she knew what he was doing it felt horrible. Tears filled her eyes and she pressed her pillow against her face.

She must have fallen asleep like that. Whenever she woke up, hours later, her father was gone. She knew because she could hear the faint conversation of the Winchester boys downstairs. She sighed, sitting up in bed.

She has no intention of going downstairs. This worked for a while. She was left alone. That was until sometime later, Dean knocked on her door. It made her roll her eyes.

"I made dinner," He called through the door after she didn't reply. He sighed. "Your dad told me you're acting bitchy."

"I'm not hungry!" She yelled in reply.

She wanted Dean to leave her alone. She wanted everyone to leave her alone right now. Couldn't she just have a little bit of time to herself? One week hadn't been enough.

"It's going to get cold," He said in reply. "Come downstairs." Dean was starting to get impatient with her. It was clear that she intended to stay in her locked bedroom all night.

She stood, stretching her limbs whenever she hears a faint scratching. She frowned. What was Dean doing? The answer was revealed whenever her door swung open. Her jaw dropped as Dean leaned against her doorframe.

"You dick!" She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She was suddenly selfconscious of her messy hair and puffy eyes.

Once it was obvious that Dean wouldn't leave her alone until she went downstairs to eat, she followed him. Not without complaint though. She bitched the whole way downstairs.

Her mood did improve after she ate though. Dean sure did know how to make Mac & Cheese. The second she finished eating she rinsed her bowl in the sink before practically running upstairs. She wanted to be alone right now.

She hadn't noticed Dean following her up to her bedroom until she tried shutting her door. His foot blocked her. She looked down at his boot, wedges in the doorway. She mumbled another expletive before sitting down on her bed. He just wouldn't leave her alone!

"When are you going to lose the attitude?" Dean asked as he pushed her door the rest of the way open. He then leaned against her doorframe with a smirk.

His snarky attitude was getting on her nerves. She wanted to be left alone to mope. She wanted to wallow in her misery. But no, Dean wouldn't allow it. He was pissing her off.

"I don't want to talk to you," She said, crossing her arms.

"Too bad," Dean replied.

She rolled her eyes as she uncrossed her arms. She has given up. Dean was going to bother her, that much was obvious. She had given up on fighting with him. She was tired of trying to avoid talking to anyone after what she had found out.

"Your dad was protecting you," He stated. She was being insufferable in his mind. She had gotten to enjoy a somewhat normal childhood, yet all she did was complain.

"He lied to me! For my entire life!" She snapped. Did Dean not understand how much that hurt? Her father was practically all she had. The only other parental figures was Gladys, and she didn't see the older woman very often anymore.

"When are you going to stop acting like such a bitch about it? He was protecting you," Dean retorted. He seemed pissed off now.

Suddenly, a thought occured to her. Dean must have known. It was obvious based on the way he was acting he hadn't been lied to and kept on the dark for his entire life. Someone he trusted hadn't lied to him about everything.

"Did you know?" She asked, looking up at him.

Dean had overheard his father and Bobby talking. He knew why she was so damn moody. She hadn't been very happy whenever she had learned the truth about this world. He had known his entire life. He hadn't gotten to enjoy part of his childhood as a normal (ish) kid.

"I always have," Dean replied with a shrug.

This only made her more upset. She had known Dean since she was nine years old, and he had lied to her too. She didn't blame him near as much as her father though. He was still another person who had helped Bobby keep her in the dark.

She might not be best friends with Dean, but she had thought that he wouldn't lie to her like that. They saw each other infrequently. Usually a couple of times per year. It was convenient for both of their fathers.

Really looking to Dean she noticed how different he looked. Even though she'd seen him only a few months ago he seemed taller. More grown up. She ignored those thoughts. She was mad at him.

"I could have handled the truth," She snapped.

"Like you're handling it so well right now?" Dean retorted. He thought that she be grateful Bobby had lied to her. She had gotten to live some of her childhood thinking monsters weren't real. Dean, however, had spent his entire childhood knowing the truth.

Her eyes narrowed slightly in reply. She wasn't handling it well right now. Knowing what was really out there terrified her. Dean's words stung. At least her father had accepted her lack of replies and gave her some space.

"Get out," She snapped at Dean. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Over her head body would Dean see her cry.

Dean seemed to notice that he had probably been the cause for tears he could see welling up. He sighed, he hadn't been trying to upset her. Before he could say anything though, she had thrown a pillow at him. He only left whenever she had picked up a lore book that looked rather heavy.

The rest of the time spent together didn't go well.

Her and Dean avoided each other at all costs. She didn't want to have to look at his stupid face right now. Dean didn't want to apologize. His teenage years were making him a bit of a dick.

Everytime Dean went outside for something, she appeared downstairs to grab food or something. Sam noticed the tense environment but said nothing. He had heard their argument.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part! Also, sorry I didn't post this on Saturday! I forgot to schedule it.

Taglist: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1

Join the tag list here: Tag List 

[genderqueerdykes]

Topical or Injectable Testosterone Comparison: Which is Best For You?

i've met a lot of people who are unsure of which route of HRT they'd like to take. there are a lot of pros and cons to each one, I figured I would lay out some information to try to make that decision a bit easier for folks, as someone who has used both.

both forms of testosterone are equally as effective, topical is not "weaker" than injectable, everyone's bodies processes these hormones differently and the effectiveness depends on how your body processes medications, and your dosage.

Topical Testosterone

Taken daily, or for some folks, every few days

Either comes in a bottle with a pump that dispenses measured doses, or will come in a month's worth of small packets or tubes.

Many insurance plans in the United States will not cover topical testosterone for transgender or intersex HRT purposes, and if it is covered, it often costs an exorbitant amount of money- well into the hundreds of dollars

Requires clean skin prior to and covering the skin with clothing after application and avoiding swimming and showering for several hours after application

Hands must be washed afterwards to prevent transmission of the hormone to other people in your environment

Has a strong smell due to the gel being alcohol based

Can cause burning sensation if it accidentally gets into sensitive areas such as mucous membranes, cuts, your eyes, etc.

Can cause skin irritation in some folks, though this is rare

Being an alcohol based gel, it is very flammable, so caution is needed to be practiced around flames until the gel has dried

Can be easy to miss doses if you have chronic fatigue and/or illness, memory problems, mental health issues, or a busy lifestyle

Injectable Testosterone

Usually taken once or twice a week, depending on your needs

Testosterone cypionate is almost always covered by insurance in places where transgender HRT is a part of your plan. It is extremely cheap if it is not covered for whatever reason, usually costing around $15 for a month's worth of vials and syringes, but this can vary wildly depending on your area

Requires needles, syringes, a sharps container (safe container to dispose needles into), alcohol prep pads or isopropyl alcohol or other strong sterilizing agent for the injection site, bandages for applying to the site afterwards, and optionally gloves, but washing your hands prior to injecting works as well

If doing your own injections, you have to learn how to measure your dose accurately, and how to hold the needle at the angle most appropriate for your injections, as well as learning about if you need to do subcutaneous or intramuscular injections

Despite the amount of items required, injections are very quick and can be done and forgotten about until your next injection date- there is no daily maintenance for injections

You must switch up your injection spots every time you inject as to avoid damaging muscle and skin tissue

Injections can be done by endocrinologists and prescribers if you do not feel comfortable doing them yourself

It is possible for your skin to react to, or for you to be allergic to the injecting needles. This is rare, and can be addressed with your prescriber and/or an allergist

Testosterone cypionate will crystalize in cold temperatures. It will change in appearance and consistency, but can be returned to normal by placing the vial into warm water for a while and/or by shaking the vial for a while

this is not meant to be a comprehensive guide, but rather some observations ihave made in my 8 years of being on testosterone HRT. hope this is helpful, we will add anything else we can think of. good luck figuring out what's right for you in your journey

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

My mom comes over a couple of times a week to help me keep the apartment tidy and to body-double so I can focus on work.

"Mind if I open this?" she asked me this morning, holding up an envelope I'd tossed onto a pile of clutter the week before. I hadn't opened it because I already knew what it was—the decision of my appeal against being judged "medically ineligible" for permanent disability benefits, which are almost double what I get now and would cover rent and food. Absolutely everyone, from disabled advocacy groups to the legal aid lawyer who helped prep me for the hearing, told me that there was basically no chance I'd get deemed eligible on the first appeal. Normally it takes 2 or 3 application-appeal cycles (9-10 months each) for people to get into the program.

"Go ahead," I told her, and then turned back to other work. I've got a lot to do given how well my Kickstarter is doing, whether it's setting up the behemoth new printer I got off Kijiji for 10% of its original value, to scheduling work meetings with my newly-hired personal assistant. I've always got so much on my plate, and the number of hours in the day I can focus on it is countable on my hand that's missing fingers. And I'd love to get a sewing pattern out for my "just the sleeves, please" costume idea out in enough time for people to use it for Halloween, but I still need to make mock-ups and hire someone who's used to producing digital sewing patterns.

"I think," Mom said quietly, leafing through the letter, "that you won."

The letter ends like this:

Conclusion: The Panel finds that the Appellant meets the definition of "severe handicap" as is set out in the Regulation and therefore reverses the Director's decision.

Yeah. It means I won.

The benefits program will require another eight weeks to double-check my financial eligibility using information they already have, and to process my new program status to reflect an increased benefit rate and a different health insurance program.

Right now I'm really feeling this line from Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold: "But do you know--well, of course you could, but… the business with [throwing yourself at] the brick wall. Failure, failure was grown familiar to me. Comfortable, almost, when I stopped struggling against it. I did not know achievement was so devastating."

It felt like my whole life ended in a flaming wreck when I had to give up counselling. I lost part of who I was when I did that, and spent years telling myself I'd pull up my socks at any minute and go right back to it. But the truth is, I am not capable of doing that job as well as it needs to be done, and it's one of those jobs where you half-ass things at the peril of the vulnerable people who trust you.

