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adragonprinceswhore · 3 months ago

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Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later.

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album.

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour.

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours.

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint.

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use.

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of.

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body.

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole.

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone.

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms.

“Thank you”

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet,

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track.

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small.

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like.

But this feels better; feigning ignorance.

Not still acting like a married couple.

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online.

You’re happy for him, truly.

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you.

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce.

Then you might still be together.

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands.

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words,

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue.

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano.

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set.

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease.

You knew this day would come.

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys.

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on.

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague.

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover?

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral.

Since last spring?

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together.

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators.

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano,

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation?

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition?

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic.

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic?

Does she make him feel safe?

Safer than before?

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone.

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her.

The one that makes loving fun.

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable.

Loving you wasn’t fun.

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds.

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife,

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade.

Just breathe.

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds.

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever.

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling.

Time heals all wounds.

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching.

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry.

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door.

Just need to get out.

Away.

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night.

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place,

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you.

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him.

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone.

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself.

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person.

Set on tormenting you.

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal.

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low.

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better.

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features.

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say,

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too.

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone.

“Make loving fun”, he answers.

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night.

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night.

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out.

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide.

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself,

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold?

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety,

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you.

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again,

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly.

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair.

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady,

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours.

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair.

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you.

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear,

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his,

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks,

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

He still smells the same.

The most comforting, warming scent in the world.

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting.

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his,

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me”

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds,

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”,

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

The inevitable fire.

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure.

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath.

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you.

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home.

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations.

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now?

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together?

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body.

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much.

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding.

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision.

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted.

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you.

Where’s the anger?

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again.

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply.

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality.

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice.

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently.

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship.

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge.

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together.

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him.

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship.

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him.

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager.

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner.

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself.

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program.

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach.

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together.

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content.

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better.

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less.

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be?

Friends.

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue.

You made the right decision.

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning.

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings.

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar.

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside.

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in.

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows.

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared.

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in.

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke.

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand.

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink.

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner.

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands.

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things.

“I want to keep the memories”

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot.

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe.

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away.

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour.

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands.

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not.

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean”

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words.

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek.

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words,

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea.

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours.

He hurt you so much during your time together.

He made life so hard for you.

He made you feel alive.

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again.

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face.

Alive.

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry.

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long.

It’s so relieving it hurts.

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact.

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer.

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face.

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away.

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart.

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one.

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour.

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep.

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck.

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much.

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him.

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her.

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again.

Finally.

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire.

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him.

He’s consumed by her.

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time.

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is.

That she came back to him.

That she’s offered him her warmth once again.

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen imagines #modern aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #rumours

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

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A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 4

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

Not proofread

Word count: 6k

Warnings: MDNI mentions of abortion (no procedure done), quick smut but a little more romantic

Other than that none- Rafe and Maybank are just super sweet with each other.

You wake up around 5 a.m., a habit you picked up in a desperate attempt to carve out a few precious moments of solitude before V wakes up. This early morning routine has become a sacred ritual for you; a chance to sip your coffee in peace and gather your thoughts. As you stir beneath the soft sheets, you momentarily forget that you’re wrapped in Rafe’s strong arms, a warmth that both comforts and constrains you. The gentle shift in your position seems to awaken him, and with a groggy voice, he murmurs, “Good morning. What the hell time is it?”

You glance at the clock, the numbers flickering softly in the dim light. “It’s 5 a.m., welcome to parenthood,” you reply with a teasing smirk. “No more sleeping until 2 in the afternoon, like we used to do during those nights of coke and tequila.” A wave of nostalgia washes over you, the memory of carefree days filled with reckless abandon now contrast against the responsibilities of parenthood.

Sitting upright, you feel the cool air against your skin, the bed sheets clinging to your torso as neither of you had the energy to bother getting fully dressed again. You turn to face Rafe, taking in his tousled hair and the hint of a sleepy smile on his face. “Do you want to get anything off your chest?” you ask, your voice gentle but probing.

Rafe sits up alongside you, and the sight of his biceps flexing as he pulls himself into an upright position sends a small thrill through you. You watch him closely, admiring the way he carries both strength and tenderness. “That thing your brother said last night…” he begins cautiously, lacing his fingers through yours, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had… you know. But why didn’t you?”

The question about an abortion that didn’t even happen hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken tensions and emotions. You forced him and you to forget about it last night but it was impossible to not bring it up after the storm between the two of you settled. You know the weight of your brother’s words, how they lingered long after the night had ended. The tension in Rafe’s voice hints at his own concerns, but there’s also a sense of trust woven into his question. He wants to understand—not just the choices you make, but the person you are becoming, too.

You take a deep breath, the morning light creeping in through the window, casting a soft glow around the room. “It’s complicated,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just about me answering my brother. It was about what kind of person I want to be. What kind of parent I want to be.”

Rafe nods, tightening his grip on your hand as if to draw you closer to him, as if that simple act could somehow provide clarity. “I get that,” he replies, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “It’s just that sometimes, I wonder how we got here. From those crazy nights to this… to our life now. It’s a lot.”

You chuckle softly at the contrast, the laughter carrying with it a weight of fondness. “It is a lot,” you agree, glancing down at your interlaced fingers. He continues, “But I wouldn’t change it for anything. You, me, V... we’re building something together, even if it's not always easy. Even if some days will feel more chaotic than others. It’s only been a day but I know it.”

Rafe’s eyes soften, and in that moment, you both realize that despite the exhaustion that comes with parenting and the burdens of the past, you are now in this together. The world beyond your bedroom may be demanding, but here, in the quiet sanctuary you’ve created, there’s an unspoken promise that binds you—one built on love, understanding, and a shared commitment to navigate this unpredictable journey together.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as the weight of your emotions presses down on you. Finally, you begin to speak again, the words tumbling out like a confession long overdue. “I don’t know,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I kept promising myself that I would reach out. I really wanted to, especially when I first left. I still wanted you to know but I couldn’t bring myself to call you. It felt so urgent back then, like if I could just put everything behind me, I might finally find peace. I wasn’t lying when I said that if I thought you didn’t want me, then you wouldn’t want her either. But I realized I was just trying to convince myself to feel better about not telling you.”

You take a moment, your gaze focused on Rafe’s hand, which is resting on your knee underneath the blanket. It serves as a silent point of connection—a tether to the complicated feelings swirling in your heart. “I wanted to forget about you and just move on. I thought it would be easier that way. But by the time I believed I had the strength to do it, it was too far in the pregnancy anyways. I didn’t even realize. Those first few weeks were such a blur. I found myself clinging to good memories with you instead of letting them go. And, strangely enough, I didn’t want to forget you. She’s my little reminder of you and the good in you, the person I always believed you could be.”

You look up, locking eyes with Rafe, who is intently focused on you. His gaze is unwavering, and you can feel the heat of his stare seeping into you, igniting a storm of unresolved feelings. You look back down as tears begin to well up in your eyes, spilling over and landing on both of your hands. “I can be good,” he says softly, determination lacing his words. “For both of you. I swear, I can be that person.”

With a sudden movement, he pulls you into a tight embrace, enveloping you in a warmth that feels both comforting and overwhelming. His lips brush against your temple, planting gentle kisses moving towards your mouth that send shivers down your spine. “What? Rafe, no… that’s not what I meant…” you stammer, but before you can even finish the sentence, he leans in and captures your lips with his.

The kiss is electric, stirring up emotions you thought you had buried—a mix of longing, fear, and undeniable connection. It feels like a lifeline thrown into the chaotic sea of your heart, and in that moment, everything else fades away. It was deep and passionate unlike the hungry ones from last night.

You knew that Rafe had built a life with Sofia since you’d been gone, a life that, although distant from yours, still resonated with echoes of your shared past. The reality of their relationship weighed heavily on you, and you couldn't deny the guilt curling in the pit of your stomach. It was a familiar feeling, one that stirred up memories both sweet and bitter. Last night, as you lay tangled in each other’s arms, felt like an inevitable culmination of the years spent together—years where you both played with fire, never quite willing to step away from its warmth. No matter how challenging things got, no matter the stark differences between your worlds, you had always been each other's exceptions.

Now, as Rafe's lips lingered on yours, a torrent of remorse washed over you, clashing violently with the sparks igniting in your chest. How could you let this happen? Memories of Sofia came rushing in, darkening the intimate moment with heavy shades of regret. She had always treated you with kindness, her sweet disposition refreshing amidst the chaos of work and life. A gentle smile here, a supportive word there—she was the kind of person who made the world feel just a little brighter. Plus, the fact that she lived close, about three-quarters of a mile down from you made it all the more complicated. It wasn’t just her proximity; it was the palpable intertwining of lives that made this situation feel even more convoluted.

You truly didn’t want to disrupt Rafe’s life like this. The last thing you wanted was to be the storm that tore apart the fragile peace he had finally found. You had admired him from afar during your time apart, hopeful for his happiness even if it meant living without him. A part of you had always wished him well, and now, here you were—teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff, grappling with the depths of your feelings for him while knowing full well the consequences.

“Rafe,” you finally murmur, breaking away from the spell of his kiss, your voice barely a whisper. The warmth of his embrace still lingered, but the weight of reality crashed back into focus. “What are we doing?”

His brow furrows, confusion mingling with concern in his eyes. You can see he wants to say something profound, something that would bridge the gap between your hearts and your histories, but the moment stretches painfully, leaving only an unspoken tension hovering between you. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the rising tide of emotions. “What about Sofia?”

Rafe’s expression shifts, and for a fleeting moment, you see the conflict in his gaze. It mirrors your own, a mixture of desire and dread—the push and pull of what you both truly want against what is right. “I… I’m not sure,” he admits, his voice filled with an honesty that cuts deep. “But I can’t pretend these feelings don’t exist. They’ve always been there for you. It was always supposed to be me and you.”

You nod slowly, your heart pounding. As much as you yearned for this connection, a part of you knew it came at a cost. And with every passing moment, that cost began to feel heavier, a weight you were both now grappling to understand.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Rafe grabs you by the waist, pulling you onto him with an intensity that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours once more, igniting a fire that you thought you could contain. It’s deep and full of raw lust, an electric connection that sets every nerve in your body alight. Against all reason, you melt into him, surrendering to the familiar heat that radiates from his touch, instinctively kissing back with a passion that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

Every kiss pulls you deeper into the moment, flooding your senses with the realization of what you’ve longed for—what you’ve both longed for. You can feel him hardening beneath you, a palpable reminder of the desire simmering just beneath the surface. As you start to clench around nothing, a rush of eagerness sweeps through you, and you become instantly soaked with anticipation and longing, a primal need coursing through your veins.

With a shaky breath, you lift yourself slightly, allowing the heat of the moment to guide you. Your hands move instinctively to hold him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. You align him carefully, your heart racing with every pulse of adrenaline. The world outside fades completely as you focus on this singular moment, the intimate connection that binds you both together. The vulnerability of it all feels exhilarating, as if the two of you are suspended in time, connected in a way that transcends all the complexities surrounding you.

“Are you sure?” Rafe breathes, his voice a mixture of longing and caution. His eyes search yours, filled with desire but also a hint of desire to keep things right, to ensure he isn’t crossing a line.

You nod, affirmation pouring from your soul. The weight of your past hangs in the air, but in this moment, none of that matters. You can’t deny how desperately you crave this connection, how drawn you are to him despite everything—the desire eclipsing the doubts swirling in your mind. “Yes,” you whisper, urgency lacing your voice, “I need this.”

With that shared understanding, the tension melts into action, and you guide him closer, heart racing as you feel the warmth of him against you, ready to break free of the confines that have held you both back for too long. The world outside disappears, leaving just Rafe, you, and the intoxicating pull between you that refuses to be ignored.

You slowly sink onto him, each tantalizing inch igniting a wave of sensation that sends a loud gasp escaping your lips. The fullness of him fills you, and the feeling is overwhelming in the best way possible. You want to feel every inch of him, every moment oh him stretching you out feels like an eternity, and god, does it feel good. A rush of warmth surges through you as he fills you up, feeding a craving you’ve kept buried for far too long.

Your fingers instinctively grip the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to him as if you’re afraid to lose this moment, this connection. The world outside your little haven dissolves, leaving only the two of you, caught in a blissful embrace that is both electrifying and tender. As you finally reach the bottom, you both stop, the heat between you simmering as you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

Heavy breaths mingle in the air, a mix of exhilaration and wonder as you take in the fullness of this moment—the warmth radiating from his body, the way his eyes search yours, filled with an intensity that makes your heart race. You can feel the weight of him inside you, a beautiful reminder of the bond you share, both thrilling and grounding.

The silence wraps around you like a soft blanket, charged with the pulse of your connected bodies and racing hearts. You see the flicker of vulnerability in Rafe’s gaze, mirroring the swirl of emotions within you. The moment feels sacred as you both navigate this new territory, each aware of the potential consequences but unwilling to let fear overshadow the undeniable pull you share.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he breathes, breaking the stillness, his voice thick with emotion. The impossibility of the moment laces his words, and you nod, your heart swelling at the truth buried within them.

“I think this feels right,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. You lean in closer, your foreheads touching lightly, finding solace in each other’s warmth. The world beyond your bubble may be complicated, but here and now, in this moment, everything feels perfectly aligned.

With every heartbeat, you grow more aware of how deeply intertwined your lives have become, how this connection, born from a mixture of love, longing, and undeniable chemistry, feels like coming home. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the bliss of it all, drinking in the moment, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

You begin to bounce on him, the sensation taking you by surprise as pleasure courses through your body in waves. It’s been far too long since you’ve felt anything like this, at this angle, and it feels unreal—every movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through you. The world outside your intimate bubble fades away completely, leaving only the rhythm of your bodies intertwined in perfect harmony.

Rafe’s hands grip your waist tightly, guiding you with a tenderness that contrasts to the primal energy of the moment. He helps you lift up and down, his motions strong and sure, as he knows exactly how to heighten the pleasure you’re both experiencing. He knows your body well. But still allowing you to maintain control. With each rise and fall, a chorus of moans spills from your lips, unrestrained and raw, mingling with the deep grunts of approval that escape him. The sound reverberates in your ears, igniting a fire deep within you that you didn’t know had been smoldering.

Every thrust brings you closer to that edge, the sensation intense and blissful. You can feel the heat pooling in your core as you ride him, your body responding instinctively to the rhythm, craving more. This connection—this union of flesh and desire—feels powerful, liberating in a way that makes your heart soar even as the weight of guilt lingers at the edges of your mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Rafe breathes, his voice rough with desire, drawing you deeper into the moment. The way he looks at you, filled with admiration and intense longing, drives you wild. You meet his gaze, every ounce of vulnerability laid bare, and you can’t help but smile through your moans. Not bothering to hear something in return. He can tell how lost you are off him. Eyes are rolling back and you can’t close your mouth from the pleasure.

The tempo builds, the air thick with heat and the intoxicating scent of desire. You can feel his strength beneath you, every muscle tensed as he assists your every movement, supporting you, urging you on. Lost in each other, you surrender completely to the ecstasy enveloping you, letting go of every worry that has plagued you. “That’s it baby, ride me just like that. You know how I love it.”

It’s just the two of you, bodies moving in unison, caught in a whirlwind of passion, trapped in a moment that feels infinite. You lose yourself in the sheer pleasure of it all, the ultimate expression of connection that you both so desperately craved. Nothing else matters but the way he fills you, the way your bodies fit together, and the pure ecstasy of this forbidden reunion.

You start to feel the telltale signs of your impending release, the tension building within you like a coiled spring. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you realize you no longer have the strength to keep bouncing. Instead, you wrap your arms around Rafe, seeking the comfort of his embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, grounding yourself in the moment despite the chaos of emotions swirling around you.

Your instinct prompts you to bite down gently on his skin, a playful attempt to muffle the sounds that threaten to escape your lips, desperate to contain your pleasure in the heat of the moment. The taste of him only fuels the fire inside you, igniting a deeper need that sends shivers down your spine.

Rafe understands right away. He senses your shift, the way your body begins to respond in a different rhythm. Leaning back slightly, he gives you the support you need, anchoring himself against the bed. His hands still grip your waist, strong yet gentle, as he takes control of the pace. You feel him shift, and then he thrusts up into you from below, driving you deeper into that sweet, sweet spot within you.

The sensation is electrifying. He fills you completely, poking your cervix with every push of his cock. With every thrust, the world outside dissolves, leaving only the two of you lost in the throes of bliss. You feel your body tighten around him, every muscle engaged as you surrender to the rhythm he sets. Those thrusts, deep and deliberate, send shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, sending more shivers racing down your spine. The way he moves, the way he looks up at you with those intense, darkened eyes—everything about this moment seems to coalesce into something transcendent.

“Y-you too,” you manage to gasp out, your voice laced with desire. “You feel so good Rafe…”

He responds with another deep thrust, and you can’t help but moan louder, “Rafe… I’m so close.”

You can feel it building relentlessly, the pressure mounting as every thrust drives you further into the sweet abyss. You cling to him, seeking that ever-elusive release, feeling as if the two of you are in sync, almost like you were made for this.

You can’t contain the moans that finally spill from your lips, muffled slightly against his neck but no less passionate. Rafe responds in kind, the low growls of pleasure reverberating through his chest only fanning the flames of your desire. You know it won’t be long now—every movement, every breath, every shared glance contributing to the rising tide that promises to overwhelm you both. He’s kissing your chest, neck to the top of your breasts.

“Just let go,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble, urging you on as he continues to fill you deeply, the connection tightening around you like a fragile thread ready to snap. The warmth spreads, and you succumb willingly, ready to embrace the ecstasy that awaits.

You shoot him a heated glance, your heart pounding in tandem with your body. “I need you… needed to feel you like this,” you breathe, clinging to him as pleasure spirals higher. His thumb drops down to your clit rubbing in circles with great pressure.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper urgently, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “I’m right there. Just a little more…”

Rafe responds with a growl of approval, the connection tightening around you like a fragile thread ready to snap. You embrace the ecstasy that awaits, ready to lose yourself completely in the bliss that you’ve both ignited. He grips your hips harder, definitely bruising them and thrusting harder.

“Ugh, Rafe, fuck,” you gasp, feeling the unmistakable wave of pleasure cresting within you. “I’m so close too, baby. Let go now.” His groan resonates in your ear, vibrating through your entire body, and that sound is all you need to send you spiraling over the edge. Yet even in that bliss, he doesn’t stop chasing his own high, each thrust sending you further into a blissful haze.

“Please, in me… I need to feel you,” you manage to plead, urgency lacing your words. You’re shaking as you hold onto him. Rafe responds with a series of powerful, deliberate thrusts, each one pushing himself closer to the brink. Then, with a final, deep thrust, you feel him release, filling you to the brim with his hot liquid. His body collapses beneath you. You follow him down, your forehead resting gently against his, both of you gasping for breath, trying to come back to reality.

You brush the tip of your nose against his, a playful connection that elicits a soft smile amidst the heated passion. With sweat glistening on both your bodies, you look into his eyes, searching for the reassurance only he can provide.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks in his hands before kissing you deeply. When he pulls back, his gaze is intense, and he says, “God, you’re a dream come true. Truly, I’ve dreamed of having you back in my life every night since you left.”

You can’t help but feel the sting of tears gather in your eyes. The highs of your passionate encounter mingle with the flood of emotions rushing back in, a bittersweet reminder of everything that’s come before and what will happen as a result of this.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” Rafe murmurs, panic flickering across his features. “I’m going to figure this all out. Please, put your trust in me. You and me, baby—all the way. I swear. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

His words wash over you like a calming wave, and you look back up at him, nodding with a small smile that betrays the whirlwind of thoughts churning within. Emotions aside, this is everything you’ve ever wanted with Rafe, and you know how much it means for V, too. You want to make up for the time you caused her to lose with him and embrace the future full of possibility.

Rafe leans in, kissing you again. You both smile into the kisses, the connection palpable.

Eventually, you get off him, wrapping a blanket around yourself as he pulls on his boxers. In a hushed quiet, you sneak into the bathroom, turning on the shower before you pull him in behind you. The warm water cascades over you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You wrap your arms around him, finding solace in his presence. He rubs gentle circles on your back and kisses the top of your head, both of you savoring the calm of the moment. You stand like that for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of being together, before finally washing up and stepping out.

Holding hands, you head back to your room, and as you pass the kitchen, you freeze in place upon seeing JJ. The tension hangs heavy in the air as neither of you speaks, simply staring at one another. It’s JJ who breaks the silence, his voice somewhat hesitant. “Hey, uh, can we talk for a sec?”

You look up at Rafe. He nods quickly, encouraging you silently, before you turn back to JJ, who is already walking closer to you. He completely ignores Rafe’s presence, focusing instead on you.

“What’s up?” you ask, folding your arms defensively. JJ shrugs and pulls you in for a hug, his expression earnest. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea what I said until I sobered up a bit and Kie yelled at me. I didn’t mean it. I could never mean it. I love the hell outta that little girl.”

“I know you didn’t, J. But it doesn’t change the fact that it hurt.” You step back, meeting his gaze, his frown tugging at your heartstrings.

“J, it’s okay—really, I swear. I could never hate you.” With a small smile, you extend your pinky out, waiting for him to wrap his around it. A pinky promise. It’s a gesture you both shared since childhood, a way of keeping each other safe from the turbulent lives you had to navigate. Keeping you both safe from Luke’s outburst. He finally meets your finger, and you pull him back into another hug.

“Love you, J.”

“Love you too, sis,” he replies, his voice warm as he pulls back.

You walk back into your room, where Rafe is already dressed, the sunlight streaming in through the windows. It’s 6:30 AM now—later than you intended for V to wake up. You quickly dress, and together, Rafe and you head to get her up.

“Hi, sleepy baby, time to get up,” Rafe says gently, rubbing her back. Almost immediately, V awakens with her signature huge smile. She reaches up for Rafe, and he scoops her up effortlessly, showering her cheeks with playful kisses. She giggles, trying to push him away in her adorable way, and your heart swells as you watch them together by the doorway.

You direct Rafe to her suitcase, and while he picks out an outfit, you head to the kitchen to make her breakfast. To your surprise, everyone is already awake, gathered around the kitchen table, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

As you enter, they all stare at you, and Cleo raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “So, did you have a fun night?”

“Yes, since you’re so curious,” you respond, a playful smirk forming on your lips. "Everything was just perfect.” You glance at Rafe, who catches your eye as he walks in, a small grin spreading across his face, and just like that, you can’t help but smile in return, ready to face whatever this day brings together. He keeps his distance from the people he know despises him.

“Don’t worry, we all heard just how perfect it was,” Pope quips under his breath, a teasing smirk gracing his lips. JJ dramatically pretends to gag, while Kie shivers in mock disgust, rolling her eyes as if she can’t bear to hear another word about it. You can’t help but laugh at their antics, their playful teasing only adding warmth to the already cozy morning atmosphere.

With a slight chill hanging in the air, you realize it’s a cooler morning than you expected. You decide to pack up V's breakfast, carefully loading it into a small basket. You grab a few pieces of fresh fruit for yourself and Rafe, wanting to share something light and cheerful to match the serene surroundings. You hand Rafe the basket.

“One second!” you exclaim, rushing back into V's room to grab her warm socks and a little sweater, knowing how much she loves being snug when the mornings get chilly. After all, there’s nothing quite like coziness by the water.

Once you’re all set, you, Rafe, and V head out to the dock, the crisp morning air invigorating. The sun peeks over the horizon, casting golden hues across the water, making it shimmer beautifully. As you settle down on the dock, Rafe sits with V in his lap, his arm wrapped around her, and you feel a rush of affection as the three of you share this moment together.

