#the only thing i regret is not starting voice training years ago

[clarii]

Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’

Summary: A year ago, Eddie Munson made a mistake he’s regretted ever since. When you walk into the video store where he works with Robin and Steve, old wounds resurface, and Eddie’s left grappling with the past. It doesn’t take long for Steve, Robin, and the kids to notice—and they decide to take matters into their own hands to fix things.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Author’s note: Good morning guys, I felt like Tumblr was lacking on some good old angst and fluff stories of him without any smut. This one is kinda long.

Eddie Munson’s job at Family Video wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady. After everything with the Upside Down, normalcy was a welcome relief. The place was rarely busy, which left plenty of time for him, Steve, and Robin to mess around behind the counter and argue over who was more tolerable to customers.

“Come on, Stevie,” Eddie said one slow Thursday afternoon, lazily spinning a VHS tape between his fingers. “Don’t act like you don’t love when middle-aged moms ask you to recommend a rom-com.”

“Better than you scaring them off with your metalhead charm,” Steve shot back.

Robin snorted from the counter. “Please, you’re both terrible. I’m the only one holding this place together.”

The three of them fell into easy banter, their laughter echoing through the empty store. Eddie had just started recounting a ridiculous D&D campaign he’d run when the bell above the door jingled.

“Welcome to Family Video!” Robin chirped without looking up from her inventory list.

Eddie, however, froze. His voice caught in his throat, his grip tightening on the tape in his hands. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was you. He’d recognize your presence anywhere.

A year. It had been a whole year since the last time he’d seen you—since the night he’d screwed everything up.

You didn’t even glance his way as you walked toward the shelves, your focus entirely on the rows of tapes. Your hair, your stance, the way you moved—it all hit him like a freight train, dragging memories to the surface that he’d tried so hard to bury.

“Uh, Eddie?” Steve nudged him, eyebrows raised. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled, though his voice was tight. He forced himself to turn away, but he couldn’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

When you finally approached the counter with your rental, you placed it down without a word.

Robin, picking up on the tension, stepped forward to help. “Oh, this one’s good! Classic rom-com—”

“Just the tape, please,” you said curtly, cutting her off. Your voice wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t warm, either.

Eddie didn’t dare speak. He kept his hands busy with the register, avoiding eye contact. When you paid and took your receipt, you turned on your heel and left without so much as a glance back.

The bell jingled again as the door closed behind you.

Eddie’s eyes, however, stayed fixed on the door long after you were gone.

It didn’t take long for Steve and Robin to notice.

“Okay, spill,” Robin said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “What was that?”

“Yeah, dude,” Steve added. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel their eyes boring into him, and he knew there was no getting out of this.

“That was her,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Her who?” Robin asked.

“The girl,” Eddie clarified. “The one I told you about. The one I…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

“The one you majorly screwed over last year?” Robin guessed, her eyebrows shooting up.

Eddie winced. “Yeah, that one.”

Steve and Robin exchanged a look, and Eddie groaned.

“Don’t start, okay? I already know I’m an idiot. I’ve known for a year.”

Robin leaned forward, her expression curious. “Okay, but what exactly happened? You’ve never given us the full story.”

Eddie hesitated. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but he knew they weren’t going to let it go.

“She and I were… close,” he admitted. “Really close. She came to Hellfire sometimes, we’d hang out after school—she even helped me set up a few campaigns. But then, right before graduation, I panicked.”

“Panicked about what?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“About her,” Eddie said, his voice bitter. “She was everything I wasn’t. Smart, grounded, going places. And me? I was just the town freak. I thought if I pushed her away, it’d be easier for both of us. So I said some… things.”

Robin frowned. “Like what?”

“Like how I didn’t care about her the way she thought I did,” Eddie said quietly. “That she deserved better than some loser like me. It wasn’t true, but… I said it anyway.”

“Dude,” Steve muttered, shaking his head.

Eddie shrugged helplessly. “I thought I was doing the right thing, okay? But I messed everything up. She hasn’t spoken to me since, and I don’t blame her.”

Robin and Steve shared a look that could only be described as scheming.

“You know,” Robin said slowly, “this feels like the kind of thing we could fix.”

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. “I mean, it’s basically a rom-com setup. Guy screws up, realizes he’s an idiot, wins girl back with grand gesture.”

Eddie groaned. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I don’t need you two meddling in my love life.”

“Too late,” Robin said with a grin. “Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’ is officially a go.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the gang to get involved.

When Dustin heard the story, he was immediately on board. “Eddie, you idiot,” he said, smacking him on the shoulder. “You’ve been pining over her for a year and didn’t tell me? I could’ve fixed this ages ago!”

“I don’t need fixing,” Eddie muttered.

“Clearly, you do,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

Even Lucas, Mike, and Will had ideas, though most of them were wildly impractical. (“Write her a song,” Mike suggested. “Girls love that stuff.” “She’ll just think it’s cheesy,” Lucas argued.)

Through it all, Eddie tried to protest, but deep down, a part of him hoped they could pull it off.

The plan came together piece by piece, each member of the group contributing ideas that were somehow both chaotic and oddly brilliant.

“What about a mixtape?” Dustin suggested as he sprawled across Steve’s couch.

“A mixtape screams ‘80s romance,” Robin said, nodding. “But it needs to be personal. Like, songs that mean something to you and her.”

Eddie groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys don’t get it. She doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone listen to some cheesy mixtape.”

“Then don’t make it just about the tape,” Max said from her spot on the floor. “Make it part of something bigger.”

“And where’s this ‘bigger’ happening?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

The group fell silent, all eyes turning to Eddie. He frowned, tapping his fingers against his knee. Then it hit him—an idea so crazy it might actually work.

“The Hawkins Carnival,” he said.

“What about it?” Dustin asked.

“They’re setting it up this weekend, right? She used to love going to that thing. We’d sneak off after school and blow all our money on funnel cakes and rides.” His voice softened as the memories flooded back. “Maybe… maybe I could meet her there.”

“Okay, but what’s the actual plan?” Robin pressed. “You can’t just show up and expect her to swoon over you.”

“Yeah,” Steve added. “You need a moment. Something big. Something unforgettable.”

Eddie thought for a moment, then smirked. “I’ve got just the thing.”

The days leading up to the carnival were a whirlwind of preparation. Dustin helped Eddie pick out songs for the mixtape, while Robin and Steve coached him on what to say.

“Apologize first,” Steve advised. “Don’t try to justify what you did—just own up to it.”

“And be sincere,” Robin added. “No sarcasm, no jokes. This isn’t the time for your usual deflection.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but took their advice to heart.

Meanwhile, the kids worked on the logistics of his grand gesture. Lucas and Max snuck into the carnival grounds to scope out the perfect location, while Will and Mike brainstormed backup plans in case things went south.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Eddie was a bundle of nerves. The mixtape was finished, his speech was rehearsed, and the stage was set. All that was left was for you to show up.

The Hawkins Carnival was alive with lights and laughter, the scent of fried food wafting through the air. Eddie stood near the Ferris wheel, his heart pounding as he scanned the crowd.

“You’ve got this,” Dustin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just stick to the plan.”

Eddie nodded, though his palms were sweating.

Then he saw you.

You were standing by the carousel, looking effortlessly beautiful in the glow of the carnival lights. The sight of you took his breath away, and for a moment, he almost lost his nerve. But then he remembered why he was here—why he’d spent the past year kicking himself for letting you go.

He squared his shoulders and approached you, his heart racing.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the carnival.

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. “Eddie?”

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice pleading.

You hesitated, your expression guarded. But after a moment, you nodded. “Fine.”

Eddie led you to a quieter spot near the edge of the carnival, away from the crowds. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the mixtape, holding it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing it warily.

“It’s… an apology,” he said. “And a thank-you. And a promise to do better if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your fingers brushing the edge of the tape but not taking it. “Why now, Eddie? Why after all this time?”

“Because I’ve been an idiot,” he admitted. “I thought I was doing you a favor by pushing you away. I told myself you deserved better, but the truth is, I was scared. Scared of how much I cared about you. Scared of screwing it up.”

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling. “But I did screw it up. And I hate myself for that. I just… I needed you to know that I’m sorry. And that I never stopped…”

“Never stopped what?” you prompted, your voice soft.

“Never stopped loving you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You really hurt me, Eddie.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, and Eddie braced himself for the worst. But then, slowly, you reached for the tape, your fingers curling around it.

“I’ll listen to it,” you said softly.

Eddie’s heart soared. “That’s all I’m asking.”

But the night wasn’t over yet.

As you turned to leave, the Ferris wheel lit up behind you, the carnival music swelling in the background. Eddie hesitated, then called out.

“Wait!”

You turned back, your brow furrowed.

“Will you ride the Ferris wheel with me?” he asked, his voice trembling. “One last time?”

Your lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a year, Eddie felt hope.

“Okay,” you said.

As the two of you climbed into the Ferris wheel carriage, the world below seemed to fade away. The lights, the noise, the crowds—it all disappeared, leaving just the two of you suspended in the night sky.

And as the Ferris wheel reached its peak, Eddie turned to you, his eyes searching yours.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “I love you. I never stopped.”

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him.

The world tilted, the stars spinning above, but Eddie didn’t care. For the first time in a year, everything felt right.

The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it came to a stop, grounding you and Eddie back in the bustle of the carnival. But neither of you moved to get out of the carriage right away. Instead, you stayed seated, your hands still intertwined, your heads leaning close together.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “if you mess this up again, I’m never speaking to you.”

Eddie let out a breathless laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “Fair enough. But I won’t. You’ve got my word.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. His dark eyes, once filled with nervous energy, now held something softer. Something earnest. You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll hold you to that, Munson.”

The Ferris wheel operator coughed awkwardly from below, snapping you both out of the moment. “Uh, you getting out or planning to rent the thing for the night?”

Eddie grinned and hopped out, offering you his hand to help you down. The two of you wandered back into the glowing chaos of the carnival, your shoulders brushing with every step.

The next morning, the story of your reunion had spread faster than Eddie anticipated.

When he walked into Family Video for his shift, Steve was already smirking behind the counter, Robin perched on top of it with a knowing grin. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had apparently stopped by, too, judging by the excited chatter echoing through the store.

“Look who’s finally not single!” Robin announced loudly as Eddie stepped inside.

Steve threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, ruffling his hair. “How does it feel, Romeo?”

“Like I should’ve kept my mouth shut about all this,” Eddie muttered, though he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“C’mon, man, don’t be shy,” Dustin said, grinning ear to ear. “We did help, after all. You should be thanking us.”

“Oh, thank you, wise sages of Hawkins,” Eddie said, bowing dramatically. “I couldn’t have done it without your meddling.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right.”

Later that week, you stopped by Family Video, much to the delight of the gang.

“Look who it is!” Robin sang as you walked in, nudging Eddie.

You shot her a mock glare before turning your attention to Eddie, who had abandoned all pretense of professionalism to lean against the counter with a wide grin.

“Hi,” you said, a little shyly.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone soft and warm.

Robin and Steve exchanged a glance, then bolted for the back room, dragging Dustin and the others with them.

“Hey, we weren’t done!” Dustin protested, but Robin slammed the door shut behind them, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eddie leaned closer. “They mean well, but they’re the absolute worst, I swear.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “They’re not so bad. I think I owe them, actually.”

“For what?”

“For convincing me to give you another chance.”

Eddie’s smile faltered slightly. “Do I… deserve another chance?”

You reached across the counter, taking his hand. “You’re earning it. And so far, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

The weight that had been pressing on Eddie’s chest for a year seemed to lift entirely. He grinned, his fingers curling around yours.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice playful but sincere. “I guess I’d better keep it up, huh?”

You smirked. “You’d better.”

As you left the store, mixtape in hand, Eddie watched you go with a goofy grin on his face. Steve emerged from the back room just in time to catch him staring.

“Still gazing after her like a lovesick puppy?” Steve teased.

“Absolutely,” Eddie said without shame.

Robin grinned as she joined them. “Well, looks like Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’ was a success.”

“Don’t ever call it that again,” Eddie groaned, though his smile didn’t waver.

And as the group broke into laughter, Eddie realized something: he wasn’t just grateful to have you back in his life. He was grateful for all of it—the chaos, the meddling, the friends who refused to let him give up on love.

Because this? This was a second chance he wasn’t going to waste.

The End.

[mj0702]

here you go monk .... it's a... "shortie"

“Cari.... Come on!!” Alexia hollered down the hallway towards the guestroom – now your room

“Calm your titts Putellas... I'm coming” you huffed as you hopped down the corridor trying to get your shoe on

“It's your first official day as a staff member of Barcelona...” the catalan scolded you

“And it's like... three hours before training even starts” you pointed out hopping past her when you felt her tug on your shirt

“Pants” Alexia rolled her eyes and you looked down on yourself realizing you only wore boxer shorts

“You couldn't have said that sooner??” you groaned running back to your room

“I'm so thankful to not have any kids right now” the blonde spaniard mumbled to herself watching you sliding over the hardwood floor into the room that was a guest room in the past

“Okay... pants... check” you panted as you ran past her just to get stopped roughly by Alexia grabbing your collar

“Kit bag?” Alexia asked raising her eyebrow

“Ugh... I'm seriously regretting my decision right now” you huffed as you turned around once more

“How did she even function until now?” the blonde asked herself bewildered

“Okay.... now I've got everything” you stopped right in front of the blonde smiling proudly

“Shoes?” the spaniard pointed down on your sock covered feet

“Ohhh maaaan” you whined throwing your head back in defeat

“Okay stop Cariño...” Alexia stopped you from starting to put on your shoes

“What now?” you moaned

“Take a breath for me..” the blondes voice going soft “... deep breath”

“Bueno” Alexia smiled when she saw how you took a deep breath “.. now.. sort your head and start again”

You took another deep breath trying sort your running thoughts but Alexia saw how you got more stressed

“What's the matter Cari?” the catalan said softly

“I can't do this Ale...” you mumbled

“You can't do what?” Alexia pushed gently

“I can't train people that watched me grow up” you said your breathing becoming quicker as you balanced on the line of a panic attack

“Cariño....” the blonde grabbed your shoulders firmly trying to ground you “... I train people I grew up WITH... you think it's easy to train Mapí or Tana... you think it's easy for me to yell at them to run faster or move quicker keeping an eye on the ball when I KNOW how they play? Or tell Lucy to drop back when I know that she already knows that she's pushing too high? It's not but it's our job now... so for these three hours we are not their friends – we are their coaches okay?”