And what if... the worst had happened, and I lost it all, and then in clawing my way out of the pit, trying to get purchase on absolutely any kind of survival I could, I found my way to something new and solid and real. What if it was okay after all?

I'm still having trouble believing it, but the letter keeps saying what it said.

I'm gonna go sew things, and see if it feels any more real in the morning.

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 7 - My Takeaways

Wow, this series is only becoming more and more intense for me to organize my thoughts in a timely fashion. It also doesn't help that so much content has been released for me over the past few days and there are only 24 hours in a day hahahaha. But now I'm back, and looking forward to the final episode in the next few days. It's been a wild run and I'm excited to see the wrap up.

Emotional Development: Outcomes of a Broken Home

In this series, we get a chance to entangle ourselves with various family dynamics and the characters growing up within those dynamics. What I found most interesting and can help aid in my analysis is how abuse and neglect affect those who grew up deprived of emotional needs during their upbringing, but other significant moments within their development. I really enjoy consuming psychology media, but I'll be referring to Patrick Teahan's 5 Emotional Development Delays: What You Need to Know which actually came out not even 24 hours before I began tackling this post so it was the perfect time.

Teahan has highlighted his points within the original video as such (which I may or may not refer to all of them):

Codependency & Romantic Intimacy Delays

Security Delays

Perception Problems Delays

Functioning Delays

Negative Coping Strategies Delay

I think it's safe to assume that almost all the main characters within this series have dysfunctional upbringings, pivoting them in certain directions in life that mimics the dysfunction or invites it into their lives (all highlighted under the cut!).

Korn: Fear Driven by Shame and Incompetence

Through Great's confrontation in front of the business building after walking out of his dad's office, more details of Great's childhood consisted of being the son to the mistress, where Korn's mother took on the role of his wife respectively. Once Korn's mother commits suicide which some people have speculated that Great's mother could have possibly killed her herself but this has yet to be confirmed, there is an obvious shift in the relationship the family has with one another and has best been illustrated during their family dinner scenes and Korn's confrontational scenes with Great.

In Teahan's first point about codependency:

"...a four year old will be terrified that a connection is severed with an angry or aloof parent, [often] coming up with really good attempts to appease or please a parent to reestablish or make that connection, even if it consistently fails..."

I'm sure after the death of his mother along with Great's mother inversely taking her place beside his father, Korn confines himself by meeting with his father's demands, even if that entailed perpetuating the same cycle of corruption and harm placed upon those beneath their influence for decades. However, we witnessed one of the first moments of Korn's facade breaking once he was scolded by his father once more when the company's crimes were revealed to the general public: speaking out of turn and belittling Great's mother in an uproar.

This frustration only grew with time as the operations of the organized crime scheme continued to fall, from the cyber hack, to the information leak and inability to forcefully receive information and leads from the captive, to Samarn reporting to his father without permission. I spoke more about Korn's character in my episode 4 analysis which I think is worth checking out for more details on Korn's personality. Being treated with harshness and as a failure only triggered his innate desire for his own autonomy and to be desired by those he cares for, only to be turned away over and over again: Great, his father, Tonkla.

Episode 5

Along with Teahan's thoughts on romantic intimacy that coincides with codependency, stressing the distinction that these delays and resolutions to conflict are "childlike" and not "childish":

"...children don't like a process of getting to know someone slowly and they want things to be more immediate."

Once we were able to piece together the differing timelines between Great's reality versus his 4 minute reality which is elaborated in my episode 6 analysis, it seemed like Korn's scenes remained consistent except for the initial scene we get with Great after dropping him off after dinner during episode 1. Depicting him as someone who deeply cares for his younger brother as his familiar and someone he can confide in, this persona alters itself to someone who desires a means to an end and doing everything within his power to maintain his family at the top of the hierarchy, Korn spirals and becomes the main cause of his downfall through his own temper and neglect.

The stark difference between how he approached his romantic relationship at the beginning with Tonkla versus the last time they spoke to one another in person is like night and day, but Korn's darkness consumes him to a point-of-no-return. Which now revisiting the episode for more clarity: Korn is last seen at Great's condo while the police are still present at the crime scene, however, we don't see him at the hospital once Great had been admitted and suffering from instability of his vitals. I can only infer that he had left to follow his parents across the border, or Tonkla had successfully gotten to him with the intention of killing him.

When Korn attempts to overpower Tonkla into having sex with him despite not being present for weeks during Tonkla mourning over the murder of his younger brother, rather than meeting his supposed lover with empathy and remorse: he doubles down though intimidation tactics and speaking down to Tonkla. This of course fails once Tonkla's emotional state had been pushed beyond its limits, breaking him from the confines of the relationship of master and servant, even if it was for a brief moment.

Great: Free Will Does Not Exist

Great's demise made me pity him as an individual, especially after I reading cookie-kat777's post about Great's depression. Throughout the original timeline, Great is someone who moves in the world with recklessness and a deep rooted hate and defiance towards his father out of spite. Teahan's thoughts when discussing perception problems further explains Great's skewed mindset towards the severity of his actions within the moment, not understanding the deep set grief and despair he had brought onto others:

"...when we have a toxic parent, a child is whatever the parent says they are. They can rebel against those or take them on, both become extreme distortions of perception...they might never take themselves seriously and they will stay small. A toxic parent expects adult behavior from a child...adult survivors struggle [with] not seeing their own humanity as well as the humanity in others."

We see this emotional outburst onto Great from all angles: his hook up turned unrequited love Tyme, his brother, his father, his mother. With his own instability to make room for the processing of his own emotions, I could only imagine the weight he experienced during those final weeks before him being shot by Tonkla. He had no care in the world about Manee's death after his hit and run, his eventual whiplash from his assistance in getting rid of the body with Title, his immediate horror witnessing the killing of Nan, and eventually his own demise.

Episode 5

In a world where no matter what he does, decisions are made on his behalf without his input, without his own thoughts, without his own feelings, without his own agreement. Rather than taking accountability for their own sins, his family continues to place the burden onto Great, making such claims about following through with such horrific intentions for "his" sake. Whether it be providing him with a financially stable home life, giving him the fancy cars and fancy condos to live mindlessly in, buying the prizes out of the claw machine, all in order to keep him quiet and obedient: it may seem out of the question for some people that undermine the conflict that Great experiences simply because he's a "rich spoiled brat". Even though I have never seen nor have touched the level of wealth and status Great's family has been able to achieve, as someone with my own mental health disorders and dissonance: unhappiness does not care about who its target is, and even with all the wealth in the world and everything handed to you, there is still plenty of room for dysfunction and despair to thrive. After all, misery loves company.

We can see this level of recklessness and destructive behavior through Great's actions, especially with his reactions to all the heinous situations he comes across. Moments such as him hitting Manee or helping Title dispose of Dome's body, you can see how he's in a daze for majority of those moments before continuing on and avoiding damages and accountability. But once those moments pass, a wave of anxiety and stress overcomes him, using impulsive outlets such as smoking and sex to calm his nerves or even heighten them to reach a state of euphoria that temporarily shields him from his damning reality.

The only few moments we witnessed Great's joyous moments in his reality as well as his imagined reality had to do with the presence of love and affection:

Episode 1, 3, 4, 7

What I found interesting from the flashback was not just about Tyme and Great having a shared past, but it seemed like Great's childhood during the time of Tyme's family becoming partners in the operation was fairly tame. There are genuine displays of affection from his mother and father, and it only makes me wonder when the shift occurred between him and his father to escalate to a point of destructive behavior. Was is when he wasn't able to play with Tyme anymore? Was it when Great's father's moral values shifted once Tyme's parents were killed for an exchange of more wealth and status?

Tonkla: Eye for an Eye, Tooth for a Tooth

Teahan's comments on negative coping strategies highlighted my own interpretation of Tonkla's behavior and personality throughout the series:

"...we often find things that would help us address pain. ...can also find drugs and alcohol to manage horrific stuff going on in their home life or in their parental relationships."

I talked about Tonkla's personality and perception in depth in my episode 4 analysis when talking about his dynamic with Korn, alluding to potential physical abuse since we witnessed his emotional abuse earlier on in the series. 4MINUTES deciding to include this backstory helps us as the audience understand the severity of Tonkla's home situation before deciding to live under Korn's care that we see in episode 1. How brutal and violent his father is, how despite reporting to the police on multiple occasions, they remain hands off and enable the abuse to persist, underhandedly assuming Tonkla and his brother to continue enduring the abuse they suffer every day under their own roof.

Episode 7

We can see how passive and absentminded Tonkla becomes when it comes to enduring his own mistreatment, which we get a gist of this from how he processed Dome's passing as well as the secret hot and cold relationship he has with Korn. Surviving off of the same impulsiveness Great relies on to cope with such a bittersweet reality, Tonkla's drug usage and rough sexual encounters keep him from going beyond the edge for as long as possible, but of course, falls short once Dome, his only family member passes away. When we see Tonkla's dad abusing and killing the cat that appears in front of Tonkla as a hallucination throughout the episodes, the collar becomes an even deeper metaphor to Tonkla's imprisonment and stagnation serving as a reminder of not only his father's abuse, but his ownership underneath Korn (he even mentions his father passing away during the conversation with Korn after their first time in episode 4 but now we know his true cause of death).

Episode 7

Teahan elaborates on the romantic aspect of these emotional delays:

"...there is a special bond or a fantasy with their partner which doesn't match the reality of what it is." "...not caring if our partners are actually abusive for fear of being wrong or being in a relationship where we're not a good match."

As well as perceptual issues stemming from abuse during a child's upbringing:

"Often the abuse itself is a parent damaging a child's perception because the adults have the power over reality...they really get into fights in their head and the offense, real or imagined, stays with them, where we perceive the person having an issue with us or making it about us when it's really about the other person."