You spread out the breakfast, placing the basket between you, and begin to share the fruit, passing pieces to one another as you talk and laugh. The conversations flow easily, filled with lighthearted banter and playful teasing. You don’t ever remember a time it was like this with Rafe. V is all giggles as Rafe makes silly faces to keep her entertained, her laughter ringing out like music against the gentle lapping of the water.

“Mmmmmmmm!” V declares holding her tummy, taking a bite of her strawberry that dribbles juice down her chin. Rafe snickers, wiping it away with a thumb, and you catch the tender moment, your heart swelling even more as you watch him interact with her.

“Definitely mmmm V. It’s all about the company, right?” you say, nudging Rafe playfully with your elbow.

“Absolutely,” he replies, his eyes meeting yours, warmth radiating from him. “Can’t think of a better way to start the day.”

As you all share the meal, the combination of laughter, the bright morning sun, and the gentle rhythm of the water creates a perfect atmosphere. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of contentment enveloping you. You realize how truly grateful you are for this time—this little family—you’ve built with Rafe and V.

You can feel the teasing glances from your friends back at the house, the energy in the air feeling lighter and more hopeful. There’s something about this morning that feels different, like a fresh start waiting to unfold. And as V giggles at one of Rafe’s silly impressions, you can’t help but smile, knowing that whatever challenges may lie ahead, you’ll face them together, stronger than ever.

You gently break the laughter between the two of them, a playful grin forming on your face as you lean in to V. “Hey, V, do you know who this is?” You point at Rafe, who glances at you, a hint of nervousness flickering across his features.

V looks between the two of you, her face bursting into a smile, though the confusion is evident in her big, bright eyes. “That’s daddy, V,” you encourage her, your heart racing a little as you say it.

“Dada!” she giggles loudly, the sound bright and infectious.

“Can you say ‘dada’ again?” you prompt, your excitement bubbling.

“Dada!” V repeats, her voice cheerful and innocent.

“Who’s that?” you ask again, the anticipation building as you hold her gaze.

“DADA!!” V replies with glee, absolutely beaming throwing herself at Rafe.

Rafe’s expression shifts completely, a wave of emotion washing over him. He’s lost in this moment, his heart swelling with disbelief at her words. Although he knows she doesn’t fully understand the weight of what she’s just said, he’s silently praying it sticks. This is the foundation of what he’s always wanted—a connection, a bond with her. His daughter. It triggers something deep within him, echoing the promise he made to you earlier: to be good for her… and for you.

Unable to contain himself, Rafe leans down, tickling V, who erupts in joyful laughter. He pulls her into a tight hug, holding her close. “Dada!” she cries out again, and at that moment, tears start to roll slowly down Rafe’s cheeks.

You notice the tears glistening in his eyes, and without hesitation, you brush your hand gently against the back of his head, moving in closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his emotion as V settles comfortably between his legs, completely at ease.

Seeing Rafe in this light is unlike anything you’ve ever imagined. It's a stark contrast to the way he was shaped by his father, and you can see how drastically he’s changed in such a short time. A daughter he’s only known for a day has already given him so much strength to stay on the straight and narrow. His love for her is palpable—pure, unconditional, overwhelming.

“I really like this feeling,” he murmurs to you, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for her.”

You turn to him, meeting his gaze, and without a moment’s thought, you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his lips. The tenderness of the moment wraps around you both, and you share a silent understanding of the depths of what you’re experiencing. This domestic feeling with Rafe is foreign but still feels so natural.

In this moment of warmth and love, you continue to relish every second. It feels like time has stopped, allowing you all to bask in the beauty of this new beginning. You can’t help but feel a sense of hope washing over you, knowing that together, with V at the center of it all, the three of you can build a future that shines with promise.

In the back of Rafe's mind, a deal proposed by Hollis Robinson loomed like a neon sign, beckoning him with promises of substantial financial gain. It was an enticing offer he'd been mulling over for days, stirring up conflicting emotions within him.

He recalled Sofia's hesitation when she first discovered the opportunity, her face etched with concern about the implications of such a choice. What had initially felt like a clear path to a better future now seemed shrouded in moral uncertainty, and Rafe couldn’t help but notice how what he had once envisioned for himself and Sofia was beginning to morph into something meant for you and V. On one hand, the promise of money could provide a sense of security—the kind he wanted desperately to give his daughter. The idea of providing V everything she might need was alluring.

Yet, with every enticing thought of wealth came the heavy weight of its potential consequences. He struggled with the nagging feeling that pursuing that deal could jeopardize what he was beginning to build with you and V, creating an internal conflict that felt almost unbearable. In moments of clarity, he would see how far he’d come and how profoundly he wanted to be better for them both.

But that alluring prospect still tugged at him. Images flashed in his mind of a future where he could give V the best—new clothes, educational opportunities, a safe environment to grow up in. Yet he questioned at what cost it would come. The tug-of-war between the responsibility of being a provider and the darker path that came with Hollis's offer left him feeling unsettled.

He looked down at V, happily nestled between his legs, her laughter ringing like music in the crisp morning air. In that moment, his heart ached with a longing to protect this newfound happiness; every precious moment he shared with you and her felt like a fragile treasure.

Rafe’s gaze drifted toward the water, and uncertainty washed over him. He didn’t want to risk this connection, this fragile happiness he was slowly crafting for you and V. Was the pursuit of money worth potentially losing the life he was starting to build?

He made a silent promise to himself to reflect deeply. Would he be able to resist the allure of Hollis’s deal, or would the desire for security ultimately pull him in? The commitment to be better for his daughter and for you felt stronger than ever, but the specter of temptation still loomed, leaving him unsure of the path he would ultimately take. Instead, for now, he wrapped his arm around you and just enjoyed the moment you’re having.

“I’m gonna figure this out- for all of us. Promise.”

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @calaryssia @leilanizcals @eg-dr3amer3

#drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe x pogue #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x maybank #rafe x y/n

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

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Sources for images: |Ace| |Kid| |Zoro| |Law| |Sanji|

This is a series focused on five different love interests. Here's how it works: there's five introductory chapters where we get to know the female reader's background and, in each chapter, she meets one of the love interests. Just a first meet-cute.

Then, I will write a different love story for each, as if they're different timelines, continuing from the last chapter of the introductory chapters!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans. Think of all the rom/coms that make you feel good because you know the couple will end together. This is it. Enjoy!

Firestarter - Ace's Story (Complete! 53+k words)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

The Great Pretender - Law's Story (Complete 83+k words)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Trouble - Zoro's Story

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Source for pic

Bonus - Lament - A Meet-Cute Spoiler

|Drabble|

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #ace x reader #ace x you #modern day au #the meet cute #kid x reader #kid x you #law x reader #law x you #zoro x reader #zoro x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you

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kelnexia · 5 months ago

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New character reveal!

This is actually an old character I've had for a while but just didn't like the previous design of... Thankfully I was able to score an trade with @hdra77 .

1000CE is an old militaristic ancestor of the iterators, created before the discovery of void fluid, and when the field of bio-engineering was still in it's earlier phases. More lore is below the cut...

1000 Crimson Embers is not a true iterator – instead being an old militaristic ancestor. She was originally built in a time of war just before the discovery of void fluid. She was one of the first artificial intelligence to use a combination of both biological and mechanical systems. Although the technology used in her creation was considerably more primitive than what’s found in the iterators we know and love today. But despite the difference in technology – a lot of the basic concepts and functionality in her design remains largely the same;

The layout of her structure was still fairly large, although not nearly as big as an iterator, and was built as an underground bunker. But the main similarity was how her mind was constructed… Similarly to how iterators in my head cannon have their personalty core and spiritual anchor located within their puppet – 1000 Crimson Embers has a standard brain and supporting set of organs acting as her center of consciousness within her puppet. Her puppet is also much larger than that of an iterator – being the height of an adult ancient instead of that of a child. The exterior of her puppet consists of hard metal plates and mechanical components. Her clothing is also built into her puppet. 1000 Crimson Embers doesn't utilized neuron flies in her structure, as they had yet to be invented by the time she was built – instead she’s outsourcing her cognitive processing to a massive array of inorganic server towers.

1000 Crimson Ember’s purpose was to design and create weapons, as well as to formulate strategies. She was loyal and hard working at the start, showing no serous signs of defiance despite her instinctual taboos being primitive and largely ineffective… That was until after the dawn of the void fluid revolution… With the ancients uniting under the common goal of ascension – the world entered a lasting era of peace – deeming 1000 Crimson Ember’s original purpose obsolete. However the ancients were inclined to keep her online for just awhile longer, as they still had some use for her. They tasked her in helping to create her own undoing – the iterators. She wasn’t a fool though, she knew what they were doing… They were building her replacement and trying to get her to help them in her own downfall! She lashed out in a violent fit of rage – ‘How dare they just carelessly replace her like this after all the thankless work she’s done for them!’ She drove them out of her facility by turning her security systems against them, killing many in her fit of rage.

But the ancients still needed the schematics and research for iterator tech 1000 Crimson Embers had already started work on before she had realized their true intentions behind it. So they struck a deal with her. They would upgrade her with the new iterator technology if she let them back in and got back to work for them. 1000CE reluctantly excepted the deal. But when the work was complete, and the time for her upgrades had come... They put her in stasis for the procedure… But they never kept their end of deal. They simply walked away and left her slumbering form to collect dust.

She awakened again many years after… To the sight of a group of scavengers that had broken in and accidentally reactivated her while attempting to gather scrap. The first thing she did upon seeing the invading creatures that were so rudely ripping her apart – was to reactivate the security system and kill every last one of them. However the damage had already been done. Upon running a system diagnostics, she found that her defenses had been breached, much of her facility has been flooded, and she’s all round in a severe state of disrepair. She would need to do something about that, and fast… Her weather systems were picking up on a massive encroaching storm.

Ultimately she would find her structure too damaged to sustain for much longer… She would end up using the freedom her weaker taboos and more self-significant puppet gives her to take herself off the strings, to at least save her core from the impending decay and flooding of her structure. But the world she would step out into would be very different from what she’s used too… Her home was once an arid region – but now it’s been turned into a tropics by the increased rainfall that has taken over the world and changed it the point of being near unrecognizable from what it once was.

#rain world #rainworld #rw iterator #iterators #iterator oc #rain world oc #robot #robot oc #1000CE

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 2 months ago

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Cultural Differences: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have cultural differences! Check under the cut for 10 fics that explore the differences in Caleb and Essek's cultures and how it affects their relationship, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Courting of the Caleb by VexedVixen (6884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Beau realizes Essek is courting Caleb before Caleb does.

Reccer says: Good world building, it’s cute, and plenty of both Caleb and Essek being flustered!

The Secret Romance of Essek Thelyss by Cardinal_Daughter (18629, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

All Essek wants is to celebrate his and Caleb's anniversary and present him with a very special gift. Naturally, nothing goes quite as planned.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Double Dip by Defiler_Wyrm (622, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb’s Empire table manners threaten to ruin a perfectly pleasant dinner. (He’s going to get away with it, the little shit.)

Reccer says: Just a saucy little slice of life, pun intended.

Fine Things by Defiler_Wyrm (1296, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is accustomed to luxury on a scale that Caleb finds baffling and troublesome. Sometimes, though, he has a point.

Reccer says: This is a fic about culture clash in terms of class, and about poverty trauma, handled gently. I tend to think that the class disparity between Caleb and Essek must be a touchier thing to navigate than the broader Empire vs. Dynasty ones, and that's exactly what this fic is about.

Love Letters to be Tossed in the Fire by Anonymous (61367, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek get to know each other through a series of letters

Reccer says: This fic is creatively and beautifully written. I love the different ways the letters are sent. The two wizards learn about each other and their different cultures through the course of this fic, especially at the end.

Loose Translation by owlaholic68 (58379, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Due to an incredible comedy of errors on the part of the Cerberus Assembly, what is thought to be a pesky bureaucratic for one meddlesome Caleb Widogast, turns out to be a powerful political alliance and symbol of peace and unity between the Dynasty and Empire… through the marriage of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss and Caleb Widogast. Canon compliant until episode 141.

Reccer says: This is one of my all time favorite fics! The author does an incredible job at writing the political intrigue, manages a beautiful balance of the fluffiest fluff you could ever imagine with an undercurrent of yearning and angsty misunderstanding, all the while exploring the worldbuilding of the Kryn Dynasty in a way that is soso tasty. Truly, this is an addicting read that had me screaming, kicking my feet, and hyping up the characters to “go get his ass!!” all throughout.

Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb watches Essek work, and learns a little about the role of lace making to the Kryn dens.

Reccer says: The author does a great job at describing the physical motions of tatting, I felt like I could see it and understand what was happening despite have very little understanding of the craft- this really added to the visuals of the fic.

The following three fics each received two recs!

of blossoming hearts and glittering souls by quinn_of_aebradore (77995, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek realize they've caught the Feelings, and try to figure out how to propose to each other, with each other's different cultural customs

Reccer 1 says: It's so soft and sweet, it's a lovely read <3 Reccer 2 says: This fic is so sweet. It's so sweet. It pulls no punches when it comes to expressing emotion and revolves around the entire proposal, engagement, and marriage/lovebinding procedures with such depth and care. Read it and weep (the happiest of tears)!

but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An already together Caleb and Essek play at Dynasty courting rituals, but they keep their hands off each other long enough to play the game?

Reccer 1 says: I’m gonna be so straight forward this fic is SUPER hot. There is a phenomenal scene with gloves, and I will say nothing more. I really enjoy the cultural differences as seen through courting thing, especially when theres some misunderstandings about the levels of intimacy something might imply sprinkled in- and this definitely has that! Reccer 2 says: It has a delightful build up with a very rewarding and steamy pay off!

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, The fic is tagged with graphic depictions of violence, the scene written is about canon typical levels of violence

The many times Essek and Caleb accidentally court one another by Kryn or Blumenthal traditions and when they finally do it on purpose!

Reccer 1 says: Not only is it very cute, the world building is also very smart. The Blumenthal traditions that are made up by the author feel very in the spirit of what would be considered romantic to the way Caleb grew up. They clearly took time to flesh out his background and folk traditions just as much as they do Essek’s high class courting etiquette, which is a true treat! Reccer 2 says: It's wonderfully written and descriptive! Also just very funny and sweet with lots of good pining.

Want more fics that explore cultural differerences? Check out our previous rec list on this subject!

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring getting nerdy about magic! Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction #cr fic #cr fics

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badbatchsprincess · 9 months ago

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Heated ~ pt. 1

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

No warnings for this, just world building... welcome lol.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

After approximately 90 rotations aboard the Marauder, give or take a few days, you were ready to disembark.

Tech, of course, calculated the accurate amount of time, but you were running on inner planetary standard time. You were exhausted. Truly and totally exhausted. The battles along the outer rim were beginning to overtake every waking thought, and the war only seemed to be escalating. Even though you were just a medical technician, it seemed like you never had a moment to breathe.

The boys had been sent on one mission after another to the most backwater planets you’d never even heard of. In the beginning of working with Clone Force 99, you were thrilled.

Tired of being on the front lines with Captain Rex and General Skywalker, you thought this would have been a cakewalk compared to tending to the 501st. (Or as you liked to call them, the most reckless GAR unit in history.) Boy, were you wrong…

Rex assigning you to Clone Force 99 had been one of the most challenging places you think a young medic like yourself could have gone.

These men, in particular, were a unique kind of reckless, and they always seemed to end up in the craziest situations.

That didn’t mean you didn’t come to grow fond of them, but as GAR procedure demands, they must return to Coruscant for their quarterly medical examinations, and you were relieved.

While you didn’t particularly care for the bustle of the high-density planet, you could appreciate not being shot at, chased, or bombed at any given second.

The Marauder also didn’t offer the same level of comfort as the Venator Attack Cruisers you’d become accustomed to staying on for months at a time. But it’s alright, you’ve come to enjoy your time with special force 99.

For a bunch of chaotic Alphas, they were pleasant company.

Sergeant Hunter was the leader and a remarkable tracker. You couldn’t help but marvel at his heightened abilities; it was really interesting from a medical standpoint. Tech had the brain capacity of a supercomputer and his ex-arc trooper friend, Echo. You actually had known Echo from your early days serving under the 501st.

It was nice having him around; he seemed to keep the peace and offered some much-needed familiarity. Then there was Wrecker, the sweetest man-child you’d ever met. He had a love for blowing things up, which you found hilarious, and finally, there was Crosshair. You never really knew where you stood with the man. Echo told you it’s because he’s not used to strangers hanging out with his brothers, but you weren’t quite sure. The Alpha was quiet and calculated. He didn’t miss a thing, not with his heightened reflexes. He never said much to you; he often operated in silence unless it was to piss off Hunter, which seemed to be more often than you realized.

He, however, treated you indifferently. It was just odd for an Alpha to not acknowledge an Omega. Not to say you needed his attention, it was just different. You speculated it had to do with his genetic mutations; maybe he was too good at focusing on his objective. Omegas hardly phased him.

“You ready, Pip?” Wrecker gave your shoulders a gentle shake.

You smiled at the nickname. “Yeah Wreck, ugh I just really want a real shower.” You sighed, getting a little impatient.

The Marauder was waiting for landing clearance while you made quick work stowing away the last few stray supplies. You made notes of all the supplies that had been depleted, which was most of it. You shook your head; you’d be raiding the GAR supply facility before deployment for certain.

“You and me both,” Hunter snorted and settled down in one of the chairs in the cockpit.

Poor guy, you realized, probably had the worst of it all. Living amongst five sweaty dirty men and one medic had his scent on overdrive. Not to mention the dulled pheromones. Being surrounded by so many alphas, the stench was probably awful for him.

You, however, being an omega on the smaller side, couldn’t smell much, not with your implant which was due for replacement this quarter. Hunter never mentioned anything to you about smell. You just hoped it wasn’t too much for him with all of your implants thankfully. It never seemed like an issue for him.

“We’re clear for landing,” Echo chirped from the copilot seat. Everyone came up to the front to strap into the jump seats. Crosshair brought your packed bag up with him and placed it gently under your feet before he took the seat next to you and strapped in. You thanked him, and he gave you a silent nod still chewing on his toothpick.

Echo and Tech gently landed the Marauder in the GAR main hangar bay and finished up the last cross check before disembarking. Wrecker was kind and offered to carry your duffle filled with your civvies and toiletries. You thanked him and followed him out of the Marauder. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you smiled at the feeling of real sun on your skin.

Looking down the steps, you squealed, noticing all of the white and blue plastoid on the other side of the hangar bay. Running at full speed, you nearly tripped over your own feet, flinging yourself at Kix.

He noticed you last minute and swooped you up into his arms, “Hey Tiny! I didn’t know you were on rotation already?” He picked you up and spun you around before putting you down. Your excitement to see your old unit was overwhelming; you couldn’t help but smile as more of your friends on the 501st ran over to give you a hug or a playful shove.

You missed the way Wrecker gawked at your reaction to the Regs. “Well, she certainly doesn’t do that with us,” Tech noted, watching you rub up against the alphas in a comforting manner, purring under their affection.

“Fucking Regs,” Crosshair groused.

Echo remembered how fond you are of the 501st. He remembered when you were a newbie just starting your medical field days bonding with General Tano as teens. He felt a little nostalgic watching you with his vod. He laughed remembering how Ahsoka would scent you before sending you out into the field. They loved you so much.

Tech noted how comfortable you were with their touch and scenting. Something no one in their unit ever attempted with you. Of course, they were aware of your designation, but they tried their hardest to be respectful. Hunter had made it extremely clear no one was supposed to touch you unless necessary. It had been six months of your service on their unit, and no one has ever gotten this close with you except Wrecker, but it wasn’t anything like that.

The alpha in Tech was a little upset by this. Why didn’t the omega feel comfortable with them?

Hunter listened to the way you preened under their attention, and his chest pained a bit hearing your purrs. Was he… jealous? No. That’s his medic, that's all. He had read your file; you’d been with them for most of the war. Of course, that would make you closer. He could smell the happy pheromones you spread from where they were. You were happy with the 501st’s attention; it wasn’t something he knew you craved.

“I’m here for quarterlies,” you tapped your shoulder, “And I’m due for replacement.” You sighed. “Ahh,” Kix smirked, “Difficult enough dealing with us reg alphas huh? Gotta deal with defects now too huh? Got that implant working overtime.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him.

A cough behind you caught your attention. You spun around to see your unit catching up, looking a little perturbed, especially Crosshair. He’s never warmed up to the Regs and didn’t particularly like you sharing your fond stories about them. You usually keep to yourself in his presence or else he’d get a little hostile.

“Sarge,” Kix greeted with a head tilt.

“Kix,” Hunter gave him a polite nod, “Captain.” He looked beyond you.

You spun around, “Rex!” You ran at him, wrapping yourself around your old captain. “Hey kid,” he laughed, giving you a pat on the head looking down at you.

“I’m older than you, Captain,” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“So you like to remind me,” he laughed, suddenly realizing how much he had missed you.

You stepped back with a huge smile. Suddenly everything was starting to feel good again. 90 rotations didn’t seem so terrible anymore. You giggled as they all filed in demanding to know how you’ve been.

“We’re heading to 79’s later,” Jesse smiled, “You gotta come Y/N. I wanna hear about your adventures to the outer rim.”

“Especially me,” Fives trotted forwards shoving you playfully aside before embracing his brother Echo, “Vod!” He hugged Echo tight. Echo relaxed into his hug and gave him a curt smile. “How you doing?” Fives asked, wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulder before walking off with him towards the barracks to no doubt catch up.

“I got a replacement due,” you sighed, “I can’t drink but I’ll stop by for a bit to catch up!”

They all seemed to light up at that, “See you there, kid!” Captain Rex gave you a nod and turned on his heel to get back to work and make sure the General’s Venator was getting proper maintenance.

“C’mon, Pip,” Hunter was leading the others towards the medical campus for their quarterlies.

You huffed, “Coming, Sarge.”

“Pip?” You heard the others laugh a bit at your new nickname when you trailed off behind your new unit. Damn their long legs you were struggling to hold pace with them.

Crosshair gave you an incredulous look watching you try to catch up. You gave it right back to him.

“Miss your precious Regs?” He sneered. You didn’t miss the way Tech’s shoulders stiffened. Wrecker and Hunter pretended not to hear, but you knew they did. You suddenly missed having Echo as your defense.

“What?” You looked at him.

“You heard me,” he growled.

“Of course I missed my old unit. I haven’t seen them in six standard months, Crosshair.”

“That all?” He was cold.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You stopped and crossed your arms forcing him to stop walking.

Crosshair pointed his toothpick at you, “Throwing yourself at a bunch of alphas like a bitch in hea-”

“Enough!” Hunter growled.

Your cheeks burned red. How dare he. You looked to Wrecker and then Tech but the looks on their faces didn’t exactly show any support for you. Did they agree?…Maker. Wrecker lowered his gaze which surprised you the most.

Crosshair never really said much to you besides if you asked him an immediate question about his health or an injury. He usually somewhat avoided you. But you never thought he disliked you, at least up until now. The disgust was obvious on his face.

You just shook your head and continued stalking towards the medical campus, ignoring Hunter’s call. Your shore-leave was becoming more and more desirable by the second. You wanted space especially from Mr. dark and gloomy.

Deciding you’ve had enough of them, you detoured for your department entrance leaving them to go into the main medical campus alone. You knew Tech had all of your reports stowed on his datapad records. They would survive without you at least for now. You thought you heard Wrecker whimper behind you, but the sound of ion engines priming drowned out the rest before you stepped inside the medic clinic. Fuck Crosshair. What a dickhead.

You shook your head knowing you had other things to focus on besides his stupid little attitude.

Passing through multiple security clearances, you stepped into the sterile clinic’s main lobby.

“Medic Y/L/N?” You heard a familiar soft voice.