“You enjoy yelling at people” you mumbled your breathing slowing down again

“I do... just not at my friends” Alexia chuckled “I absolutely love yelling at Madrid players and refs”

“Yeah... you made that one clear last time we played Madrid... Olga was not pleased with the words you used... she covered my ears” you pouted a bit

“Not one of my best moments” the blonde said a little embarrassed

“Olga made you pay a lot into the swear jar” you pointed out

“Rightfully so... but that's not the matter on hand... you try buying time but we have to leave eventually” Alexia smiled softly

“Can't we just call in sick?” you asked your voice small

“No Cari... you are the best one for the job...” the catalan said gently “... you trained England and now they are back to back European Champions and favourite for the next World Cup and Olympics”

“Sarina brought England that far...” you mumbled your eyes fixed on the floor

“Oh please...” Alexia snorted “... as if... we all know it was you... your plays... your tactics... your brilliant Ideas”

“I may have pointed a few things out...” you mumbled ashamed

“You are the best Cariño... the way you improved off the pitch in the last year is just outstanding” the blonde kept her voice soft trying to coax you out of your shell of insecurities “... you know why Barca offered you the contract you signed a few days ago? Because the whole squad wanted you here... Maps threatened to refuse to play if “her neña” is not joining... everyone looks up to you... maybe not as a player... but definitely as a staff member and even more so as a person”

“But what if I make wrong decisions?” you mumbled

“We are a familia here Cari and you know that... even if you make a wrong decision... we're all there to get through it” Alexia smiled seeing how you get more confident again “I made a wrong decision by putting Ingrid back in midfield and making Lucy a centre back instead of leaving our backline like it is... and what happened? The game was chaotic and I learned from it... not making that mistake again”

“Told you it was a stupid idea” you mumbled making Alexia laugh

“Sí you did... but also Ingrid came as a Midfielder to Barcelona...” the catalan pointed out gently taking you hand to softly pull you out of her house “Now come on... I'll let you make Mapí run laps for no specific reason”

“Uh...” your mood perked up immediately

“Only if you get going” Alexia pointed her finger at you smiling

“Already gone” you yelled sprinting through the door

“CARI....” the catalan yelled after you when she stood in the middle of your stuff which you carelessly left behind

“You're stuff...” Alexia mumbled watching you sprinting down to the car as she started to pick up your shoes, kitbag and jacket before following you out the door “... I don't need children – I already have an adopted one”

“Can I try something?” you stood next to Alexia on the side-line both of you sporting the same stance legs shoulder wide rooted into the grass arms crossed in front of your chest

“Will it break any of my players?” Alexia kept her eyes on the pitch where there was a 5on5 going on

“No...” you rolled your eyes “... I just think players would benefit from rotating through the five a side... like getting Cata and Ellie out on the field and the field players in goal... different perspective you know”

“I can't risk say Ona breaking Mapís hand because she tries to hold a ball that Ona pulled through” the blonde said now turning her head to look at you

“Then we make it without goals and no diving or something” you shrugged your shoulders

“If someone break I'll put you in the starting XI next game” Alexia raised her eyebrow at you

“Dislocate??? Next game is Champions League against Arse-Anal!!!” you screeched

“Do your Tías know how you butcher their club?” the blonde looked at you unimpressed “And yes I know... so you better make sure to not break anyone”

“Yes they know... Leah and Meado are not great fans of me renaming the club” you at least had the audacity to look a little guilty

“I wonder why...” Alexia snorted “... go on... confuse my team with your plan”

“Thanks Mamí” you grinned earning yourself a hard punch against the shoulder

“I'm far too young to be your mother” the catalan grumbled

“No... no you're not” you snorted

“Last chance” the catalan shot you a glare

“OY!!” you yelled and whistled loudly so everyone stopped and looked over at you

“Bitsy no... I know that look” Keira immediately groaned seeing that little smirk that played around your lips “What did you come up with now?”

“I think you all take your positions for too granted... so we'll play a game of switch a lot... every time La Coacharacha over here blows the whistle you'll change positions... that means keepers getting field time... field players go into goal... how you switch I don't care but when we done with it everyone played every position... you all know I can save stuff in me brain.. I will know if someone of you skipped... and we won't stop playing until everyone was everywhere... yes Mapí... you can play forward” you explained your plan and already answered Mapís question before the tattooed spaniard even ask it “... no rockets on goal if a field player is in between the posts... and if one of you has the audacity to break I'm personally kill them”

Some of the younger players looked at you shocked while Keira just rolled her eyes

“And why?” your second Mother asked a little annoyed

“Because I say so...” you looked at her challenging

“Bitsy...” Keira warned you “... I still have blackmail pictures of you”

“I just think you all fell... into a trot you know... you all play outstanding and you know that... but you all feel to secure in your positions... it's tiring... so I want to pull you out of your daily play” you said grumbling a little that Keira still calls the shots on you

“Can she do that?” Inez a young talented player ask looking at Alexia who was just checking her nails knowing not to get in between Keira and you “She's not the Coach”

“Dislocating??” you exclaimed bewildered looking at the young player like you saw a ghost

“Calm Cari...” Alexia immediately stepped in “... yes she can... she is a big enrichment to this team and we can call ourselves lucky to have her on your side of the bench instead of having to fight the team she's coaching... on top would she never do something like that without consoling me”

“You think just because you wear the newest cleats you are better than me and know everything” you challenged the young spanish player

“Bitsy” Keira said softly

“Cariño” Alexia said at the same time as she pushed herself between you and Inez

“No... this little...” you started to push against Alexias back

“... Puta....” Mapí threw in

“Thank you” you said absently as you pushed more and more against Alexia

“María León” Alexia scolded her best friend

“You listen and you listen closely little girl” you sneered over Alexias shoulder “... if I say you do push ups until you puke, you'll do push ups until you puke your guts out and then you'll thank me that I wasted my time on your useless being”

“Okay WOW” Keira said when she quickly walked around Alexia grabbing you to pull you a little away to defuse the situation “Calm down...”

“The rest of you... back to training” Alexia barked ending all upcoming arguments immediately

“What's going on Bitsy” Keira asked watching as you angrily roamed in front of her

“Who does that... girl... think she is?” you grumbled “Can she do that?” you mimicked Inez

“Bits...” the englishwoman said softly smiling a little

“No... not this time Kei...” you exploded in her face “... she thinks she's the shit since she started to train with the first team.... I honestly don't know why Alexia called her up because she's BARLEY average... there are at least four other players in the B-Team that have more potential AND a better head on them... BUT... that was Alexias call but I won't have her disrespecting me”

“You done?” Keira asked

“No...” you spat “... her left foot is shit she can't even balance on it and her right foot – which should be her stronger one even tho she said she can shoot on both – is so weak that she can't even control her shot... she got minutes in all three liga games we had so far and she made NO difference....”

“Okay enough” the blonde interrupted you strictly

“You know I'm right” you grumbled hating it when Keira pulled out her Mom-voice

“I know you somewhat want to show your worth to the team but that's not necessary Bits” Keira said her voice turning soft again “... we all know what you and your brain is worth... and don't let a young unexperienced player pull your teeth like that...”

“Then that little...” you started grumbling

“Bitsy...” the blonde groaned “.... stop being an idiot”

“That's it... idiot... that's IT....” you suddenly exclaimed hugging Keira quickly “... thanks Mom... you're the best”

“What??” Keira said confused as she watched you sprinting back to Alexia

“ALEXIA” you screamed running down the side-line

“Stop yelling Cari” Alexia kept her eyes on the field watching how Cata and Ellie struggle to keep hold of the ball

“I love you you know” you grinned sweetly as you nearly crashed into her

“Whatever you want... no” the blonde said before she blew the whistle again signalling another position change

“Ale pleeeeeaaaaaase....” you whined tugging on the blondes shirt lightly

“How do Lucy and Ona deal with that all day??” Alexia mumbled to herself before looking at you “What is it Cariño”

“Can I please... borrow.. Cata later?” you threw your best puppy eyes at the new Barca coach

“Cari” the catalan groaned

“I swear I won't break her...” you said quickly “... 20 minutes or so”

“IF Cata has time and agrees... yes” Alexia finally gave in already knowing it wasn't just Cata you wanted to “borrow”

“Yes...” you said happily “... te amo Mamí”

“Stop calling me Mom” the blonde grumbled

“Gracias Tío” you laughed already sprinting away from Alexia

“Come back here you little Annoyance” Alexia yelled after you but couldn't hold back her smile preferring your teasing to you trying killing members of the team

“Cata Cata Cata Cata Cata” you crashed into Barcelonas first Keepers

“Woah Frijolito” Cata exclaimed nearly getting knocked over by your force “Where's the fire?”

“Can you stay an extra half an hour?” you asked pulling out the puppy eyes again “I pay you good ice cream I swear”

“Frijo.... my girlfriend is waiting” Cata looked at you apologetic

“Cata pleeeeeaaaaasssseeee” you whined

“Why don't you ask Ellie?” Barcas No.1 asked softly trying to find a solution for a problem she doesn't even knew was existed

“Oh god no... I'm not getting in between the posts when she's in her petty mode” Ellie snorted from the side lines just pulling off her gloves “... you forget one thing Coll.... I grew up with her, Tooney and Lessia... I know the shit they come up with... and she's the worst one”

“Keira always says if you have nothing important to say keep your gob shut” you looked at your friend “... so keep it shut Roebuck”

“I give you an advise Cata...” Ellie ignored you successfully “... remember that look she has now... if you see it... just say no...”

“You're such an Arsebiscuit” you grumbled lightly shooting a ball at your friend who caught it easily laughing at you

“I'm really sorry Frijo... tomorrow okay” Cata quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead before she left you standing there

“Oh Roebuck” you sing-songed

“Nope” Ellie interrupted you quickly “... not getting involved... the last time was enough... never EVER getting involved with anything that includes you, Tooney and Lessi....”

“I TOLD you to run... not my fault you have the reaction time of a sloth” you rolled your eyes “... it was really bad that Sarina caught you... she's Ancient... how could she be faster than you?”

“You just yelled “run”... not which direction!!!” Ellie exclaimed

“Yeah obviously the same direction Toons, Less and I started running” you shot back

“Ugh... not getting involved with you... so go torture that girl that pissed you off earlier” the blonde waved off throwing her stuff in her kit bag

“Oh I will... where is that little piece of...” you grinned before looking around if Alexia and/or Keira where close then whispered “... bitch”

“10€” you heard Keiras voice from the tunnel

“How did you even hear that???” you asked flabbergasted

“Bat ears” Keira yelled back not even bothering explaining further as she was on the way to the locker room

“So unfair” you grumbled when you spotted the target of you pettiness “Oy Gonzola”

“Me?” Inez looked around then pointing at herself

“You know another Gonzola on the team??” you asked annoyed as you made a “come here”-motion with your hand

“My name is Gonzales” the dark haired young player said confused

“Yeah yeah Gonzola....” you waved off “... you made pretty clear you don't think I belong in the position I currently occupie... so let me show you why I have this position next to La Reina”

You picked up a ball the two of you the last one on the field

“If you manage to take a ball off me or get past me scoring I'll let you be for the rest of the season...” you said your voice uncharacteristically calm “... to make it even I won't wear cleats.. I’ll play barefoot...”

“I got called up from Alexia herself” the young player said cocky “... you just got the job because of your sister.... it's common knowledge in the B-Team”

“Hm...” you hummed “... as I said if you get a ball off me or score against me I'll give you one free pass per session so if you want to sit out an exercise I will let you... BUT... if I score against you you'll apologize next training in front of the team AND you'll resign back to the B-Team”

“Absolutely not” Inez exclaimed

“Chicken” you snorted knowing how to push the young spaniards buttons

“I'll show you chicken” the younger One sneered “... I'll end you”

“We'll see” you smirked evilly knowing the cocky girl was no match for you

“What's going on here?” Alexia asked as she came back out on the field looking for you finding the whole team in the stand looking down on the Pitch

“Nena is playing with her food again” Mapí said grinning widely

“Disculpe??” Alexia asked confused

“What Mapí means is that y/n making Inez work...” Irene said looking at the pitch in awe

“What the...” Alexia started looking over Mapís head down on the field “... for how long is this going on now?”

“Bout 15 Minutes now...” Ellie said from further down the row doing crossword puzzles “I advise to get Keira if you want to break it up... not even Sarina was able to get her to stop when she did the same with LJ once... once Nuts sets her mind in torture mode Keira is the only One who can break her out of it...”

Everyone looked in shock as you easily outplayed the young spaniard laughing loudly when the dark haired one fell face first into the grass as you controlled the ball centimetres away from her shoulder not even sweating. Inez got back up trying to take the ball off you once again letting the dark haired One blaze past you. She got more and more frustrated meaning she stopped making decent decisions instead she tried to force you off the ball. The next second she came at you again and you rainbow flicked the ball over her head laughing when you collected the ball behind her back.

“Ellie..” Alexia said in total shock

“Yes?” the blonde Goalkeeper looked up from her puzzle

“For how long will this go on?” the blonde spaniard asked not taking her eyes off the field

“Dunno... with LJ Keira made Nuts stop after three hours... girl wasn't even sweating while LJ was nearly dead on her feet...” Ellie shrugged her shoulders “... in favor of your player down there I wouldn't let her keep going because y/n will kill that girl... not.. literally... just... physically and mentally”

“Uh uh uh... Nena is going to score... you just watch” Mapí slapped Ingrids knee excited as you pulled your foot back shooting on goal

“Naah... not from this distance” Ellie waved off “... not dramatic enough.... she'll go for the crossbar”

And you did just that – you pulled your foot back looking as Inez came sliding in trying to stop you from shooting but you already used the momentum to push your foot “through” the ball. The second the ball left your foot you turned around walking back towards the middle line looking at your audience smirking evilly as the ball hit the crossbar full force making the post shake. Ellie caught your smirk bursting out laughing making everyone looking at her confused

“As I said...” Ellie wheezed “... get Keira back here.. she won't stop... I know that smirk... she'll destroy that girl”

“Someone phone Keira... now” Alexia looked at her team already on her way down to the pitch “Cariño!!!”