However, we see this shift in reclaiming his power once Win comes into the picture and tries everything within his power to bring justice to Dome's murder (we don't know for sure if that's stemming from a place of sexual desire, romantic, a strong sense of justice, or a combination of all three). As far as I'm concerned: out of all the main characters, Win has been reliable and consistent in his protection and devotion to Tonkla, offering up a different side of connection as a juxtaposition to the abuse and power imbalance Tonkla dealt with for majority of his life. Because of how disconnected he becomes from Korn's absence, I find it interesting how Korn managed to keep important details such as his relationship to Great a secret from Tonkla, making this betrayal more damaging. As the famous Code of Hammurabi states: "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth".

Episode 7

Tyme: An End Before a Beginning

Tyme's life overview pains me not because I fell madly in love with Jes over the course of this series airing or anything, his life beginning with emptiness and grief after the death of his parents. The trials and tribulations he experienced, from the loss of loved ones, growing up in poor conditions, a deep desire to earn a living to give his grandmother a better life, there are many aspects to Tyme's life that contributes to his passive nature, trickling into his professional and personal life from Den reminding him to treat his patients with humanity and his breakup with his ex girlfriend. We see this when he approaches Great and has sex with him in order to get a step closer to avenging his family, we see this when he confronts Chanin, we see this when he's willing for Samarn to take his life once Nan dies in their hands. However, the most vulnerable of Tyme comes out when he is told by Den about Great's condition at the hospital, which brings on immense guilt and grief for a relationship they could have had if their circumstances were different.

Episode 7

Episode 7

I appreciate that Den becomes a voice of reason, which lots of people had wonders about how big of a role he plays as a character within the grand scheme of things. I believe that Den's character has enough push and pull without being too directly involved and entangled with the main characters, since we know how dedicated Den is to his research as well as the health and well being of his patients. He becomes one of the few people outside of his grandmother that Tyme has trust over, as well as emotional safety in sharing his burden and thoughts about Great and his current state. Whether Den knows the full details of what both of them have been through, Den gives Tyme a sliver of hope for a better outcome, which I found interesting when he was having his conversation with Lukwa about what happens during her OOBE (out-of-body-experience).

Episode 7

What became the most significant for me was Tyme becoming in tune with expressing his deep emotions, which we witnessed him crying at various stages of this episode but with the same emotional baggage: when he witnessed Great's emergency surgery, when confiding in Den about his regret, asking Great for forgiveness by his bedside, and when he's running away from his aggressor before ultimately being shot dead.

For someone that has expressed very little emotion from the moment we were introduced to him as a character until the final few episodes, almost having a similar detachment and perceptual issues Great has, I could only imagine the intensity of his emotions during each moment of vulnerability. Not even 24 hours pass and Great is shot outside of his home after they had their argument and Tyme placed the blame for Nan's death on Great, Great entering a coma from his injury and Tyme dealing with the weight of responsibility for his physical state (whether it is actually his responsibility or not, sorrow will have its way and point him towards guilt), and while bleeding out, grieving for the death of his grandmother, the death of his parents that he can no longer avenge, him now having no chance of asking Great for his forgiveness and remaining an angry and betrayed person in memory. That honestly becomes an even worse punishment on top of what he had been through thus far in his life: the punishment of being dragged to your end without being able to embark on your beginning with the person you care about most.

Episode 7

Both him and Great enter the period of 4 minutes at 11:00PM, which makes me wonder if there will be a way for them to revive themselves if their timelines converge. Is there a possibility for them to call out for one another in their own imagined realities? Can their senses transcend such abnormal circumstances? If Tyme were paying attention to these details outlined in Den's research paper before getting shot, will he be able to use this knowledge to find his way back to Great? Will both of them be able to see one another in the gallery Lukwa saw Great in? Will they both live together or die together? So many questions that I hope we have the vital answers to once episode 8 is released.

This post feels like word soup LOL. I think it's just me having too much fun keeping up with other content while still trying to figure out how to lay this analysis out. If you made it to the end, thank you so much and I appreciate your time! If you're feeling extra generous: check out Xdinary Heroes's new song iNSTEAD! (esp if you like metalcore/rock). See y'all on Friday :)

[darkshelbyfiction]

The Price to Pay (Cillian Murphy Blurb)

Warning: Dubious Consent

When you arrived in New York, at the tender age of eighteen, you never thought that life could be so cruel. You had just completed your freshman year, and an internship at a top-notch talent agency seemed like the perfect opportunity to gain some real-world experience.

You were keen to get your foot in the door of the acting world, having a fondness for drama throughout your adolescence. Who knew that this internship would plunge you into the depths of a depraved, immoral world in which you were nothing more than a plaything for the rich and famous?

"You know how women in this business get ahead, don't you?" your employer , a sleazy, overweight man named Harold, leered at you during your first week at the agency. "It's all about who you know and what you're willing to do for them," he said, suggestively licking his lips and letting his eyes roam freely over your petite figure.

"I am not going to do this kind of thing. I never even had a boyfriend before. This is disgusting!" you told Harold, thinking that this would shut him up but, much to your surprise, a week later, he made you a proposal.

"I have a client who is rather famous . I think he could help boost your career. I just need a small favor in return," he said with a sly smile.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as your gut twisted in dread.

"What kind of small favor?" you cautiously asked and Harold became rather direct. 

" Well, that client of mine has requested a meeting with you. Unfortunately, he cannot keep his hands off young, attractive girls like yourself and you are most certainly his type. And if you want to get anywhere in this industry, you need to play the game."

"So, you're offering me a choice between my integrity and my career aspirations? That's just great." You muttered, feeling a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach.

"Come on Y/N, all you need to do is spread your legs for two hours or so and let him stick  his prick inside you and then you'll be on your way to stardom," Harold said with a drunken grin.

You were disgusted at the thought, but you were also aware of your own naivety. You only had $100 in your bank account, and you couldn't afford to pay your rent or tuition. You knew that if you didn't take this job, you'd be back at square one.

"Okay , I'll do it," you said reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper, causing Harold to grin triumphally before setting up the date.

"If you see Lisa, she will tell you what to expect. She slept with him a couple of times before to get parts in movies," Harold added and it was indeed what you did. 

Lisa was just one year older than you and had acted in several movies and Cillian was one of them. She too had sex with influential men to get ahead in her career. She looked young, but her eyes held a thousand stories you could never compete with, and you were grateful to have her guidance.

"He was the first guy I ever slept with. I had just turned 18. It was on his 46th birthday and Harold organised it," Lisa began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And you never had sex before?" you asked Lisa , your voice wavering slightly as you struggled to process this new information.

She chuckled lightly and shook her head. "No, I was as nervous as you are and I think that is what gets him off the most. He likes being the first ," Lisa shared, her voice monotonous and distant. "I slept with him a few times, but the first time was the hardest. I remember staring at the ceiling, feeling his body on top of me and knowing that I could never get that moment back. I was vulnerable, and he knew it. I don't think I even uttered a sound, except for a slight whimper when he pushed in to me."

"God, the pain was unbearable," she continued, her voice low and filled with a heavy dose of shame. "I remember he came inside me, so much so that it ran down my legs and I was so sore the next day that I could barely walk when I auditioned for a show. But I kept my mouth shut," Lisa said, her voice trailing off. "I knew what I had to do to make it in this industry, and I was determined to do whatever it took."

The following day it was your turn to do whatever it took.

The door clicked shut as Harold left you alone in Cillian's luxurious penthouse suite after delivering you there and making the necessary introduction.

The silence was crushing as you took in your surroundings. Your pulse raced, your palms slick with sweat, as you nervously glanced about the elegantly decorated space. A beautifully carved wooden headboard, perfectly positioned to overlook the sparkling skyline, drew your attention, your heart sinking as you realized this is where the violating act would take place.

"Would you like a drink to calm your nerves?" Cillian asked you as you stood there trembeling  , staring at the plush carpet. His voice was smooth and silky, a complete contrast to the rough and raw pontential of what he was about to do to your young, innocent body.

"I-I don't know..." you stuttered, unsure of how to respond as he assessed you, his manhood already straining against the expensive fabric of his trousers.

The idea of a drink repulsed you, but the thought of being alone with him in such an exposed state made your stomach turn. Reluctantly, you nodded, and he waved a hand towards the ornate bar in the corner of the room.

As he poured out a glass of amber liquid, you tried to steady your shaking hands. Liquid courage, that's what you needed. You took a tentative sip and felt the burn of the alcohol course down your throat, warming your trembling body.

"Harold tells me that you just turned eighteen and looking to make a name for yourself in this industry," Cillian said smoothly, his eyes fixed on your slender frame.

You nodded slowly, wondering where this was heading. Your mind raced with questions, but your fear kept you silent.

"Well, if you are good girl for me , I can definitely help you with that," Cillian said, his voice dripping with lewd intentions as he guided you towards the bed .

Your mouth went dry as you tried to shake your head, to protest, but your voice was caught in your throat. You knew what was coming next, and you couldn't stomach it.

"I don't really want to do this ," you stammered, your voice trembling.

"I know, but think of all the opportunities this could bring you, " Cillian purred, inching closer to you before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Come on, I will be gentle and promise it won't be that bad, " he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

"It's just, I never had sex before, " you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Even better, " Cillian murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through your dress. "This means that I get to pop that cherry of yours," he told you and you gasped as his other hand slid down your body, making its way beneath your dress.

He slipped his fingers beneath your panties, groaning as he felt your bald , shaved pussy. "Fuck, your hole is tiny," he growled, his fingers now tracing your slit.

"P-please don't do this," you stuttered, feeling tears spill from your eyes as a fresh wave of fear and resistance flooded through you.

"Sshhh, it's alright," he murmured, his mouth suddenly on yours again, kissing you hungrily as his fingers played with your labia. "I know you are scared, but just relax and let it happen."

His words were muffled as he spoke them around your lips and tongue, his fingers now dipping between your folds, exploring you gently and curiously, like a man trying something for the first time.

"Now why don't you take your clothes off for me," he murmured, as he pulled away from your mouth, his oceanic eyes meeting yours.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest and your hands trembling with fear and anxiety, but the threat of his looming presence, towering over you, made your compliance instinctive.