“Hi Layla.” You smiled sweetly at the nurse who you came to know during your training program. Being an omega, she opted to stay on base instead of venturing out into the battle fronts she was definitely more gentle mannered than yourself. You preferred some action and excitement.

“In for your quarterly’s?”

"Yeah, and I need a new replacement implant," you muttered as you trailed behind Layla toward one of the deserted exam rooms. The clinical white walls felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaotic memories you shared here. You reminisced about your early days serving the GAR, where Layla and you tended to wounded soldiers and even brushed shoulders with the occasional Jedi. But that was before you were transferred to General Skywalker’s unit, thrust into the heart of battle and endless repairs for him and his Padawan. You missed the simplicity of those days, the camaraderie with Layla.

”How’s the 501st treating you?" Layla's voice broke through your reverie as she handed you a crumpled paper gown.

"I got transferred to Special Forces 99," you replied, shedding your uniform behind the flimsy curtain. "They’re a different breed, that's for sure."

"Clone Force 99?" Layla's eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“Yeah.” you confirmed, feeling a flicker of amusement at her reaction.

As Layla chewed on her pen, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "The Sergeant’s pretty hot."

Your cheeks flushed, and you nearly stumbled over your words before recovering. “Layla…” You gawked.

She giggled and sat down on her roller stool. "Don’t lie and say you’ve never thought about it."

Well, obviously you’ve thought about it. They’re all honestly pretty hot, but you’d never admit that out loud.

"Now where have you seen Hunter like that?" you giggled at her cheekiness.

"I watch the holonet streams every once in a while. Especially after the retrieval on Skako Minor, General Skywalker and Sergeant CT-9901 were all over the holonet for weeks," she mused. "An omega’s wet dream."

You screamed and threw your boot at her. You two looked at each other momentarily before bursting out into a fit of laughter. Man, you missed Layla. Honestly, you just missed having another girl to talk to. This was such a refresher from the overwhelming amount of Alpha.

You hopped up on the table, lying down, trying to get comfortable.

"What’s he like?" her tone shifted into mischief.

You hesitated, memories of Hunter flooding your mind. "He’s… different. Polite, I guess."

Layla raised an eyebrow, her expression demanding the truth. “Girl…” she slapped your shoulder, grabbing her scanner to document your entire system from head to toe.

"Well, I don’t know!" you put your hands up in defense. "He’s quite the gentleman. None of them so much as look, Layla, I swear."

She just looked at you with a raised brow while she continued her work, “Yeah right.”

"But…" you smirked, watching her work, "I do know the tattoos go to his feet…" you bit your lip.

Now it was her turn to choke. "You’re lying…" Her interest was piqued.

You shook your head. "Full skeleton all the way down his arm, ribs, thigh…"

You two sighed.

She finished her scan and input the data before sliding her roller chair right next to you. "Everywhere?"

You raised a brow. "Everywhere," you confirmed with a nod.

She put her hand over her chest in a dramatic manner before prepping the numbing agent for your implant.

You remembered the day you found out this information about your Sergeant. Up until this point, you’d only seen maybe an arm or some knuckles in your medical repairs, but this time Hunter had taken a pretty bad hit to his side and thigh. Multiple blaster wounds had torn him up, and Tech had helped him limp back to the ship before they both collapsed on the floor. You had flung yourself out of your bunk at the commotion only to realize what had happened.

Tech helped you tear off Hunter’s armor and helmet, trying to figure out where the wounds were. Luckily, they hadn’t gone through, and it was mostly just surface wounds, but you still had to cut through his blacks to get to it, leaving his entire left side exposed. He had growled at you, but Tech had set him straight. He was just in pain.

That’s when you realized his entire left side was tattooed like his face, all the way down to his feet. You mumbled a quick apology before starting your cleaning process and bacta application.

The wounds had healed up nicely, but he had to re-tattoo the fresh skin the next time they had shore-leave. You had also stowed away the information of how muscular he was. The man was truly a work of art.

A sharp jab snapped you out of your memories when Layla removed the old suppressor implant. You yelped when the new one went in, making you a bit dizzy with pain. You hissed when she retracted the mechanism.

"There we go," she beamed. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Layla," you said, sitting up, letting her bandage the small incision wound with a bacta patch. The soothing coldness was immediate. You sighed in relief as the pain dulled.

"I told Rex I’d be at 79’s later, if you want to come?" you offered, slipping from the table to give her a hug.

"As much as I’d love to play with the captain, I have so much work to catch up on for quarterly's. I better stay here," she sighed, pushing her chair back into place. "But you have fun, and enjoy your time off. Come back to visit if you get bored."

You giggled. "I will." And with that, she left you to change back into your uniform before leaving the medic’s clinic. The hangar bay was significantly more empty now as you made your way over to civilian transport. After exiting the security checkpoint, you made your way over to the clone transport. "Can you take me to residential?" you asked the officer in the pilot’s seat. He gave you a nod, and you settled back into the transport’s seats. With a sigh, you were finally starting to relax a bit. You knew the boys were probably already back at their barracks after their examinations, so you knew they wouldn’t be bothering you for at least a few rotations.

When you finally arrived to the GAR residential building you gave the driver a thanks before hoping out and skipping over to the front door. You couldn’t wait to get to your quarters and enjoy a long hot shower. Swiping your clearance card, you dashed into the elevator to your floor and into your room. It smelled like you needed to open a window but other then that is was just as you left it. Knowing you’d have to get some food delivered, you gave a dramatic sigh while kicking off your regulation boots. You went to unzip your uniform top when you heard the swish of clothing and a familiar scoff.

You turned suddenly seeing Crosshair standing in your kitchen in his civvies looking tall and menacing.

“Maker! Crosshair!” You put a hand on your chest, “You scared me!”

“Sorry little one.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

You looked around suddenly remembering you’re in YOUR apartment.

“What the hell are you doing here Crosshair?” You narrowed your gaze at him getting mad all over again.

“Hunter is making me apologize for earlier.” He grumbled around his toothpick.

You hummed, “How did you get in here?”

He held up the Sergeant’s entry card. Of course… dammit Hunter.

“Here.” He slid your duffle across the floor to you. A peace offering. You were grateful for that at least.

A deep pang in your shoulder made you grimace “Thanks.” You unzipped your uniform top leaving you in your bindings not caring if he looked. He didn’t seem phased anyways. The bacta patch stained red with your blood. He narrowed his eyes to the incision. You knelt down to your duffle and pulled out your field kit. You grabbed a dose of pain killer and brought the injector up to the wound site. You pressed the mechanism and the needle stabbed you quickly injecting the medicine. You rolled your shoulder and replaced the bacta patch seeing the wound turning to a simple line. Soon it would be gone in a few hours.

“So?” You looked at the tall sniper.

He lifted a brow.

You crossed your arms, “Your apology?”

He snorted and stood up straight before walking past you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled before stepping back out into the hallway and disappearing.