“Ay Capitana... here to join our little 1v1??” you sing-songed as you saw Alexia jumping over the barrier

“You'll stop right now” the blonde said seriously

“Oh no... you can join her side” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder at Inez who panted heavily the ball at her feet “... but I'm not stopping”

“You'll stop right now” Alexia repeated standing now right in front of you looking down at you

“I'm not... I won't let this no name disrespect me in front of everyone... she's a nothing and her playing didn't improve either in the last two seasons B-Team nor in the time she was here” you said calmly seeing how Inez started a new attack on “your” goal

“... dislocate me for a second...” you smirked sprinting after Inez taking the ball off her easily once again dribbling back to Alexia “... as I said... I won't stop.. you can either join her or you get off the pitch letting me have some fun”

“Then I order you to stop” Alexia said not backing down either

“You what?” you asked confused for a second before you bursted out laughing

“I tell you y/n... you stop right now... I can't let you hurt any of my players” the blonde said seriously

“I'm not hurting anyone... I'll just draw a line when someone questions my qualification...” you said equally as serious changing your stance letting Inez run past you once again “... oh... and tells me it's basic knowledge in the B-Team that I am where I am because of my sister”

“We can talk about all that tomorrow... but right now... right here... final whistle” Alexia tried to get the ball and you just pulled the ball away from here jogging a little bit backwards

“So you joining her... good... it got boring after two minutes anyway” you said the look on your face dark

“I'm not joining anyone” the catalan said calmly “... I want to go home... with you... Olga cooked dinner already”

Alexia tried a different approach hoping anyone got a hold of Keira in the meantime because she herself won't be able to get you to stop. She also hoped the mention of Olga pulled you out of your mood a little bit.

“Come on Cari.... por favor” the blonde smiled softly and she really thought she had you for a second when Inez came back trying to tackle into you

“You really piss me off you do know that?” you said as you send Inez flying once again

“Y/N TOUGH BRONZE!!!!!!” you suddenly heard Keiras voice – and she didn't sound happy

“Uh oh” you mumbled looking around finding Keira stomping out of the tunnel

“HERE!!!!” the blonde yelled pointing in front of her “RIGHT NOW!!!”

You looked horrified thinking about running the other way

“Don't even think about it” Keira yelled knowing every muscle twitch of you “Get your ass over here... just because Lucy and Ona are not around doesn’t mean you can go around being an asshole”

“She started it” you defended yourself pointing at Inez

“Don't make me come over there Y/n Bronze...” the blonde threatened you and you quickly made your way over the ball never leaving your bare feet

“You know I love you” Keira said as you stopped in front of her but keeping your arm length distance “... but we had this before... you CAN'T go and disregard people in their job... I know what you are able to do and if I could've swapped places with you when you had your injuries I would've without a second thought... I understand that you are still hurt because of the robbed opportunity of you shining on the pitch yourself... but we talked about this and you can't do this...”

“She...” you exclaimed

“No Bits...” the blonde immediately interrupted you softly “... no she... no buts... this little revenge you started is ending right now... you'll pack your stuff and go home with Alexia”

“She was mean too” you mumbled

“Just because she told you to stop doesn't mean she's mean...” Keira chuckled

“I want to go home to Luce...” you mumbled a little sadly

“She'll be back next week Bits” the blonde pulled you into a hug seeing how the anger left your body

“Why couldn't I stay with you??” you pushed your face in Keiras neck

“I told you why... my flat gets renovated” Keira chuckled nodding Alexia over who carefully approached you after she sat Inez down letting Irene dealing with the youngling

“Can we go home now Cari??” Alexia asked gently pulling you softly away from Keira

“Just let me score that goal I was holding off...” you mumbled being tightly held against the Catalans side

You wriggled away from Alexia taking a few steps back running up absolutely belting the ball across the field. Everyone watched in shock as the ball blazed across the pitch hitting the back of the net – and ripping it making the ball bounce against the fence behind the goal.

“We can go now” you said after you released a satisfied breath seeing all the horrified faces turning your way as you turned around walking into the tunnel

“And again I have to get her stuff” Alexia grumbled picking up your kit bag swinging it over her shoulder

“Welcome to unwanted motherhood Ale....” Keira laughed loudly “Just wait until she gets sick or has a nightmare... THEN you'll decide you never want children”

“Oh I'm so looking forward to it” the catalan said sarcastically

“Olga I scored at training today” you immediately said happily as you tanked through the door

“Bueno Estrella...” Olga looked up from her work smiling softly “... where did you leave my girlfriend?”

“Oh Ale so slow... she taking ages getting her stuff from the car” you waved off as you flew into the kitchen

“Shoes off” Olga scolded you softly and you followed suit kicking them off your feet making them fly into the hallway

“Ay!!” Alexia exclaimed shocked as one of them nearly hit her

“Scusi!” you yelled back as you pulled out the chair next to Olga trying to get a glimpse of her papers which the calm spaniard already started to collect again

“That's Italian” Olga chuckled

“Spanish version of Scusi” you yelled towards the hallway

“We taught you spanish...” Alexia grumbled before walking over to her girlfriend kissing the woman quickly

“Lost silence then...” you shook your head before scrunching up your nose “ew”

“Dinner is nearly ready” Olga said softly chuckling at your reaction to Alexia kissing her “Shower... both of you”

“I didn't even sweat today” you exclaimed

“I don't care...” Olga said “... you smell like a locker room...”

“That's Alexia not me....” you defended yourself

“Shower” Olga fixed you with a glare pointing down the hallway

“Ugh” you groaned peeling yourself of the kitchen chair

“Careful Estrella...” Olga said eyebrow raised “... I can still withhold dessert”

“Going” you quickly said basically sprinting out of the room

“While she is the reason I think I never want children” Alexia said as she hugged her girlfriend from behind laying her head on Olgas shoulder “... you are the reason I want children”

“You are just a push over” Olga chuckled “... and she was right... you also smell like locker room”

“Yeah I'm already going” Alexia said rolling her eyes playfully before pressing another kiss to her girlfriends cheek

“I thought you're already in the shower” Alexia startled you a little bit coming into the hallway

“That's me” you whispered confused staring at some pictures

“Hm?” the catalan looked over your shoulder seeing the picture in question “Yes... yes that's you.... and that's you too... and there too...”

“Why... why are there pictures of me here?” you asked

“The same reason why there are pictures of mi Mamí, Alba, Olga and my friends are hanging there” Alexia said softly “... Familia Cari... you are family”

“I'm...” you said chocked up

“Family Cariño” Alexia said again letting you stand there making her way to the shower

The pictures showed you in different stages of your relationship with Alexia. The first was from one of the first games you attended showing how you were about to climb on Alexias back screaming bloody murder at the ref and a very horrified look sporting Alexias face. The next one showed you running after a laughing Alexia after a trainings session when she stole your second cleat and Jonas invited you to kick a ball around a bit. The next one was when you fell asleep on top of Alexia on the plane after a Champions League game in Italy and Alexia having a soft smile on her face as she held you tightly against her. The fourth one was from a vacation in Ibiza with you on Jennis shoulders playing chicken fight against Alexia and Mapí. You remember that you and Jenni had to wait ages until Ale and Maps decided who would sit on whose shoulders – turned out the answer was quite simple since Mapí immediately drowned once Ale was on her shoulders. The fifth and last one was a new one. Maybe two days old. It showed Olga, Alexia and you on the couch with you spread on top of both of them sleeping peacefully.

“Familia” you said quietly to yourself before turning towards the second bathroom already planning on putting on the tab resulting in Ale screaming bad spanish words as her water suddenly turned ice cold and you smirking widely

[chiefdirector]

Earthquake | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Earthquakes were nothing unfamiliar to the residents of Los Angeles, so much so that if there was a period of time without a quake, it would be seen as some form of miracle or divine intervention. After having many quakes and natural disasters, you adjust. Tim never had to adjust to the infamous LA earthquakes, he was born and raised here. Something like a quake was just another Tuesday to him.

Before he would have scoffed seeing his colleagues so disturbed by the idea of a quake, but now he felt sick to his stomach. He could feel the nausea rise up his throat as he called out over the radio again, hoping that his fears would be satiated.

“Control, this is 7-Adam-100. Status report in Detective (L/N).” He said, trying not to let his voice shake as the ground did moments ago. “Control-“

He was cut off by the gruff reply of some poor control officer who would no doubt feel the wrath of Sargent Bradford. “No reply. Detective (Y/N) is currently unreachable.”

Quickly, he raised the radio back up, this time practically barking his question out. “When was the last time you had contact?”

Tim held his breath as the radio remained silent for a moment. He did not believe in anything supernatural but by god did it feel like time stopped.

“Over an hour ago; at 15:42.”

“Goddammit,” he snapped, almost throwing his radio across the briefing room.

Seeing his rage, Chen sidestepped away from his current line of trajectory, quite liking her head without a radio sized dent in it.

The first quake had hit at approximately 15:47. Tim knew what (Y/N)’s silence implied. He tried not to think of the worst case scenario, but he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t used to nice things, he wasn’t used to being happy and now that he had finally found joy and happiness, it was only natural that the universe would take it away again.

“Tim,” Chen said timidly. If Tim did not know any better, he could have mistaken her for a child in the way she was slightly cowered away from her. “I had control send her last location to our box, we can go now. I’m sure Grey won’t mind.”

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts, channelling almost all of his energy into the task ahead of him. The small fraction of energy he left aside was to stop him from assuming the worst; thinking of all the horrific outcomes would do him no good.

—-

Tim was never one to spend time with his feelings, if anything he repressed them. When he was a kid, his father used to tell him that emotions were weak, and that ‘real men don’t feel.’ He had taken that mindset into the military, and into the LAPD. It was only when (Y/N) had started to break down his walls did he let himself feel emotions properly for the first time in years. It was like seeing colour for the first time. However, despite all the good it did him, he couldn’t help regretting it slightly as he sat in the passenger seat of the shop, watching Chen drive closer to when (Y/N) was last seen.

“Can’t you drive quicker, Chen,” He snapped, flickering his eyes from her to the road and back to the patrol officer once again.

“Not without breaking fifty traffic laws,” She rebutted. Now that he wasn’t her training officer any more, she would have given him a bit more attitude but now isn't the right time for that, even she could recognise that. “We’re nearly there, the GPS said that her shop was last seen…”

Chen’s words trailed off as the two officers watched as a car wrapped around a tree came into view. The front was completely smashed, with glass and shrapnel landing almost everywhere. There was a small trail of smoke coming from the engine. The car was easily recognisable as one of the LAPD patrol vehicles, the exact same type that Detective (L/N) had left the station in that morning.

Without thinking, Tim sprinted out of the vehicle whilst it was still moving. Without waiting for Chen to stop, he moved with near inhuman speed towards the wreckage. Trying to see if there was any sign of life from within.

“(Y/N)” he called, looking in through the shattered window. Blood was spread across the steering wheel and the driver's seat, glass haphazardly brushed aside from the spot. Tim recognised her handbag tucked in the passenger footwell. IT was the only sign that she had been in the car at all. “Please, baby, say you're here.”

“Any luck?” Chen said, jogging over to his side. Tim needn’t respond though, the tragic look on his face said enough. “Oh god, she isn’t… is she?”

Bradford just shook his head “There’s nobody here. Completely empty. Call it in.”

Lucy nodded, taking a step away to report what had been found. Tim just sat leaned against the car. Briefly he shut his eyes, trying to ground himself back to reality. A part of him wanted to pinch himself to wake up from this nightmare, but another part of him knew that it wasn’t a dream at all.

Slowly, he began to move himself upwards when he heard a rustling in the shrubbery. On instinct, he raised his weapon, calling out for the intruder to raise their hands. He got no such reply except another round of rustling, except it didn’t sound like it was caused by the wind, it sounded too human-like to be anything natural.

Keeping his paces light, he followed the sound as made his way into the shrubbery. He made it only around twenty feet before he saw the cause of the rustling. (Y/N) lay leaned up against a tree, dried blood sat on her forehead and down her left cheek. The rest of her face seemed like it had already started to swell and bruise from the impact. The most jarring thing was not the injuries or the dirt decorating her body, but it was the light-hearted gratin she wore.

“Hey Timmy,” she said, voice light and airy, as if he had woken up early on a sunday morning and not that she had almost died.

“(Y/N),” he practically cried rushing to her side. He gently cradled her face, trying to get a better look at the gash on her forehead from where she had slammed into the steering wheel. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She flashed him another grin as she raised her hand to rest on top of his. “I’m fine, mildly concussed maybe, but I’ll live. And the car crashed, I was knocked off the road when the quake hit. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“Why didn't you call for help, do you know how worried I was?”

“My radio is in the car, which was on fire by the way.” She said, almost too lightheartedly for the situation, before her tone turned sombre, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He kissed her forehead. “Just don’t do it again, I don’t think my heart could take it.”

Ignoring her protests that she could walk by herself, he moved to pick her up bridal style and carry her back to his shop, where Chen was waiting for him. Sure, he was prepared for an earthquake, but Tim wasn't prepared to lose (Y/N), not now, not ever.

Masterlist

@rookietrek @kmc1989 @augustvandyne

[specific-dreamer]

stay gold is for darry too

“when you’re young and the world is new / it’s easy to forget when you’re trying just to make it through”

bc, cmon guys, darry is twenty. 20, two-zero. idk how different college was back then, so bare with me.

he’s from tulsa oklahoma, the south, and he’s twenty years old. assuming he didn’t take a gap year (i’m going off the musical sayin he had to drop out, instead of not go all together) he would’ve been in his second year of school.