You undid the buttons of your shirt slowly, his gaze devouring your young body with each piece of clothing you shed and, eventually, all you were wearing was some white cotton panties featuring a small stain of blood from when he had fingered you.

It was that innocence that excited him the most.

"Such a good girl," he praised you, sliding his hand over your collarbone and down your chest. You quivered under his touch, wishing you could disappear. Your fear mingled with disgust as his finger traced the outline of your breast, lingering on your nipple, hardening it. "Harold wasn't wrong. You are a stunning little thing."

Your skin crawled at his words, but you remained frozen, submissive under his touch, too paralyzed with fear to fight back.

He undressed himself quickly, revealing his toned physique, exaggerated by the soft glow of the dimmed lights. He was completely naked now, and you gasped at the size of his manhood.

"Lie down, sweetie," he commanded, and you obeyed and, with a shivering body, laid down on the large bed while he stroked his cock provocatively.

'Spread your legs for me,' he ordered and with a deep breath, you obeyed. You heard him gasp at the sight of your pure, perfect body before him. He noticed your blood-stained panties and his chest heaved at the prospect of claiming your innocence.

"Ah, sweetie, I see your panties are stained from when I fingered that virgin hole of yours. Let's have a look at it, shall we?" he drawled as he reached for the hem of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. He paused for a second, marveling at your bare pussy, the folds pink and tight. "Perfect," he murmured as he spread your legs wider, exposing your bleeding slit to the cool air of the room.

He then ran his fingers over your blood soaked slit , causing you to whimper at the intrusive sensation.

"Such a tight little thing you are," he growled as he slipped a finger into your channel, pushing against the barrier of your virginity before pulling it out and wiping it on the sheets.

"It's going to be a snug fit ," he mused, admiring the sight of you lying there, exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. Your skin was flushed, your pulse quickened at his words. He was sizing you up, like a predator would its prey, and you couldn't help but feel like a lamb led to the slaughter.

"Well, let's see if we can stretch that hole a bit, shall we?" he smirked, climbing on top of you. His legs pinned yours down, spreading them wider apart.

The head of his thick cock nudged against your slick entrance, causing you to be startled by its girth and you squirmed under his weight, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, preventing you from moving.

"Wait," you whimpered, your voice trembling with uncertainty and fear. He looked down upon you, his piercing gaze holding your own. "Aren't you going to wear a condom?" you asked, swallowing hard and looking up at him with wide, scared eyes. 

"No, I want to feel you bare. It's so much better that way," he replied eagerly while running the head of his cock over your slit. 

"But, I'm not on birth control," you stammered, realizing how foolish it was to say such a thing at this point.

He smiled and braced his arms on either side of your head. "That's okay. I will give you the morning after pill when we are done," he whispered, before he began pushing the tip of his swollen cockhead against your entrance. The pressure of the head pressing against your innocence made you squirm and protest underneath him, but he didn't heed your pleas.

"Oh god, it hurts ," you cried out as he pushed in another inch, stretching your cherry to the brink.

"I know. It's alright . Just relax, baby," Cillian whispered soothingly, despite knowing that the pain was inevitable. "You are such a good girl for me," he told you , as he began pushing deeper, slowly and deliberately, tearing through the thin barrier of your innocence.

You couldn't help but let out a yelp, a combination of surprise, pain, and discomfort, as you lay there beneath him, legs trembling, hands fisted at your sides, nails digging into the luxurious sheets of the elegant suite. Your whole body tensed, tears streaming down your face, as he kept pushing forward until his entire length was buried deep inside of you, groaning out in pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I knew it was going to be good, but goddamn," Cillian muttered, starting to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the feeling of your virginity tightly wrapped around his cock.

"Please...it hurts," you whimpered, trying to hold back the tears as you felt your body stretched and invaded beyond belief.

"Just relax and let me stretch you out," he grunted, slamming all the way inside of you, filling you up with his thick, swollen cock.

Your tight pussy burned with a throbbing sensation, your body still adjusting to the sheer size that was previously unknown to your innocent body.

Cillian smirked as he felt your virginity broken, your blood glazing the length of his shaft.  You cried out in pain, your fingers digging into the plush fabric of the bedsheets beneath you. He reveled in your discomfort, savoring the feeling of your tight pussy clenching around him as he thrust deeper into your young, innocent body.

"God, you feel so fucking good," he grunted, his hips driving into yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch in your throat.  "Look at me while I fuck you."

You yelped in pain, tears streaming down your cheeks as he mercilessly thrust himself into you, ripping through your innocence. Your young, untouched body screamed in protest, but Cillian showed no remorse.

"I am going to cum deep inside you," he growled, his hips slamming roughly against yours.

You felt disgusted, helpless as he ravaged your body, pushing himself to the hilt with each brutal thrust.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he buried himself deep inside of you. You whimpered softly, fighting the urge to cry as the pain intensified.

"Almost done , little one," Cillian grunted, breathing heavily as he slammed into you forcefully. With a final groan, he ejaculated, releasing himself deep inside your tight channel.

It felt like a burning hot poker stabbing you relentlessly, the sensation unbearable. The intimacy of his release within you made you shudder from its intensity. The aroma of his sweat hung heavy in the air, mingled with an undercurrent of blood - your blood, invading your innocence and leaving a trail of crimson on the creases of your thighs.

His grip on your wrists slackened, allowing you to wriggle free from his grasp and when he pulled out of you, you could feel his semen oozing out, coating your inner thighs in a slick, wet mess.

The pain radiated through your body with a vengeance, and you couldn't help but wince as you shifted on the bed, the sheets sticking to your damp skin.

"There are towels in the bathroom," Cillian said casually, gesturing towards the en-suite with a nod. "Clean yourself up."

A flush rose to your cheeks, as you looked away from him, the embarrassment lodging itself in your throat like a fist.

You had heard stories of young girls like yourself being taken advantage of in the entertainment industry, but you never thought it would happen to you. 

When you stood up quietly, you felt his cum leak out of your pussy, a mix of pain, discomfort and shame pulsing through your veins. Your muscles protested as you walked on shaky legs towards the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, and stared at your reflection in the mirror. 

You cleaned up , using a warm washcloth to wipe the cum and bloodstains from your thighs, feeling the painful throb radiate from within and when you retreated from the bathroom, Cillian handed you a packet containing a single pill.

"Take this. It's the morning-after pill. Make sure to take it tonight. Filming starts tomorrow," Cillian said, his tone flat.

His words echoed in your ears as you took the pills from him, feeling numb with shock and disgust. You wanted to scream and shout, to tell him that he had no right to do this to you. But all you could manage was a weak "thank you" before turning away from him and gathering your things. 

[transingthoseformers]

Wedding-officiate! Optimus anon here. The spilling of any tears is completely unintentional and I apologise in advance.

oh golly : this is your expository post to follow up your ask-response tags:

OP is Orion Pax. Text will refer to the Conjunx Endura Ritus and several of the acts themselves (information sourced via TF Wiki page 'Conjunx Endura' & a Wordpress blog post- search 'Conjunx Endura Ceremony, ask-eclipsemtmte-stuff').

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spinning yarn here that OP in this context previously worked in the business of guiding bots on how the Conjunx Ritus works. Most bots who show up are there for #4 Act of Devotion of the ceremony, some are there to start the process and want advice as to how to begin, a few are in between the rites and just want some bot to talk to.

Like: think of it as a similar to a Registry Office Wedding, it's yourself + spouse-to-be + 3rd party of relative authority to witness the ceremony completion for registry purposes.

I'm not saying a 'Conjunx Endura Registry' exists - the 3rd party in this case takes the role of seeing the final act in the Conjunx Ritus before the bond is cemented - not compulsory but gives the event more weight to it.

The authority OP has to do this before Primacy is:

he is knowledgable as to the Conjunx Ritus process, due to his archive work involving temple literature.

the bot who is actually meant to do this job haphazardly bestows this small responsibility onto OP, who is still an archivist but said archives also happen to share space with a temple.

said bot has more than 1 job at temple but is the only one who officiates - needs a back up for the odd few that appear when he isn't there.

the original bot has written express permission for OP to carry out officiate duties, so bots that enter the space can't say OP isn't qualified to be there.

OP doesn't actually need to do this other job but sometimes a break is needed from archiving - and this is a perfect set up to keep the cycles bright. And also because the original bot allows OP to use his working space as he pleases - super cushy office space all to himself with the comfiest chair & desk a bot could have in peaceful silence.

So several stellar cycles of this and seeing countless ceremonies, both successful and not, OP lays optics on THE bot.

The bot, whose journey begins like all other who walk through the door to seek his council, is captivating. Not in the physical sense only, but how they speak. OP doesn't recall when he has had such riveting conversations before. OP is another civilian like others, being the (temp) officiate shouldn't bar him from pursuing what he sees almost daily.

A deep relationship is forged between them. It also progresses to the point where OP has given said bot a gift - which is #3 Act of Proferrence in the Ritus.

Sadly, war happens etc - Primacy upgrade happens too quickly as well.

OP is gone and only Optimus Prime remains. OP doesn't get to have his #4 Act of Devotion with the other bot because "he (OP) just doesn't exist anymore" - per the other bot's words.

OP is spark-broken as he was willing to try again from the beginning with #1 Act of Intimacy then #2 Act of Disclosure before moving onto the later two Acts.

More time passes, some within the Autobot faction desire to go through the Ritus. Optimus, knowing how to actually go through the process, decides he will not allow those by his side to feel the pain he once went through and offers to help them live their happiest moment.

And he will give those couplings his time of utmost sincerity and wish them a lengthy bond withstanding space-time. The smile on his face is genuine at their ceremony, as is his joy for them.

Optimus wishes his own could be rekindled some day, those who ask him about it are not ready for the saddest smile that adorns his faceplates.

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

And that marks the end of the context. Certainly, anybody can make use of their preferred Bot/Con in mind to pair with Optimus/OP.

-Peace Out, vanishes-

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Optimus!!!!! Nooo!!!!!