You sighed knowing that was all you’re going to get from the grumpy soldier. Whatever, you’d take it.

~~~

The shower that followed was worth it. You had never felt so clean in your few years in this universe. The piping hot water cleansed you of three standard months of sweat, bomb residue, and blood. You scrubbed and scrubbed until your skin flared red before you stepped out of the shower to get ready. Throwing on your favorite civvies and some makeup, you quickly dried your hair before throwing on your regulation boots. Grabbing your com and a few credits. You practically skipped out of your apartment making a beeline for 79’s. You couldn’t wait to catch up with your old friends.

When you arrived, you heard an uproar of men yelling your name. You looked over to see Fives, Jesse, Kix, and the others wave you over.

“Tiny!” You got tackled by Fives. He put you in a headlock and ruffled your hair despite your cries. You shoved him off of you knowing he must have scented you in the process.

“Ugh! Fives you reek.” You scrunched your nose smelling the alpha on him it was stronger then usual.

“Sorry tiny.” He laughed rubbing the back of his neck, “We gotta get our implants replaced too.”

You shook your head and plopped down in the booth next to Kix with a laugh. He shoved the snack plate in your face continuing his conversation with another soldier to his right. You were starving and started munching down on the mantell mix.

“Hope that wont be a problem kid.” Rex smiled at you.

You just yanked your collar down to show them the patch, “All good captain.”

That made them relax. The 501st is many things, but they were always chivalrous towards you. Being their favorite omega and all, they had always taken a very protective stance with you. None of them tried anything and they had always kept away the creeps. You were thankful for their protection.

Your current hoard of alphas though, you didn’t really know where you stood with them. They kind of pretended like you weren’t there. You quickly realized they weren’t used to working with strangers, and an omega of all things. At first they treated you like a fragile little thing. Like they were worried they’d step on you. They couldn’t help but stare. You didn’t really blame them. Eventually it wore off and they seemed to become a bit more comfortable with your presence. Until it became normal. Except Crosshair, he never seemed to warm up to you and kept you at arms length.

“So how’s your new unit?” Fives asked sounding a bit jealous.

You giggled, “They’re.. nice.”

They all looked at you.

“What?” You shrunk under their looks. Even Rex stared.

“Nice?” Jesse laughed.

“That’s not exactly the word I’d use.” Rex raised a brow, “You’re okay, right kid?”

You opened your mouth in shock, “Guys I’m okay. I swear.”

They visibly relaxed.

“Look, it took some getting used to. I don’t think they’ve ever been around strangers before they’re very close. Clearly. Eventually they warmed up. Except the sniper. I think he might actually not like me.”

Fives just scoffed, “It’s because your’e hot cyar’ika”

Jesse punched him in the stomach. Fives doubled over and everyone at the table grumbled at him. You just felt your cheeks burn up and you hid behind Kix’s shoulder.

“Fives…” Rex sighed.

“What?” He choked out, “I’m just saying. I don’t think those defects have been anywhere near a woman much less an omega. Aye!” He blocked Jesse’s punch again.

“What omega?” You heard a gruff voice approach.

It was Commander Wolffe and the pack still in uniform. Rex got up and clapped him on the shoulder getting him settled in. He placed his helmet on the table and peered over at you.

“I don’t think we’ve met cyar’ika.” He grinned at you showing off his scar and grey iris.

You felt your heart rate increase under his intense stare. You could tell this alpha was seasoned, first generation from the looks of him. You were certain that if you didn’t have your implant, you'd be keening for his attention. Instead, you submissively lowered your gaze and leaned into Kix a bit. He wrapped an arm around you and looked up at the Commander, saying, “This is Y/N; we call her Tiny.” He shook you playfully, adding, “She used to be our medic. Now she’s with the 99’s.”

Wolffe let out a low whistle. “The 99’s? Must be exciting. Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, extending a hand, which you took, giving it a good shake. His calloused fingers lingered a bit as he ran them over your soft knuckles.

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you said, “Nice to meet you, Commander,” giving him a polite smile.

He smiled back, clearly pleased with your attention. Oh, he liked you, you thought to yourself. He then gently released your hand and turned to his men. “Let’s get a round of drinks. We’re off for quarterly’s!”

His men let out a whooping shout, and the waitress took down their orders. The pack quickly became rowdy, opting for roughhousing with each other and the shinies. After a long while of dodging his gaze and eating the food Kix placed in front of you, you decided you needed a cold glass of water and squeezed out from under Kix’s arm. The stench of so many alphas was starting to become too much, even with the implant. You were praying they couldn’t smell the nervousness on you.

Walking up to the bar, the woman smiled at you. She recognized you, as you usually spent your time with the boys when you were off. She gave you a little wave and bounced over, asking what you wanted.

“Just water for me,” you smiled. She smiled back and went to fill up your glass.

“What’s a pretty little omega doing in a place like this?” a shiny walked up to you, placing himself uncomfortably close to your back. You turned, facing him square on. Despite all clones being created as alphas, this one was young and stupid. Your omega instincts told you he’d be a weak mate. You noticed the lack of markings and scratches on his armor. He’s barely seen anything, you realized.

“I’m here with my friends,” you replied curtly, taking the glass of ice water from the bartender with a nod. You went to move away, but he caught your arm in a tight grip. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to assert his dominance and stop you from leaving. You just looked at his hand and then up to his face.

“I wasn’t done with you… omega,” he leered, leaning forward to run his nose closer to your scent glands. Your heart rate increased for all the wrong reasons. Fear started to creep up inside you the longer he had his hands on you. Now you wished Fives had scented you for real.

“Why are you messing with my medic?”

You stiffened.

Hunter’s smokey voice cut through the music of the club making your entire spine tingle. Hunter had used his Alpha tone making you tremble in spot. The shiny suddenly looked up eyes going wide. He quickly released you and saluted Hunter.“Sorry Seargant. I didn’t know she was yours.”

“Hmm” Hunter dismissed him and grabbed you by the same arm the shiny had just moments ago, except this time the touch didn’t feel dangerous. Instead it made your stomach flip. He’d never touched you unless it was for medical purposes. You couldn’t help the little preen inside you bubbling up. Alpha Protects. He lead you past the shiny and over to an empty booth in the back of the club. You could hear Layla’s voice ringing in your head. She’d be eating this up right now. You prayed your pheromones didn’t give you away.

He finally let you go when you reached the booth waiting for you to slide in. You immediately missed the warmth of his bare hand. You realized they were all in their civvies, well except tech, he still had his helmet near by. The rest of them slid into the booth following suit.

“She’s smells like Regs.” Wrecker crinkled his nose. Between, Fives, Kix, and the shiny you knew you reeked.

“Sorry.” You mumbled taking a sip of your water still a little pissed with them.

“You okay pip?” Hunter asked looking you in the eyes. You suddenly shied away from his gaze looking down at his shirt collar nodding. His eyes were too intense. You usually didn’t have a problem, but you were still trebling from the effects of his voice lingering.

“Did something happen?” Tech asked from around Hunter’s shoulder.

“I’m alright. Just a dumb shiny.” You felt like you were being suffocated by their stares.

They laughed a bit at that.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore.” Wrecker shoved you under his arm and rubbed his scent all over you. You coughed and sputtered trying to shove him away but it was no use. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Alright Wrecker enough.” Hunter sighed looking down at you drowning in alpha, “She’s covered.”

“Ugh.” You tried to straightening out your hair and top a bit, “Easy next time big guy. I think every alpha for a mile can smell me now.”

He just gleamed. You couldn’t help but be a bit grateful. It seems like everyone was due for an updated implant. The smells were getting to be out of control. No one would come near you now. Even the rough housing seemed to be a little aggressive than usual. They had asked you about the wolf pack but you just shrugged watching their rough housing turn into full on brawls.

The boys continued talking about something random that Tech had info dumped about and Wrecker of course was confused. You continued to sip on your ice water before you heard your name being called. You popped your head up from the booth to find Fives looking for you. You sighed and put your cup down. Part of you didn’t want to go back because of the attention the commander was giving you, but the other part of you wanted to spend some time with Rex and the boys. Damn these alphas.

Opting to stay where you were, Fives and the boys decided to come over towards you. Knowing this was probably going to go badly, you shrunk into the booth. Hunter eyed you before he heard Crosshair snarl. A large group of Regs came trotting over to come socialize like a bunch of drunk pups. They all pulled up chairs and surrounded the booth with their rambunctiousness.

“Where’d you go Tiny?” Jesse was sloshed. Leaning over Fives who was barely holding himself together.

“Tiny, did you see the way the commander was looking at you?” Fives shoved Jesse off of him, “I think he’s trying to-” he jiggled his brows suggestively at you and you just shook your head and wanted to melt into the table. Please not this. Not with my commanding officer present. Not my very hot commanding officer present. You wanted to slap Layla why did she have to start putting these thoughts into your head.

“Commander Wolffe?” Tech asked for clarification.

Fives just nodded taking another big sip from his cup.

“Someone shoot me.” You covered your face you were too sober for this conversation. You could feel Crosshairs smirk from across the table.

“Awh pip.” Wrecker just grabbed you again and shook you around, “The Commander thinks you’re prettyyyy.”

Fives and Jesse giggled. Hunter and the others just looked uncomfortable. Obviously they weren’t the most social, nor playful. This was just embarrassing. Your only comfort was Wrecker. He was always the nicest anyways. You just tucked yourself into his side forgetting his betrayal earlier.

“The Commander wants to rut with Y/N?” Tech asked.

“Maker.” You wanted to dissipate into thin air.

“Mhmm.” Jesse and Fives nodded with cheesy grins, “she gave him the eyes.”

You scoffed, “I did not!”

“Yeah you did!” Fives giggles. He then looked at Jesse and re-enacted the whole scene dramatically, “It’s nice to meet you commander.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Jesse and held his hand. You groaned and put your head down on the table.

“I need a drink.” You whimpered not able to take the teasing.

“Is that wise?” Tech chimed in, “You just had your implant replaced. It’s advised to not drink for the first 24 hours or else it may be ineffective.”

“Kriff.” You sighed.

“And that’s my cue to come rescue Tiny.” Kix interjected and yanked you up from the booth taking you far away from this painfully awkward conversation. You thanked him profusely letting him guide you.

“You’re nervous when you’re sober.” He laughed walking over to the dance floor with you.

“I’m nervous because of my Sergeant.” You whisper in his ear. He just gives you a questionable look. You laugh and shake your head, “A friend of mine said something today and I can’t get it out of my stupid omega head.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow dancing to the beat.

“Shut up.” You laughed praying Hunter couldn’t hear you over the yelling and music, “They also don’t like the “Regs,” you shook your head.

“Well I know why.” He replied spinning you around.

“Why?” You asked swaying to the beat.

“Everyone was so mean to them growing up. Kids are horrible you know. But because they’re different they definitely dealt with a lot during training days.” Kix informed you. Suddenly everything made sense. Especially why Crosshair can’t seem to socialize with Regs to save his life.

“Plus, the Captain decked the sniper on Skako Minor.” Kix said cheekily.

You dropped your jaw, “Rex?” You couldn’t believe it. There’s no way level headed Rex lost it with Crosshair.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “They got into it while trying to find Echo.”

“No way.” You couldn’t believe it. While dancing you peered over at the table to find the four 99’s watching you completely ignoring the drunk shenanigans from the 501st boys. The only one interacting was Echo. You could tell there was a part of him that missed his brothers. They continued to drink and talk amongst themselves while you and Kix danced on the floor. Some of the other 501st boys joined you before linking up with pretty omegas vying for their attention. Clearly their interests were else where.

You definitely didn’t miss the way the Commander seemed to be unable to take his eyes off of you from his chair. You chose to ignore him.

An alpha like that could send you into heat with or without an implant. You however had a job to do, and being stuck in his bed for a week wouldn’t suffice. The mortification of even thinking about returning to the Marauder after that. You couldn’t even go there. Crosshair would literally never let you hear the end of it. He might shove you out of the airlock when you weren’t expecting it.

Kix seemed to be reading your mind and elected to giggle. You slapped him on the arm and he feigned injury. Just then, you noticed the Commander stand and seemingly decide to come your way. Feeling there to flee, you quickly hugged Kix and made a dart for the door. Grabbing your comm you let the boys know you’d be returning to your apartment but to your dismay, Hunter replied…

“Don’t bother we just got special orders. We’re shipping out tonight.” He sounded tired. So much for shore-leave.

“Ugh.” You whined turning to the taxi waiting by the club entrance. You put your comm away in your pocket and fished around for a few credits ignoring the way the cool evening air chilled your skin.

“Something wrong Cyar’ika?” The gruff voice you were dreading came from behind you. Damn your omega tendencies. You turned keeping your eyes lowered.

“Everything is alright Commander.” You replied sweetly, “I just got informed my break has been cut short. We ship out again tonight.”

He sighed stepping forwards and placed his pointer finger under your chin to tilt your head up. You nearly whimpered looking into his scarred eye. Alpha’s strong. Alpha likes you. Alpha smells good. Really good. You wanted to whine when his eye zeroed in on yours. He wanted your eyes on him that was for certain. Maybe a breakout heat with the Commander wouldn’t be too bad…

“Well if you ever need anything you let me know, yeah?” The Commander smiled wolfishly at you and released you. You took a deep breath and took a step back and nodded your head.

“Y/N?” You heard Tech’s call come to your rescue, “Do you need a ride?”

You grabbed your comm and quickly responded with shaking hands, “Yeah that would be nice thank you Tech.”

It wasn’t long until their speeder arrived and you turned back to the Commander who had no issue walking you over to your unit. You could tell by Hunter skeptical glance that he was trying to figure out the situation. The Commander passed you over to your men and have you a nod before putting his helmet back on and walking back into the club.

“What was that about?” Hunter asked with a raised brow.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” You shook your head and practically dove into the speeder.

“Did the Commander proposition you?” Tech asked pushing his glasses back up.

You squeaked and hid in the backseat.

“Stop bothering her.” Echo shook his head. Thank the maker for Echo.

“It was a harmless question.” Tech justified, “As we were talking about his strange attentions earlier and Y/N’s even more unordinary response according to the Regs.”

You looked out the window of the speeder at the endless city below, “I’m going to jump.” You half joked.

“Tech please drop it.” Echo implored, “You’re making her uncomfortable… and me.”

“It’s just biological responses.” Tech grumbled into his data pad, “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You sighed. This was going to be another long mission, and then you were going to take it upon yourself to insure you got a vacation. Hopefully there was something Rex could do to get you some time off for real this time far away from all of these men.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

This part one, I'll be posting regularly to this story, I hope y'all enjoy!

#bad batch #abo #abobadbatch #smut #fanfic #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #echo #501st #cloneforce99 #79's #star wars #clonewars

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literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago

Text

Some Law-Related Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 4/4)

Ambulatory - capable of being altered

Attainder - the termination of the civil rights of a person upon a sentence of death or outlawry for treason or a felony

Bestiality - the crime of engaging in sexual relations with an animal

Blasphemy - the crime of insulting or showing contempt or lack of reverence for God or a religion and its doctrines and writings and especially God as perceived by Christianity and Christian doctrines and writings

Brownfield - a tract of land that has been developed for industrial purposes, polluted, and then abandoned

Clemency - willingness or ability to moderate the severity of a punishment (as a sentence); an act or instance of mercy, compassion, or forgiveness

Cold blood - a state of mind marked by premeditation and deliberateness—usually used in the phrase in cold blood

Concubinage - the relationship between persons who are cohabiting without the benefit of marriage

Days of grace - period of time beyond a scheduled date during which a required action (as payment of an obligation) may be taken without incurring the ordinarily resulting adverse consequences (as penalty or cancellation); also called "grace period"

Donation mortis causa - a donation that is to take effect on the donor's death and that is revocable

Ex maleficio - arising from wrongdoing; created by law in response to a wrongdoing

Exonerate - to relieve especially of a charge, obligation, or hardship; to clear from accusation or blame

Express malice - the knowledge that defamatory statements especially regarding a public figure are false

Extreme cruelty - behavior toward a spouse that involves physical violence or threats thereof, acts calculated to destroy the peace of mind or health of the spouse, or acts destructive of the purpose of the marriage

Floodgate - something serving to restrain an outburst (as of litigation)—usually used in pl.

Flotsam - floating wreckage of a ship or its cargo

Flying squad - a usually small standby group of people ready to move or act quickly; especially: a police unit formed to respond quickly in an emergency; called also "flying squadron"

Fourth degree - a grade given to less serious forms of crimes

Freedom of the seas - the right of a merchant ship to travel any waters except territorial waters either in peace or war

Golden parachute - an agreement providing for generous compensation to an executive upon dismissal

Great bodily injury - physical injury suffered by the victim of a violent crime that causes a substantial risk of death, extended loss or impairment of a body part or function, or permanent disfigurement; physical injury that is more serious than that ordinarily suffered in a battery

Indemnify - to secure against hurt, loss, or damage

Messuage - a dwelling house with the adjacent buildings and curtilage and other adjoining lands used in connection with the household

Moiety - half of something

Moot - deprived of practical significance; made abstract or purely academic

Next friend - a person appearing in or appointed by a court to act on behalf of a person (as a child) lacking legal capacity

Nunc pro tunc - now for then—used in reference to a judicial or procedural act that corrects an omission in the record, has effect as of an earlier date, or takes place after a deadline has expired

Primogeniture - the state of being the firstborn of the children of the same parents; exclusive right of inheritance

Prurient - marked by or arousing an unwholesome sexual interest or desire

Putative - thought, assumed, or alleged to be such or to exist

Sedition - the crime of creating a revolt, disturbance, or violence against lawful civil authority with the intent to cause its overthrow or destruction

Seriatim - in a series; individually in a sequence

Strictissimi juris - according to the strictest interpretation of the law

Wrongful death - a death caused by the negligent, willful, or wrongful act, neglect, omission, or default of another

Wrongful life - a malpractice claim brought by or on behalf of a child born with a birth defect alleging that he or she would never have been born if not for the negligent advice or treatment provided to the parents by a physician or health-care provider (Note: Wrongful life claims have usually been rejected by the courts. The injury is not the birth defect, but the life itself, and courts are reluctant to declare life an injury. A specific calculation of damages for wrongful life would entail affixing a monetary value to the difference between life in an impaired state and nonexistence. There is no legally established right not to be born.)

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Law-Related Words ⚜ Word Lists

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sosa2imagines · 5 months ago

Text

Broken Hearts. Part 24 (Epilogue)

Warnings- None.

Time had passed, and six months had gone by since that fateful day.

You found yourself casually walking down the cobblestone streets of Paris, the city's rich architectural beauty capturing your fascination.

A subtle smile graced your lips as you soaked in the sights and sounds of the city, a sense of peacefulness settling within you despite the memories of the past.

The street was teeming with life, filled with the sound of voices and laughter, a vibrant energy that seemed to fill the city. It was a stark contrast to the silence and solitude that had consumed you during those dark days.

People moved about their day, engaged in various activities, all adding to the lively atmosphere. Children giggled and played on the cobblestones, while vendors called out their wares, contributing to the symphony of sounds.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a profound sense of peace washed over you, and a newfound hope slowly began to take root in your heart.

The memories of the past were still there, lingering like shadows in the back of your mind, but the pain didn't feel as raw as it once did. It still hurt, but the anguish had lessened, and hope had started to weave its way back into your life.

During your aimless strolling, a charming café caught your eye, nestled away in a tranquil corner.

The cafe's welcoming ambiance drew you closer, the softly glowing lights illuminating the interior, as you hovered in uncertainty, reminding you of your own cafe, which was smoothly getting run by Peter, MJ, Happy and May.

For a moment, you debated on whether to indulge in a solitary cup of coffee, but the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed espresso proved to be too alluring to resist.

Settling into a quiet seat near the window, you placed your order, requesting a latte from the waiter. As you waited, a sense of contentment and tranquility washed over you.

With the cup in your hands, you took a slow sip of your latte, allowing the warm beverage to soothe your soul.

In the tranquility of the moment, your thoughts turned to the events that had occurred after that horrific day, the waves of grief, disbelief, and loneliness that had gripped you, leaving you drowning in despair.

As the truth unfolded, it came to light that Lloyd had meticulously pre-planned the bombing of the compound. The man Steve and Bucky had killed was there to strategically plant explosives in various locations around the building.

Amidst the turmoil and pain, you still remembered the steadfast support of both Nick and Ari. They had been there for you during your darkest moments, their comforting presence a beacon of hope amidst the storm.

And in that quiet café, as you took another sip of your latte, a profound realization washed over you. You had found a new family in them, a support system that would hold you up when you lacked the strength to carry on alone.

You had taken on the responsibility of managing Lloyd's business, a challenge you faced with determination and grit.

With the help of Nick, Jake, Ari, and Andy, you all worked together to keep the business running smoothly. They brought new ideas to the table, implemented new procedures, and helped you navigate the complexities of the things Lloyd use to do.

As fate would have it, with the help of Jake, you obtained the videos that Steve had recorded with Peggy without her knowledge.

With this evidence, Jake forwarded these recordings to Peggy's husband, Daniel, who subsequently initiated divorce proceedings against her.

The consequences were severe for Peggy; she lost her husband, her financial stability, and ultimately, her job. With her life in disarray, she was forced to relocate far away, as everything unraveled around her.

Together, you formed a team that worked towards achieving the shared goal, and over the months, you had grown to become like family, always having each other's backs.

Nick had always possessed a fierce protective nature, and following the incident, this trait intensified further. Whenever you were in public, he would stick close to your side, his proximity deterring any would-be troublemakers.

He vigilantly observed every man that dared to cast a glance in your direction, his intense gaze enough to make many look away. Nick found pride in the role of your protector, and it made him feel closer to Lloyd.

Time passed, and it became increasingly evident that Nick had taken the role of your steadfast protector. He remained a constant presence beside you, acting as a barrier between you and any men who would attempt to display interest in you or approach you.

You would sometimes tease him about it, saying he was your knight in shining armor, but deep down you appreciated his fierce defense.

Standing in front of the breathtaking Eiffel Tower, you were captivated by its beauty, when suddenly you felt a powerful pair of arms encircling your waist. A familiar voice whispered in your ear, “What's going through your mind, Sugar?”

Upon turning, a broad smile spread across your face as you laid eyes on the man who stood behind you, his sturdy arms firmly encircling your waist.

“You…” you said with a soft chuckle, feeling an overwhelming mixture of affection and nervousness. As you looked up at him, a flutter of butterflies took flight within your stomach.

In a tender and affectionate gesture, Lloyd leaned down towards you, his warm lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still, and all other thoughts and distractions faded away, leaving you nothing but the blissful sensation of his touch and the tenderness of the moment.

Against all odds, Lloyd miraculously survived the devastating blast, albeit severely wounded.

Thrown a decent distance by the sheer power of the explosion, he found himself in the debris, battered and bruised. Yet his resilience prevailed, fueled by his unwavering determination to fulfil the promise he had made to you.

Through sheer force of will, he propelled himself forward, struggling to make his way through the wreckage. As he spotted Nick, Ari, and you in the distance, preparing to leave, he realized it was crucial to make his presence known.

Ignoring the throbbing pain that coursed through him with each step, he gritted his teeth and pushed his legs to carry him towards you, every movement becoming increasingly challenging, as he tried to call you all.

Nick was the first to notice, his eyes widening in surprise and relief as he laid eyes on Lloyd. You and Ari soon followed suit, quickly returning to his side.

As Lloyd staggered towards you, his clothing tattered and drenched in blood, his face smudged with soot, you could notice the look of relief in his eyes as he finally collapsed into your arms.

Lloyd had been forced to undergo strict bed rest in the wake of the incident. Consequently, the responsibility of managing his business had fallen upon you, with the supportive assistance of Nick, Ari, Jake, and Andy. Despite their unwavering help, the task remained demanding, requiring significant time and effort on your part.

In typical Lloyd fashion, despite the doctors' best efforts, Lloyd adamantly refused to cooperate with them and resolutely refused to accept a designated nurse for his care. Consequently, you found yourself thrust into the role of his personal nurse, having to tend to his needs and ensure his recovery process went smoothly.

As the days dragged on, Lloyd's restlessness grew exponentially. Being confined to his room, with little freedom to move or engage in any productive activity, took its toll on his mind and spirit.

“I feel so damn useless,” he grumbled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above him.

“You're healing,” you replied calmly, positioning yourself beside him. “You need to rest. We've got everything covered, don't you worry.”

Lloyd let out a sigh, his irritation clear as he expressed his desire to be useful. “But I want to help,” he protested. “I hate just sitting here, not doing anything.”

With a wicked smile, you proposed a bargaining chip that you knew he couldn't resist, “If you behave, and rest, I'll go down on you…” you suggested, your tone sultry.

Yep, that was the only way to get Lloyd to rest.

Though it took a considerable amount of time, Lloyd eventually recovered from his injuries. To mark his healing, he was adamant about taking you on a trip to Paris.

“You desperately need a vacation, Sugar!” he declared adamantly, disregarding any protests you might have had. “And what better place to unwind than the ‘City of Love’ itself?”

So, here you are now, walking through the bustling streets of Paris, hand in hand. You both visited famous landmarks, indulged in delicious French pastries, and just enjoyed each other's company.

As you walked hand in hand, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, Lloyd smiled at you, grateful for this moment with you.

“I love you Sugar.” “I love you too, Lloyd.”

This trip to Paris marked the beginning of many more adventures for you and Lloyd. You and Lloyd traveled to different parts of the world, exploring new cultures and creating unforgettable memories together.

From the vibrant streets of Mumbai, to the breath-taking landscapes of Iceland, you experienced it all, together.

Each trip brought you closer, your love and bond growing stronger with each passing day. And even amidst the chaos of the world, you found solace in each other, a love that weathered any storm.

In the secluded countryside of Romania, on Barnes' private property, two men stood engaged in heated discussion, meticulously mapping out their next steps.

Steve and Bucky had miraculously survived the blast as well, though not without sustaining harm. While Steve had thankfully escaped with only minor injuries, Bucky had suffered a major loss- his left arm, shot by Nick's bullet.

Bucky's state of despair was palpable; he felt a profound sense of inadequacy and disappointment in himself, perceiving his injuries as a personal failure. His anger towards Nick simmered beneath the surface, yet he found himself unable to face him due to his condition.

The absence of his left arm wrought havoc in his life, thwarting his ability to execute even the most basic tasks, thereby intensifying his feeling of unworthiness.

Steve keenly observed the turbulent wrath and frustration seething within Bucky, striving to offer comfort. However, his efforts were met with deaf ears; Bucky's wrath flared, fixated on seeking retribution, with Nick as his desired target.