(i’m putting a break here because this turned more into a headcanon than an analysis i fear)

and we know darry’s a lil extroverted social butterfly, i’m sure he made so many friends. do you think he told them he was going home for the weekend but would totally be back for that frat party? or do you think he had a best friend on campus that he couldn’t wait to introduce to his family and the gang because he just knew how’d great they’d get on?

because he’s at a state college likely, there’s gonna be greaser/soc rivalries still but chances are so high that the max tension will be arguments. so it’s likely he even got to (freely, and guilt free) make friends with socs.

his biggest worries sophomore year was if he would finish his homework and papers before the weekend so he could go home for his birthday. his biggest worry was working up the nerve to still his dad he blew his allowance that month on some girl. his biggest worry was struggling with being a first gen college student, juggling his papers and football practice, and his work study.

i’m willing to bet he didn’t even tell his parents he’d be home that weekend. i’m thinkin he told dally, because dally would likely forget to tell the others he was comin and everyone else can’t keep their mouths shut for shit.

i think he went to Oklahoma State, which is only 2 hours from tulsa. so, i’m thinking he caught the greyhound really really early that morning, like crackass of dawn early. and when he gets there it’s probably 6:00 and through the window darry can see his parents rousing soda and pony up for school. (school may start at 8:30, but they got two rowdy teenage boys one of whom hates school to get ready, they’ll wake up an hour earlier than necessary)

darry, in all his older brother glory, probably waits for the perfect moment to make his grand entrance. he’d wait until he hears ponyboy loudly complaining that “darry doesn’t have to wake up this early” and he fuckin grins because that’s the most perfect entry for him.

but he can’t get excited, not yet. he’s gotta act like it’s no big deal that he’s here, so he opens the door all casual like and starts toeing off shoes as he closes it behind him. and in his arrogant, i’m-the-eldest-of-course-i’m-right voice he says, “you’re so right, little brother. i actually woke up three hours ago.” and darry tries his damndest he really does, but he can’t help the way his chest loosens and his grin widens and it feels like every stressful thing he’d been worried about rolls off back when he hears the gasps and “sweet mother mary” from his family when he announces himself.

he probably doesn’t even get his second shoe off before he’s knocked to ground by pony (soda would have too, if he was anymore awake, instead he’s just staring at darry in confusion).

i’m gonna write a fic BUT BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING

do you think darry feels guilty for not having called ahead of time? do you think he wishes he stayed at school that weekend so parents wouldn’t have gotten in that wreck? do you think a small of darry, a part that he hates as each day passes, wishes that he let the social workers take his brothers? only to instantly regret that train of thought when his brothers crawl into his bed at 10pm trying to stop shaking and crying so they don’t “wake” darry

do you think that it was in that moment, that all those childhood jokes with his parents and phony arguments with paul suddenly became real. that sodapop and ponyboy are his babies. they may not be his in the same way that curly and angela are tim’s kids, but his friends at school are always sayin darry needs to stop referring to pony as his “littlest”.

we know darry didn’t cry at the funeral (or at all, at least to pony’s knowledge) but i really think college was such a breath of fresh air for darry that he was probably holding back sobs when he called his schools admission office to drop out.

i think before they could bury their parents properly, darry had to convince his brothers to go down to school with him so he could pack his things up. (i say convince because i think pony might’ve cried himself hoarse thinking that darry was going back to school and leaving them alone)

do you think darry cried the night before they went down to oklahoma state? because his friends were finally going to meet his littles that he could never seem to stop talking about. he’d have to find some way to apologize for missin the frat party (and his 20th birthday, hell, darry thinks his might’ve been more excited than he was) because saying his parents just died and he legally became a father of two is a little too comedic to sound real despite things.

or do you think he avoided his friends like the plague because he knows he’d break down if he saw their pitying eyes? he knew he’d break down if that one girl he couldn’t keep his eyes off of from his psych class saw him and soda carry his boxes to the car and stopped and ask him why he was leaving.

do you think after the funeral when darry made sure his brothers were alright, tucked in for bed and knew they could go find him if they needed anything at all, instead of going to his room he went to his parents room? just to feel their presence one last time. he probably went under their covers too, in the middle like when he was a kid so he could turn left and smell his daddy’s cologne or turn right and smell his mamas rosy perfume, just so he could get one more hug from them. just one more hug before he had to let them go

(do you think when ponyboy inevitably came lookin for darry to scare his nightmares away later that night he got scared when darry wasn’t in his room? do you think he started crying all over again unable to be tough because what if darry’s dead too or worse what if he really did leave them? do you think that’s when pony started sleeping with soda instead. that that’s when his image of darry being a hero cracked because what kind of hero leaves when people are still needing to be saved?)

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 5 "Prometheus"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Giedi Prime, 2 years later - 10,190 BG

He feels so-

hopeless,

broken.

One should think he has long accepted that there is no one up there in the universe to come and save him.

No one to soothe him at night, in his dreams, after he threw up upon being summoned to quench the Baron's appetite for power, even though Feyd-Rautha's physical appearance no longer meets his tastes.

But Feyd still goes to sleep every night with childish, foolish, laughable hope, only for regular nightmares to taunt him with their sticky embrace.

When he first stopped dreaming, he threw a tantrum, not telling anyone what riddled him. He was given slave warriors to kill and new blades to blunt on human bones. Under the pretense of a training injury, Feyd had ordered the Suk Doctor to examine him, pointing him towards his brain, secretly expecting a hole there, thinking his brain might have devoured itself because he doesn't deserve goodness.

But the Suk declared, there was nothing wrong with him. Nothing aside from the usual, all the invisible things that made him rot from inside.

After a week of lonely nights, he started taking spice before sleeping, knowing that the drug opens the mind, if to prescience then maybe to shared dreams as well. And it worked! Or so he thought the first night when he found a soft hand in his and the kindest voice among all of the stars whispering: "Look, doesn't this remind you of something?"

Every time he tries to speak then, he wakes up screaming, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets that smelled like cinnamon, before he can ask any of the burning questions or say what's been tearing his heart apart. His greatest regret is that he never said I love you back.

Eventually, he comes to a numbing conclusion. That is not his beloved. That is just a memory of her.

He had to stop ingesting when his sclerae became sullied with a tint of blue that bleeds into the irises. That was one year ago.

After the spice came a phase of intense studies in the bowels of Giedi Prime's archives, ignoring the admittedly quite interesting fact that centuries of his own House's history are obliterated and nowhere to be found.

Feyd learned that 23,500 years ago, in the year 13,402 BG, a strike by an asteroid devastated Old Earth, the birthplace of humankind, making it uninhabitable until it was re-seeded with plant and animal life 42 years later and became a natural park, for humans too. 

In 200 BG, 10,400 years ago, Earth was once again rendered uninhabitable for centuries by atomics during the Butlerian Jihad which obliterated all thinking machines.

The first Zensunni wanderers, nowadays known as Fremen, are said to have originated from Old Earth and at some point fled in a grand exodus from planet to planet.

How does this information still exist, but not the location of the cradle of mankind among the stars? There are no more recent records. Humankind has spread itself so thin across the universe, the world of their origin has become naught but a fairytale.

Tonight, Feyd smiles at himself in the mirror in his room, trying to curl up the corners of his mouth like he used to, when a bed of white marble with blue pillows occupied by his woman was waiting for him and a fern was rustling in a terracotta pot. But his cheeks won't grow as round as they used to and Feyd despises how he looks and how his eyes stare back at him like frosty marbles, how his face looks like a gaunt skull with no life in it.

The lonely, demonic creature who stares back at him in the bleak mirror is denied access to the dream land and left to rot in his body, in his flesh prison.

Why does he still look at himself in the mirror every night and go to sleep with a tummy ache, only to wake up hollow and like his soul has been carved out of his chest and wonder:

Is she dead?

If she's dead, then what's the point?

Unconsciously he knows what he keeps searching for in the mirror. For any signs that he was ever lovable, or if his worst fears are true, that she abandoned him by choice.

There is no proof that Old Earth is not still out there, still inhabited by humans who may be unaware of how mankind has branched out across the galaxies.

On the other hand, there is also no proof that Feyd's woman has ever been real.

Among the stars

Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are.

"I am… here!"

Wallach IX, 10,190 BG

Around a heavy, wooden roundtable are gathered the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, flanked by the Bene Gesserit sisters Miriam and Sylvia, the Princess Irulan in place of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, a face dancer named Thomin to represent the Bene Tleilax and Gwyn from Ix.

"If you can't stop behaving like animals, this discussion will never find an end!" The Princess Irulan's voice bristles in a way that makes Miriam and Sylvia scoff internally at their fellow Bene Gesserit. Thomin and Gwyn are by Bene Gesserit definition, in fact, animals.

The sun on Wallach IX stands already low above the hills and cascades hazy slants of light into the private conference chamber.

"I simply don't trust gifts from the sisterhood," Thomin smiles coldly, spindly fingers folded on the table.

"She is surprisingly useless," the Reverend Mother replies with equal coldness, gazing through the dark mesh of veil. "Why would we keep her?"

"I must insist on the historical value!" Irulan chides.

"Useless for us, Irulan."

Irulan knows her former teacher doesn't actually intend to hand the woman over to the Bene Tleilax for genetic horrors, so it is really only between her and Gwyn from Ix.

"Well, as a historian, I have undoubtedly the biggest use for her among the honorable attendees."

"I strongly object," says Gwyn. "Her technological knowledge could prove invaluable to us!"

Thomin chimes in. "Her genetic information might give crucial clues as to-"

"You just said you don't trust gifts from the sisterhood, so why don't you let those who wear their real face talk," Gwyn jibes at the Tleilaxu face dancer.

Thomin deflects: "What I would like to know is why the Guild deemed it appropriate to hand over such an exceptional flotsam to the Bene Gesserit."

"Of course, they entrusted us with it," Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "Who else would have been capable of dealing with whatever could have been inside the sarcophagus?"

That makes the attendees grow quiet for a moment.

"What did you say her first words were?" Gwyn asks.

"I am here," Sylvia says. "Naturally, we only found what she said later."

"I'm sure she would like a friend," Irulan ponders. They're still talking about a human being after all.

"Or would you like a friend?" Miriam barbs.

"Enough of this shit," Thomin's chosen face twists into an unpleasant grimace. "I didn't come here to argue with children. Who gets the relic?!"

The woman sits in the school's relic chamber by herself, knees folded against her chest, staring up at Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, or what's left of it, rich blues and swirly stars reduced to faded colors. She wonders if this is what will become of her too in this strange new world. Still, the painting is enough to stir her imagination.

She often thinks of her good friend and beloved Feyd and the many nights they've shared before she entered the long sleep and left him behind. She left him to die in the fires of earth from which only the cowardly could escape as pioneers aboard spaceships, venturing out to colonize the solar system when Earth suffocated beneath the smog of climate change and the rubble of bombs as starving nations tore each other apart. 

Expensive suicide is what the people on Earth had mocked the cryogenic pods which would take the pioneers to Mars and Titan as sleepers to reawaken and colonize the solar system. A new home, but only for scientists and engineers.

Some cynics even called their cryo pods sarcophagi.

Often she wonders if Feyd was able to complete his life and escape from his vile uncle, if he found the happiness he so deserved. She can't bear the thought that her poor, hairless Feyd might have eventually died of the cancer she was sure he had. She had never asked him because he had never mentioned it. It had never felt right.

She had abandoned him to live with her family in a new world. Now she is here, 24,000 years late after drifting through space in her lonely sarcophagus, sending a distress signal every few days. And she has no one. Such fundamental loneliness can only be met with apathy and busying the mind.

After the war from which she had fled in the year 2100 as of her own calendar, eventually came what is now called the Butlerian Jihad, many many centuries later. Men had revolted against artificial intelligence and now there are no more computers, only human computers. Her first reaction to that had been: In this new age, no data is anonymous unless you are the mentat. No calculation can be conducted unless you own a mentat.

She pensively traces a spot above her right ear and finds herself mourning after the necklace that was taken from her after she had thawed.

She hasn't come much further with the history books yet. There is so much to catch up on and the language first had to be learned, which had consumed most of her first one and a half years on Wallach IX. Now, two years after her arrival, she feels somewhat solid in Galach, wistfully surprised to find relics from so many Earthen languages in it.

A subtle knock on the door pulls her out of her melancholic trance and her gown rustles around her legs that are used to wearing trousers as she stands. An acolyte has come to pick her up and parade her to the assembly of people who are anonymous strangers to her. In her head, a mean voice calls it an auction.

She has already cried her quiet fury and understood that autonomy is as real as daydreams in this new world. On a chess board full of intricate pieces, she is only a block being pushed here or there, but in truth she doesn't even belong on the board.

Outside, looking to the left, she finds a fern swaying softly in a bronze pot and the memories of loving nights cut through her with such unexpected vehemence, she can hardly breathe. Guilt suffocates her.

However their dreams had passed through space and time, they are no more, and she is all alone and that thought overwhelms her as she pads through the garden with its trimmed hedges and softly gurgling water. The size of the universe overwhelms her. The number of inhabited worlds overwhelms her. The amount of history to catch up on makes her feel like a mote in God's eye and the hostile kind of hospitality from the 'sisterhood' since her jarring awakening fills her chest with a numbing rage.

In a moment like this, this order of manipulative women would pledge to recite the litany against fear, but she refuses to condition her body in such a way. And with that mindset, she hasn't even made it to the rank of acolyte.

"To be completely honest, I don't like the fact that most of the great Houses have been purposely excluded from this," Thomin notes and that makes Irulan wonder too.

"And which Houses are you missing at this roundtable?" The Reverend mother coldly inquires, her patience running thin.

"If the Harkonnens find out that we-"

"Harkonnens?" 

Five heads whip around to the new presence in the room, only the Reverend mother moves a bit more slowly and drones: "Good. You are here."

"She looks just like us," Gwyn is baffled.

"Of course, she looks just like us!" Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "What did you expect?"

"Something more primitive perhaps, I don't know."

"You're disgracing your own intelligence in front of our guest."

"Did you just say Harkonnens?" The guest in question inquires, her expression so blatantly haunted that it would make even the most untalented acolyte grow hot with shame, because anyone taught by the sisterhood should be able to mask that.

"Yes, child, what do you know about the Harkonnens?" Mohiam probes.