[sleepyfan-blog]

Church

Author’s Note: This is the next part of Cedric’s Adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU! First. Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 

Warnings: panic attack, references to religious suppression, ask me to tag if I missed anything, 

Summary: Cedric hears Church Bells while wandering the city and goes to investigate. 

As he’s managed to prove that he won’t randomly attack people if not constantly monitored by firstborn Brothers or Cousins, Cedric has finally been allowed to wander the mortal city that the base is part of without needing an escort. While he does prefer to be in the company of at least one of his fellow Primaris Marines, the others are all busy today. Jophiel has been claimed by the Firstborn Blood Angels and is being trained in his psyker powers. Claude has been talked into interacting with some non-crazy firstborn Night Lords - who apparently existed at one point in time.

Catius is interacting with several older Ultramarines with Ramiel accompanying him as both emotional support and back up. Cedric has been allowed to wander wherever he likes, so long as he stays within city limits, or informs an older Brother or Cousin if he wants to wander through the nearby woods that surround the city before doing so. It’s early in the morning with Terra’s Star just barely peeking over the eastern horizon, and Cedric desperately wishes that he knew of a place where he could perform morning prayers and hymns without making his older brothers and cousins uncomfortable while doing so. Religion, worship and prayer made many of them deeply uncomfortable, after all. Those who weren’t Black Templars, nor were from M42. 

He’d briefly talked to Brother Arnault and Brother Roland about it, but neither of them had found a place where one could gather with other worshippers to sing and pray together, either. Both had been delighted if a bit cautious when he brought news of Ramiel, a Chaplain in training of their shared Chapter. But the crux of the issue remained the same; there was nowhere where the group of them could gather and go through the morning services that had been so routine on both the planet-bound monasteries and the cathedral-rooms of the chapter ships that he had served on. The private homes that both Roland and Arnault lived in were too small to host multiple Astartes - besides, the singing and prayer would wake either of theirs human bonded, which was unfair.

Cedric still felt the loss, despite having been brought to Ancient and Holy Terra months ago now. A forlorn sigh left the young Black Templar as he continued to wander through the streets of the city, making a mental map of the place. 

He froze when the sound of something he hadn’t expected to in this time.

Bong

Bong

Bong

The ringing sound of metal on metal, the clear, resonant sounds of a church bell ringing in the early morning. It took the young Templar several moments to process what he was hearing, and several more to figure out in which direction the sound was coming from. There wer some baseline humans wandering about the city at this time of day, but Cedric barely registered their presence as he started to sprint at his full (and considerable) speed towards the source of the ringing church bells, his hearts having flown up to take residence in the back of his throat.

He skidded to a halt in front of the beautiful stone building. He could see stunning mosaics made out of stained glass set in the windows, catching the light of the morning light. He could see the tower where the bells were still ringing, hearing the bells swing back and forth as they were rung over and over again.

The front doors of the church were open, and a steady stream of baseline mortals were entering in an orderly line. Excitement and nervousness battled for dominance in Cedric’s hearts as he made his way to the back of one of these lines, glad that he was wearing fairly nice civilian clothes, as most of the mortals around him were wearing nice clothing as well.

He had to duck a little to enter the church, the top of the door a good foot or so shorter than he was tall but that was a paltry price to pay as he silently took in the entry-way before him. The floor was made out of polished stone that shone in the artificial light and the rainbow of colors that the stained-glass filtered in. He followed the line of mortals to the main worship chamber. Dozens of padded pews made of wood were in neat orderly rows facing the pulpit, where the chaplain or whoever was to speak. 

There was a massive musical instrument built into one side of the walls of this worship room, and Cedric silently wondered what it sounded like. He silently eyed the pews, deciding that it was unlikely that they would be able to support his weight, along with the mortals, and he really didn’t want to damage any part of this sacred and holy place.

Each pew quickly filled up with mortals, and Cedric found himself at the very back of the worship-chamber. One of the robed clergy-members were handing out pillows to those who did not have a proper spot to sit, guiding the mortals to sit in neat, organized rows, while another helped keep the line in order.

Both paused for several seconds when Cedric stepped forwards, looking up at him with inscrutable expressions on their faces. Cedric looked down at them, head tilting a little to one side as he worked up the courage to talk to them. Talking to a member of the Ecclesiarchy was always a nerve wracking experience back in M42, and the young Black Templar really wanted to make a good first impression. He didn’t want to be kicked out of the church because he offended them by accident. “Is… Is something the matter?” Cedric managed to ask. 

The member of the clergy who was handing out pillow-seats spoke up first “Forgive me for the assumption, but are you an Astartes?” Though their voice was quiet, it carried far in the room. Deep silence followed their question and Cedric could feel the eyes of dozens, if not hundreds of mortals staring holes into the button-down shirt he was wearing.

The scrutiny made Cedric tense up, though he did his best to keep his voice quiet and respectful, making sure to avert his gaze from their faces as he answered “I am… Is that a problem?” He hadn’t been told that there was anywhere within the city that Astartes were forbidden to go… But perhaps his older cousins hadn’t thought that he would wander into a random church, so they hadn’t thought to tell them? 

“No… But many Astartes are quite… Vocal about their distaste for religion - organized or otherwise and have caused trouble in the past. If you plan on trying to stop the service, we ask you to please simply leave.” One of the clergy-people explains, gesturing to one of the others who leave the room “If you refuse to leave, there are Astartes who are willing to remove you from this place - by force if necessary.”

Oh. Oh no. Cedric could easily imagine that happening “... And if I wish to observe the religious practice quietly and without interruption, would I be allowed to stay? While I do agree that many of the older Cousins and Brothers who have been brought to Terra are… Strongly against religion of all kinds, this does not hold true for myself nor the handful of Brothers who were taken from… Places similar to where I was taken from.” He hesitated for a couple of moments, as he could tell that the baseline clergy weren’t entirely convinced that he meant no harm and did not intend to cause trouble. He continued to try and explain himself “I have religious beliefs that I hold quite deeply, and as long as your beliefs are not violent towards innocents, or use vital sacrifice during any part of it, I do not think I would interfere with the proceedings.”

“Would you seek to convert others to your own beliefs, through word or physical force, were you allowed to stay?” The clergy person asked, a wry tone in their voice.

Cedric blinked twice. The amount of trouble he would get into for attempting that would be catastrophic. It had been made explicitly clear to him that though the God Emperor was alive somewhere in this time period, he had not yet revealed himself to be the Master of Mankind, and to try and draw attention to him at such a time could be devastating. “No… If I were asked about my beliefs, I would be honored to explain what I’m allowed to, but much of it is..” Not exactly a closed practice, from where and when he came from, but much of it would require explaining about the Great and Terrible future that Humanity was facing tens of thousands of years in the future, which was forbidden to speak of in detail without explicit permission “I would not be allowed to explain without prior permission, which I do not have.”

“Is there a particular reason why you sought out our church in the first place?” The baseline asks, stepping a little closer to where Cedric was standing. Some of the wariness and suspicion had left their voice and their body posture was a bit more open “... You seem… Young, for an Astartes. Am I wrong?”

Cedric shook his head “You are not wrong, ecclesiarch. I am young for an Astartes, and still am in training for parts of my duty to my chapter.” He had yet to tell any Brother or Cousin his precise age, mostly because he was pretty sure that Captain Ash’val would explode spectacularly. Or Apothecary Hura would kidnap him and keep him by his side at all times because Little Baby Brothers need constant supervision. Honestly! He’s been on deadly and difficult missions without his Mentor before! He also survived the longest in M42 of the Primaris Marines who he knows about anyways. It’s not his fault that most of the Firstborn Astartes he’s run into are at minimum upwards of three hundred years old if not much, much older. The cantankerous bastards. He heard the sounds of ceramite on stone, and the heavier step of an Astartes walking towards them. “... May I please stay? I promise not to cause trouble. The sound of the church bells were familiar to me, and I… I’ve missed morning prayers and psalms in the months I’ve been on Terra, terribly.”

“Are there not places to worship in one of the Astartes bases in town? And Ecclesiarch is the incorrect term, please refer to me as Sister Superior.” The be-robed mortal asked and gently corrected Cedric. 

Cedric fidgeted a little “Not that I am aware of. The reclusiums are to be used by the Chaplains alone along with whoever they have trusted to keep those inner sanctums clean and well-tended to. Chaplains are meant to tend to the mental and emotional health of their Brothers and Cousins, among other duties, however…” Cedric also kept quiet about the other duties that Chaplains were to tend to - at least among the Black Templars as he didn’t want to potentially concern or distress the Sister Superior he was speaking with. Perhaps she was part of an order that was a precursor to the Sister of Battle? “Among the chaplains who I have interacted with on Terra, the only one who might be comfortable leading the morning prayers and psalms I dearly miss is around the same age and training level as myself. We don’t… We don’t have a space to worship where we would potentially draw the ire... Erm. Discomfort of our older brothers and cousins who do not hold the beliefs we do.”

He could hear the approach of the other Astartes, he was getting closer. Cedric deliberately did not look away from the Sister Superior to try and figure out who this Astartes was, nor from which direction he was approaching Cedric in, as the young Black Templar really meant no harm. He also had truly been just drawn to the sound of the ringing church bells, and a soul-deep longing ache still resonated inside of him. 

“Were you hoping to see if this church would be serviceable to your needs? Or merely drawn by the sound of the ringing bells? They do sound beautiful when they do ring, and this church is one of the loveliest in the region, in my humble opinion.” Sister Superior answered, a small smile on her face. She gestured wordlessly for him to come closer, which the young Astartes obeyed.

Cedric knelt so that he was closer to her eye level, keeping his gaze focused  downwards, penitent and trying hard not to seem threatening. “I was drawn by the sound of the bells, and this church really is beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen stained glass like that. It reminds me of the worship halls on m-... In the fortress-monastery I enjoyed training in the most.” 