Bucky paced the room like a caged animal, his fingers tightly clenched into a fist. “I can't just let those bastards get away with it!” he hissed, the anger in his voice evident.

Steve's voice held firm and reassuring, responding confidently, “We will, Buck. I promise you.”

Bucky continued his restless pacing, his right hand clenching into a tight fist.

With vehemence in his voice, he asserted, “I can't simply let them get away with this! They must be held accountable for their transgressions!”

“We will make sure of it, Buck. You have my assurance,” Steve responded, his voice resolute and encouraging. “With Lloyd now deceased, their strength falters. We shall exact our vengeance.”

With Tony Stark's assistance, Bucky was equipped with an advanced, vibranium-based prosthetic arm, meticulously engineered to meet his unique requirements. The arm was remarkably lightweight and comfortable to wear, yet it possessed the strength to match his remaining natural arm. Armed with this formidable prosthetic, Bucky's combat abilities were elevated to unparalleled levels.

In collaboration with Steve, Bucky strategically devised an elaborate scheme, aimed at reclaiming you and exacting revenge upon Nick and Ari.

As a captivating tune filled the air through the radio, Bucky made a request, his voice tinged with excitement. “Turn up the volume, Steve.”

“Absolutely,” Steve readily obliged, adjusting the radio's volume knob, immersing them further in the music.

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Part 23- ✅

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 months ago

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Elizabeth Warren for Time Magazine:

To everyone who feels like their heart has been ripped out of their chest, I feel the same. To everyone who is afraid of what happens next, I share your fears. But what we do next is important, and I need you in this fight with me. As we confront a second Donald Trump presidency, we have two tasks ahead. First, try to learn from what happened. And then, make a plan.

Many political experts and D.C. insiders are already blaming President Joe Biden’s economic agenda for Vice President Kamala Harris’ loss. This does not stand up to scrutiny. Even though the Biden economy produced strong economic growth while reining in inflation, incumbent parties across the globe have been tossed out by voters after the pandemic. American voters also showed support for Democratic economic policies, for example, approving ballot initiatives to raise the minimum wage in Alaska and to guarantee paid sick leave in Missouri.

[...] What comes next? Trump won the election, but more than 67 million people voted for Democrats and they don’t expect us to roll over and play dead. We will have a peaceful transition of power, followed by a vigorous challenge from the party out of power, because that’s how democracy works. Here’s a path forward.

First, fight every fight in Congress.

We won’t always win, but we can slow or sometimes limit Trump’s destruction. With every fight, we can build political power to put more checks on his administration and build the foundation for future wins. Remember that during the first Trump term, mass mobilization—including some of the largest peaceful protests in world history—was the battery that charged the resistance. There is power in solidarity, and we can’t win if we don’t get in the fight. During the Trump years, Congress stepped up its oversight of his unprecedented corruption and abuses of power. In the Senate, Democrats gave no quarter to radical Trump nominees; we asked tough questions and held the Senate floor for hours to slow down confirmation and expose Republican extremism. These tactics doomed some nominations entirely, laid the groundwork for other cabinet officials to later resign in disgrace, and brought scrutiny that somewhat constrained Trump’s efforts.

When all this work came together, we won some of the toughest fights. Remember Republicans’ attempts to repeal the Affordable Care Act? Democrats did not have the votes to stop the repeal. Nevertheless, we fought on. Patients kept up a relentless rotation of meetings in Congress, activists in wheelchairs performed civil disobedience, and lawmakers used every tactic possible—late night speeches, forums highlighting patient stories, committee reports, and procedural tactics—to draw attention to the Republican repeal effort. This sustained resistance ultimately shifted the politics of health care repeal. The final vote was a squeaker, but Republicans lost and the ACA survived.

Democrats should also acknowledge that seeking a middle ground with a man who calls immigrants “animals” and says he will “protect” women “whether the women like it or not” is unlikely to land in a good place. Uniting against Trump’s legislative agenda is good politics because it is good policy. It was Democratic opposition to Trump’s tax bill that drove Trump’s approval ratings to what was then the lowest levels of his administration, forcing Republicans to scrap all mention of the law ahead of the 2018 midterm election and helping spark one of the largest blue waves in recent history.

Second, fight Trump in the courts.

Yes, extremist courts, including a Supreme Court stocked with MAGA loyalists, are poised to rubber-stamp Trump’s lawlessness. But litigation can slow Trump down, give us time to prepare and help the vulnerable, and deliver some victories.

Third, focus on what each of us can do.

I understand my assignment in the Senate, but we all have a part to play. During the first Trump administration, Democrats vigorously contested every special election and laid the groundwork to take back the House in the 2018 midterms, creating a powerful check on Trump and breaking the Republican trifecta. Whether it’s stepping up to run for office, supporting a neighbor’s campaign, or getting involved in an organization taking action, we all have to continue to make investments in our democracy—including in states that are passed over as “too red.” The political position we’re in is not permanent, and we have the power to make change if we fight for it.

Finally, Democrats currently in office must work with urgency.

While still in charge of the Senate and the White House, we must do all we can to safeguard our democracy. To resist Trump’s threats to abuse state power against what he calls “the enemy within,” Pentagon leaders should issue a directive now reiterating that the military’s oath is to the Constitution. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer must use every minute of the end-of-year legislative session to confirm federal judges and key regulators—none of whom can be removed by the next President. To those feeling despair: I understand. But remember, every step toward progress in American history came after the darkness of defeat. Abolitionists, suffragettes, Dreamers, and marchers for civil rights and marriage equality all faced impossible odds, but they persisted. Now it is our turn to pull up our socks and get back in the fight.

Elizabeth Warren wrote a well-written op-ed in Time encouraging Senate Democrats to confirm loads of judges and other jobs requiring Senate confirmation while we still have the majority and also fight back against the Trump tyranny.

#OpEds #Biden Administration #Time Magazine #Elizabeth Warren #Judicial Confirmations #118th Congress #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Judiciary

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ex-dyke-straight-girl · 8 days ago

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Welcome to Harmony Vale

The town of Harmony Vale sat nestled in a serene valley, its pastel-painted houses reflecting sunlight like pearls under an endless blue sky. Birds sang year-round, children laughed in immaculate parks, and neighbors greeted one another with wide, genuine smiles. It was a utopia, a place where anger, discontent, and bitterness didn’t seem to exist.

Everyone knew the truth: this perfection was carefully cultivated.

At the center of Harmony Vale stood the Equinox Chamber, a sleek, cylindrical building of glass and steel, and the heart of the town’s transformation process. Within its walls lay the Harmony Process, a procedure that reshaped its applicants in both body and mind.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t hidden. The volunteers came willingly, after years on the waiting list, drawn to the promise of a perfect life, Free of their worst flaws and imbued with kindness, patience, and beauty. They would still be themselves, but better.

“This is it,” said Claire, standing beside Ethan at the Chamber’s entrance. They were young, both in their mid-twenties, and both had waited nearly three years for their turn.

Claire glanced nervously at her reflection in the polished door. She brushed her hand through her chestnut hair, her eyes flicking to Ethan. “How do you think we’ll look? You think you’ll still recognize me?”

Ethan grinned, slipping his hand into hers. “Of course. You’ll still be Claire. You’ll just be… more Claire. Perfect Claire.”

That was the promise, after all. The Process didn’t erase memories or rewrite identities. People still loved the same things, had the same passions and talents.

But the Chamber reached deep into the mind and body, like a master sculptor sanding away sharp edges and imperfections: anger, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurity. Every anti-social behavior or intrusive thought smoothed away. The body, too, was perfected, healthier, fitter, a vision of natural beauty. And all of it consensual.

“You’re not nervous?” Claire asked.

Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I am. But we’re doing this for us, right? You’ve said it yourself: no more stupid fights. No more self-doubt. We’ll be happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Happy.”

A guide greeted them in the Chamber’s lobby. She wore a lavender dress that matched her serene expression and spoke with the practiced calm of someone who had long shed the weight of discontent. Her name tag read Madeline.

“Welcome to your first day of Harmony,” Madeline said warmly. “You’ll enter the Chamber separately, but the results will speak for themselves. Remember, the Process only enhances what’s already there. You’ll feel lighter. Freer. It’s like meeting your best self, and you deserve that.”

Claire swallowed hard as Madeline led them down a gleaming hallway to a set of doors. Claire’s to the left, Ethan’s to the right.

“See you soon,” Ethan said softly, giving Claire’s hand one final squeeze.

Inside her room, Claire found the machine, a reclining chair beneath a halo of soft, golden light. Screens projected words around the room: peace, love, kindness, trust. She could hear faint music — a soothing hum that felt like a lullaby. Her nerves began to ease. She lay down and closed her eyes.

The machine purred to life. A voice, soft and warm, whispered inside her head.

“Claire Thompson. You have chosen Harmony.”

Colors swirled behind her eyelids, soft greens and blues, melting into one another. She felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a sense of deep release, as if someone were gently lifting heavy weights from her soul.

The voice continued. “We will nurture your kindness. We will soothe your anxieties. Your patience, your love, your joy. These will flourish. The burdens you carry, resentment, fear, anger will no longer trouble you. You will be free.”

For a moment, Claire thought of her flaws, the sharp words spoken in arguments, the way she let jealousy twist her stomach, the nights spent crying over her imperfections.

And then… they were gone. Like whispers carried away by the wind.

She felt herself smiling.

Hours later, Claire stood outside the Chamber with Ethan. They looked at each other in awe.

Claire’s features were softer now, her skin smooth and glowing, her posture poised yet relaxed. Ethan’s shoulders were broader, his face more symmetrical, his eyes clear and bright. And yet, they were undeniably themselves.

Ethan smiled at her, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re beautiful.” Claire touched his cheek, a bubbling joy rising within her. She could feel the love she’d always had for him, only now it was unclouded.

Pure.

“So are you,” she said softly.

They walked hand-in-hand out of the Chamber, greeted by cheers from the town. Friends they hadn’t met yet waved to them from immaculate lawns. Somewhere in the distance, music played.

A plaque at the edge of the square caught Claire’s eye. It read:

“In Harmony Vale, we become who we were always meant to be.”

Claire breathed in the fragrant air of the valley. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel the heaviness of her flaws weighing her down. There were no dark whispers in her mind. No fear of the future.

She looked at Ethan and smiled.

“Welcome home,” he said.

And in that perfect town, under that perfect sky, Claire knew he was right.

#Harmony Vale #microfiction #fantasy #unreality #ARG #mind conditioning #brainwashing

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womenindiplomacyday · 1 year ago

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Cooperation between women diplomats and non-governmental organisations (NGOs).

Women working in the diplomatic sphere can undeniably extend their efforts to helping NGOs develop political power and exercise genuine leadership in addressing such vitally important issues for the entire region as human rights, peace-building and conflict resolution. Indeed, NGOs can team up with women diplomats and, through a shared sense of mission, play a crucial role in the complex diplomatic agenda of our days. Before going into the subject of co-operation between NGOs and women in diplomacy, we would like to make it clear that we will avoid the old, historic conception of diplomacy, ie official diplomacy, or what is now referred to as ‘first-track diplomacy’, and try instead to review an alternative diplomatic approach, that known as ‘public diplomacy’, which includes dialogue, conferencing and other forms of management of international relations. This will provide a broader angle for a review of NGO involvement in diplomacy and participation by specifically female NGOs, or, in other words, of the whole issue of women in international decision-making. We will consider all kinds of interaction by women at the international level under this general framework of women in diplomacy. This is a justifiable approach, given that the world is now slowly but surely shifting from bilateral to multilateral diplomatic relations.

Women are now acknowledged peace-builders and will continue their enthusiastic efforts until the conflict is finally settled. Peace cannot be achieved by men or women on their own, since conflict is a ‘gendered’ issue, that is to say an issue to be solved by the whole of society.

#diplomatic relations #international relations #Peacemaking #peace-building procedures #International relations #women diplomats #women in international affairs #women in diplomacy #negotiators #mediators #signatories in peace processes #multilateral diplomacy #culture of peace

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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A Fresh Start [13]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: sick child, medical procedures, anxiety, reliving past traumas, panic and fear about losing a loved one

Word Count: 3,439

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

A/N: HEY MY DUDES. THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT INSPIRED IT ALL. I pictured the scenes in this chapter in my head, wanted to write it, but I knew in order to have the emotional impact I wanted it to have i had to build a full ass story around it and I did lolol.

Thanks to all who have shared their love! This is like my fourth update in four days but unfortunately that will slow a bit this weekend. I’m crazy busy this weekend so it might not be until next week that you get a real update.

Ch. #13: THE DANGER HAS PASSED, CYAR’IKA

Chapter Summary: You must relive your past in order to save your future.

“She was powerful,

not because she wasn’t scared

but because she went on so strongly,

despite the fear.”

-atticus

After deciding to go to the clinic, you paused only to tuck your blaster into the back of your waistband before sprinting out the door. It would take you at least fifteen minutes to get to the clinic, and that was if you ran the entire way. Hot wiring and stealing the neighbor’s speeder bike? That would take you two minutes top. A talent you had Tatooine to thank for.

When you set Grogu in the speeder’s basket, so your hands would be free, he screamed. A mixture of unintelligible cries and ‘Ma’ over and over again. Hands trembling, you got the bike going and jumped on. It maybe wasn’t the safest to drive with Grogu in your arms, but you couldn’t bear to not hold him. The streets were bare of anyone and everyone. There had been no city wide siren for a warning, like Coruscant had, but the word about the pirates must have got around.

Everyone was hiding.

As predicted, you got there in a quarter of the time on the speeder bike and when you reached the clinic you hopped off before it came to an actual stop. The bike ended up slamming into the clinic wall without someone to turn it away, but you were already halfway through the door. Just like the rest of Nevarro, it was bare.

“Hey!” You screamed as you reached the empty front desk of the waiting room. “Daelar! Where the kriff are you!?” A woman, a young Twi’lek, poked her head out from around the corner. “You!” She jumped at your tone. “Get me Daelar right now.”

“He’s not here, ma’am.” She shook her head.

Whatever. You didn’t have time to chase that bastard. “Fine. Where’s the med droid!?”

“Broken.” She admitted. “If this is an emergency I can call a shuttle to take you off world.”

You felt the blood leave your face, your heart stopped in your chest, breath caught in your lungs. The words slipped from your mouth, aghast, “What did you just say?”

“Daelar left off world hours ago, and the droid has been malfunctioning since yesterday.” She repeated. “But I can…”

She was still talking. Her mouth was moving, but all you could hear was Grogu’s whimpering cries and a high pitched whine that filled your head⏤ as if a bomb had gone off and left you deaf to the world. Daelar left? He left off world knowing the droid was broken? Knowing that he’d be leaving all of this world without a healer?

“How long for a shuttle?” You demanded. “How long to get to the⏤ How long!?”

“An hour tops, I would guess, but I cannot guarantee⏤”

“No, no, no.” You moaned. Even if that time estimate was accurate it was too long. Grogu was getting hotter and hotter, his cries getting weaker and weaker, and you hated the way his eyelids fluttered weakly. You shook your head. “Unlock the doors for me. I need to get back there.”

“I’m sorry. That’s for medical personnel only.” She replied. She set her hands on the desk.

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am⏤”

Without blinking, you pulled the blaster out from the back of your waistband and leveled it at her. Her eyes widened in panic. Hands shot up in surrender. You chose to leave the safety on. You didn’t want to hurt this woman, but you weren’t going to let her stand in your way either.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” You seethed. “That door will be unlocked, I will have access to the medical supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

She nodded once and you lowered the blaster. The Twi’lek hurried to the side door and you followed her. She used her hand print to open the door into the emergency medical bay. The large room had four cots in total, and the side wall was made up entirely of glass cabinets where you could see supplies and ingredients. You quickly set Grogu on the closest cot and the fact that he didn’t even react to being set down sent a sharp strike of fear through you.

“Hey, what’s your name?” You shouted back at the girl while hooking up Grogu to the vitals machine.

“Aayla.”

“What’s your training?”

“I’m⏤I’m new to this. I’m a tech.”

No official medical training, but a tech would be helpful. You pointed to her, voice clear and loud, to get your order heard. “Aayla, get four ice packs. I want one under him, on top of him, and on either side. I need to cool him down quickly. Understand?”

She nodded and turned to the supplies to get the ice packs. The vitals machine began to blare, and your head snapped back to look at it. Heart rate was much too fast, even for Grogu who ran high naturally. His oxygen level was hovering on the lower end of normal. His temperature though⏤ Maker⏤ it was 102 degrees and you watched in horror as the decimal point next to it changed from 3 to 7. It was still steadily rising.

The sound of his whimpers, the blaring of the machine, you felt stuck. You were trapped in that moment once more watching Soran die. You shouldn’t have been her physician. It was too personal.

This was so much worse.

Aayla returning with the ice packs was what snapped you back to reality. You were scared, terrified, but you couldn’t afford to be. You swallowed every ounce of it and forced yourself to move. You needed to act.

You had told Din it was normal for parents to panic, but you couldn’t.

Your next movements were a blur of muscle memory. It didn’t matter that this clinic was unfamiliar to you. Training kicked in and you moved like a woman possessed. Fluids first. You grabbed a bag and set it in the cooler before returning to Grogu with IV gear.

“Aayla.” You sent her to the supplies and called out all the materials and supplies you would need to compound the medicine. While shouting them out, you began to attempt to start an IV on Grogu. It wasn’t easy. His arm was small, his veins smaller. It took you three tries before you finally got it in. Aayla had brought over all the items requested and you sent her for the fluids you set in the cooler. “Clip it in, and hang it.”

Aayla confirmed the order and you stepped aside to begin to work. You needed an antipyretic first. The rising fever was the most dangerous aspect of Grogu’s sickness right now. Any higher and he could start to have seizures⏤ any higher and his body could shut down. Anxiety crawled up your spine and latched to your mind. It had been so, so long since you compounded anything. What if you messed this up? No. You didn’t have time to doubt yourself. Go with your gut. Trust yourself.

When you added the last ingredient the liquid turned from clear to an electric blue and relief flooded your body. Aayla watched intently as you hurried back over and connected the vial of antipyretics to a medigun. You pressed the clean needle to Grogu’s outer thigh and pulled the trigger. All of the liquid disappeared and you set the gun aside.

“How do you know how to do all this?” Aayla gasped.

“I’m a doctor.” You answered mechanically.

Now, you needed an antibiotic. Same process. Different ingredients. You wanted to cover as many bugs as possible, go as broad as you could, and then once Grogu was stable the coverage could narrow to something more specific. It took you about the same time to make the antibiotic and when the liquid turned the shade of purple it was supposed to be you rushed back to Grogu’s side.

Aayla held up the medigun when you went to search for it and you realized she had replaced the needle with a fresh one and sanitized the entire thing. You thanked her and injected this one into Grogu’s opposite thigh. Fluids. Antipyretics. Antibiotics. That was all you could do.

Now, it was out of your hands.

Din’s entire body ached, and he was exhausted. The only reassuring thought being that the fight was over, and he could go home. Home to Grogu. Home to you. As much as he still wanted to have that talk, he wondered if he could convince you to hold off until tomorrow. All he wanted right now was to crawl into bed with you and his son in his arms. Granted, he might need to have the talk before inviting you into his bed again. Details, details. Din just needed to get home, and you’d have a plan⏤ you’d know what to do.

Clearing the rest of the ex-Imperial base had gone very well. When only two pirates were left standing they both surrendered. Din figured this could be used to their advantage. Pirates were hardly the loyal kind. A little squeezing and they could possibly find where Gorian Shard liked to hide. Granted, that was more along the lines of a bounty hunter’s thoughts than a Marshal’s. Din chose to come back with Mayfeld and Cara to shove the two pirates into the cells. They could be dealt with in the morning.

“Good job today.” Din grunted, already moving toward the door, “Stay home tomorrow. Rest. I’ll work the shifts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cara scoffed. “We can still come in.”

“Uh, speak for yourself.” Mayfeld chimed. Din was halfway down the hall when Mayfeld called out for him. Din’s feet came to a stop and he heaved an audible sigh. This really was the day that would not end. “Boss man! Seriously! Get in here now!”

Din jogged back, happy that his helmet wouldn’t show just how annoyed he was right now, and when he re-entered the room both Cara and Mayfeld were crowded around a holopad. Cara glanced up and the look on her face filled Din’s stomach with lead. “An intruder alarm was set off while we were out. From the clinic.” Din’s entire body stiffened. No. He was jumping to conclusions. You promised you’d stay in the house, he called Daelar to go to you. There was no way you and Grogu could’ve been there while someone broke in. “You should see this.”

Mayfeld flipped the holopad around at her words and Din’s eyes focused on a security feed. A young Twi’lek girl stood behind the front desk with her hands raised in surrender while a familiar figure wielding a familiar blaster aimed the end at her chest. Din would recognize your voice anywhere, in any setting, at any time. Even with the security feed adding in a garbled white noise under it all, he knew your voice.

“⏤supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

He lifted his gauntlet to check his communicator link. What was going on? Why hadn’t you called? His eyes widened when he realized the circuitry in his vambrace was dead. No, no, no. He slammed his other hand into it as if that would miraculously fix it, but it stayed dead. The taser. Dank farrik. He should’ve been paying attention. Din had lost contact with you hours ago and was only just now realizing it.

Din spun on his heel and took off down the hall in a sprint. Cara and Mayfeld were calling out to him, he could hear footsteps following, but he didn’t pause and wait. The clinic was right down the road. He needed to get there. Din needed to be there⏤ now.

You had pulled over a stool and sat by the cot’s side. One hand resting on the half melted ice pack on Grogu’s belly and the other holding his tiny hand. Then you waited on baited breath. Aayla was moving about the room, cleaning you thought, but all you could do was stare at the young boy who looked so small on such a large cot.

“Please, please. Oh, Maker, please.” You mumbled the pleas under your breath⏤ willing the universe to bend to your will. Grogu was your first patient since Soran. If anything happened to him you wouldn’t survive it. You barely survived losing Soran. Kriff, it could be argued that a part of you didn’t. You watched Grogu’s chest rise and fall. ‘Please, please, please.’ You were pleading⏤ begging. If you thought it would help you’d get on your knees and scream at the sky.

Finally, the machines chirped and when you looked up from Grogu to read the numbers you saw his temperature had fallen two full degrees. Your lower lip quivered, relief slamming into you, and it took all your strength to not crumple to the floor.

Din barreled through the clinic’s doors⏤ hard enough that he accidentally shattered the glass as it slammed into the wall. The Twi’lek he had seen on video popped her head around the corner with wide eyes. She held her hands out.

“You’re the Marshal.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I hit the alarm because a woman came in⏤”

“Where is she!?” He barked.

“This is a misunderstanding. I don’t want to press charges⏤ she’s actually a doctor and⏤”

“Where⏤”

Cara slid in behind him and blurted. “That’s his son and wife. Let him through.”

The girl nodded in understanding, and Din couldn’t even spare a thought toward the title Cara had given you. The clinic worker pointed through a set of double doors and Din stormed past her without another second of hesitation. The back room was filled with cots and shelves of medical supplies.

Sitting in the corner though, he saw Grogu lying on a cot with an IV in his arm and connected to the machine on the wall. Din didn’t recognize all the numbers and symbols, but they were all written in a neutral green rather than a dangerous red. Right by his bed, you were perched on a stool with your hands holding onto Grogu while your head rested on the cot. At the sound of his arrival into the room, you lifted your head and your eyes widened. Din rushed toward you and you stood up so fast the stool fell to the floor.

“He’s okay now. He’s stable.” You blurted. “Daelar never brought me the⏤ the medicine. Grogu spiked a fever and got worse, I tried to call⏤”

“My communicator broke. I’m so sorry.” Din leaned over the cot and cautiously ran a hand over his son’s head. Grogu didn’t look sick right now. He just looked like he was sleeping. Snoring softly without a single cough. “The fever⏤”

You spoke up. “It broke maybe twenty minutes ago? It’s normal now. All his vitals are. I gave him antipyretics and antibiotics for whatever infection he has. He’s stable.” Din let out a sigh of relief and he bowed his head to lightly tap against Grogu’s. Your voice shook. “He’s stable.”

Din slowly lifted his gaze to look to you. You had never looked so small before. Panic and fear still shone bright in your eyes despite the air of confidence you were trying to push out. Your arms were wrapped around your own body. Din took a step toward you and you flinched.

“Cyar’ika.” He whispered. “It’s okay.” You nodded once⏤ swallowed hard. “You said it yourself. Grogu is stable. He’s safe.” Your lower lips quivered and he watched you bite down on it. Din took another step and held his hand out to you. “You saved him. You. You did this⏤ you saved him.” Tears collected in your eyes and you lifted your gaze to the ceiling as if to avoid looking directly at him. Din knew you must have been a storm of genius confidence just like he saw you last night. He had seen the video of you holding a stranger at blaster’s end to get the supplies you needed. Din also knew that sometimes it was easy to take action, grab ahold of the danger, and let your body act while your mind took a backseat. Instinct took over. When that happened, it was hard to slip back into reality. To relax. “It’s over now. The danger has passed, Cyar’ika.” Din set his hands on your arms. “Talk to me.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his and those collected tears streamed down your face. You shook your head, voice shaky and pained, “I was so scared, Din.”

He was already pulling you into his chest at the same time that you leaned into him. Din cupped the back of your neck, squeezing in reassurance, as you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. You sobbed into his neck⏤ tears soaking into his cloak. He whispered that everything was okay and his words slipped out in Mando’a out of habit. Din added in Basic. “You did so good, ner kar’ta.”

“I was so scared I was going to mess up.” You clung to him so tightly. As if he was the only thing anchoring you here. “He was so sick and I⏤I haven’t done this in so long. I was terrified⏤ He⏤If he⏤ If he died⏤” Din didn’t even like thinking along those lines. You suddenly pulled your face away from him, but Din wouldn’t let you get far. He kept you caged in his arms. You shook your head. “I⏤I didn’t want him to end up like Soran.” Your words came out between harsh sobs. “I didn’t want to be the reason somebody I loved died again.”

If Din wasn’t the kind to pay attention then your words would have been nonsensical. However, he knew you were hiding from something. He knew you had a past that led to a terrible injury. And he knew your name wasn’t Soran. The way you screamed it out that night he woke up. Plus, half the time when he called out to you using that name you never answered. Din got more response from calling you ‘Cyar’ika’. He knew all of this, he just didn’t care. Who you were didn’t matter to him. You mattered to him. You in this moment. You in his arms.

Din tore off his gloves, something he’d never do outside of the safety of his ship or home, but he needed to touch you. He needed you to feel the warmth. Din cupped your face tenderly, using his thumbs to swipe away the lingering tears. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead softly to rest against yours.