The sisterhood has let her pick her own studies after teaching her the basics of Galach. She had gone for science first, then art. The reverend mother had disapprovingly clicked her tongue, as contemporary politics and religion would have been the right choice. It proves unequivocally that the woman is of lesser intellect.

"Do you know someone named Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?" Her voice trembles like the strings of an off-tune baliset.

"He is the na-Baron of Giedi Prime?" Gwyn replies as if the inquiry was a test for the attendees. 

What no one expects is for the relic to break down crying so hard, she sounds like a wounded animal, primitive like Gwyn had suggested, producing gut-wrenching noise. The Bene Gesserit sisters turn away with disdain, except for Irulan whose face is painted by confused compassion.

The woman's legs give out and she unceremoniously squats down on the floor, covering her grimacing face with her arms. For the longest time, the attendees think she's merely sobbing, but after a while the sound warps into tearful but distinct laughter as she sways herself back and forth.

"He lives now?" She peeks at the blurry roundtable through the haze of tears. How could this be? Across not only space but time they've communicated simultaneously in their sleep. According to Einstein's theory of relativity, time is supposed to stretch and compress depending on relative motion, but never run backwards. Feyd should have never been able to talk to her.

Unless he really is her macroscopic, quantum-entangled twin, a phenomenon which Einstein himself had described as 'spooky action at a distance', though that was referring to microscopic particles. 

"Speak plainly! Who is Feyd-Rautha to you?" Mohiam demands.

Too bad, Irulan catches herself thinking. The woman already has a friend.

"I saw him," she yells. "I've talked to him so many times, I dreamed about him every night back home, for months! He's my friend. I love him." It is ridiculously easy to admit that, even in front of a council of semi-hostile strangers.

"Hm. Tell me something about him, child."

She draws a quick and trembling breath. "Feyd is a-about this tall, blue eyes, pale skin, no hair, v-very sweet and kind, oh God, I miss him so much, please just bring me to him~"

"That could be a lot of people, but definitely not Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." The reverend mother purses her lips under her veil. "Tell us something more distinct."

"He's being abused by his uncle," she snaps with such venom that even the old Bene Gesserit's fingers briefly clench in her lap. The roundtable grows still and only the woman's shoulders heave with hard breaths.

"Then he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." 

Upon that, the woman nearly bursts out laughing. How ridiculous, how cruel that this is what defines him in public and makes him recognizable, not all the sweet traits of his. People of power know of his abuse and no one deems it appropriate to take action against it?

The reverend mother continues. "Your dreams were visions of the future. This is what we call prescience. That you are prescient surprises me."

"They were dreams, not visions! We've talked about current events and each night we could remember the previous ones." She struggles to find the right words in Galach. "We had agency!"

But the reverend mother isn't listening to her anymore, coming to a staggering conclusion with her frighteningly sharp wit. If she speaks the truth, everything points towards their relic being a primordial Bene Gesserit, erratically skilled even without any training. Mohiam turns to her sisters and ponders: "If she was capable of prescience, perhaps her nervous system developed other abilities as well."

"You suggest she performed Prana Bindu while contained in the cryo pod?" Irulan concludes.

"It would explain how her cells survived it for 24,000 years," Sylvia muses. "Her cells should have degenerated irrevocably thousands of years ago."

The four Bene Gesserit in the room turn towards the woman and ogle her like a thing from a curiosity cabinet. If she weren't so emotionally frayed, she would feel flayed by the many scheming glances.

"This changes everything," Mohiam decides. "The guests may return to their guest rooms. I wish you a swift and safe departure tomorrow." 

"I thought we had a deal," Thomin complains and kicks his chair back.

"We were far from having a deal," Mohiam says coldly.

Gwyn laments: "At least let me have a look at the cryo pod or the necklac-"

"A swift departure." The reverend mother repeats and tilts her head subtly towards Irulan, emphasizing that this includes her too. Irulan's lips quiver briefly before she straightens her back, casting a longing look at the disheveled woman before she leaves with the others.

As soon as it's only the three familiar faces from the sisterhood, the relic yells: "I refuse to stay here. I don't want your training or even your hospitality, I only want him! More than anything in the world."

To her surprise, the two younger ones flinch and glower, as if suspecting her voice might break out with new unforeseen powers.

"You love him?" Sylvia doubts but is swiftly silenced by the reverend mother with an acute sweep of the hand.

"Quiet," Mohiam addresses the relic "There's no need to throw a tantrum. You will be brought to him as soon as the circumstances allow."

"I- Oh." The woman stands helplessly like a lost child, hands clutched in front of her pelvis as fresh tears well and soon stream down her cheeks and quivering lips. She had expected more resistance, more cruelty.

"Go now. We will discuss more soon." Dumbstruck, she does as instructed and pads out of the conference room, mind caught in a limbo of disbelief and rejoicing.

The three Bene Gesserit remain.

"She must be controlled. I don't have to remind you that one of her first inquiries when she understood Galach was about computers and where to find one."

"She will be distracted, if she really loves Feyd-Rautha."

"Isn't that careless?" Miriam is baffled. Obviously, they shouldn't let the woman go to Giedi Prime and slip out of their immediate reach before conditioning her mind and body to a proper training.

"Her DNA is mysteriously rogue but powerful. That's all we need to know."

Miriam and Sylvia understand now. The reverend mother doesn't intend to train the wayward woman from Old Earth who is too obsessed with her old ways to indulge in the Bene Gesserit conditioning. She only means to breed her with Feyd-Rautha, so that the child may be trained. Since Lady Jessica disobeyed the sisterhood's order and denied them a daughter, there is currently no fitting prospect for the Harkonnen heir anyway.

"And if Feyd didn't share her visions?"

"We will soon find out. Even if he didn't, perhaps he can be warmed up to someone who is so... blatantly and bizarrely smitten with him." The reverend mother can't help the tiny twitch of her upper lip, betraying her disdain.

"So, we will contact House Harkonnen?"

"No," Mohiam declares. "The old Baron will deny their union if we are the ones who initiate. Let the rumors spread and let Feyd-Rautha do the work for us."

In Greek mythology, Prometheus (/prəˈmiːθiəs/; Ancient Greek: Προμηθεύς, [promɛːtʰéu̯s], possibly meaning "forethought") is one of the Titans and a god of fire. Prometheus is best known for defying the Olympian gods by taking fire from them and giving it to humanity in the form of technology, knowledge and, more generally, civilization. Prometheus is known for his intelligence and for being a champion of humankind and is also generally seen as the author of the human arts and sciences.

A/N: The time it took me to get my Dune lore sorted and throw around the dates from the confoozing BG/AG calendar was longer than it took me to write the actual chapter 😭 Also, Frank Herbert, please don't slap me, I tried to match the vibe of the secret meeting in the beginning of Dune Messiah, but I have nothing on thee, Frank Herbert 🧎

P.S. No breeding in this fic, but the Bene Gesserit sure do dream of it.

TAG LIST: @nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon, @sebastianswallows

Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

[scribblewrites]

Just be with me

Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader hurt/comfort

this is my first time writing so don’t expect much

this is very much just me projecting lol. Reader feels like crap, Bakugou comforts them. He might be a bit ooc

TW: mentions of SH, Reader has anxiety/breakdown and is overall feeling bad

take care of yourselves! ♥

— Bakugou sat in the common area as the smell of the class's dinner (now slightly burnt thanks to Kaminari setting the oven wrong) filled the air. He disinterestedly scrolled his phone, occasionally listening to the extras complaining about how hard Aizawa sensei had pushed them in training. A scoff was thrown in here and there from Bakugou’s place on the couch.

Motioning to get up and start yelling at Kaminari for ruining dinner, Bakugou stopped as his phone went off with a flurry of texts. Grunting, he opened his phone again

“Tch, what the hell is it now”

——————————Y/N——————————

7:14 PM -hey

7:14 PM-can you come to my dorm?

7:16 PM -soon, please

He stared at his phone, worry slowly forming on his face. Now that he thought about it, y/n hadn’t joined the rest of the extras after class like they normally do. They hadn’t been roaming the kitchen impatiently waiting for dinner like normal either. Suddenly their absence became increasingly prevalent in his mind. He noticed a slight change in their behavior the past few days but chalked it up to the stress of upcoming exams the whole class was experiencing.

“I’ll be back, gotta grab somethin’ from my room” Bakugou hurriedly walked towards the elevators before anyone could say something.

—Reader’s POV—

You were sitting crisscross on your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you desperately trying to control your breathing. The stupid overwhelming feeling in your chest sat heavy as you silently willed tears, sobs, anything to escape. Anxiety weighed you down the past couple of days. Ignoring it didn't work like you hoped, resulting now in the panic and shame suffocating you.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The sting of your outer thighs began to feel more and more intense. They were scratched to hell, red marks swelling slightly in the tracks of your nails. Small cuts were littered among the scratches. Not deep enough to cause any real damage or scar, but enough to now sit as an ugly reminder of your outburst mere minutes ago.

“Ughh, why did I text him” you groaned, pressing your palms into your eyes and laying back.

It’s stupid. You just didn’t want to be alone now. it hasn’t been this bad in months, shit maybe years. Over the weekend it got progressively worse and now you’re stuck, feeling somewhere in between numbness and regret.

knock knock

The harshness of the fist on your door gave away who was there. Slowly sitting up and letting out a shaky sigh you called him in.

“It’s open.” the door quickly swung open and shut as Bakugou stormed towards you.

“What the hell is up with your ominous ass texts? You’ve been actin’ weird all day and it’s throwing me off” It only took him a few strides to cross over in front of your bed.

He looked you up and down, finally analyzing your face after his rough entrance. His face shifted slightly after he saw the dullness in your eyes and the state of your legs. The normal disinterested look on his face remained, but you didn’t miss the subtle softening in his eyebrows or the concern growing in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“hey, too you too Katsuki” The half-hearted jab fell weakly from your lips.

“Shit. Um, I could-- do you want me to"

“No.” you interrupted his awkward attempt at figuring out what to do. “I don’t want you to do anything. Last thing I need right now is someone judging me or trying to fix this.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to keep your voice level as you got your request out.

“just— just be with me.”

He paused briefly, clearly searching for a response. "Tch, yeah…I can do that.”

He shuffled a bit, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing towards you. A sigh of relief left you as you realized he wouldn’t judge you. He didn’t try and spew fake comfort, instead, he shoved you to make room on the bed. Reaching for your laptop, he settled in next to you and scrolled through YouTube.

After a few hours of watching dumb reactions and video essays, you melted into his side. At some point, you felt his rough hand lightly rubbing your arm. Sleep was creeping over you as your eyes burned from the bright screen. Picking up your phone, you registered that it was almost 11 pm. Katsuki would’ve normally been asleep hours ago.

“It’s past your bedtime old man” you joked as you shoved the time in his face.

“I’m not the one starting to snore, dumbass” he nudged your side with no real bite to his words.

“Rude!” you chuckled and weakly shoved him back in retaliation. Settling back into his side, sleep was finally winning. Before drifting off, you whispered almost inaudibly,

“Thanks ‘Tsuki”

you began lightly snoring before he responded, his head dipping to softly kiss your head.

“G'night, y/n”

hope y’all enjoyed this! pls leave any feedback, this is my first time writing anything like this and I’d love to improve ♥

[wosoragebaiter69]

but i didn't did pour the whiskey

barça femeni x reader

overview: they said getting over addiction wasn't easy, what about when no one knows? what about when relapse happens after a whole year?

A/N: my requests are sitting... but I can't get to them and im really sorry, ive been so busy atm and dont got much modivation for em'

TW: alcohol addiction, self-hatred, relapse, course language, actual detail instead of me brushing over it

!! viewer discretion is advised, i suggest only mature audiences read this !!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In all honesty, you'd seen the signs. You'd known the inevitable was coming. The feelings of urge that you'd felt a year ago when trying to stop. You had stopped though, so you ignored it. Then it became more real. To the blank stares at the crates in the stores, rather than the hatred you harboured before after finally being ‘better’.

To walking and judging if you should buy it or not.

To blinking tears out of your eyes, wondering why you'd think that in the first place.

Because why would you, you were better now. Right? That's what you'd told yourself anyways.

It kept amplifying over the course of a week. Until you couldn't take it, until everything you'd worked so hard for for the past year came crashing down. All those memories of countless nights pacing, crying, yelling over a stupid fucking substance fade away.

Guilt. That's all there is. Guilt.

Guilt for betraying your past self who had cried for hours, who felt like she was going psycho over not having a single drink.

But, you can't find it in yourself to stop drinking it. It's just one beer, how harmful could it be? Said by the words of a true fucking alcoholic.

So, you do the only thing you can think of and cry. Cry until your face is numb, your throat burning with every breath, cry until your lungs can't take in any oxygen anymore.

Cry until you feel like you've felt something.

Then when you did stop crying what did you do? The only option you thought you had. Drink more.

- - - - -

You knew you looked like shit, you felt like it too. Your face puffy from the numerous breakdowns the night before, your eyes red from the tears that had an endless flow, dark rings under your eyes from the restless 3 hour sleep you'd got.

Also not to mention the headache you'd acquired. Knowing that only last year if you'd drunk this much, you'd only start to feel something. That's not something to be proud of.

You try your hardest to make yourself look even the slightest bit presentable, getting rid of the puffy face with a shower and taking paracetamol to take away the ache in your skull.

This would do enough to convince them you were fine, it's not like you were the loudest or most obnoxious person on the team. Preferring to observe everything with a smile.

What you didn't consider? Your captains. You're only 22 so even if you're techincally an adult, they're still over 7 years older than you.

So you walk into the lockeroom for training, silently making your way to your cubby as usual. Until, you feel a tug on your sleeve. Alexia is standing there, worry etched into her features.

"You ok? It looks like you've barely slept." Her voice is low and quiet, something you were eternally grateful for.

"Yeah, just a rough night. Thanks capi." You don't lie, but you don't tell the full truth either. She can sense this but doesn't say anymore, allowing you to go back to getting ready.

You take the time to rethink of the previous night, the regret you'd felt immediately after taking the first sip. But, the feeling of being unable to stop.