“I will say that you aren’t the first Astartes who has been drawn to our church, with the earnest desire to find a space in which to worship without being judged by other Space Marines who are vocal about their dislike of open displays of worship. Ah, there you are, Lykos. You needn’t worry, this young Cousin of yours wandered in out of curiosity and an open heart, rather than to try and cause trouble.” The Sister Superior murmured, her gaze focusing on someone behind and slightly to the left of Cedric.

A deep, rich voice with an accent that Cedric did not recognize rumbled Astartes-deep behind the young Black Templar “I see… I was hopeful that was the case, as you arrived at this church without arms or armor, but that is not always the case. What is your name, Cousin? I am Brother-Chaplain Lykos of the Word Bearers Legion. I am from mid-M31 originally.”

The older Astartes was wearing black armor with red, silver and gold accents. There were runes inscribed on much of his armor, written in neat rows that Cedric did not immediately recognize, and the symbol of an open book with white pages set aflame on one of the other Astartes’ pauldron the other having a red arrow on it. Upon the other’s chest-plate was the the symbol of the two-headed Aquila. He had a black cape that draped regally behind him, and almost but not quite touched the floor. His skull-helmet was clipped to his belt, and his head was shaved bald, with dozens of golden tattoos on his face and neck shone in the light of the early morning sun.

Cedric froze for several seconds, the breath in his lungs freezing over solid at the approach of a strange first-born Chaplain. Brother-Chaplain Lykos had no mutations, no extra appendages and no spikes. He did not smell like a Chaos-tainted Astartes, either, but Cedric still felt very small and threatened as the chaplain loomed over him.

The quiet murmurings of serfs in prayer echoing in the stone chamber, the slight waft of incense as the Firstborn Chaplain approached him, one hand on his chainsword, a neutral and disapproving expression on his face. The other’s voice rings in his ears but Cedric is having difficulties processing what he’s saying. 

A ceramite-gloved hand reaches out to where Cedric is still kneeling and, to his eternal shame, he flinches and cowers away from the attempt at contact. Why is it so difficult to breathe, all of a sudden? Cedric is breathing fast and shallow, as a heavy, oppressive weight is pressing against his chest.

One of the Sisters steps between Cedric and the Chaplain, and the noise in Cedric’s ears roars louder. Her fingers tremble a little with the age of a mortal, and the expression she gives him is of gentle concern. She reaches out to cup his face, and he leans into her touch, a tiny sound leaving him. Most of his focus is on the knees of the Chaplain, however, knowing better than to keep his focus from wavering from One of Them. 

“I asked you a question.” The Chaplain rumbles, voice sharp with irritation and disapproval “What is your name? To which Legion or chapter do you belong to?”

[visionofhope04]

I just got done reading your Neglected!Batsis stories and headcanons, and lemme tell you, love ‘em. But can you do headcanons for her meeting the Justice League and Titans post-reveal and how they all interact. Either a mini-series or headcanons. Thanks for reading, and keep up the good work.

One love, Missnght.

Aww thank you so much!!! I'm glad you love the series! HAPPY HOLIDAYSSSS!!!! Also MERRY CHIRSTMAS!!! It's very early Christmas day where I am right now. TW: Human tr@fficking and mentions of @bus3, swearing

---

You were minding your business, walking down the street, when all of a sudden you get snatched into an alleyway. Before you even processed what happened, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head and blacked out.

---

You began to regain consciousness but refrained from opening your eyes, struggling to keep your muscles relaxed and breathing even. You wanted to learn anything you could about your surroundings, if you gave them any hint that you were awake, they wouldn't spill any useful information. If there was anything Talia had drilled into you from such a young age, it was the importance of gathering information, or the facts, before acting. It prevented you from making misinformed decisions which could lead to death if you aren't careful.

"She's still out and it's been so long, do you think she's okay?" A high-pitched voice sounded to your left.

"Who knows what they could've done before they brought her in." A lower-pitched voice responded, coming from your right this time.

You blinked your eyes open slowly and pretended you were just waking up. You did a quick check-in with your body and winced once you felt a sharp pain in your skull. The pain got worse and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"You're awake! I thought you were dead for a second." That was the first voice you heard.

"Ugh, yeah but my head is killing me. Do you know where we are?"

"That would be in a small room with no windows and a locked door with several other girls here in various states of distress. Surprisingly still in Jump City. They usually move us quicker." The second voice said.

"I knew wanting to come to Jump City for a possible new place to live was a bad idea." You mumbled. You opened your eyes once the pain dulled. The girl to your left had shoulder-length blonde hair that seemed to be chopped unevenly. She was wearing a skimpy short white dress with spaghetti straps that barely covered her and white flats. Her makeup was smudged and she had a few bruises on her legs and arms. You hoped it wasn't what you thought it was.

The girl to your right was wearing a similar dress to the other girl except it was a deep purple and somehow shorter. She had long black hair which looked so smooth and barely any baby hairs sticking up? You needed to get her hair routine after this. Unlike the other girl, her makeup was intact but didn't seem to match her skin tone well. She did also have bruises, however, indicating it was, in fact, what you thought it was.

"This is a trafficking ring, isn't it."

"Got it in one. How'd you guess?" The second girl -you really needed to get their names- asked.

"Well, it's almost spot on to what movies portray them as. All we're missing are the big scary guys." The door burst open at that exact moment and said big scary guys walked into the room. You couldn't get any luckier. They were all armed with handguns and two stayed back as their boss went to stand in the middle of the room.

"We're going to be moving you out in small groups. Stay with your group and don't try anything."

You got put into a group with the two girls from before and another girl. You were quietly 'escorted' down the hall until the girl you hadn't talked to tried to steal the guy's gun. He shoved her off him and she fell to the floor. He pointed his gun at her head but before he could pull the trigger, you hit his wrist, caught the gun in your other hand then elbowed him. Him being momentarily stunned, you pointed the gun at his head.

"Move and I'll shoot."

"You don't even know how to use a gun! I bet you wouldn't even be able to shoot something point-blank." He exclaimed cockily.

"Wanna test that theory?" You shot him in his right upper bicep.

He screamed and his other hand shot up to clutch at the wound.

"You bitch! You'll pay for that!"

Quicker than you could comprehend, he pulled out a gun from the back of his hip using his good arm and fired at you. Against all of your training, you froze. You heard more than saw the bullet whiz toward you. Bracing yourself, you shut your eyes and forcibly relaxed your muscles. Before the bullet could imbed itself into you, you felt a strong gust of wind and opened your eyes.

"Now, that's no way to treat someone. Clearly, you've never been taught manners. How about I teach you some?" Kid Flash made quick work of the man as you reassessed your surroundings. The girl that tried to steal the man's gun was now off the ground and huddled near the other girls. They immediately rushed to check on me.

"Oh, I'm fine, just a bit frazzled. Don't worry about it."

"'Just a bit frazzled' my ass! You almost got shot!"

"Are you okay ma'am?" Kid Flash asked.

"Yes, I'm fine thank you."

"Okay we've gotta get going, follow me!"

The Titans managed to get all the girls out and arrest all the men. Kid Flash stayed by you as a paramedic checked you over and then came to talk to you once they left.

"Hey." He sat down next to you.

"Hey." You greeted, clutching the shock blanket the paramedic had given you around yourself a little tighter as you looked at the ground.'

"Are you okay?" You picked your gaze up off the ground and stared directly into his eyes.

"Are you seriously asking a former Bat that question?"

"Fair point. But the question still stands."

"Physically, yes, mentally, no."

"After everything that isn't surprising."

"I told you it's not your fault, or your teams, or the Justice League's."

"That doesn't mean we still don't feel bad about it."

You sat there in awkward silence for a minute until Beast Boy came up to you.

"Hey bae how're ya?" You could tell he was trying to flirt.

"You practice that in the mirror often?"

"You know it!"

The rest of the Titans came over and began to apologize for your former family's actions but you cut them off.

"Like I said, you don't have to apologize. None of you were responsible for it. I don't blame you guys. I appreciate you all saving the rest of the girls and I, thank you."

"Just doing our job." Blue Beetle said.

Wally placed a hand on your shoulder. "If you need anything, let us know, okay?"

"Thank you."

---

The Justice League invited you to Oliver Queen's estate for the holidays. You knew it was just to check up on you and see how you were fairing. Ever since the incident with the batfamily, they've been trying to take on parental roles in your life. It was sweet of them but you don't need that anymore.

Some other heroes were there, mostly the younger children of the leaguers. The party went well, with you all sharing funny stories and making the most absurd faces for pictures. Opening gifts was the best part. You got the same pair of socks ten times from ten different people. You weren't even disappointed. You were just kind of concerned about how ten different leaguers knew your size.

You left feeling an unfamiliar fuzzy warm feeling inside your chest and found yourself looking forward to being invited again.

[runnning-outof-time]

Back From Business | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part of my Countdown to Christmas Event

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: In which Tommy surprises his family by coming home from business just in time for the Christmas festivities to begin at Arrow House.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1577

A/N: I got a little carried away with this one … it was a joy to write though. Only got 5 days left!! Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy walked into his home and was immediately met with the sight of the several boxes that were strewn about the foyer. He looked to both sides of the room but found no one. Before he was able to call out for Frances, a voice came from the stairs: "you know, I'll mind the glasses, Tom, but the hat's a little too much."

(Y/N) was in the process of walking down the steps as she spoke, and all Tommy could do was chuckle as she made her way over to him. "Figured you wouldn't like it," he stated, taking the fedora-style hat off of his head.

"You're back early," she commented, taking hold of his cheeks so that she could bring him in for a kiss. It had been two weeks since she'd tasted the sweetness of his lips...which was too long in her opinion.

"Dottie sent a message out...said that I was needed to come home," he told her once they pulled away.

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head at the information Tommy gave her. "That girl..." she trailed off.

"Has something happened?" he questioned, his brows furrowed.

"No," (Y/N) looked up at him again, "she just wanted you home to help decorate," she then told him the real reason behind their five year old daughter's "urgent" message. Tommy shook his head as a smile formed on his face.