“I don’t know your history, I don’t know your past, but here’s what I do know.” Din spoke slowly, enunciated every single word so it would be seared into your mind. “You are an incredible woman. Smart, beautiful, brave⏤ You never cease to amaze me, and there is nobody in this galaxy that I would trust Grogu with over you.” The words rang true as they left his lips. It wasn’t a simple comfort. It was a declaration. “Every single day I leave my home, I know⏤ without a doubt⏤ that I am leaving Grogu in the most capable hands other than my own.”

“Din…” You breathed.

Maker, he wanted to kiss you. It wasn’t a desire born of lust. Not this time. Din wanted to press feather light kisses against every inch of your face. Use his lips to brush away your tears, to stop your lip from quivering, to chase away your fear. Never, in his entire life, had his helmet felt like such a restriction to him. A wall of beskar keeping him from bringing you the comfort you needed. The comfort he wanted to give.

“I trust you, and all tonight does is prove that I was right.” Din said. “You saved Grogu. Not me, not anyone else. You.” You took in a slow breath, the first steady one he had seen from you since he got here, and he felt his entire body relax at the sound. “Thank you. Just thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” You replied. “I’d do anything for him. Anything, Din.”

“I know.”

“I’d…” You paused. Your eyes closed and Din found himself missing the color. Even for the brief moment it was missing. “I’d do anything for you too.” Your eyes opened once more and the panic and fear had faded. Leftover tears clung to your eyelashes, but he was staring into eyes he recognized⏤ eyes filled with so much kindness and care that his knees felt weak. “I love Grogu and I… You…”

Din nodded and pulled away from your face so he could tuck you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he set his head atop yours. Din needed to feel more of you. He ran a hand up and down your spine, “You’re important to me as well, ner kar’ta.”

For the first time since he left the house this morning, Din felt at peace.

mando’a translations

Cyar’ika: Darling, sweetheart

Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian and grogu #Female reader #reader insert #slow burn #cara dune #migs mayfeld

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wovenstarlight · 11 months ago

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I got an interesting anonymous ask on the SFS Tumblr asking about the reasoning behind a bunch of Yoohyun's decisions that had… less-than-stellar outcomes, let's say? (LMAO.) and I'd like to keep the TL blog clean so I'm answering Anon here. I'm gonna post their ask in full for reference, because the answers to each individual question overlap:

Hi, thank you very much for your time, energy and effort. What you are doing is really amazing and admirable. I know you are busy enough and I shouldn't trouble you, but after reading the manhwa, I had questions about Yoohyun's logic and sentiment, and I became more confused after reading the novel and I don't know who to ask. Please ignore my message if it's to much trouble. 1: Why doesn't Yoohyun spend the last years of his life on earth peacefully with Yoojin, even though he knows that the world will end soon? 2: What did Yoohyun accomplish by leaving and humiliating Yoojin that he was persistent to do it for so many years? 3: Why instead of using his forces and technologies to protect Yoojin, he announces to the world that it is open season on him and he is worthless? (Normaly no one dares to harm the family of an S class but Yoohyun expose Yoojin to danger by abandoning him.) 4: Why does Yoohyun stop protecting Yoojin when the most dangerous part of Yoojin's life as an F class hunter begins? (Using his influence he could easily ban Yoojin from entering dungeons. Or he could have secretly formed a group of the most powerful hunters to go with Yoojin to dungeons. This way he could have provided him with everything he needed and keep him safe. That is, if he had any intention of protecting him.) 5: Why would Yoohyun gain all that resources, power, wealth and connections and he sit around and does nothing so that Yoojin would face death every day and rot in the basement? He gain all that for what, if not for protecting Yoojin? 6: Why doesn't he ever change his procedure or provide new options for Yoojin to stop going to dungeons? (Yoojin has no chance for a peaceful life due to not having a degree and being a notorious person. And he doesn't know about that cult.) Yoojin got to see his 30 years old birthday cause the cult didn't feel like killing him and he took care of himself in dungeons and was lucky that only his legs broke. So why would Yoohyun identify as a doting brother? The more I think about it the less I understand.

(crossposted on AO3, if you'd prefer to read there)

Okay, so, I'm really prone to rambling at length and this is a subject I have strong feelings on, so I'll give you a very short version of my answer in bullet points, and then a longer version with proper chapter-specific references and full explanations of what I think was going on.

Yoohyun wants to repay Yoojin for all the care and love he's given him, but as a 17-year-old, he doesn't have much social power

Yoohyun's Awakening puts himself and anyone he loves (i.e. Yoojin) in a dangerous position, because while he has individual physical power as an S-rank, he still lacks social power and also can't singlehandedly protect Yoojin 24/7

Yoohyun, in all his rash 17-year-old glory, takes the drastic action of cutting off Yoojin, planning to build up enough power to protect Yoojin and then reunite with him. Yoojin, as just your ordinary everyday 22-year-old, faces no risks other than people targeting him in order to hurt Yoohyun (I don't agree that no one would dare to harm the family of an S-rank, for reasons I'll elaborate on later in the long answer), so if Yoohyun's not close to Yoojin, then that cuts it down to "no risks at all", right…? So tell the media, tell the world, that no, Han Yoohyun doesn't give a shit about Han Yoojin. Yoohyun assumes he'll be able to explain it all to Yoojin one day and that he'll understand. (This should answer your Question 2 and Q3.)

But it doesn't work out as expected. Yoohyun thought it'd take much less time to establish his position than it does in reality (the assumed 4-ish years ended up as 6+ years). Also, Yoojin's gone from trying to make up with Yoohyun in a way that'll let them be together again (not going to happen, because Yoohyun's still not ready to bring Yoojin back into the fold) to being in his own terrible situation, so he's started lashing out at Yoohyun. So even if Yoohyun was in a stable enough situation to try reconciling with him, Yoojin might not be open to it by this point

Somewhere along the way, Yoohyun learns from the filial duty addict Diarma the world is going to end. He doesn't drop everything and go to live with Yoojin because even now, there's still the concern that maybe Yoohyun won't be able to protect Yoojin from everything, and maybe Yoojin doesn't want Yoohyun around, anyway. There's no use in going to live with Yoojin if it'll just end up getting Yoojin killed through Yoohyun's inaction (Q1).

So Yoohyun keeps maintaining his guild and his power so he can keep protecting Yoojin from what he thinks are the Real Threats. (Because the worlds of low- and high-rank Hunters are VERY different. Yoohyun probably assumes that because Yoojin's not facing the high-rank Hunter dangers, he's facing no dangers—a stupid but understandable mistake, given that Yoojin also assumed the exact same thing in reverse about Yoohyun! It sucks, it really does, but I really do think Yoohyun just… didn't realize just how bad it was.) (Q5) And the world can end whenever it wants; if there's no challenging it, then at least Yoohyun's kept Yoojin safe in the meantime.

And the one danger they have in common, dungeons—you suggest Yoohyun banning Yoojin from entering any, but Yoohyun's cut himself off from Yoojin entirely, remember. Trying to interfere in his life would be met with (a) STRONG rejection by a deeply hurt Yoojin who doesn't understand why Yoohyun thinks he has any say in Yoojin's life anymore, and (b) interest by Yoohyun's rivals, who'd wonder why he's trying to keep his hyung away from dangers when he says he doesn't care about that hyung's wellbeing, putting Yoojin right back in their crosshairs. (Q4)

Also, the immoral people have been killing Caregivers of S-ranks. Diarma might have told Yoohyun about this. If he did, then Yoohyun's goals would definitely have gone from "stay strong and one day reconcile with hyung" to "NEVER get close to hyung, because there are beings outside this world, much more powerful than anything I can match in a reasonable timespan, who will 100% kill him". At which point, even if Yoohyun had wanted to reconcile with him, or compromise by just adjusting his plan and talking to Yoojin a little more, or literally anything past making a show of total and complete indifference, he couldn't have without knowingly risking Yoojin's life. (Q6)

You and I and all the other S-Ranks readers, removed from this situation as we are, can think of half a dozen ways Yoohyun could probably have gotten around things. But the simple fact is that in that situation, under that much pressure, with that much emotional attachment to his brother and literally everything that mattered to him at stake if he fucked up in the tiniest of ways—forget making perfect decisions, there was absolutely no way Yoohyun was going to do anything other than what seemed least risky. Because to do otherwise would be risking Yoojin’s life and therefore his own. And the choices you’ve already mades, the path you’re already on—no matter how bad it is for you, no matter how bad it is for the people you love, no matter how much it hurts—will always, always be less risky than the unknown path, because at least this way, you know what dangers to expect and brace for. At the core of the matter, it’s just that… the path that was best for Yoojin's happiness wasn't the path that was best for Yoojin's life expectancy, you see? And Yoojin can't be happy if he's dead. Yoohyun can't be alive if Yoojin's dead. That's all it came down to.

……oh my god that was so long actually. And that was supposed to be the TL;DR. The long version is going to be SO long. I hope you like reading 50-page passionate essays. There's a poll at the end, you can look forward to that!!!

(Also, okay, before we jump into the Deep End. Two disclaimers.

Anon, you said you read the manhwa and novel, but I read only the novel, so some of my chapter references might be unfamiliar. I know they shuffled events around a little in the webtoon, too, so I'll try and describe the general events so you can find any webtoon parallels.

Yoojin's a REALLY unreliable narrator and definitely doesn't know a lot of what Yoohyun's gone through. Part of that is because there's things he has no way to pick up on or deduce; part of that is because he wants to not think about Yoohyun going through bad shit; part of that is because Yoohyun doesn't want Yoojin worrying about him and has actively hidden the worse parts of his life from him. So a fair part of what I'm talking about is going to be reading between the lines and extrapolating.

Okay, disclaimers done!) Now on to the long version with references. Let's go point-by-point based on the TL;DR.

#1: Yoohyun wanting to repay Yoojin

I mean, the skill's called Last/Final Repayment! Isn't that enough? Where did you think that came from? There certainly wasn't anything Yoojin wanted to repay Yoohyun for.

Okay, no, more seriously. Yoohyun and Yoojin have grown up with only each other to depend on. Yoohyun has watched Yoojin take care of him alone their whole lives, with no outside support, keeping a roof over their head and their stomachs filled. For Yoohyun's sake, Yoojin has given up:

A complete education, with Yoojin having "dropped out of school to take care of his little brother", as mentioned in chapter 1.

A proper social life. In chapter 25, Yoojin says his friends in his early 20s were "middle-aged factory workers" instead of people his own age.

Hobbies. He says to Yerim and Myeongwoo in chapter 45 that one of his "few hobbies" is taking spam calls, but his character profile from the E-books volume 1 confirms it's his only hobby, and one that's now fading… which leaves him with zero personal interests. (The spam calling thing is almost certainly something that sprouted from loneliness in the years that the brothers were separated, by the way. After all, why would Yoojin waste time listening to some stranger on the phone talk to him about something he doesn’t care about? Most likely because there isn’t—wasn’t—really anyone else who’s willing to talk to him, anymore.)

The sole birthday present of "a 10,000 won bill to buy something tasty to have with his friends" he got from their parents, which "would be used for Han Yoohyun’s birthday. As [it was] every year", as mentioned in chapter 239, during Yoohyun’s flashback to childhood.

And Yoohyun, a helpless child, could only watch as Yoojin gave up all of that, to no real benefit of his own, just to focus all his attention and resources on supporting Yoohyun.

By the time he was in middle school, Yoohyun was already talking about becoming a doctor since it'd be "advantageous in a lot of aspects"; he says he "just wanted to make it so you [Yoojin] could live comfortably" (chapter 258). Yoojin wouldn't have to be the sole earner, and would've been able to pursue his own happiness as well as Yoohyun's. Yoohyun wants very badly for Yoojin to not have to worry about him anymore. It makes sense that that sentiment would remain even after he Awakened.

#2: Yoohyun's Awakening

And boy what an Awakening it was! Straight from a random orphaned kid with zero social life and decent grades to one of the world's most desirable and dangerous individuals, basically overnight. He has none of the social sway that the rich and well-connected Sung Hyunjae or the professional athletes Moon Hyuna and Choi Sukwon do, and he refuses to get the help of big corporations like Choi Sukwon and Bak Mingyu (and Yoon Kyeongsoo? I forget if Soodam was also a corp-backed guild). So he's got no power, but he's also declared his intent to create a guild, and that combined with his nature as a born S-rank makes people perceive him as a threat. Maybe not so much in the early days, when people think he's just an arrogant, stupid kid who's going to crash and burn, but definitely more so as time passed, which Sung Hyunjae confirms in chapter 152:

“Wasn’t [Han Yoohyun] at the age where one faces a lot of problems, starting out living alone?” […] “He wasn’t even alone, strictly speaking. I heard Team Head Seok and the others joined Haeyeon early on.” I heard that Seok Simyeong had visited Yoohyun-ie even before Haeyeon was founded. He was still annoying, but I had to give him his share of the credit for Haeyeon. Sung Hyunjae gave a small nod at my words. “Even so, it isn’t easy for a latecomer to find his place.” “That’s… You’re right.” “For the first year or so, it was easier. Since most of them said Haeyeon wouldn’t be able to properly establish itself.” Sung Hyunjae also said he hadn’t been interested in Haeyeon—in Yoohyun-ie—at the time, either. “The problem arose when it started to become a major guild.”

The second the initial "LOL, this has got to be a joke, right?" blinders come off, he's at risk. And he would've known that this would happen right from the start—Yoohyun's smart enough that he would've understood the lack of attacks was just because they didn't see him as a real threat yet.

So, again: a latecomer on the scene with no power and no experience to his name, and seen as a threat to deal with. No social connections means he has no one to rely on to help him with Yoojin's protection: it's up to him alone. And even S-ranks have to eat and sleep and use the bathroom and do half a dozen other things that would pull him away from Yoojin's side, not to mention the all-important requirement of raiding dungeons, which Yoohyun himself admits in chapter 71 was one of his main concerns:

“Once I start a raid on an S-rank dungeon, I’ll be gone for a week […]. Me… avoiding you… was also largely due to the S-rank dungeon raid time. Since, obviously, I can’t look after you once I go into the dungeon.”

So Yoohyun himself can't just stay by Yoojin's side as his bodyguard 24/7. He'd have to leave him unattended for, at minimum, whole weeks. Which means he doesn't have a reliable, sure way to keep his hyung safe.

#3: Cutting off Yoojin, and the risks to an S-rank's family

And that's not even mentioning his own safety. What happens when Yoohyun's hurt and can't help with guarding Yoojin? And he will be hurt, either by dungeon raids or other people. If you don't think that second one is a concern, as early as chapter 6, when Yoojin and Yoohyun are having their first meal together, Yoojin asks about Yoohyun's ability to cook, and he says he taught himself:

“I’ve got items for detoxification and de-cursing, now, but I didn’t have them before. So making my own food felt safer. Even now, when I enter dungeons, I bring dried rations I made myself. Since it’s most dangerous inside dungeons.” “…Detoxification? De-cursing?” What was I hearing right now? As in, there were bastards who’d poison and curse his food, so he had to make it himself… that sort of thing?

Yoohyun himself, a strong, healthy S-rank with a good constitution and one hell of a temper, was at risk of being poisoned and cursed through something as everyday as food. You said that normally, no one would dare attack the family of an S-rank—but if people are willing to attack the S-rank himself, knowing that he'll kill them for sure if it fails and he learns they're behind it, then what's stopping them from attacking the S-rank's family?

There's two points you could argue:

Yoohyun says in the chapter 6 conversation that "It’s a major crime for an Awakened person to target an Unawakened person, so I made them think it wasn’t worth it to risk going after you." But that'd only last for the 3 years up until Yoojin Awakened, and honestly, there's a real risk that anyone targeting Yoojin before that time would just be rich or socially connected enough that they could make the charges go away.

The other argument that if they attack an S-rank's beloved family and that fails, now the S-rank is coming after them with a vengeance, and he's not even suffering from the aftermath of poisoning or a curse to weaken him in the slightest, so that might scare them off. But, like… people do stupid things when they're desperate. In that kidnapping where Yoojin met the Krecke Blackie (chapters 46–49), sure, Yoojin had his own special skills that made him valuable, but he also had five major guilds and the Association all dedicated to his protection. That's several times the protection a single S-rank could offer, and some idiots who weren't even in a desperate situation still tried to go after him for benefits similar to what you'd get from having leverage over an S-rank. So I really don't think anything would stop people from threatening Yoojin. If anything, the combined facts of Yoohyun starting out from a weak position, Yoohyun obviously caring about Yoojin, and Yoojin being so much weaker than Yoohyun would make that the best option by far, if you wanted to hurt Yoohyun. After all, it’s not like Unawakened F-rank Yoojin can fight back himself, and again, Yoohyun isn’t going to fight you if it would risk Yoojin’s life.

So, Yoohyun goes "if I distance myself from hyung and make people think it WON'T hurt me for him to be hurt, then people have no reason to target him!" and follows through. I do think this was a stupid move on his part, even if he intended to explain it all to Yoojin eventually, because by not letting him in on the secret right from the start, he guaranteed that Yoojin would be hurt and upset by his sole remaining family member seemingly abandoning him for better prospects. Which leads Yoojin to start making his own stupid moves, which snowballs into a series of bad decisions on both their parts, and so on… but we'll get to that in a minute. The problem, I think, is that this plan could've worked, if only Yoohyun had told Yoojin at the start, so that Yoojin knew not to draw attention to himself. Maybe they could've done regular calls on burner phones or something, to stay in touch, and they'd have been happier that way.

Unfortunately that didn't happen. Why? Because, as Yoohyun states in that same conversation in chapter 6, he "didn’t want to burden" Yoojin. Yoohyun's desire to protect Yoojin is not just physical, but also mental/emotional—he doesn't want Yoojin to know that Yoohyun's going through all this trouble of leaving home and dealing with threats to his life and making big decisions, because he doesn't want Yoojin to worry.

[EDIT: And actually, thinking back over this, do you realize—Yoojin always talks about how Yoohyun was a delight of a child to raise, never complaining, never throwing tantrums, wonderfully behaved and always doing as he was told. Enough so that Moon Hyuna has to tell him, explicitly, in Chapter 43, that that’s not normal, in those exact words:

“He was a good younger brother who never needed to be scolded. Ever since he was little, he listened well and didn’t worry me…….” “You said you were the one to raise him, right? After you lost your parents early. That’s not normal.” She clicked her tongue and continued. “A good, obedient little brother from a poor family without parents. That sort of thing doesn’t even appear in children’s fairy tales these days. Because it’s not realistic.” “I mean, to go that far—” “Kids are kids. They get frustrated and angry if there’s something lacking, they make trouble to get attention, they compare themselves with others, and beyond begging their parents to buy them something they want, they might even resent them. Parents might still think their kids are cute, but brothers? To them, they’re just enemy bastards; I also have a younger sibling, so I know. Of course, there are brothers and sisters who get along. In peaceful households where their parents take good care of them. Even then, it’s not like they never fight. Younger brothers in particular are a type that need to be put in their place; older siblings the world across would probably agree.”

This suggests that Yoohyun and Yoojin have never, ever, EVER experienced conflict on major life decisions. Not once have they argued about Yoohyun making choices that Yoojin wouldn’t like. Which means Yoohyun approached cutting off Yoojin with a very particular mindset, and I have some guesses as to what exactly that mindset was. Do you think he hoped Yoojin would understand that his perennially well-behaved brother would have some reason for leaving home? Do you think he just… didn’t know how to approach telling Yoojin about his choice, knowing it’d upset him so much, so he simply didn’t and hoped for the best? Or was it something else entirely?

Either way: Yoohyun absolutely did not know what would come of this choice. He definitely did not expect just how hard it would be on Yoojin. At the time, he was probably just wanting to spare Yoojin the heartache of their first major argument about Yoohyun’s life choices.] And it's that very desire to not bother him with the knowledge of how much Yoohyun's suffering that eventually makes things go wrong and both of them suffer for it.

#4: Yoohyun's strategy failing

What do we know about Yoohyun's plan going wrong? We know that Yoohyun intended to wipe out his enemies before even thinking about allowing Yoojin into danger. In that conversation in chapter 6, he tells Yoojin to wait "just 1 year" and to basically live in confinement, locked up safe inside Haeyeon, until Yoohyun's done. Combined with the 3 years since the dungeons appearing and Yoohyun Awakening, that means he thought it'd take maybe 4 years in total, with hurrying at the end to accommodate Yoojin already being involved with him again. Yoojin says in narration that pre-regression, it took him 3 years instead of the 1 he's proposing, which puts us at a total of 6 years minimum before Yoohyun could even think about reuniting with Yoojin.

But, of course, a lot can and did happen in those 6 years. Within the first 3, the brothers' relationship had deteriorated enough that Yoojin blocked Yoohyun's number, as mentioned in chapter 32 by Yoohyun to Yoojin during novice Hunter training:

“You got angry and told me not to call, remember? You even blocked my number.”

Why was Yoojin angry? See chapter 158, when Yoohyun was temporarily amnesiac due to Jellyfish's fog:

“I’m certain I told you not to come near me.” …I remembered. When I’d heard that, I’d blocked Yoohyun’s number, telling him not to call me back.

Yoohyun's repeated refusal to tell Yoojin about his plans, just telling him they had to stay apart, only worsened their relationship. And while Yoohyun did attempt to reach out and help Yoojin in ways such as sending him money to cover living expenses (probably hoping to repair their rapidly deteriorating relationship), that also made it worse, with Yoojin rejecting all of those attempts. As he explains in chapter 274, during the flashbacks induced by Jellyfish in their fight:

Gritting my teeth, I sent back the money Yoohyun-ie sent me without even laying a finger on it. To the me of that time, it was horrible money that my young brother had as good as traded his life for. Yoohyun-ie wanted me to accept living expenses and stay safe, but I believed my brother was being sent to his own death and could never accept it.

It isn't like Yoohyun didn't try to reach out. He did. The problem was that all of his attempts were undercut by his continued refusal to tell Yoojin why he had distanced himself, such that all those attempts at staying in touch only rubbed salt in the wound of being abandoned. And as early as 3 years in, by his own admission in chapter 6, Yoohyun starts to think that things have gotten so bad that even if he tries to confess everything now, Yoojin might not "be understanding". He might not be willing to let go of his hurt and resentment to reconcile with him.

So should he stop reaching out, then? Surely there's still hope that they can reconcile in the future. Someday, maybe, when Yoohyun's sure he can protect Yoojin, even if Yoojin doesn't want to be with/near him.

#5: Learning about the world ending

Only, there's a deadline imposed by the end of the world, which Yoohyun learns about from filial duty addict Diarma. Part of the contract with the filial duty addicts, as Sung Hyunjae explains in chapter 102, is not interfering with said end of the world. Actually, the contractors have to give "their word that they’ll eliminate obstacles" i.e. other people fighting against the end of the world, so Yoohyun can't do anything about this deadline. This gives him a limited amount of time in which he can "eventually" reconcile with Yoojin.

So, as you ask, Anon, why not spend that limited time with his brother? Well, just because there's an end of the world approaching—which Yoohyun can't even talk about! L-rank contract, remember—doesn't mean that Yoojin is 🌟magically🌟 going to get any less mad about Yoohyun abandoning him for several years than before. Yoohyun still doesn't want to explain, so that argument is absolutely not getting resolved.

Even if he tries to explain vaguely that there's some threat and that he'd like Yoojin to live with him or at least accept his offers of protection and security, what happens if Yoojin refuses? Yoohyun clearly isn't willing to violate Yoojin's desires too far, since the most certain way to keep him safe would be to lock him up in a vault somewhere inside Haeyeon and never let anyone else see him, but that would trample all over his free will and happiness, not to mention it'd ruin Yoohyun's "live normally and happily with hyung" goals. So he'll have to let Yoojin stay out in the world, while all of Yoohyun's rivals and enemies are still out there, watching the Haeyeon Guild Leader reach out to his brother and wondering if they've reconciled. At that point, it doesn't matter if they actually have made up or not. If someone even suspects that Yoojin is close to Yoohyun, then they'll target him on the off-chance that it's true. And if Yoojin did refuse Yoohyun's offers, which he's almost certain to, then he's defenseless against whatever attacks come. And they will come. In chapter 6, Yoohyun admitted that a single visit to Haeyeon Guild by Yoojin, willing or unwilling, would be enough to get attention on him:

“But if I directly give orders for you to be brought in and allowed to live within Haeyeon Guild, my enemies will start to actively target you. Even with you just being here right now, I’m sure they’ll already have started keeping an eye on you.”

Think of it from Yoohyun's enemies' perspective. If Yoohyun cares about Yoojin, attacking Yoojin gives you leverage over Yoohyun. If Yoohyun doesn't care about Yoojin, then he won't care if you're attacking Yoojin, so you'll face no retaliation from him. Yoohyun's enemies have nothing to lose from this, while Yoohyun has everything to lose. So, in this situation, it'd be better to take the least risky path: just don't engage with Yoojin at all.

And, also, even if he'd decided to take that risk, there's a different one when it comes to actually figuring out a system to guard Yoojin. This point is more speculation, but I do think Yoohyun might have struggled with deciding when he'd done enough for Yoojin's protection. Because the reality is that Yoojin was never, ever going to be 100% safe from all dangers ever. Again, the vault method is the only way Yoohyun could achieve that. Yoohyun could've put together any amount of high-rank Hunters as Yoojin's exclusive security detail, and he'd still have to leave him alone with these potentially corruptible strangers for a full week at a time during every S-rank dungeon raid. I suspect there was a real risk of Yoohyun continuously going "I just need to get a bit stronger and a bit more established" indefinitely, without ever reaching a point where he was actually satisfied. (Which, if this was indeed a risk in canon, would be overridden in the post-regression timeline by Yoojin's keyword usage making Yoohyun's desire to live with him again and uncertainty about Yoojin's response win out over the urge to keep obsessing over safeguards.)

#6: What counts as a "real" threat

When it comes to Yoohyun's need to defend Yoojin against threats, there's also an important aspect you need to consider, which is: what threats? You see, the worlds of low-rank and high-rank Hunters are very different, to the point where Yoohyun seems to completely overlook some aspects of what Yoojin's used to dealing with, while Yoojin explicitly notes on multiple occasions that he didn't even realize Yoohyun faced certain dangers. As always, we come back to the poisoning attempts mentioned in chapter 6, the first time Yoojin realizes Yoohyun was suffering his own ordeals. This sort of sneaky threat gets reiterated in chapter 11, after Yoojin's trip to the Hunter Mall, when Yoohyun tells him he can't even take a simple drink from any public vendor because it might be poisoned (not something that'd work on Yoohyun himself, but it certainly would on those lower-ranked people around him who he cares about). No, not even in a government-sponsored location like the Association, because even these locations are filled with other guilds' spies and informants. Yoojin's internal response is essentially "what sort of underhanded bullshit is this", and out loud he questions Yoohyun about it:

“But would they do that sort of thing in none other than the Association? If they get caught, the backlash will be huge.” And if Awakened people couldn’t trust the Association, it’d end up hurting the guilds, too. “Of course they wouldn’t make trouble inside the Association. But it’s possible to have their target sent away in an ambulance or police car.” “…And then that ambulance or police car goes missing?” “You’re getting it.”

And Yoojin literally thinks, not a paragraph later, that this is maybe too much even for him:

Somehow, the further things went, the more I felt like I should stop being involved with this brat Yoohyun-ie and go off to live on my own.

Better the dangers you know than the ones you don't, but in Yoojin's words.

Everyone in the high-rank sphere is, well, high-rank. Strong and resilient even when they don't have defensive skills, to say nothing of when they do. They face threats, yes, Real Threats that pose danger to them and risk their safety and status, including threats from other people—Song Taewon mentions to Yoojin in chapter 83 that he's investigated Yoohyun for murder multiple times a year—but because they're so strong, those threats come in the form of dungeon monsters or social attacks, not actual physical harm. Especially not physical harm from other people; like, chapter 75 mentions there's laws against S-rank Hunters going into dungeons together for fear that they might hurt or kill each other, so unless they encounter each other in a dungeon break region where combat is expected (or pick fights with Chief Song, an S-rank duty-bound to fight other S-ranks), they're never really going to encounter personal threats from other Hunters.