No matter how much you'd told yourself it was nothing, you know this isn't the end.

You push the thoughts away, clearing your mind of any thoughts before walking out onto the field ready for training.

- - - - -

It was the same people you saw watching you; Alexia, Marta and Mapi. It wasn't every second but enough to showcase they knew something was wrong but just didn't know what.

You had joined in the summer from your old club in Italy. No one knew of the past you'd had with alcohol. It's not like you made an effort to tell them either, they respected your choices not to drink when going out and you didn't need to bring up topics that were from before even moving to Barcelona.

Maybe if they knew, you'd have someone to confide it.

Somehow you'd managed to hide it from your old team as well, but considering the close relationships that Barcelona had with each other you doubted it would be shrugged off as easily.

When training was finally over, you were quick to slip away. As the thoughts and need of what caused you in this melancholic state start to reappear in your mind.

Not now, why after so long did you have to collapse now? When the peak of your career could potentially be around the corner.

You want to survive like a normal person, you want to be able to do things without relying on a fucked up liquid. Why did it have to be you?

And why?

Why is the only thing you can think of to soothe these thoughts, alcohol?

- - - - -

You stare blankly at the open carton, hesitation as you ponder if you should give in or not. Should you drink it? Part of your mind says yes, part of you yearns for it. The rational side says no, and to stop before it's too late.

But wasn't it already?

So you give in. The burning down your throat a painfully familar comfortality.

In a depressing way it makes you more aware of your surroundings, the beer bottles scattered in the room. Liquid all over the floor and on your things. It bothers you, but you can't bring yourself to clean it.

So you sulk, going over past memories. You'd never considered yourself a sad drunk, always being happier and finding a way to goof about while drinking. Then, very rarely toward the end of recovery getting angry. Never sad though.

Times change, people change. You thought you'd changed, but that kind of addiction? It never seemed to leave. Waiting until you're vulnerable to attack. Like an incurable disease.

Before you really comprehend it, the whole box of beers you'd bought yesterday are empty and strown across the floor.

You reach a point of feeling nothing, a numbing feeling brought by guilt, the alcohol making everything seem hazy. Your phone is ringing, but you can't bring yourself to answer. You can't bring yourself to care.

- - - - -

Knocking at your door brings you out of the limboed state you're in. You figure they'll leave soon, and the knocking stops after a minute. Until the door opens revealing the three who had been watching you in the morning.

Alexia is the first to you, the others take in the state of your apartment and walk around elsewhere.

"Hey." It's all she says, but enough for tears to fall from your eyes. You can't bare to look at her face, so you keep your eyes glued to the floor.

"Come on, look at me." She uses her hands to guide your chin so you're looking straight at her.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me." She pauses, "Let's sober you up first." You don't argue, and follow her orders. Exhausted, you pass out as soon as your head hits the pillow.

- - - - -

Waking up was easier than you'd thought it would be, your head not pounding as much as in the morning. It made sense though considering you'd drank less than the night before. There were pills on the side table with a glass of water which you take easily.

The sun is setting so you must have slept for a couple of hours by this point. When you walk into the living room you notice all the rubbish gone, the floors are clean and there's no reminisince of beer anywhere. Alexia, Marta and Mapi are talking quietly amongst themselves and look up once they realise you're awake.

"Come, sit." Mapi pats next to her. You nod silently walking over.

"Would you mind explaining to us what happened? I know you’ve said before don't drink, so this is very new. If you don't want to talk that's also fine but I don't want to see you hurt." Alexia says, she doesn't pry but she does make her point known.

"Ok, but please can you do no talking while I explain? I'm not sure how much I can take if I don't explain it all in one." You're not sure why you opened up so easily, maybe because you desperately craved for someone. Anyone.

"Last year, I was an alcoholic and I can't tell you really when it started. It was to take all the weight and pressure off my shoulders originally, but it turned worse. I just kept drinking regularly and when I tried to settledown, I realised I couldn't. So I didn't stop. It worked for me."

"Then as the season moved on I realised I did desperately need to do something about it but I was just so scared of what people would say to me. How would they react?"

“So instead of getting proper help I did it myself.”

"I got rid of all traces, didn't go out as much. It was horrible. I thought I was going crazy. I wasn't ok at all. I'd obviously relapsed a couple times when trying by myself to recover but it gave me more determination. I'd say it took like 3 months before I truly felt like I was clean."

"Then, I'd had the oppurtunity to play here and it's like everything went away. I should've known better." You sigh.

"Known what? Did you know you were going to relapse again?" Marta asks carefully.

"I saw the signs but ignored them, when I did give in... all I felt was regret, I still do. I think that's why I drank the rest if I'm going to be honest." You look away, not daring to look at any of them.

A pair of arms engulf you, large hands pushing your head to the persons chest.

"Listen to me, we can help you. You won't ever have to do this alone, not while I'm here ok? I don't know much about this, but I'll try. We all will." You start sobbing into her chest, clinging your fists tightly into her shirt. A way to thank them without words.

Because the belief they had in you made you feel like you could do it. Even in these drowning times.

—————————————————————————

i hope you enjoyed fic, this may not be accurate to everyone but this is my experience with battling addiction to alcohol and i write it because i too relapsed after a year recently

this was more for also for awareness and just know that you aren’t alone in anything, if you feel you need someone to talk to i’m always here :)

[caffeinemachine]

Life Jacket- Chapter 2

Hi!! Thanks for all the love on the first chapter! Sorry this out later than I expected but I couldn't stop writing and I didn't want to end the chapter at an odd spot.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Hope you like this chapter!

WC: 4.8K

Conrad Fisher x Eldest Conklin Sibling Reader

Blurb | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~

The first day always went the same. Unpack, swim, shower, nap, dinner. Sometimes the first bonfire of the season was the first day we got there, other times it was the next day. This year it was the first. So today’s order was, unpack, swim, shower, nap, dinner, get ready, party. 

We all gathered around the table for dinner in our usual spots. My Mom, Belly, and me on one side,  Steven and Jere across from us, then Conrad on the end next to me, and Sussanah on the end next to my Mom. The spots never changed over the years, unless we had guests to squeeze in somewhere. The other thing that never changed was the food. Susannah was an amazing cook. She had taught me to cook over the years. I had spent many hours by her side being her ‘little sous chef’ as she called me. This summer she told me she would show me her old college food recipe hacks. 

I picked my head up from my plate when I heard Jeremiah’s voice, “So Y/n/n when do you leave for school? Do they have the swim team go early?” 

I nodded, quickly swallowing my food so I could answer, “Yeah I have to go early, It's not too bad though only 2 weeks before the regular move-in date. I leave on August 5th.”

Susannah spoke next, “We’re so proud of you, our little fish.” Everyone chuckled at the nickname, ‘little fish’. Susannah had been calling me that for years. 

“So what about you man when do you leave for training camp?” Steven asked Conrad, only he wasn’t the one who answered. Jeremiah did.

“He uh quit football.” Silenced stretched over the table. He what? I stared at him in disbelief, but in my heart, a part of me felt relieved for him. Being a student athlete isn’t easy and I knew Conrad only did football for his father. Sure he still loved the sport, but not enough. 

“What you quit? Why man, I would’ve killed to play college ball?” Steven asked Conrad but again he didn't respond, his mother answered this time. 

“He can always change his mind.” That made Conrad speak up, getting defensive towards his mother in a way I didn't usually see from him.

“I’m not gonna change my mind, I was just gonna sit on the bench all season anyway.” I sat quietly. I didn’t know what to say. Conrad and I bonded over our athleticism over the years, it felt weird to think we didn’t share that similarity anymore. 

I hadn't realized I was staring at him until he looked back at me, our eyes locked and yet I still couldn't move. You'd think it'd be instinct to look away but as he came into focus, we just stared. I tried my best to read him to understand why he might do that, Why would he quit? I knew he didn't love it but he had gone this far with it, What made him change his mind?

There was something unreadable in his expression I didn't think it was regret or nostalgia or sadness or anger but instead some combination of all of it. I wondered why. He looked away first turning his attention to his plate as he picked at the food in front of him. I didn't push him on it, I wasn't sure I'd push him on it later either. I’m sure he had a reason, maybe it’d be best if I just let him tell me if he wanted. 

The rest of dinner continued on like normal on the first night. Catching up, making jokes, and just being happy to be in each other's presence again. Everyone went their separate ways to get ready for the bonfire, and Belly and the moms stayed downstairs preparing for their movie night. Their tradition started a few years ago when Belly was 11, almost 12. That was the first year we went to a bonfire, Conrad and I were 14, and Jeremiah and Steven were 13. The bonfires were different then, we were with the younger crowd still unmixed from the older kids.  It was in the backyard of the house owned by a kid Jeremiah and Conrad knew from sailing camp. Belly was so upset she couldn't come with us. She was too young and we didn't want to have to watch out for her the whole night, or entertain her for that matter. I love my sister and she's gotten a lot better over the years but she loves attention, even though she won't admit it. Having her come meant that I would have to keep her by my side the whole night, that I couldn't mingle with new kids and make new friends. The moms promised to hang out with her that night. They went to the drugstore in town and bought a bunch of candy. Susannah made brownies and they watched a movie, a PG-13 movie which Belly thought was awesome at the time. 

I didn't do too much to get ready for the bonfire, it wasn't anything new, but I still like to look a little bit nice. It was the first time I was seeing everybody for the season after all. My hair was down, air-dried from the shower I took earlier so it had a natural wave to it. A little concealer under my eyes, some mascara, tinted lip balm, and that was that. I put on a tank top and some jean shorts with my navy Cousins Beach sweatshirt on top. It tended to get a little bit chilly on the beach at night. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes catching on the shimmer coming from my ears. My pearl earrings, Susannah's pearl earrings. She gave them to me for my 16th birthday just like her mother did and I've treasured them every day since. 

I had to shoo the thought away as I felt myself getting choked up. I exited my room and went down the stairs, slipping on my very worn-in black Converse by the door.  I heard stories of people in college having a designated pair of shoes they called their ‘frat shoes’. This pair of black Converse was that for me over the summer.  They had been covered in sand, soaked from water, and scuffed with dirt, more times than I could count. 

As I finished tying my last lace, the boys walked down the stairs. I sat up, shoes now tied, and patted my knees, “You guys ready to go?”

“Yep let's do this we're taking my car. Y/N you promised to be DD for the night right? Don’t worry though I won’t drink too much anyway, wouldn't want to be hungover for my first day of duty, right Y/ N?” Jeremiah answered.

I laughed, “No Jere, you definitely shouldn't be hungover. Wouldn't look good for me either after I vouched for you to get this job. But yes I’ll be DD.” He laughed with me throwing his arm over my shoulder as we walked to the car. Steven called shotgun which left me and Conrad to sit together in the back. I hated to admit it to myself but he looked good. How someone could pull off a gray hoodie that well I didn't know, but he pulled off a gray hoodie and jeans better than I'd seen ever before. 

The drive was silent in terms of conversation but in the front seat, Jeremiah and Steven were singing their hearts out to Steven's ‘pregame’ playlist off Spotify. I kept my gaze out the window. Partly because I was still taking in the beauty of Cousins, partly because I could look at him. He looked too good and I always had to distance myself from Conrad before parties. I never knew how they’d play out with him. Sometimes he’d just stick close to us, the crew, and have a super fun night hanging out. Usually, that’s what he did when I was at the party with the guys but I’d been told the stories of his playboy party actions when I wasn’t there, and last summer I had gotten a glimpse of it. A girl named Nicole had come up to him and started chatting with him. Within seconds she was quite touchy-feely. Her hand was on his chest or upper arm, even playing with his hair every once in a while. I had whispered into Jere’s ear who was between me and the horny fest, “Who’s that?” 

Jere took a quick glance over his shoulder and then whispered back, “Nicole, she and Conrad hook up every once in a while.”

I furrowed my brows, “I’ve literally never seen her before.”

“They met at a party last summer when you had left for swim camp, I think her family like only comes out for August.”

I swallowed the information and then excused myself to get a drink. I stole a beer from the kid's fridge and walked back feeling a little bit better now that I had a drink in my hand. But when I looked up to find Nicole on her tiptoes kissing Conrad against the wall, the power of the drink in my hand ceased. I turned back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter by myself for a few minutes. I had my focus down on my hands when I suddenly looked up at the sound of the refrigerator doors flying open. It was her. She was seemingly grabbing a beer from the fridge the same way I had been just a second ago. I expected her to walk back out to Connie, but instead, she stationed herself on the counter, so I took that as my sign to walk back. It was the first, and only time since I had seen Conrad's fuck-boy behavior, but the stories continued, and I never let myself feel unprepared for the chance I might see it again.

Now sitting in the car with him I did just that as I watched the houses go by. The streets are littered with beautiful bloomed hydrangeas. Suddenly, my hair was pushed behind my ear. I turned my head as his hand draped its way down from my ear to the ends of my hair. His face was soft but I could see the dimples around his smile starting to crease. I shifted in my seat, nervous with his attention on me. 

“W-what are you doing?” I spoke lowly. Not that it mattered, Jere and Steven had no chance of hearing over our screaming.

“You’re hiding.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And it left me speechless. “Your hair is always so soft, you’d think after years of chlorine that wouldn’t be the case.” 

That eased the tension a little, as the corner of my mouth turned up. “Well, that's because I wear one of those swim caps.”

He laughed, “I’d pay to have a picture of that.” 

I laughed with him, “Don’t say that to my mom 'cause she’d easily take your money for an exchange.” 

“Let's go!” Jeremiah shouted, exiting the car along with my brother. I hadn't realized we had stopped.

I looked over my shoulder to see Conrad hadn’t moved. His eyes looked at me like he was observing my soul. I held my breath. As if not breathing would help ease the bubbles floating around in my chest. 

I couldn’t bear it.