Before anything else could be said, a squeal from the person in question emanated from the top of the stairs. "Daddy! You're home!" she shrieked as she rushed down to greet him.

Tommy couldn't stop himself from scooping her up into his arms, but (Y/N) didn't let her façade crack so easily. "What did I tell you about sending messages to your father while he's on business, Dorothy Shelby?" she questioned the child, her eyebrow raised as she set both hands on her hips.

Dottie immediately knew that she'd have some explaining to do. "I really wanted him to come home so that he could help us. He's always home for decorating," she pleaded her case, making sure to lay it on thick with the puppy dog pout.

(Y/N) exchanged a look with Tommy upon hearing her daughter's statement. He said nothing, and only subtly shrugged his shoulders. The fact that she would have to go at this alone made her let out a sigh of defeat. "I know you mean well, love, but how about from now on, we only save messaging daddy for instances where there's actual problems?" she came up with a solution for the situation, one that made Dottie not her head fervently.

"Ok, mummy," she agreed verbally as well, a smile appearing as she shifted her gaze to her father, "will you help us decorate now, dad?" she asked, hope present in her eyes.

"Of course, love," Tommy agreed to her ask almost instantly, making Dottie's smile widen even more. She cheered upon hearing his response, then telling her parents that she'd be in the living room - the first room they'd decorate.

"She definitely knows how to get what she wants," (Y/N) commented once Dottie had left the room.

"Yes, she does," Tommy agreed with a nod.

"Reminds me of her father in that regard," she added, then turning to face her husband with a grin.

Surprise spread across his face as he hear what she had to say. "Really? I was thinkin' she was like her mother there," he countered, his words making her roll her eyes as her smile grew. Her response made him laugh.

"How 'bout we go decorate?" she suggested amidst his laughter, her hip popped out once again. Tommy grinned at her before he nodded his head, dropping his briefcase to the ground then so that he could follow his wife into the living room, where their daughter was already in the middle of untangling strings of garland.

—

"You're gonna have to lift me for this part, dad," Dottie stated as she grabbed the golden star from the box of decorations.

"I am?" Tommy feigned confusion, looking at her with a puzzled expression.

"You are. How else am I going to put this star on top?" Dottie questioned him, her hip popped just like her mother. Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. She truly was a mini (Y/N).

"Let's give it a try then, eh?" he stated, moving over to lift her up. Holding her in his arms didn't get her high enough, so he rested her on his shoulders, holding onto her legs for support.

"Be careful, Dottie," (Y/N) called from where she was setting up the candle-holders across the room.

"I'm always careful, mum!" the girl called back, focused on her goal as she then instructed Tommy to move closer to the tree. She continued to direct him as she got to the perfect spot to stick the star on top. "There. Perfect!" she called, clapping her hands together once she'd completed the task, "bring me down now, dad!"

Tommy did just that, bringing her back down to the ground, but not without making sure to tickle her sides first. That turned Dottie into a laughing mess before she went and tried to begin tickling Tommy. A tickle war quickly ensued, one that continued until (Y/N) had to step in and break it up so that they could continue with decorating.

—

"What do you wanna go into my office for, Dot?" Tommy questioned as he followed his daughter down the hallway.

"You need some Christmas in your work room too, daddy," she insisted, carrying a ceramic tree and a reindeer statue in either of her hands.

"Do I?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised as she stopped at the locked door and turned back to look at him.

"Absolutely," she stood her ground, an assured smile on her face, "can you open the door, please?" she asked sweetly then, an ask that Tommy couldn't refuse. He let her enter the room first before following in behind her. "I think these would look perfect right...here," she decided, setting the tree and reindeer right next to a framed photo of her mother and father.

"I think that's a good spot for it, Dottie," Tommy agreed with her decision, a smile on his face.

"Can you read me a story, dad?" she asked out of the blue.

"You've any books in here?" he questioned her, not remembering if she'd stashed any during any of her previous times in the room.

"I don't," her face fell silently, "I can go get one!" she said then, thinking on her feet to come up with a solution.

"How about I tell you a story instead?" he suggested an idea of his own, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for her response.

"You know stories by heart?" Dottie seemed surprised.

"Course I do. Why don't I tell you about the time that uncle John started opening all of our presents three days early because he thought that it was Christmas, and that we were trying to prank him?" he suggested a story from his childhood to her.

Dottie nodded with an excited look on her face, and the two moved over to the couch where they could get comfortable so that the story could be told. She listened intently as her father told the story, laughing as he did his best to imitate his brothers and detail their reactions to what had happened. She laughed the most when he tried to do the voice of her grandmother. She always laughed when Tommy tried to do women’s voices.

“Can you tell me the story of how uncle Arthur introduced mum to you?” she asked once the first story was finished.

“You want to hear that one again?” Tommy questioned, knowing full well what the answer would be. She loved hearing of how her parents met, as it was quite the story.

He wasn’t able to start the story however. “Are you two taking a break from decorating in here?” (Y/N)’s voice came from the doorway of the office.

Tommy turned his head to respond, but Dottie beat him to it. “Daddy’s telling me stories,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Stories?” (Y/N) sounded intrigued.

“Yes! He’s going to tell me the one of how you met him!” Dottie’s smile grew.

(Y/N) looked at Tommy, who was trying to hold back his smile. She’d never heard about their meeting from his point of view and was intrigued to see how he detailed it. “Am I allowed to hear this story as well?” she asked, stepping into the room.

“Of course, mummy!” Dottie cheered before Tommy could say anything.

(Y/N) looked to Tommy then, waiting for him to nod before she made her way over to the couch. She tucked herself into Dottie’s side, who then promptly spread herself out across both of her parents’ laps, which meant (Y/N) was now sitting against Tommy. He smiled at her and made sure that Dottie was comfortable before he began telling the story of how he and (Y/N) met.

There was still a great deal of decorating to be done around Arrow House, but (Y/N) wasn’t the slightest bit worried about it. What mattered the most now was that Tommy was back from business and her family was together again.

———

Tagged: @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername

MASTERLIST

Countdown to Christmas MASTERLIST

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

DWC November 2024 - Days 6/7 - Positive/Peculiar/Theory

@daily-writing-challenge

Something was going on - she was sure of it.

Her son was many things, a pain in the ass often among them, and yet his behaviors - at least to her generally made sense. She may have wanted to throw the nearest object at Ricard’s head more often than not, but at the very least she understood why he was doing what he was doing. 

Usually. 

This time though, she couldn’t make heads or tails of what the hell was going through his mind and it was frustrating her to no end.

Catherine Blythe generally did not leave a mystery unsolved. Not when it involved her son.

“What's wrong, Ricard? Your father said you seemed to be having a difficult time at the office towards the end of the week…”

And open enough question. Perhaps that would lead to someth-

“Nothing’s wrong. It was just a busy week with some difficult clients, that’s all.” Across the table from her, Ricard had the gall to pretend as though he hadn’t been acting strange for the last several weeks, and simply looked up from the paper he’d been perusing with a smile, reaching for his coffee. “You know, time of year - people want to make sure everything is sound before they spend excessive amounts of gil during Starlight and all.” 

Evasive…fine. She’d need to prod a bit more. 

“Oh, of course. I just don’t recall you being as distracted or stressed as your father described this past week in previous years, that’s all.”

“We also haven’t had as many accounts to handle as we currently do, mother. It’s nothing to be concerned with, I assure you.” He offered a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the paper once more.

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. She knew how many accounts the business handled. The reasoning didn’t fly. She knew he’d been hiding something before and this simply confirmed it. The question now was simply what. 

Her fingers tapped against the edge of her cup. Or perhaps…who. 

Oh…she’d have to be careful in this…

“On a different note…you’ll be attending the family Starlight dinner?”

“As always, mother. Nothing has changed to impact that.” He glanced up again, tilting his head. “What makes you think that I wouldn’t?”

She gave a nonchalant shrug as she leaned back warming her cup with her hands. “You’ve been so busy and seemingly so stressed, I didn’t know if you’d want to take time away from your work. And last year you attended with a guest…should we expect….”

His eyes narrowed. She may have pushed too hard too quickly. 

Damn. Time to try and recover. 

“Mother - we’ve discussed this.”

“We have. And, it’s been several months, Ricard. It’s a fair question to begin to ask. I haven’t asked you to attend any events, I haven’t pressed you to meet with any families. I’m simply asking if you will be attending with anyone. You’re not getting any younger.”

“I’m well aware of my age and obligations, mother. I don’t have an answer to your question and I’m not entertaining it right now.” He sighed heavily, pulling his timepiece from his vest before finishing off his coffee, setting  the cup down a bit harder than was necessary. “I’ll speak to you later. I need to get going.”

Indeed…pressed far too fast. And still got information in the process. “Ricard…”

He shook his head, walking over and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Later, mother. I have tasks that need to be seen to, and this conversation is not one of them.”

She watched as her son exited the room without so much as a backwards glance, bringing her cup to her lips and taking a small sip.

Now she was positive something peculiar was going on and she had a theory about what that might be. Proving that theory was a whole separate matter.

Fortunately…or unfortunately (depending on who one asked), Catherine Blythe could be a very patient woman - and she was willing to wait and see how things played out. 

Because the amount of grief she was going to give her son if she was correct? Was immeasurable. 

[feralbutfluffy]

44: Crowley

Chapter 44 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

***

Crowley had just had, quite literally, a Hell of a day. 

First, he’d been picked up, stripped down to the studs, and put back together. 

Then, he’d watched Aziraphale fight The Metatron, helped him make the bastard disappear, and now they were finally back at the bookshop where Aziraphale had just admitted to wanting him - quite desperately, he’d said - over eighty years ago. Crowley wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the information but he figured he was entitled to at least a minute to process it.

Aziraphale obviously didn’t agree. He was tearing at the skin of his middle finger with the nail of his thumb, looking more irritated by the second.

‘Well, know it now,’ he’d said, the impatient, haughty tone of it suggesting there was an unspoken ’ ...you absolute dolt ’ tacked on the end. Crowley wanted to shake him.