Take all that through the lens of protecting Yoojin: he's just some guy, he's not involved in the social/political Hunter Hunger Games, so he's probably fine on that front, right? And otherwise, Yoohyun just needs to protect him from dungeons (keep Yoojin out of them when possible, prevent breaks in his area), and maybe just some general watching out for Yoojin getting himself into anything risky, since he's so weak as an F-rank. That's all the threats Yoohyun sees on a daily basis, so that's probably it, right?

Wrong. Low-rank Hunters have their own set of threats they face, and while a part of that is dungeons and monsters, a very large part of that is also just… being easy to kill, in a community of people very ready to kill. Low-rank Hunters murder each other a hell of a lot more than high-rank Hunters get to even hurt, let alone kill, each other. Think about how easily the knowledge of dungeons being good body disposal spots comes to Yoojin (chapter 19, when threatening Yerim's uncle). Think about the way Yoojin talks about being pressured into slave contracts and miner guilds, and how common it seems to be for low-rank Hunters to be maimed and disabled and left in the lurch (chapters 21 and 22, saving Yoo Myeongwoo from Hope Resources Guild). Think about chapter 49, where Yoohyun claims there's strong camaraderie among high-rank Hunters, and Yoojin responds with this:

Comradeship, huh. There was no such concept in low-rank Hunter teams. Of course, it wasn’t like there were no good people around. The problem was that they all died before long. There were fixed low-rank teams united through trust and friendship, but it was very rare that they lasted. With how strongly they banded together, if one of them died, they couldn’t endure the shock and would fall apart; and even if that didn’t happen, if they were doing well for themselves, they’d be attacked from the outside by the many Hunters who’d find them unpleasant. But a high-rank dungeon raiding team that suffered few such accidents could form a sense of comradeship and keep staying together.

Low-rank Hunters will get killed by monsters, or survive only to get killed by the loss of their teams, or find good teams only to get killed by other jealous low-ranks, or (in Yoojin's experience) survive multiple team-wide killings only to get ostracized and distrusted for being suspiciously good at surviving (almost like you're the one setting up your teams to fail! really makes you wonder, doesn't it?), or, or, or…

High-rank Hunters just… survive. That's it.

Of course Yoohyun wouldn't know to protect Yoojin from these threats. He's never faced them. To him, fighting other people is a fun, challenging pastime, where no one being allowed to kill each other is an unspoken rule that goes implicitly understood. He wouldn't realize how it was very much not fun for Yoojin; maybe he'd know it intellectually, but I don't think he'd understand, not without getting up close and personal to see Yoojin struggle with it, which he can't do himself. If he tries to send someone to spy on or just generally help out his brother, Yoojin's primed by his experiences to distrust the people around him, so spies won't get anything out of him, and any strong Hunter handpicked by Yoohyun to help his hyung might simply be unable to gain Yoojin's trust. (Picking out a whole team of strong Hunters? Even if Yoojin trusts them, they'd probably end up victimized by jealous Hunters. Rinse and repeat.) You must also take into account that Yoojin's been made enough of a target by society that he's hiding every weakness someone could potentially exploit. Hell, if he's hiding well enough, you might think he's doing just fine.

And in the time period where it would be blatantly obvious that Yoojin was not fine, that early period right when he Awakened and turned into society's scapegoat overnight? That was when Yoohyun and Haeyeon were also being targeted, and wouldn't have been able to spare the kind of attention and help Yoojin would've needed, not with all the scrutiny they were all being subjected to. Actually, when Yoojin's reminiscing about these times in chapter 59, he hypothesizes it might've been Yoohyun's rivals themselves who were behind the scapegoating:

At that time, it would’ve been hard for that guy to look out for me. Public opinion wasn’t good in many ways, and there were too many scrutinizing eyes for him to secretly look after me. Now that I thought about it, I wondered if there wasn’t some sort of operation targeting me. The response was too excessive to have simply been the work of a few trash journalists. It was a matter that could be packaged excitingly, I was an F-rank which made me easy to use, and at that time, it could drag down Haeyeon Guild in the public opinion. Whether it was the government, the Association, or rival guilds, they’d have been fools not to use me.

If it was Yoohyun's rivals behind it, then by fighting on the Haeyeon front, Yoohyun might actually have been keeping Yoojin safe, too. How do we know he didn't actually mitigate the suffering to some degree? We haven't heard from Yoohyun about his side of things during this time, so we don't have a definite answer one way or another.

Certainly, Seok Simyeong didn't help at all by making a public statement denouncing Yoojin, especially not when it was so bad Yoojin admits to almost being suicidal over it (chapter 19)! But, well, it was a busy time. We don't know whether Yoohyun was consulted on that one, or if it was something they rushed in order to get ahead of the situation. It might also be that Yoohyun was consulted and made the choice that they'd publicly denounce Yoojin but privately offer him support, only for Yoojin to reject it as he did before with the money Yoohyun sent. Yoojin's done this before, where he conveniently doesn't mention a detail about a scenario until it becomes immediately relevant!

I cannot emphasize enough that we don't have Yoohyun's perspective on this. We don't know what he was doing or not doing to help. But we know, from his love for Yoojin, from his desperate desire to keep him safe at all costs, that he must've been doing something. Was that something effective? Was it useful to Yoojin's immediate life? Who knows. But he was trying.

#7: Banning Yoojin from dungeons

…Keyword being trying. Because, uh. To be honest, how well do you think any direct attempts at "helping" went over? The very first moment that Yoojin regresses to is when Yoohyun got him out of a meeting with an Awakening broker. And Yoojin himself says that ended so badly that "after listening to Yoohyun-ie’s nagging, I’d become furious and stormed off, shouting that I could take care of myself and to quit bothering me" (chapter 5). So if Yoohyun tries to openly keep Yoojin out of danger, then Yoojin is going to have a screaming fit of anger at his life being controlled by someone who apparently isn't even interested in being in it.

And that's before Yoojin Awakened. Once he had an actual, legal, government-assigned license saying he could go into dungeons? Yoohyun had zero standing. Zero chance he was ever going to be able to stop him from going into dungeons, short of breaking down and crying and begging for him to not do it, which (to successfully convince Yoojin he wasn't just putting on a show or trying to guilt trip him) would also require Yoohyun to admit he still cared about Yoojin and reveal his 3- uh, 4- I mean, 5- 6(!!)-Year Master Plan To Keeping Hyung Safe Forever And Ever.

Yeah. Never gonna happen.

And even that one (1) attempt at keeping Yoojin away from dungeons and Hunters and everything related could've gone really badly, because as Yoohyun himself admits in their chapter 6 conversation, his enemies will "already have started keeping an eye on you [Yoojin]". Just from one single show of apparent concern for Yoojin's wellbeing! Can you imagine what would've happened if Yoohyun kept stopping Yoojin every time he tried to go into a dungeon? Setting Yoojin's own frustration and anger aside, can you picture the kind of attention that would've gotten Yoojin? No, this was one battle Yoohyun had to lose in order to win the overall war.

Anon, you mention providing "new options for Yoojin to stop going to dungeons". Okay, sure, we're starting with Yoojin being society's black sheep and probably rejected out of hand from most positions he applies to, and Yoohyun's only leverage in society being in dungeon- and Hunter-related fields. What options would he have provided for Yoojin? A dungeon- or Hunter-related job, probably at Haeyeon or one of its affiliates? That's precisely what we're trying to avoid, and also visible enough that Yoohyun might as well not have even fucking bothered with the 6-Year Master Plan etc. etc. Okay, so then something at one of Haeyeon's sponsors-? Except Haeyeon famously doesn't have backers, and any connections they have through business deals will be glaringly obvious to Yoohyun's rivals if leveraged. Oh, Han Yoojin, the man who no one wants to hire, got a job at a company whose products Han Yoohyun sponsored just a while ago! Absolutely no one is wondering how this could've happened. Also, funny how Han Yoohyun's helping Han Yoojin find work, it's almost like he cares about him… (And so the end begins.)

Remember, all of Yoohyun's efforts at separating himself from Yoojin require actually being separate from Yoojin and the choices he makes. Yoojin's life is—unfortunately enough for Yoohyun—his own to live… and his own to ruin.

#8: The transcendent threat

And all of that—every single one of these environmental factors that make it so Yoohyun has a billion and one concerns to consider before he can so much as talk to Yoojin—all of that comes before we take into account one more fact:

God Hates Caregivers Personally.

Or, in a non-joking manner, and in the fashion Yoohyun might have learned about it from Diarma, as is strongly suggested in the virtual reality dungeon arc during chapter 246:

There are beings out there, outside your world, stronger than anything you know, and this is acknowledging the fact that you are among the strongest existences humankind will ever produce. These beings rule your entire world, are the children of the very power that created the dungeons terrorizing your planet, are themselves so powerful that they can predict dungeons and manipulate the system in their favor, that they can manipulate the circumstances of individual humans as long as they're inside dungeons. In allying with any one of their number, you make an enemy out of half of the entire population of these transcendental existences. You have already made an enemy of them. And these people, these all-powerful creatures, who you've painted yourself a rival of? These same people have a known track record of killing the loved ones of people like you.

Your brother goes into dungeons every week as part of his job. He's already at immense risk. If you go near him, if you make it seem even slightly like you're interested in him personally, you make him an out-and-out target for these transcendents, and they'll smite him. He dies, and you die, and it's game over.

Option one: You can grow to their level, meet them with equal strength, certainly, but will you get the time to grow that far before they kill your brother? Is his natural lifespan even long enough that he'd survive the time it took for your growth? He dies. You die. Game over.

Option two: Don't pose a threat. It's too late for you to never get on their radar in the first place, but if you can keep from seeming any more dangerous, maybe they won't give him any attention. Secure a favor that will let you help him when he needs it, at most, but otherwise never use your transcendent connections to your own advantage.

Option two, taken to its conclusion: If you die before your brother does—if you die calling in that favor and saving his life—you never have to see him be killed.

(Option two, on the flip side: You will not expect it to be your own ally who set the stage for your loved one to be killed.)

So, basically, every single concern Yoohyun's had about protecting his brother that made him distance himself and not tell him anything so far? All of that is taken and cranked up to difficulty level Maximum. "If I show interest in hyung, one of my rivals or enemies might choose to hurt or kill him!" The transcendents WILL kill him with NO known incentive. Yoohyun might assume it's because he poses a threat to their side, but he can't be absolutely certain that's it. In fact, he doesn't know anything about this opposing transcendent faction, since he was blocked from contacting them by the very fact of having chosen a side in the first place, as Water Droplet explains when discussing the born S-ranks in chapter 106:

“We don’t know for sure either. The filial duty addicts contacted them first, so their information is obscured. We only know that there are five, and about the ones that are in contact with you.”

And while Yoohyun-as-Alpha knows the reasons behind the immoral people killing Caregivers—namely, that they want to remove distractions for S-ranks, so that they focus on combating dungeons and monsters—if Diarma had told Yoohyun about this, and if he'd thought to apply the bare minimum of intelligence to his delivery (a disclaimer that must be made, with this transcendent in particular), I really don't think he would've told him why. No, he would've wanted the immoral people to seem like a dangerous threat, so he would just have said that they might kill Yoohyun's family, without giving him their reasoning.

Which means Yoohyun knew nothing about the immoral people's motives, nothing about their goals, nothing about what they'd see as aggression. Which meant, hypothetically, that any and every action he took could trigger them to smoothly and efficiently eliminate the only person he loved in all the world. It would be so easy, too; Yoojin's entering their turf multiple times a month as part of his daily job, a fact which we've already established Yoohyun couldn't do anything about. The only thing he knew for sure is that they hadn't killed Yoojin so far.

Remember what I said before, about the known path being safer? Because you know the dangers you'll face on it? Yoohyun knows doing what he's doing right now is keeping Yoojin alive. He can't control a single other thing outside of that. And the danger posed by not doing what he's doing just got shifted to a level he is not prepared on any level to respond to. Before, he might've thought Yoojin was safe at least inside dungeons with his chosen teams; from his perspective, "dungeons with only guild members inside are actually safer than the outside world" (chapter 134), while the outside world was more of a risk because of all of Yoohyun's enemies. But now? There is danger all the time and in every location Yoojin goes, even those outside of this world, on an insane, unrivaled level. He is never, never safe, and any single unexpected action Yoohyun takes puts that at risk. If doing anything at all is dangerous, then it's better to do nothing.

So, yeah, that's the crux of it, isn't it. Yoohyun needs to protect Yoojin every day, every single time. Everything else in the whole world only needs to kill Yoojin once. In such a situation, how would Yoohyun ever dare to risk making either of them vulnerable?

…The end! I hope that this explanation, long as it is, has given you at least some additional insight into Why Yoohyun Did All That, and helped serve as a reminder of just how little we actually know about Yoohyun's perspective of the events pre-regression.

By the way, this entire post is pulling only from information we get up to chapter 272; there’s more information revealed up to chapter 350—actually, even just in the next few chapters after that, up to 275—that sheds more light on Yoohyun’s decision-making process in the pre-regression timeline. Maybe I’ll come back and post a part 2 to this analysis someday using the additional information we get as time goes on, but right now, this much will have to be enough.

In any case—thanks for reading this far. And of course, as promised, here's the poll!

#star.txt #my writing #my sranks #the s ranks that i raised #han yoohyun #answered #anonymous #this had the working title of 'han yoohyun's shit idiot reasoning' bless his soul #certified yoohyun hater is asked to defend his actions. what happens next will shock you

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 15

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 15

Word Count: 3499

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Do forgive me for the small chapter... *sigh*

“Cariño, having fun?”

Shit.

“Sir?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“Don’t pretend, darling, it doesn’t suit you.” Doffy takes a step forward, towering over you in an intimidating manner. He has an unsettling grin on his lips and the usual glint in his red eyes. “You and my nephew? You can’t hide that pretty glow.” He purrs and you flush deeper. “Too bad that this time I didn’t get to hear any of your pretty noises…”

Doflamingo keeps circling you as if you were prey. His eyes locked on your form, noticing any shiver, any tremble, any kind of movement that might give anything away. “Of course, we can remedy that, mi querida. Anytime you want.” He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You see, while my dear nephew might have advised you to keep quiet, pretending to be sneaky, I would prefer to hear you scream my name loud and clear so every guest knew what I was doing to you and how much you were enjoying it.”

You take a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your hands clench into fists. “That’s utterly inappropriate, Sir.” Then you try to move forward to get away from his clutches, but he towers over you again.

“That’s not what you want? Because I can figure out what it is.” Cocking his head to the side, he hums lightly, one finger pressed against his lips as if he’s in deep thought. “Is it power, then? Because I can make sure you’re in all the right circles, rubbing shoulders with anyone who matters.”

You stiffen at the implication. He’s trying to fish for information again. You just have to keep steady, there’s nothing to hide. Nothing except the agonising rhythm of your heart, your anxiety clawing its way up your throat, scratching it and making it hard to speak.

“No? Influence, then? I know all the right people. You’d never have to feel unnoticed again.” Raising your chin, you meet his gaze with defiance, showing more bravado than you actually possess. “Money? It has to be money. I can offer you a lifestyle beyond your wildest imagination: beach houses, penthouses, luxury cars, designer clothes… all yours.”

“I don’t want any of that, Doflamingo, Sir.” Your voice shakes a little and you curse under your breath. Doffy caught you at a vulnerable state and you’re still too addled for this to be a fair battle of wits.

“So it’s just the thrill of it?” Doffy starts to circle you again, one of his fingers running along a strand of hair, and you hold your breath. “You are so hard to read, princesa, so, so hard. When I think I have you figured out, you sweep the rug from under me.” He tuts and stops, chin resting on his knuckles, a pensive expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Then there’s Vinsmoke Ichiji. I mean,” he scoffs, “I get why you left him, he’s an asshole. What I don’t get is why you were with him for four years. It just doesn’t add up. What did he give you? What did you gain from that relationship?”

Heartache? Trauma? Pain?

“And what do you want from Law?” Doflamingo almost growls, the smirk now gone, replaced by a frown as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. “Because I know you weren’t together before this weekend. You weren’t dating.” He raises his hand to stop the words that are about to leave your lips - a weak denial, actually - and he continues. “Don’t deny it, princesa, once again, it doesn’t suit you. I investigated this, whatever you two have, and it happened this weekend. But I want to know why. What do you want from Law?”

You decide not to answer him. Your heart seems ready to jump out of your chest at a moment’s notice, and you’re more flustered now than you were after your little escapade with Law.

“It’s okay, I’ll figure you out, one way or another. You won’t get what you want. I will find out just what makes you tick, and then you’ll fold. They all do.” Doffy’s words are menacing and ominous, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“I’m not hiding anything. I am who I am, and Law and I are together because we care about each other. I am not a puzzle waiting to be solved.” The words leave your lips through clenched teeth. Hard-edged, shaky and defiant, leaving you breathless with the effort of keeping steady.

“Oh, cariño, but you are.” He caresses your cheek, making you hiss and step back. “I will solve you. Don’t worry.” His laugh follows him down the corridor until he disappears around the corner, a hand in the air waving goodbye as you try to catch your breath and calm your unsteady heart.

-*-

You run into Law as you decide to go to the bathroom instead of heading towards the reception area. You’re so deep in your own head that you nearly stumble into him.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's going on?”

With a frustrated grunt, you tell him about your encounter with his uncle. “So now we know he knows, plus Ichiji is here, and I’m feeling more and more trapped, Law.” You sigh. “It’s like Doffy won’t relent until he breaks us apart.” Your trembling hands clutch the lapels of Law’s jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Law never wavers. His cool, controlled persona manages to calm your irrational fears and delusions as he brings you closer to him. Amber eyes piercing straight into your soul, keeping you tethered as your lack of control sends you spiralling further away from reality.

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose me.” Law kisses your temple softly. “So what if Doffy knows we weren’t together before? Let him believe what he wants, we’re together now, and we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing he says or does will keep us apart. Okay?”

You nod, and Law sighs, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. “I should’ve never brought you here. I’m sorry. I knew my uncle was… extra, and I still subjected you to this.”

“Don’t say that.” Your whisper almost gets lost in the confines of his vest, where you have your head buried. “If you hadn’t asked me to do this, ‘we’ might not have happened.”

Law’s chuckle is quite cocksure. “Trust me, sweetheart, ‘we’ would’ve happened. One way or another.” You blush as a smile finally creeps its way onto your lips. The warmth in your chest expanding and taking hold of you. He seems so certain of the possibility of you two as a couple, like nothing could ever stand in your way. It's heartwarming.

It would be so easy… just open your lips and say it: I love you. It’s not that hard. You’re not ripping out a piece of your soul, even if the last person you uttered those words to completely destroyed you.

Law is special.

Just say it.

Say it.

Law cups your cheek and tilts your head so you can face him. “Let’s go back? Get this wedding over and done with so we can finally go home?” You nod, teetering between the lines of the bitter and the sweet. Your words seem trapped, lodged in your throat, held ransom by deep-seated trauma. And yet, you know that you’ve never loved like you love Law. And you know it’s a feeling that will only continue to expand and grow.

But the words remain imprisoned.

-*-

The cake has been cut, the bouquet tossed and the remainder of the night seems to have cooled off all of Doffy’s and Ichiji’s attempts to disrupt your newfound peace. Just another hour or two before you and Law can retire to your room, and then this whole nightmare will be over.

So the dream can finally begin.

It might be silly, since you’re still at the beginning of the relationship, but perhaps because of the romantic vibe of the wedding, you can’t help but think about what your next steps will be. You’ll date, obviously, because you never properly did that; you’ll spend a lot of time together; and then… maybe you can think about living together. Give ‘domestic’ another chance.

You and Law at at the table, resting your feet after standing in heels all day and he’s in the middle of promising you a very long massage once you’re back in your room. His lips hover over your ear as his fingers trace your thigh with a feather-light touch.

“I’m very good with anatomy, you know. I’m a doctor.” He teases, and you giggle, your eyes fixed on his. “I’ll start with your feet - I’m familiar with a lot of acupuncture pressure points, and some of them might bring you interesting sensations - then I’ll climb to your calves, knees…” His fingers trail up your thigh, his gaze mischievous. “Thigh… inner thigh…”

“And…?” You ask, breathless.

Law kisses your face, then your jawline as you turn, letting him catch your lips in a tender kiss. “And I can’t disclose the rest of my plan. I’ll keep it a surprise. I want to hear every little startled gasp that leaves your lips.”

A small chuckle makes your chest tremble. “You tease.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Baby 5 and Sai approaching. They’ve been making rounds to all tables, thanking guests for coming and bestowing little gifts to them as a thank you. Law notices her approaching too, and he leans back slightly, his hand leaving your thigh and with it an empty feeling.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“Dear cousin!” Baby 5 smiles as Sai holds out a wicker basket of small gifts. “Oh, honey, there aren’t any more of those little whiskey bottles. Could you grab more?” She bats her lashes, and Sai complies, leaving her to engage in small talk with you and Law while he retrieves the gift. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

She actually seems like she’s glowing from all the happiness. You nod excitedly while Law teases her, saying he’s attended better weddings. They banter a little, and you find yourself relaxing some more, hoping the night continues without any more hiccups.

Except, as usual, things don’t go according to plan.

“Oh, I had no idea your girlfriend knew Sai’s groomsman, Ichiji! It all turned out perfectly after all, right?” She says your name and smiles. A pinch of dread twists in your stomach as she turns to the side and waves someone over. It’s Ichiji.

You and Law immediately straighten up in your seats, your relaxed state long forgotten. His arm settles on the back of your chair protectively.

“Ichiji, hi! I was just commenting on how remarkable it is that you two already knew each other. Doesn’t it make things easier?” Ichiji’s smirk reveals his canines, almost as if he’s a predator locking onto his prey, his intense gaze never leaving you.

“Indeed. So remarkable. You know, Baby 5, we go waaaay back.” Ichiji’s stance speaks of provocation, and Law straightens further, his arm brushing your shoulders as you clutch your drink tighter, your jaw locking and legs bouncing restlessly. “Don’t we, Doll?”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t look back at him, but Baby 5 doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort.

“Oh, how fun! You two must have some great stories to share, no? How’d you two meet?” Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you just will this moment to come to an end. Perhaps if you pray hard enough, Sai will come back with the gifts, and the bride and groom can go on their merry way.

Even without looking, you can feel Ichiji’s smugness as he slowly sips his drink. “We met in college. Those days were wild… the stories we could tell…”

“I don’t think anybody wants to listen to that, Vinsmoke.” Law’s voice cuts as sharp as a knife, though he has perfect control over its tone.

“Oh, come on, Trafalgar. I’m sure she didn’t share everything. Isn’t there anything you want to know about her wild days in college?” Memories come rushing back, and most of them are painful and demeaning. It seems that, even if there were some good moments at the start of your relationship with Ichiji, they were all drowned when he tainted everything with his manipulation and cruelty.

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, and Law’s hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blade. “She told me all I need to know. Even if she didn’t, there’s nothing you can say that will interest me.” Law’s words are delivered with more calm and ice than you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s also an undercurrent of danger pulsating beneath. His protective instincts are kicking in, and you can sense him itching to act on it.

Baby 5 keeps smiling, though it seems a little strained now that she senses some sort of tension between the three of you. “Wait… I don’t understand. Were you two…?” She trails off, her eyes darting from Ichiji’s smug look to Law’s protective stance, then to your cowering form. Her brows raise in slow realisation and Ichiji interjects.

“Yes. We were in love, once. Engaged to be married, even. Small world, indeed, isn’t that right, Doll?”

You squirm in your seat, and Baby 5’s expression shifts to horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze keeps darting between Law and yours. “I didn’t know! I never meant to make things awkward!” She laces her arm through Ichiji’s trying to drag him away from the scene, but he doesn’t budge.

“What do you mean, awkward? Not at all! We were just planning our future together, laying the foundations for our dream life. We were even discussing kids, right?” You can’t help it, your gaze falls back on his as all the colour drains from your face. How dare he?

You can barely breathe. The air is stifling, the heat overwhelming and the memories don’t stop. The word ‘Doll’ resounds in your head over and over as do his lies and manipulations. The clenching of your chest at how he made you feel, the powerlessness you had and all the power he held over you.

It’s too much.

All colours start to blur together, the room spins as you try to catch your breath, anxiety kicking in. In a second Law is up on his feet, pulling you up by the hand and supporting your weight against him.

He pins Ichiji in his cold gaze and practically snarls, his control slipping. “I warned you to stay the fuck away, Vinsmoke.”

Baby 5 looks mortified, she keeps trying to pull Ichiji but Law is already ushering you away from the table since you seem unable to do much more than stand. “Ichiji, let’s go, please. I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, Baby 5. Don’t worry, we were just reminiscing about the good times. No harm, no foul, right, Doll? I mean… she was mine first.” Your chest keeps tightening as the room becomes smaller, constricting, suffocating. Bringing your hand to your neck you try to claw for air.

Before leaving, Law’s towering frame seems to engulf Ichiji’s. In his gaze there’s an unspoken warning as he delivers his words with a calmness you would never be able to achieve. “You’re done here, Vinsmoke, but I am not done with you yet.”

The warning lingers in the air as Law steadies you, his hand on your waist, and leads you away from the table, away from Baby 5, away from Ichiji, and away from all the painful memories.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Focus on me.”

But you can’t. The room is spinning out of control, and Ichiji’s manic laugh is all you can seem to focus on. His words, his empty promises, his threats, and fake concern. It’s a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts, and you don’t know how to get out.

You can feel yourself fighting for air, gasping because nothing seems to fill up your lungs. And suddenly you’re swaying in Law’s arms. He’s taken you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as his arms ground you.

“You’re safe. I’m here. He’s gone.” His hand presses against the back of your head, pulling you to his chest so you can follow the beat of his own heart and try to steady your own. Slowly, you start to hear the soft music over Ichiji’s laughter. Law’s voice pulls you out, keeping you centred. “He’ll never touch you again. You were never his.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly feel yourself gaining ground. Your lungs are functioning again, and your heart beat is steadying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the tremble in your hands, though, so you just clutch Law’s jacket as tightly as you can, burying your face in him and inhaling his soothing scent, again and again.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re such a mess. You’ve already lost count of how many times Law has had to bring you down from your panic. It’s a full-time job for him now, and you feel the need to say you’re sorry. Would he still want you if he knew how badly damaged you were? You might be in too deep now, but there’s always time for him to regret his decision.

You sniffle, and a whimper leaves your lips. Law keeps swaying you.