With an awkward laugh, I scooted out of the car and jogged over to Jere and Steven. I didn’t want to walk down alone. I knew the boys wouldn’t stay by my side the whole night, they’d go do other things within the first hour, but I liked to hold onto them for as long as I could. I didn’t mind the girls I’d met with the guys here over the years, but we were never that close. Nicole, Dara, Gigi, Marisa, and Shayla, we’d all lose contact over the school year. I also knew some people who weren’t from that crew. Some of them I knew from the swim club I used to do at the Country Club when I was little under the Fisher’s name. I wasn’t exactly supposed to be in the club seeing as I wasn’t truly a member but Susannah had a way of getting people to do what she wanted. Kindness can be blinding. The club was mostly made up of little boys, there were only 3 of us girls, Sydney, Ally, and me. Sydney was a nice girl. She was super smart, and ambitous, she’s set to start at Princeton for business in the Fall. Ally, I remained better friends with as we grew up. She was a dedicated swimmer like me so we even ran into each other sometimes during the school year at competitions. Ally was a total sweetheart, but she liked to have fun. She was easy to hang out with, she understood. I hoped they were here, I had forgotten to text them when I got to Cousins.

The fire wasn’t too crazy, they had to be careful not to draw too much attention from the cops. A big crowd of people had already formed though and it was only 9:30. I grabbed a cola from the cooler as I said hello to everyone coming up to us. Chit-chat was made with numerous people, and I couldn’t help but feel these conversations were really competitions for these kids. It was like every comment had to be a one-up to the one previous.

It was around 10:30 when a hand plopped down on my shoulder abruptly.  I assumed it was one of the guys but then he came into my eyeline, Peter Millington. 

“Yooo Y/N what's good?” He said a little slurred. As he moved to stand in front of me his hand dropped from my shoulder. 

“Hey Peter,” I laughed. Peter was a good guy, he was flirty but it was harmless. Annoying, but harmless. I met him at the swim club when we were 10. 

“So miss big shot where you heading this fall?  I’m sure schools across the country were practically begging outside your front door!” 

I laughed, “I won’t deny that, but I’m actually not going far. I’m gonna be going to Harvard.” His mouth hung open.

“No shit.”

“Yes, shit. How about you, still swimming?” 

He shook his head, “Nah nah, I’m trying to be a sports agent, I’ll be going to Penn State.”

“That’s great, congrats.” I smiled at him. 

He pointed at me a big smirk spreading across his face, “Yeah so you better remember me when you go all famous.” He finished his statement by slightly hitting the side of my arm. 

“You got it Pete, I won’t forget you-”

“Belly what the fuck!” My head snapped and my jaw dropped. I took off over to them. I sort of abandoned Pete but eh, he’ll be fine. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steven yelled.

I smacked his shoulder once I had run up to them. “Stop yelling! You’re making a scene!” I whisper-shouted at him. 

Then I turned my attention to my baby sister. My baby sister, who wasn’t supposed to be here. My baby sister, who was just talking to a man 5 years older than her. My baby sister, who chose to wear a tiny skin-tight pink mini dress. My clueless, trouble-causing, baby sister. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked her as calmly as I could. 

“What I can’t go to a party?” She bit back defensively.

Excuse me? She didn’t get to give me shit for being concerned when she's the one who showed up out of the blue. I scoffed, “Did I say that?”

“What are you even wearing Belly we are on the beach why would you-“ 

“Steven. Knock it off. Go hang out with Shayla.” This was getting too aggravating. Steven was instigating too much, he must have already pissed Belly off by the time I ran up and now I had to deal with it.

“Did Taylor tell you to wear that or something?” I asked Belly, trying my best to figure out what was going on without having to have an argument in the middle of a party. 

“Why can’t I just dress nicely without being questioned?” Why the hell was she being so defensive? 

 “Again did I say that?” I couldn’t hold back the bite to my tone.

She rolled her eyes before looking at me. But then her gaze sharply caught something over my shoulder. I turned to look. Jeremiah. Drunk off his ass. Standing next to the fire trying to strip and go skinny dipping. He had already stripped off his sweatshirt, shirt, shoes, and socks. 

“Great.” I scoffed, running over to my now 2nd problem of the night. 

When he saw me running over he smiled brightly, “Y/N! We are going swimming come on! OH MY GOSH Belly! You’re here! You come too!”

Belly laughed beside me and I would’ve thrown a dirty look her way if I had the energy to spare. 

“No. No one is going swimming. It’s pitch black, the rip currents are crazy, and you are wasted. That’s all recipe for disaster.” I said authoritatively. 

Jeremiah pouted. “Please?”

“No. Now put your clothes on.” 

“Booooo.” Was he serious? He swayed as he re-dressed, his shirt blocking his vision. Good god.

“And get rid of the drink Jere, You’ve had enough.” 

“Ughhh fine party pooper.” Before I could stop him he threw his drink into the fire. 

“Jere-” The fire grew, a blaze lighting the beach. Shouts were heard as other drunk idiots followed Jeremiah’s lead and fueled the fire. “I can’t with this, Jere hang out with Belly.”

He smiled at that, “Alright come here belly button sit with me by the fire.” She giggled and obliged.

I took a deep breath, my feet taking me to the shoreline without even thinking. I needed to calm down. The chaos was overwhelming. I sat down on the sand a few feet away from where the water reached. The breeze flowed against me and I felt my mind begin to ease. This. This is why I always loved Cousins. I will never feel as at peace as I do when I’m next to the ocean. Water just calmed me down. I was the little fish. 

I hoped that would never change. I hoped I would always be the little fish, no matter how big or how small the pond. No matter what happened down the line, the peace I felt by the water would never be disturbed. I’d always be, as Susannah so deemed me, a little fish. 

I felt a plop next to me in the sand. I knew who it was without even looking, I could simply feel his energy. It was Conrad. He looked out on the water as he placed whatever drink he had in his hand down next to him. I kept my gaze out on the water as well. It felt good to just sit with somebody. With him. 

“So you go around telling everybody you’re going to Harvard?” He said, slight humor in his tone.

I sighed, “I mean only when anyone asked.”

“No shouting from the rooftops?” 

“No shouting from the rooftops. I’m not a big bragger.” I snickered, and so did he.

“You? Please! You have always been humble but you never shied away from sharing your accomplishments. You should be proud of yourself, it’s a big deal.” I just shrugged in response.

“I’m proud of you.” I looked at him then. His eyes were full of sincerity. I don’t think he knew how much that meant to hear. I caught his eyes flicking to my lips. 

Wait what-

He was looking at my lips and when he looked back up his eyes shone with vulnerability. I couldn’t help myself when my eyes dipped down to look at his. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him. His soft pillowy lips moving against my own. I wondered where he’d put his hands. He seemed like the type of guy to cup the back of your head. I’d feel the weight of his hand as he pulled me into him like he was desperate for our connection. Maybe one hand would fall to my hips or my thigh, acting like an anchor. 

I couldn’t let my mind wander too far. Lord knows where that would lead. When our eyes met the tension was unmistakable. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself fall into him. I’d never stand back up. 

“Stella? Alright, thanks man!” 

Spell broken. Peter had just snatched Conrad’s beer from its spot between us and was taking a big slug of it. 

“Pete what the hell?” I said, standing up from my seat on the sand. 

“Dude give me my beer back.” Conrad stood up as well, Pete was standing between us. 

“Whaaaat? You weren’t even drinking it man! It was just- you know just sitting there and all the- all the other Stella’s are gone.” He was plastered. I felt my chest sink. This isn’t gonna go well.

“I don’t give a fuck if there aren’t any left, that one is mine now give it back to me.” Conrad defended.

“Connie come on-” 

“It’s just a beer man.” Pete turned to face primarily towards Conrad. 

“Exactly, so give me my beer back and get yourself your own.” 

“No.”

“Pete come on you definitely don’t need another drink.” I approached him, going to put my hand down on his shoulder to try and calm him down. Then just as I did he rolled back his elbow saying,

“Oh fuck off.”

I fell to the ground. His elbow collided right with my ear and the side of my face. Well, that hurt like a bitch. I’ll have a black eye on my first day back to work. Awesome.

“Y/N-“

I kept my eyes clenched shut for a minute before I felt a hand come to my shoulder, it was Belly and Jeremiah helping me up. My ears rang for a minutes before clearing. I watched as Steven and Jere broke up the fight. 

Conrad looked at me as Steven pulled him back. I shook my head and looked away. Actually, I looked right at the flashing blue and red lights now coming from the top of the dunes. Cops, awesome. 

“Enough!” I snapped everyone out of it, “Let’s go! Come on!”

I grabbed Belly’s hand as we ran up to the car, glancing over my shoulder quickly to make sure the boys were behind us. 

“Jere keys!” I caught the keys as he tossed them to me, unlocking the car doors. “In! Now!”

I started the car, a scowl on my face. My head felt like it was vibrating but it wasn’t like any of them could drive with their intoxication level. I couldn’t believe them. How on earth did they think it was appropriate to act like this?  I kept my eyes on the road, but I was sure they could feel the anger radiating off of me. 

“Y/N look I-“ Steven started but I cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Then Jeremiah came in, “We didn’t mean to-“

“I said I don’t wanna hear it! Unless you want me to hit a drunk teenager stumbling home, you’ll shut up and listen to me! I’m distracted enough by the pinging in my head.” 

They were silent after that. 

I was mad and I had plenty of reason to be. I had been in this position with my sibling plenty of times, a few with Jeremiah, but never Conrad. I knew he started fights occasionally, but never with me around. 

I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. Then I child-locked in all those mother fuckers. I unblocked my seatbelt and positioned myself to be able to see them all. Steven and Jere struggled to open the doors while Belly sat in the middle confused. To my surprise Conrad just sat in his seat, his focus down in his lap, he made no objections. Once the three backseat idiots figured it out they looked to me expectantly. 

I raised my brows, “What you thought just cause I didn’t want you distracting me while driving you were gonna be off the hook?”

“Y/N what do you even care? You’re not our mom.” Belly said, rolling her eyes.

She only fueled my anger, “Yeah no shit I’m not 'cause Mom wouldn’t have put up with even an ounce of the crap you guys pulled tonight. Do you think I like playing mommy? Do you think I wouldn’t have rathered to enjoy the first night of my summer stress-free? You are lucky I’m a good sister, 'cause I could so easily walk inside and tell Mom everything that went down tonight. Then maybe you’d realize that having you deal with me instead of mom, is me being nice.”  I watched my sibling's attitudes deflate. Jeremiah on the other hand was sitting there trying and failing to hide the smirk from his face. “What’s so funny Jeremiah? Do you think I’m not talking to you too right now? All of you put me in bad positions tonight because of how you acted. ”

Jeremiah chimed in again, “We weren’t that bad.”

My jaw dropped, “Not that bad? Let’s see who should I start with. How about you Jeremiah, I stopped you from getting naked in front of every teenager in cousins, potentially drowning and killing yourself, and even after I did that you acted like an idiot! Throwing alcohol into the fire, you’re probably the reason the cops came! Oh and just the cherry on top, the fact that you’re wasted after promising me you wouldn’t be.” He was quiet now. 

“Steven had to cause a whole scene, but I’m not even that mad at him because he was right to be questioning you Bells! How the hell did you even get there?”  

She peeked up sheepishly, “I walked.” 

“You walked? Belly do the Moms even know you came to the bonfire?”

“No, I snuck out.”  She spoke in a quiet tone.

“Jesus Bells! If you had just told me you wanted to come I would’ve vouched for you. For god sake, I would’ve given you a ride!” My head pounded. I rubbed my forehead trying to ease the pain, I needed some advil. “You guys can’t act like that. It’s dangerous, and quite frankly embarrassing. I’m just- I’m done dealing with it.” I took a breath and unlocked the doors, “Go inside guys. Go to sleep.” I sat forward with my head in my hands. I heard the doors open and close as they got out without a word. 

Except he didn’t. I didn’t look over at him. I honestly didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how I felt at the moment. 

“Are you ok? Is your head alright?” He had worry in his voice and I couldn’t help but feel a flutter in my heart. 

“I have a headache and I’ll probably wake up to a huge bruise on my cheek but I’m fine.”

“How come you’re not mad at me too?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t mad at you.” I felt his eyes on me the whole time but mine stayed forward at the house. 

“You didn’t yell at me like everyone else.”

“Because I didn’t know what to say to you not because I’m not mad at you.”

A beat passed. Just us sitting in the car before he spoke up again, “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Pete was plastered-“

“You could’ve just let him have the beer.”

“Y/N I wasn’t going to-“

“Look it’s been a long night, just- just go to bed Con.” I grabbed the keys and left the car. I hadn’t looked at him once and I didn’t look back at him.  I couldn’t. I don’t even think I was truly mad at him, I mean it was Pete’s fault, not his. I was more overwhelmed with tonight’s events and I didn’t have the energy to unpack anything right now. My head was pounding and I needed to lay down. Work would be a nightmare tomorrow morning. 

I went straight into the shower when I got inside. I gave myself a quick rinse. Susannah always stoked our bathroom with luxurious bath products for me and Belly. But I know Steven liked it too.

I walked into my room and plopped right down onto my bed. Man, it was soft, and it only seemed softer after a hard night. 

I went to grab my phone when I saw it. A water bottle, advil, an ice pack, and a cookie, sitting on my bedside table, and I most certainly didn’t put it there. I knew who did. I knew it was him, and I could feel myself smile a little. I felt myself forgive him, he was hard to stay mad at. He wouldn’t mention it, I probably wouldn’t either, but we knew that we knew. That was enough. 

For now.

~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mid-80s @geekinthefuschiahair @paytonloiselle

[mandos-mind-trick]

Dream of You

Summary: You know things. Things you shouldn’t. You knew about the clones, about the Republic’s army long before the war started. You knew about their training, you knew about attacks and battles even before they happened, long before the rest of the galaxy knew about them. Your only regret is not saying something sooner. 

Pairing: Echo x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, slight aftercare, angst, war, Echo's "death", slight description of medical stuff, paranoia, depression, very brief implied mention of suicidal thoughts, fluffy, happy ending, Soulmate AU

A/N: Did I intend the last two soulmate fics to have similar links...not really. It just happened this way. Also, this is the NSFW Echo soulmate fic, the one with ace!reader is coming shortly. I'll be making a post when I'm close to finishing that one. I really struggled with this so sorry if it's garbage. Echo was not musing for me this time around.

MASTERLIST

Blaster fire. 