Or kiss him.

Maybe both. Probably both.

The angel was unbelievable. He’d been distressingly anxious to the point of tears about sinning or some such, and then... this. Telling him he’d wanted him back in 1941. Quite desperately! Crowley let the words circle around in his head.

He just needed a minute. He needed to think, which was damnably difficult with Aziraphale sitting there watching for a reaction. He didn’t want to make a single move until he was sure it wasn’t the wrong one. He was trying to stay completely still until he had it all straightened out in his head.

He was really trying.

Unfortunately Aziraphale was starting to look like he was reaching the limits of his patience, so Crowley felt obliged to say something.

Better safe than sorry.

“Right.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “Right?”

“Ng. Good to know. Thought I’d misread that whole situation.”

Aziraphale’s face went completely blank. “Good to-? Oh?”

“‘S fine, water under the bridge. Let bygones be bygones. All of that.”

Aziraphale looked a bit stunned. “Bygones. Of course,” he said, nodding in agreement.

Well. That settled that.

“...Except,” Aziraphale forged ahead, sounding like the words were being pulled out from between gritted teeth, “it’s not really - technically - bygones.”

Was he saying-?

No. Crowley told himself to remember his honeycombed mental faculties; they clearly couldn’t be trusted. He brushed past it.

“But, 1941. I mean... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew wide in surprise before narrowing. “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to ask me that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

"I think it's a bit rich of you to be taking the moral high ground on the subject of keeping things to yourself," said Aziraphale snippily, then turned away.

"Why didn’t you tell me you’d been living in your car?”

“What?” Crowley wondered if it was possible to get emotional whiplash. 

“During that whole business with Gabriel and- Well. You said you wanted your apartment back because you were bored of living in your car. How long had that been going on? Why hadn’t you told me?”

“This has absolutely nothing to do with anything,” Crowley grumbled. 

He knew it sounded petulant. He didn’t care. Why were they talking about this? 

“It has everything to do with everything! On the topic of things we haven’t told each other, it seems entirely appropriate to ask why you - for several years, apparently! - failed to mention you were living in your car. Really, Crowley!”

Aziraphale sounded annoyed bordering on exasperated, but he was certainly looking much more composed. Crowley thought the newfound assurance probably came from the familiar feeling of having him on the back foot.

How exceptionally irritating.

“I don’t see why it matters. T’was fine.” Crowley rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Of course it matters! You know you could have stayed here! You were here most of the time anyway, what possible difference would it have made?”

Crowley’s mouth was set in a hard line. “Leave it,” he muttered tightly.

“No, Crowley. I will not ‘leave it’! I cannot believe you let stubborn pride get in the way of asking for help! It’s perfectly absurd! And more than a little offensive-”

No no, no. He didn’t get to do that. Crowley cut him off, scowling.

“You said, “You go too fast for me.” You said that! And now you’re asking why I didn’t ask to bloody well move in?” 

Aziraphale jerked backward and stared at Crowley with evident surprise. 

“Oh.”

Crowley blew out a frustrated breath and looked away. Any normal day and he'd have jumped up and paced around the room. Actually, any normal day and he probably would’ve stalked out the door. He would have done something - anything - to relieve the frantic nervous energy building inside him. 

Instead, he was pressed into the sofa next to Aziraphale, discussing their cohabitation - or lack thereof - and only just about managing to act nonchalant about changing seating positions.

It was excruciating.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he said nothing.

Aziraphale was sitting ramrod straight, still staring at Crowley. “I- I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could ask, I certainly didn’t-” he broke off and tried again, his voice softer. “That was a long time ago. And I didn’t mean it, not really. It was-” His hand fluttered in the air, searching for words. “I was overwhelmed.”

Crowley shrugged and tried to sound casual. “Yeah. Well. Took it to heart.”

“I can see that.” Aziraphale looked deeply affected. There was something that looked suspiciously like sadness in his eyes. 

“I do wish you had told me, Crowley. I would have- I really would have liked you to stay. You would have been welcome. More than welcome.”

Crowley swallowed uncomfortably and sidled a questioning glance at the angel, unwilling to make the moment more painful for himself with the addition of direct eye contact. Aziraphale nudged Crowley’s leg with his foot, and it was so wildly out of character that Crowley jumped at the unexpected contact.

“I think-" Aziraphale sighed. "I think we’ve been rather silly, perhaps.”

Crowley could feel himself trembling with the effort of staying still.

“I think you’ve been keeping things from me all this time and - Muriel told me about your trip to Heaven, by the by - and I think, I could be wrong, but, well, I could well be wrong- I mean it’s entirely possible I’m jumping to-”

Crowley felt like he was waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall on his head. 

“Just say it,” he said wearily.

“Well is it possible you might have thought that by keeping things from me you- you’ve been- I mean to say, you’ve thought you were perhaps… protecting me?”

Their eyes met. Crowley’s mouth was dry as parchment.

Obviously, he wanted to say. Obviously, you precious, oblivious idiot.

“Yeah,” he said instead. Slowly. Warily.

“Can I-?” Aziraphale gestured between them and Crowley had no idea what he was asking but he nodded anyway, because he’d never been able to deny the angel anything, had he?

Well. Almost anything. 

Come with me… to Heaven!

He stiffened at the memory before being hauled back to the present by Aziraphale shuffling closer. He forced Crowley over until they were sitting thigh to thigh.

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me because of this entirely misguided intention of shielding me from harm?”

‘Shut up and die already!’ 

‘Extreme sanctions.’

‘Anyway, Armageddon the sequel, that's a nah.’

“A few things,” he admitted. 

“Serious things? Important things?”

“Yes. Probably.”

“Why?" Aziraphale looked hurt. "Did you really think I was so weak? So incapable?”

Crowley started to shake his head, slowly and then more vigorously.

“Did you think so little of me?”

“No. No .”

“Then why?”

Crowley spread his hands helplessly. “Didn’t want to tell you things that might hurt you,” he said eventually. “Just, yeah. Mn. Didn’t want to hurt you.”

Aziraphale was so close it made his skin prickle. He clenched his jaw. The angel’s head was down and he was looking at Crowley’s yellow socks with a pensive look on his face.

“If you had just talked to me-”

“Isn’t that just-”

They stopped. Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to continue.

“Well it's just... Isn’t that how it goes? You get into difficulty, I help you get out of it… Practically tradition!” He sounded defensive and a little guilty. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this, honestly. It’s- You know I think you’re-” He hissed through his teeth, and started over. “Obviously you’re not weak or incapable. I mean, The Metatron- You know. You must know. Anyway. Look. I just wanted to-”

“...Be the hero,” interrupted Aziraphale, not unkindly.

Crowley bristled.

Aziraphale gave him a gentle push with his shoulder. “You are, you know. Almost always.”

An embarrassed heat worked its way up Crowley’s neck. “Nng,” he said.

“You should know though that I don’t actually need you. I mean, I could have extricated myself from those situations-”

“Of course,” he said dully. Of course he didn’t need him. Presumptuous to think he might. The embarrassed heat became a simmer of shame.

“... What I mean to say is, I could have got myself out of those situations, I think, but I didn’t, because I- Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and continued, sounding a bit sheepish. “I rather wanted you to come to my rescue, you see. It always makes me so happy to see you, to- to turn and find you in my corner.” 

Crowley blinked. Searched for words, found none.

“So, ah, that’s the thing, I think. I hope that made sense. Did it?”

Did it? Crowley didn’t know. He thought he understood, but the understanding was being dragged backward by a clawed fear digging its heels into well-worn notches. His mind was completely useless, whiting out into a screaming blankness.

“I don’t need you, Crowley. I mean, I do, but only- What I'm trying to say is that I don't need you to shield me from the truth, or protect me from whatever it is you think I might feel. I don't need you, but I do want you."

There was a silence, and Aziraphale swallowed audibly. "All the time, actually.”

Crowley couldn’t hold a single coherent thought together. A colossal wave of emotion crashed over him and he was tumbling through churning chaos, unable to breathe and with no idea which way was up. His fingertips dug into the leather cushions.

”Not just in 1941, Crowley. All the time.”

Crowley’s eyes darted around the room, frantically looking for something to ground him in the moment. Aziraphale reached out to gently, gently turn his face towards him.

Their eyes locked and Crowley had to swallow down a pleading whine. He searched Aziraphale’s face and found only resolve, and concern, and tenderness, and something that looked like - but couldn’t possibly be - love. He heard a choked whimper escape from his throat. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Any embarrassment was burned away by scorching desire.

Aziraphale curved both hands around Crowley’s head, being very careful to avoid hurting him, and brought them down until he was cradling his jaw in his hands, his thumb gently smoothing the skin next to his mouth. 

“All the time, Crowley,” he repeated, then hesitated a moment before continuing. “That is to say…Now.”

Crowley felt as if his muscles had turned to brittle stone. Part of his brain was suddenly afraid that he was still elsewhere, that he was still in the white room, that everything that had come after had been a dream, and that his imagination was crafting this entire unlikely scenario out of longings long-buried. 

Aziraphale kept his eyes on Crowley as he closed the distance between them. He did it slowly, so slowly, giving him every chance to pull away. 

A spark of panic sputtered to life. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. This was-

Aziraphale’s lips met Crowley’s, soft and tentative, and the spark of panic was immediately snuffed out.

Aziraphale opened his mouth the tiniest amount, moving against his lips, coaxing him to kiss back. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, and Crowley finally, finally, felt his muscles unlock and melt into a moment he’d yearned for but never thought he’d be lucky enough to get, not really, not ever.

And all it had taken was the kind of grievous bodily harm that would traumatise someone for at least a century, and a fight to the death against the Voice of God.

Crowley would do it all over again if that was what it took for him to have this moment.

He had the blurry recollection of Muriel calling him a masochist, and one corner of his mouth curved up as he flicked his tongue against Aziraphale’s, laughing against his mouth when the angel startled. 

This was happening. This was real.

This was bliss.