“How about a little distraction, hm?” Ever the attentive man, Law senses that words alone won’t stabilise you. “Let’s play a game, sweetheart, okay?” He tilts your chin so you’ll have to focus on his eyes.

“Game?” How foreign your voice sounds. Shaky, weak, trembling and fragile.

“Yeah.” He smiles gently, placing a small peck on your nose, trying to coax a smile from your lips. You try to focus, the bad memories slowly slipping away. “I bet I can make you smile before the song ends.”

It’s such a silly notion that it manages to shake you back to your senses, though the trembling still hasn’t subsided. “Make me smile?”

“Sure. If I manage to make you smile three times before we end our dance, I win.”

Your brows furrow in concentration. “And what happens if you win?”

“Bragging rights.” You twitch the corner of your lip but it’s not quite a smile, so he continues. “Fine. You’ll have to admit that you like me way more than you let on.”

Yeah, you do. So much more.

The first smile fully curves your lips upwards as you let out a breathy laugh, and Law’s posture loses some of its stiffness. “That’s one.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Some of the tension begins to dissipate, and the weight pressing on your chest feels lighter. Your fingers are no longer clutching Law’s jacket for dear life. “Fair enough. What if I win?”

“Hmmm…” Law looks up, seemingly thinking of something to make you laugh again. Then a mischievous smirk fills his lips, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I’ll let you be on top.”

Your breath hitches, and even when you try to fight it, a laugh escapes your lips as a flush fills your cheeks.

“Two.” Law pulls you closer, the intensity in his gaze returning. He sways you some more before kissing the top of your head and voicing his thoughts, “I’m not going to let him near you again, sweetheart. I’m sorry he ever did.”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach finally start to unravel. Law’s soothing words manage, once again, to ground you and to make you feel appreciated. The burning in your eyes and the tears that threatened to spill recede, and you feel more at ease.

“I trust you, Law.”

Law smiles, and the music begins to fade in the background. “One more?” He playfully asks, and as you’re about to retort that he’s out of time, he dips you, suddenly and too low. A squeak leaves your lips at the surprise, followed by a heartfelt laugh. When you look into his eyes, he’s grinning. “Three.”

“You’re ridiculous, Law.” You chuckle as he pulls you upright. He looks utterly pleased with himself, smug and cocky.

“Maybe, but I won.” The song has ended, but you’re still wrapped up in his arms.

“You did.” A sigh leaves your lips. “Thank you.”

“So you’re feeling better?” His thumb caresses your cheek, his lips inches from yours. You hum in agreement to his question. “Good. My reward?”

You flush deeply, lost in the amber of his eyes. Your stomach twists and coils, and your heart thrums faster than ever. But it’s not an overwhelming, disturbing feeling. It’s freeing, uplifting, and so damn satisfying.

“I love you, Law.” The words seem weightless, a whisper that carries all of your emotion. Law receives them with a soft smile, his eyes shining brightly as he leans even closer, breaths mingling, making your lips tingle, anticipating his kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

|Chapter 16|

#reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #reader x law #you x law #reader insert #the meet cute #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d water law

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tieflingfingers · 4 months ago

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What and who: Astarion tries his first attempt at close quarters. Thomasin isn't happy about it. Summary: Thomasin awakes to find a silhouette hovering over her. Between blades, blood, and bickering, Astarion tries to find a way to feed himself without breaking the mild trust they have. Warning/Content: Re-write of first bite scene, character lore, and Astarion character study. Adjacent to horror/angst/humor/the seed planting of fluff. Vague mentions of abuse/trauma. Part of campaign remix, but can also be read as one-off. Word Count: 4,925 Ao3 Link

In the depths of the Dales, where agriculture and pillagers roamed free, lived a forbidden courtship. Proof of peace and harmony sprout from its bud. It was the birth of a child. One whose cheeks were pink and supple like her human mother. Like her mother before her and those before them. Skin stained shades of raspberry as though she, too, was grown from the same acre of land. Soil rich enough to build a lineage of women feminine yet sturdy.

Paternal instincts didn’t come naturally to the infant’s father, but not out of his own volition. He was a drow softer than the Underdark would foster. Intimacy was prohibited. The gentle touch of sun-warmed flesh even more so. Only a handful of meetings left a legacy he’d never know. A daughter bathing in light not afforded to him whilst he was swept back underground.

But, living on farmland proved rich with experience. The child braided ribbons into her hair to keep strands out of her eyes while tending crops. Hours under the sun left imprints on her skin that mirrored her mother. Skin decorated by a labor of love. Speckled and peachy against silver tints.

"There’s so much to see in every plane, Thomasin,” her mother interjected between lullabies.

Perhaps her parents were both stricken by their own nagging wanderlust. Thomasin heard countless stories of travels beyond her young comprehension. Stories of a drow that defied Lolth. Not by mighty bloodshed, but a gentle demeanor. The defiance of a man wanting nothing more than freedom. Details that were mulled over so often, he began to feel more like a fairytale. His character evolved with the human’s fallible memory.

Some evenings, the drow was heroic against his raiding caravan. Other times, he simply was a man whose fingers ached for acceptance. All of it, all of him, muddled together, fed Thomasin like breadcrumbs. They were memories she could cling to, even if he existed only through anecdotes and physical letters left behind. He was folklore.

Lifetimes away from her original roots, Thomasin became the conduit of their dreams. She’d witness the vastness of their plane. Places where adventures never ended. But, her mother never truly warned of life’s woes. How merciless it could be, even when fruitful.

Thomasin spent the evening concocting medicinal magic. They were common procedural spells that ward off inflammation and voided the need of stitches. As content as her new companions were, it wore the half-elf down, and so she retired to her tent earlier than the others.

It wasn’t long until she was tucked away underneath a makeshift blanket. Sleep hadn’t always come naturally, so she took advantage of exhaustion. Her dark hair sprawled around her head like a halo, strands entwined and unfurled from restless slumber. But, no matter how hard she tried, her mind remained partially tuned in to life outside her tent.

Thankfully, it was nothing more than banter around a campfire. They rejoiced in comradery fueled by dinner whose foundation was primarily red wine. It eased tension. Let their playful jabs and jokes wash off their backs. This possibility of protection comforted the half-elf a bit.

So, Thomasin remained in her nest. At forty-five years of age, she figured fatigue stemmed from her human half. The same that made her frame worn yet strong. Travel brought city inclines, grassy hills, and crouching through thistle in the name of foraging. But, no matter how much she pushed herself, she was constantly decorated.

Easy on the eyes. It was a habit, more than anything. A default state of being.

Curated fashions were collected over years. Gifted, stolen, sewn, swapped, and saved. Pigments made cheeks looked pinched and sparkles smeared over scars from unfortunate scraps. Her hips were wide when seasonal harvests were plentiful. Her posture bordered between straight and feminine. It was as though every aspect of her persona had been created from decades of standing in front of a mirror.

Starting this new journey, as involuntary as it may be, she was thankful for what piece of home she carried. The belongings of an abandoned home still packed in her bag after getting abducted by mind flayers. Scarves made of fine stolen silk, whose weave snagged. Books with split bindings lovingly re-bound by bundling pages until whole once more. Their contents ranged from fictional anthologies to sappy romance to guides of edible flora.

Residing next to potions, bottled perfumes soaked into cork tops. Her violin slept in the corner. Its body had been as plucked, popped, and rewound as hers. Simple blessings.

Eventually, noises dwindled. Those outside finally laid to sleep. The forest began to rustle louder, as though it had been waiting for their commotion to cease. To be able to exist in its most natural state. It harmonized. Branches creaked and native berries were plucked by gusts of wind. Whenever the unknown awoke Thomasin, she reminded herself of her mother’s saying.

“We are a guest to nature. The nocturnal world has always lived with us, just as the light does."

What she lacked to consider, was the nocturnal entering her den.

Cast shadows were almost tactile in their density, hovering atop her skin. An ever faint sensation. One that resurfaced her hypervigilance born from syndicates. And, for a split second, she caught a glimpse of the greyed silhouette above.

Dread set in.

Before her was a tale as old as time.

Domineering men proving she was just consumable company.

There was no hesitation in her reflexes. No need to identify who it was. No time. Words fled from her lips in rapid succession. The spell, readily accessible, flowed from an unnatural tongue. It was a series of broken common, deep, and high drow. Unintelligible horrific statements. The whispers trickled in a river of flowing smoke, its blue haze snaking its way into the figure’s skull.

As the weave infiltrated their thoughts, it illuminated streams that spilled down the planes of their face. Down their cheeks like painful tears and pouring from an agape mouth as though squeezing the last remnants of a well’s ground reserves.

In a full blown panic, the figure gasped. Thomasin wouldn’t prolong the forced terror, but she knew even a single second of torment felt like hours. The pressure entangled within her foe’s temples and dragged its ephemeral claws around an already battered brain.

Out into the moonlight, Astarion stumbled from the mouth of her tent. He had flung himself backward, landing square on his palms. He stared back at Thomasin, but it was apparent he was still recovering from the sudden retaliation. He appeared disillusioned. Frightened in a way that made her uncomfortable.

Thomasin scuttled to the entrance with ragged breath. A small dagger embedded so deep within her fist, her knuckles grew white and sharp. Although her blade had become a beacon of last resort rather than an eager desire. Chips and wear along its metal mumbled its victims, but that couldn’t defy the obvious shaking of her hands and the memories of every time she’d fallen victim, herself.

In the darkness, the light from her cryptic illusions mellowed until both elves peered at one another in shades of livid grey. Before her, Astarion was shivering in place. Jaw slackened and back hunched. He knew he had to simply endure. Magical cruelty was unyielding, but the clutches of the Weave always dissolved before he did.

Thomasin recognized her chance to approach. Survey the feigning of undeath she figured he existed within. His humanity, stunted. Stagnant. She peeked her head out further like a writhing animal curious about a writhing beast. As though her quills plunging him into fright was an act of wry mercy.

Astarion’s knuckles appeared speckled in shades of bruised plum. Its fruit’s tender exterior tumbled, prodded, and thudded against the dirt before truly ripening. His heavy breath revealed the sheer discomfort his posture took to maintain. It was as though his frame ached under the weight of its growing hunger. They were wordless pleas of pangs. Pains of a pallid complexion.

Eventually, Astarion melted into his body once more. Pupils no longer dilated and dissociative. No longer forlorn. As his fingers eased from their strained grip into the grass, his gaze flicked back up to hers. It reeked of exhausted predation.

“Gods—shit,” he muttered. “It’s not–”

Thomasin’s intuition begged for civility. Her history beckoned her to protect herself through any means necessary. It boiled to a froth from her gut. Words clamored to be free, vitriolic in her throat. Syllables bashed against her teeth. But, she ground them down until the unbridled anger condensed into something meek. Uncharacteristically so.

“Astarion- Please. You promised,” Thomasin whispered.

His eyes trailed down to the dagger she still held tight.

“You don’t have to use that. Blades among friends is never the answer, honestly” His voice cracked. “An old-hat solution. Passé, even.”

“I-” She looked around the camp with bleary eyes. It was still. Oblivious in each tent’s drunken slumber. “Is this from all that dessert wine you found? Fucking hells- you have ten seconds to plead before I wake the others.”

“Ten seconds?” The elf swallowed his distress, struggling to smooth its ridges with his usual temperament. “Going back on a promise? I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I’m not some kind of- oh, I don’t know.” His hand twisted about in the air in search of answers. “A ne’er-do-well? I thought we were better acquainted than that.”

His lilt was slithering back into his grasp. He even let out a light titter.

“Thomasin. Darling. You’re beautiful, but I am no ill-intentioned monster.

Astarion shifted to tend to the impact upon his wrists, wringing his hands around sore joints. Thomasin watched him repress every line of dialogue that would fail to placate her. But, there was overcompensation in his eyes. After their tumultuous days, little strength was left to press down the fatigue he forcibly polished like an ever rotating stone wheel. He was stuck with the excess. Nothing but powdered iron and rust.

The elf’s ears drooped at the unnerving silence between them. He caught her hesitance. But, even her reluctance to strike couldn’t mask the sheer adrenaline coursing through her. And before he knew it, Astarion found himself pulled by his linen shirt collar.

His back slammed against crackling wicker. It was the mat flooring of her tent. Wavering between fragility and disorientation, he found himself straddled and pinned by the half-elf’s knees. One restrained his forearm whilst the other dug into his open palm. His fingers curled under the crushing weight.

“Absolute bitch- I need that!” Astarion hushed himself, but not before hissing through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Next was the fine point of a dagger nestled between his jawline and jugular. Any quick movements would prove deadly to Astarion, if he wasn’t careful, but the act of unrelenting threat grew muddled. It wasn’t her voice that faltered. Nor her commitment. It was the droplets that hit the elf’s face under her. Gravity pulling what laid along her lashline with little consent.

“What were you thinking? Sneaking up on me? Inside my tent? I wanted to consider you more than some… tawdry dandy… The lack of tact. I’m not afraid to end you where you lay, you know. Those weren’t falsehoods I spoke of.”

“Wait- There are few things I have a difficult time wording,” Astarion uttered. “Nothing awful, terrible, of course. I wouldn’t dare ruin the company we keep. Sometimes actions are more via–”

The microscopic tilt of Thomasin’s hand shoved the blade deeper against his neck, cutting shallow within the flesh. She was terrified, but couldn’t allow herself to voice it. Every word of his tasted like milk and honey. If only there weren’t gall in his heart and fraud in his deeds.

Astarion gasped and pulled his shoulders upward as though he could make distance between them. “Ah! Easy there. No need to spur a horse going full speed. Listen-”

A huff jut from his nostrils. His eyes closed to shield himself from the consequences. Each sentence raced behind the next, detailing the confession that finally caught up with him. The reason for his comeuppance.

“You remember that ghastly sight we saw on our walk earlier? That hog . You remember the one, yes? The one with those curious little wounds on his neck.” A weak laugh fluttered out, making the wound sting more. “Exsanguinated. Perhaps… the stories of creatures going bump in the night aren’t entirely as they seem. That-Perhaps… Perhaps! Just maybe, vampire spawn live amongst you just as your peers.”

Astarion opened his eyes to witness her reaction, although it was not as extravagant as he expected. It was quiet contemplation wracked with desires. For mercy. Possible bloodshed to solve it all.

After years of prowling, he was left to his own devices. No masters or gods to tell the elf what to do or how to act. No higher powers to blame. No scripts for the circumstance. No one to pick up the pieces.

“I could have guessed as much,” she finally spoke up. “You lack subtlety, I fear.”

“Look. I won’t be saccharine about all of this. I am not in this state of being out of choice . I-There are powerful people in Baldur’s Gate, you know this. Cazador resides in the high mansions of the city, maintaining his control through slavery. I was only lucky to be plucked from his clutches.”

The muscles in his face struggled to maintain a calm. His dignity, visibly pained.

She paused, recognizing the name from word of mouth. The rare occasions she associated with the upper echelon, where her escorting brought forth gifts of fresh seafood, fresher furs, and the freshest hearsay. She was suddenly grateful she’d never accepted invitations to the grand castle in the sky.

“Do you survive off animals?” she asked.

“Typically, yes. I’ve existed under strict rules for as long as I’ve been riddled with this disease.”

He averted his eyes and recalled the list of his master:

“‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.

Four, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’”

Astarion’s glanced and lit up at the sight of her expression softening.

“Though… quenching my thirst has proven difficult out here, “ he continued. “Every day I grow weaker. It gets more and more difficult to fight beside you all and hide such ailments. Aha… Color me… desperate.” The admission was bitter to taste.

Thomasin unsheathed the blade’s tip and pressed her thumb against Astarion’s wound. The gentle touch did not heal, but rather pondered over the damage. It was a souvenir of who she once was.

Astarion didn’t let his guard down further. He couldn’t. She had no reason to spare him the quickened death of a dagger through his chest. The obvious answer was self-preservation. Yet, she was suddenly tender, despite her weight heavy atop him. He let out a weak laugh. The reality was, he was still alive.

“Vampirism seems to have an odd relationship to the city streets,” Thomasin said. “I came across your kind every so often, but rarely did we speak. I imagine murdering the harlots would put a damper on your ability to blend into flophouses…” She grabbed his jaw, turning his face to assess the gnarled scar on his neck. The trauma of a blistering bite. Under it was an elf he once was. “I suppose part of me wanted to encourage whatever humanity is left inside you.”

“I… Well…” he mumbled, uncertain the comments called for offense or flattery.

“...Did you want to feed off me?”

He inhaled sharp, nodding his head in her clutches. “Yes! Yes, I would, very much so. Not a drop more than you are willing, of course .”

“Will… I turn?”

“No, I am merely a spawn. Transforming you into some thrall isn’t in my… vampiric wheelhouse.”

Thomsin felt coziness in the unconventional path. Dangers were plentiful and often more perilous than the man sitting before her. What was more indulgent than snake oil? The grey morals that provide true, unfiltered respite. The enticement of taboo relief. A thought that would later morph into regret if she didn’t take the chance. She yearned to finally relax. To finally feel something. Or nothing. Anything.

Although she’d never admit it to herself.

After short deliberation, the half-elf freed Astarion and positioned herself beside him. A shaking hand tucked her weapon back into its sheath. Her knees pulled into her chest. And, as she was about to consent, a noise escaped her throat. A whimper. Biology voicing its disapproval.

“Ah-What should I do?” she whispered.

“Just… let me take the lead. You sit pretty.”

Astarion sat up and gathered what energy he had left. He groaned and articulated his fingers, instructing his limbs to cooperate once more. Gradually, he oriented himself behind her with a slow stalking grace and encouraged her shoulders to rest against his chest.

It was as though a spark livened him. Not a sensation of excitement from pocketing coins or fulfilling lewd fantasies. This felt different. The vampire never had the luxury of an artery so willing and gifted. Wrapped in a bow, so to speak. Yet, he had an epiphany.

Every fiber of his being had subconsciously prepared itself for another death. His master professed this fate. He could already hear the joyous cackling Cazador would make upon finding his withering starved body in the forest. It was everything he promised upon escape.

Even if he wished to disobey, Astarion had never fed upon a victim nor been taught to. Rodents' bodies were compact, whereas living speaking anatomy had nuance. In fact, he’d only witnessed feasts from a distance with palpable envy. One could recall wounds, but where would be best to bite? How could he ensure she was preserved, leeching life without the inevitable corpse on his hands?

Astarion proceeded to mimic those dining in the halls of his home. The decorum was different, but that wouldn’t matter. The elf proceeded to wrap an arm around her waist for support and gently brushed aside long strands of hair. They ran down her clavicle like a cascading curtain, revealing her neck.

"How much will it hurt?" she asked.

Seconds went by. No answer. He was enamored by the mere concept of a meal. Stone still, ferality awoke within his brain, although he eventually snapped back into reality. He felt like a starving animal careening toward rats for sustenance. He was.

"It's only a pinch. A nick. Just…” His words trailed off, voice low and heavy. “Just relax yourself against me. I'll keep you steady.”

"What if you go on a count? I breathe in and out a few times?”

“Sure- Yes. Let us count.”

There was impatience in his tone being strangled. The elf was fueled by tunnel vision. Unshackled hedonism. Still, he played along.

“One.”

“Two.”

And not a syllable more.

Thomasin’s flesh being punctured felt like the hissing of an unkempt fire. Dried kindling snapping and sparking against moisture in the air. She yelped. The wound in her neck pulsated in a way she'd never experienced, uncomfortable and siphoned. Excitement of the unknown had all but culminated into panic.

But, if there was one about the half-elf, it was that she was stubborn. Her nails dug into his shirt, pawing at the linens for his cold embrace. They searched for any semblance of safety. Through creases and cuffed folds, they landed at his wrist and etched a codex into his skin.

Astarion's body began to writhe against her in pure intoxication. With his hand guiding her head, he rose to a kneeling position, fulling taking control of the dance macabre. The footwork proved messy, but style was far from his mind. Never had the finer tastes in life been so abundant. Every sense was sharpening. Every emotion, ecstatic.

The elf’s eyes had nearly glazed over until a pain brought him back. It was Thomasin’s nails. He realized her composure was crumbling.

"Keep counting, love,” he managed through a tongue coated in the blackened blood pooling at his lips.

Diving back into her neck once more, Thomasin finally let go. The pain that once seized her neutralized. What now resided was a bloodless calm. Their hearts raced at uneven beats, momentarily syncing until they passed one another. Hers slowing whilst his engorged with borrowed life. He ventured into an aggravated fervor at the expense of a bard’s descent into the dirt. The oozing ebb and flow of building delirium. An amalgamation of every misstep and the bottles of whiskey that couldn’t quite wrap them in creature comforts.

She did as she was told and crept into a languid submission, head rolling any way his body contorted hers.

Back to counting.

Two. Three. Four.

The numbers coinciding felt more like concepts than measurements.

Five. Six. Seven.

Internal dialogues began to devolve. Abstraction. It washed over her. Abrupt and startling like tumbling into a cold lake. Although its cool waters rejuvenated where her soil never knew rain. Repose began to blossom.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Thomasin clutched onto him as a safety net. She ran her fingers along his shirt. They trailed over every stitch, discovering mending he’d sewn by hand. Bumps and valleys.

By now, the sounds of his neglected appetite were fading into the ether. Numbers had lost meaning and she had to find new ways to remain grounded. First, it was the threads. Then, the slowing repetition of her heartbeat. They were the last ways of documenting how unsubstantial seconds passed by.

Time was trivial in the face of the physical.

Sensations lured her forward with warm euphoric dreams and brighter visions of the past. For a moment, she couldn’t identify the emotion heavy in her chest. Whether they were death’s temptation. But it wasn’t long before she realized they weren’t all acidic.

They were shades of colored wax she used to liven monochromatic children’s books. They were the light noise of tin cans tickling your ears as they clinked down cobblestone walkways. The mythical society of dust particles floating indefinitely against a window’s evening light. The stray fuzzy knits of her favorite sweater and the lingering scent of perfume from hugging close friends.

They were the protective glow from oil street lamps guiding her way home. The giggling and tingles of bubbles popping from steins of beer. Fogged mirrors from steaming rooms with a hot bath and the way sounds muffled when sunken into a wooden tub. Stories told under the covers, fairytales to romantic confessions, until everyone fell asleep to dwindling candlelight.

These all lived in a hypothetical mist that rolled in. More of a fog, like those she experienced during her childhood winters in the Dales. How she’d begun the exchange with Astarion was unimportant. Details melted into something viscous. Consumed how the two had even met.

Her fingers were still moving as far as she could understand. The atmosphere felt heavy against their journey, but they operated as their own entities. Their coordination, unsteady, persisted out of habit. The stripped down basics.

Repetitive motion. Color. Air. Pressure. Darkness. Enveloping darkness.

“Stop,” she mumbled. “Please.” Words seemed warped from her lips, unsure she had even spoken them aloud. They felt incorporeal.

Hunched over her, Astarion was coursing with vitality he’d didn’t know how to tolerate. His fangs were hooked and mania was the only voice in his head. It wasn’t until he noticed her shallow gasps of air in his arms. How her muscles no longer fought against him. The desire to simply finish her screamed at him, but he found the strength to pull himself off.

The elf’s grin framed his pointed teeth in their glory. He chuckled in his daze, unsure if her pathetic grasp for life were to be laughed at or pitied. She was food. An object. For once, he didn’t share that feeling.

Astarion scoot back to let her head rest in his lap so he could revel in his dinner. Although, his fantasies couldn’t help be bombarded with the reality of her death on his hands. It all conflicted. Anxieties had been buffered by his bloodied delectation.

He slapped her cheek twice, printing her blood against her flesh in a hasty spattering.

"C'mon. You haven’t lost that much.”

To no avail, the elf snapped his fingers over her shut eyes. He jostled her side to side. Pressed his hand against her neck, hoping to calm the flow unleashed. Soon, he noticed thin ribbons of red staining both of their clothes and caught himself staring at the blood wet between his fingers.

“Wake. Up. Don’t make me start asking gods for favors.”

Despite a faint pulsing thump against his hand, her responses were absent. Even looking at her made him uneasy. He wondered if holding his gaze for too long would unlock parallels between him and this random young woman. A thought that would anger him if not for being appeased by his leeching.

Suddenly, he considered her backpack and yanked it to his side, digging around for anything of use. He needed to stop the escalation. A potion. A salve. A deity with a worrying sense of humor.

Within, a diamond shaped bottle glittered. One he recognized. It was commonly consumed among mortals for hangovers, bar fights, or the lucky escape from an owlbear. The concoction healed minor injuries and illnesses in a foul swoop. Thomasin’s sickness was more dire than half a bottle, but it was still a victory to toast to.

Astarion tucked a pillow between his thigh and her head to create elevation. And, with a gentle tug by the pad of his thumb, he lowered her bottom lip. Its glittering elixir slowly but surely ran down her throat.

“Aha, wonderful. There you go. Watch your pretty little head.”

It took a minute or so, but Thomasin’s eyes finally flickered open. She had been unceremoniously thrown back into the realm of the living, where she lay in a veil of crimson strewn across her face. The land smelled of iron much richer than she remembered. But, her comprehension of her surroundings faltered.

“Do you know how irritating these stains are going to be to get out?” Astarion said, taunting her, egging her on to get a reaction.

Thomasin’s body suddenly flinched. A ragged titter. The half-elf was at least somewhat responsive.

“Wasn’t it wonderful though?,” she whispered, nearly inaudible.

Astarion’s ears perked up. Crisis had been averted. He was prompt to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the remaining evidence of bloodletting. With fresh water from her canteen, he soaked the fabric swatch and grazed it over her shoulders, chest, and neck. It wiped away what streamed down her arms. What dripped down her back. A courtesy of aftercare, wringing the tainted water into a bowl between each cleaning.

Once she acknowledged she, too, was alive, she resigned herself to slumber. His touch was oddly gentle. Comforting. The mindless task allowed him to think clearly for the first in centuries. Although he was unsure what to do with said thoughts. Knowing what he was feeling had become impossible over the years. Trusting them, even more so.

The longer he studied her face, the more he considered it helped repress the urge to kill. It forced him to humanize his prey. A concept he wasn’t privy to. A new novelty.

The elf ran his hand along her cheeks and admired her freckles through backhanded compliments not spoken aloud. He traced along the thick scar across her nose, pressing into the curl of her lashes to reveal her blinded eye, and conjured stories of how it came to be. Then, his trail took him up. The space where her fringe often fell and covered her forehead.

Right atop her brow, a tattoo had been intentionally hidden. The pattern consisted of four shapes laid in a row, overlapping one another in mashed thieves cant. Its black ink had faded. Damage that could only come from years of sun and forcible scrubbing.

“Everyone in Baldur’s Gate is owned by someone,” he mumbled, twisting his head every which way to decipher the tattoo’s meaning.

Eventually, he grew bored of solving her mysteries and situated himself in the corner of her tent. From the sullied water bowl, he wiped his own face with a dampened cloth, sneaking self-indulgent licks of what was left on his forearms. Only then did he notice he was shaking.

But the only person that could judge him was comatose. Her chest gently rose and fell with each rickety breath, but she would awake in the morning. For now, he'd keep an eye on her. What if she choked in her sleep? Stopped breathing altogether? He would be blamed.

It wasn’t difficult to busy himself in the confines of her tent. He was used to much more unwelcoming atmospheres where dangers lurked. Threats much more vile than him.

As he rid of incriminating stains, the water bowl grew dark and rich. What the elf had cobbled together was a fine wine of his own. Stealing an empty glass bottle, he began to store the liquid away for a rainy day. A treat for later.

Even engulfed in his usual unease, he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe it was amusement. Maybe fatigue like before. Disbelief, even.

One thing was certain.

By the gods, he was rightfully fed.

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