It’s all around you, though that was fairly common for your dreams. You’re not sure where you are. You can’t see anything defining, nothing that would point out where you are or what you’re doing. 

“This is our only chance. We’ve got to stop him.” The voice echoes in your head. It’s coming from you. It’s your voice. 

You rush forward, grabbing a shield from the ground despite the bolts being fired at you. You rush towards the shuttle, firing at the droids in an attempt to secure it. 

“Echo look out!” 

Before the words register in your mind, before you can react you’re flying, being thrown forward by a wave of heat and energy. 

An explosion. 

The sound registers in your ears as you hit the ground. It’s dark, wherever you’ve landed. The pain begins to register as the shock wears off. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire. You can feel your pulse in your legs and arms, blood on your tongue. You can’t move. Even if you wanted to, even if you tried to call out, you can’t. 

You’re dying. 

****

You wake with a scream. Tears are gliding down your cheeks, and have been judging on the dampness of your face. You’re shaking uncontrollably, breaths coming in hyperventilating gasps. 

Your soulmate’s going to die. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, shaking you gently. “You alright?” 

You’re still hyperventilating, your brain refusing to respond. You’re soulmate’s going to die. Your soulmate’s going to die. It’s the only thing you can think of. 

“Look at me.” One of your fellow medics, Zena, kneels down on the other side of you. You like Zena. You’d consider her a friend. “I need you to breathe, otherwise you’re going to pass out.” 

She’s right. You can feel the tingling in your hands and feet and face as the carbon dioxide in your blood rapidly decreases. Zena takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. You try to mimic her, slowing your hyperventilating until your breathing is semi-even, broken only by the occasional sobs as you continue to cry. 

“What is it?” Zena asks, sitting on the edge of your bunk. “What’s going on?” 

“E-Echo.” You stutter out. “He’s...he’s go-gonna die!” 

A sympathetic look crosses her face. She’s one of the few that know about your soulmate, an ARC Trooper stationed with the 501st named Echo. You’ve never met, at least in person. You share a unique connection with him. Every time you sleep, you dream of what your soulmate will experience the next day. It started about eight years ago. You knew things about the GAR, about the war, long before it started. You’ve dreamed of battles that have happened since, things you shouldn’t know. Things that would get you arrested and sent to interrogation. 

It was what led you to sign up to be a medic, the hope that you might by chance run into your soulmate. Of course, you hadn’t known back then about the rules, the Kaminoans and the GAR forbidding the clones from forming links with their soulmates. The more you learned about the clones, the more angry it made you at the GAR. 

Zena squeezes your arm. “Maybe...maybe Commander Bly could help. He could alert the 501st command or something.” 

You scrub a hand over your face, smearing tears all over your skin. She’s right. Maybe...maybe things aren’t hopeless. You’re risking a lot. You’ll have to reveal your connection to Echo. If anyone finds out, he’ll be forced to reject you. By saving him, you might force yourselves apart for good. 

It would be better than losing him permanently. 

You throw the covers back, sliding your feet into your boots. “I need to find the Commander.” 

You’ve only spoken to Commander Bly once, while you patched his wound after a battle. You didn’t interact with command much outside the med bay. You were so far below their ranks. Your job was to patch wounds and keep injured troopers alive long enough to receive care. You were about to step so far out of your zone, but if it might save your soulmate’s life, then it will be worth it. 

You’re out the door of the bunks in a flash, before anyone can bring into question your course of action, before you can really question your decision. You head to the bridge, the first place you can think of as to where Commander Bly might be. 

You’re stopped at the doors before you can even get inside. “Authorized personnel only.” The trooper says. 

“I need to see Commander Bly.” You say, putting as much authority in your voice as you can. 

“He’s busy.” The trooper says. 

“It’s an emergency.” You say. “Lives are at stake.” 

The troopers at the door share a glance before one steps inside. You only get a quick glance through the doors before they’re closing again. You stand there and wait for what feels like too long, before the doors open, the trooper returning with Commander Bly in tow. 

He seems far more imposing now than he had when you’d patched his wound. You had been running high on adrenaline, patching trooper after trooper for hours after the battle ended. The adrenaline made you more brave. You could use some of that now. Right now all you have is desperation. 

Commander Bly leads you to a private room, your heart pounding in your chest. How were you going to tell him? How were you going to make him believe you? You’d have to spill, you’d have to tell him the truth and hope he believed the same as the other clones about soulmates. You’re risking so much, but if it saves even one life, perhaps it will be worth it. 

“You think someone’s in trouble?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your hands are still shaking, still rattled by your dream. “It’s the 501st, sir.” You push the tears away, not wanting to cry in front of your Commander. “Something’s wrong, something’s going to happen.” 

“And how do you know this?” He asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“My...my soulmate is with the 501st.” You say. “We share a dream connection. I-I had a dream last night. He’s going to die.” 

Commander Bly stares at you for a moment before he sighs, his shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“Warn them. Contact them. Something!” You say, raising your voice a bit. “There has to be something that can be done.” 

He shakes his head. “The 501st is on a campaign right now. No warning I could send is going to change what happens. We have to do our duty first.” 

Tears blur your eyes at his words. Of course it was foolish to think you could stop one clone from dying. You shouldn’t have bothered. Now you could be reported to GAR officials. 

“I’m sorry.” The Commander at least has the decency to sound sympathetic. He puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “There’s a shuttle leaving for Coruscant in less than an hour. I’ll put in the leave request paperwork.” 

You feel defeated. That’s it, then. There’s no swooping in and saving him, no way of preventing his death. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be. Fate wouldn’t give you a soulmate you weren’t going to meet. 

So what does that say about you? 

You drag your feet back to the barracks, packing your things silently as the tears slide down your cheeks. You feel numb, like your body is already preparing for the inevitable pain. It was going to happen today. You don’t know exactly when. It’s almost worse. 

You find the shuttle, boarding it without a word. You squish yourself in between two crates, pulling your knees to your chest as you wait for the soul-crushing pain of your soulmate’s death to hit you. 

***

You’ve been on Coruscant for two days. You’ve fluttered in and out of sleep, tears, and a deep numbness that prevented you from doing much else besides sitting and staring out the window of your hotel. You haven’t dreamed once in the many hours you’ve spent asleep. It’s all been dark, black, a void of nothingness. 

Was this what it felt like losing a soulmate? 

No one could ever fully describe it. They said it was horribly painful, like a piece of them was dying and decaying and it left a gaping hole in its place that never fully healed. 

You certainly feel like one big gaping hole. 

There’s been no pain, no soul-shredding feeling. Just numbness and emptiness. Perhaps it’s different for everyone. Perhaps your brain had blocked it out to save you from the pain of having to feel part of your soul dying. 

On the third day they arrive. 

You had managed to drag yourself into the shower, and you answer the door with dripping hair. Two members of the Coruscant Guard stand at your door. They ask your name and you confirm it. You’ve been summoned to the GAR headquarters. 

You already know what this is about. 

They let you at least make yourself decent and put shoes on before they escort you to the speeder. You’re not under arrest, which is a good sign, but you can imagine you’re headed into an interrogation. Someone had spilled on your link, on your knowledge of things you shouldn’t have known. Was it Commander Bly? One of your fellow civilians? 

You’re not mad. 

You’re far too numb to feel anything that strong. 

You’re escorted into the building and led through the labyrinth of lifts and halls. You’re left in a room with hardly more than a table and chairs and an overhead light. You lower yourself into one of the chairs, trying to prepare yourself for your impending interrogation. You can only imagine the things you’re going to get asked about. 

You’re not sure how long you wait there in the plain, windowless room. It feels like an external representation of how you feel inside. You can’t even bring yourself to feel nervous when an Admiral joins you in the room. 

He asks your name and your station, questions you can easily answer. You know you can’t lie. Getting caught in a lie isn’t going to help you any, and besides, why would you lie now? Your soulmate’s dead. They can’t do anything about it. 

“Having highly confidential information about the GAR and its battles puts you in a precarious situation.” The Admiral says. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You say. “After all, my soulmate is dead.” 

“Yes, what a pity. The loss of clones is an unfortunate aspect of the war that the Republic has no choice but to accept.” The Admiral says, no sympathy in his tone whatsoever. “You could have been a useful asset. Perhaps if we had known, things could have gone differently.” 

Your hands ball into fists, sudden rage boiling under the surface. It’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. You know it’s not true. They wouldn’t have risked anything to save Echo. He’s just another clone to them. Another faceless body to throw in front of a blaster. 

You’re shuttled back to your hotel and left at the door like nothing had happened. You’re still burning with rage, your body clinging to the first emotion it’s been able to conjure in days. You want to flip the table in your room, destroy the bed, break a window, something. You don’t have that kind of money, though, to pay for those damages. Nor do you want to put some poor housekeeper through that. 

Instead you drop on the bed and let out a scream into the pillow. The rage begins to boil down to tears, your sobs muffled by the dampening pillow. You cry yourself to sleep, drifting back into a state of numbness. 

***

It’s cold. You can’t see anything, you can’t hear anything. All around you is cold and dark. You can’t move, you can’t feel. You’re numb. The pain is gone, replaced by nothing. Nothing but numbing blackness in the cold around you. 

No, wait. You can hear something. Something off in the distance. It’s getting louder, echoing in your mind. 

CT-1409. 

CT-1409.

***

You can still hear it when you wake. 

CT-1409. 

You blink the tears from your lashes, sitting up on the bed. It’s night, the city illuminated outside the window. You haven’t been asleep long. You’d been in the GAR headquarters longer than you thought. 

CT-1409. 

You rise from the bed, moving towards the window, looking down at the city as far as you can, until it disappears into the cloud of haze that separates the upper and lower levels. You suddenly back away from the window, all but punching the button to close the shutters. It cuts off the only light, bathing the room in complete darkness. For half a moment you expect the cold to come seeping back in. 

CT-1409. 

You need to get off Coruscant. You need to get out from under the eyes of the Republic. You need to hide. You need to disappear before they make you.  

CT-1409. 

You use your savings to purchase a ship. It’s a piece of junk, but it has hyperspace capabilities. That’s all you need. You need to find somewhere remote. After that, you’ll figure it out from there. You have little money left, but being a medic means you’ll be able to find jobs easily. You can work anywhere. Someone’s always looking to hire medics. 

You just need to disappear from the Republic. 

*** 2 Years Later ***

You’re still dreaming. 

You had dreamed of the frozen darkness most out of everything. Occasionally you’d get more. Strange noises, things spoken in a language you couldn’t understand. Occasionally you’ll see flashes, images. You can never quite make them out. 

You think it might be your brain trying to get used to dreaming its own dreams again. Or perhaps it's your brain's way of trying to make up for the loss of your soulmate. The numbness has slowly faded into the background, though it hasn’t really left. You found a remote planet to live on, one far from war. You got a job at the medical center in a small town, the job almost boring compared to the heart racing adrenaline inducing insanity of the war. 

You don’t mind. It keeps you off the radar. 

You’ve built a decent life here in two years. As decent a life as you could, at least. You still feel empty and lonely. That longing feeling for your other half hasn’t left. The fact you know you’ll never get to have him only makes it worse. 

You cry more than you’d like to admit. You understand now why people don’t last long when their soulmate dies. You’d hardly call this living. More just simply existing. 

You have considered it. You can never quite bring yourself to. There’s always something in the back of your mind holding you back. Sometimes you wish you were brave enough. 

It’s one of those nights when it happens. 

***

It’s dark and cold again. It feels different this time. Something’s happening, but you’re confused. 

Suddenly the darkness is gone, and you’re staring at what seems to be a control room. 

“We-We have to get to the shuttle to escape the Citadel.” The voice echoes in your head. “No! I’ll go first!” 

“Echo.” Another voice says. “Echo, it’s Rex. I’m here.” 

A face enters your vision. You know that face. You’ve seen it many times. “Rex? You, you came back for me?” 

“Yes.” He looks guilty. “Yes I did.” 

“What, what happened? Where am I?” Your gaze swings to look around the room.

“It’s okay, Echo.” Your gaze is drawn back to Rex. “You’re safe now. Just sit tight trooper. You’re going home.” 

***

You startle awake, tears sliding down your cheeks. You stare at the wall across from your bed in disbelief. It can’t be...but it had felt like the other dreams. 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Had he somehow survived the explosion? It would explain the other dreams, the lack of pain at his passing. Had your suffering been simply your own creation because you thought he was dead? 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Your dream means he’ll be getting rescued today. Hope blooms inside you that it is true, that it is really a dream of what’s going to happen. Many feelings flood you for the first time in a long time. The numbness is pushed away as emotions bubble within you. You don’t know whether to be happy or worried or sad or relieved. All you can do is cry. Again. 

Of course, you’ll have no way of knowing if it really does come true. You have no connections in the GAR anymore, and you can’t risk them finding you. You did sort of desert the army and break your contract. You know a prison cell is waiting for you if you go back. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. 

You’re not entirely sure you trust fate. It’s put you through the wringer, but with this new development, that could change. Maybe you will find your way together after all. 

You call out of work, knowing you won’t be able to focus. You hardly leave your bed, thinking over the dream, over the fact your soulmate is alive. The longer you lay there, the faster the regrets start seeping in. What if you hadn’t left the Republic? You could have found a way to finally get to him, to finally meet him for the first time. 

There was no guarantee. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. Perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. Perhaps it was better if it happened this way. 

***

Your dreams return to normal as the months pass. Dreams of battles continue to be the most common. You see new faces now, faces you don’t recognize in your dreams through Echo’s eyes. Things have changed for him too. 

You’ve always wondered what he saw in his dreams. Battles too, you imagined, though different ones than the ones he partook in. You wonder if he ever saw the clones you couldn’t save, his brothers suffering, you attempting to save their lives. 

Your dreams must seem very boring now. 

You wonder if he had still dreamed of you during the period of...whatever had happened to him. You wonder if he feels relief seeing how different your life is now. You wonder what he thinks of you. 

You wonder if he even wants to meet you. 

You shake those thoughts away, burying yourself in your work at the medical center. You don’t want to think about it. Rejection was still a strong possibility. Between the war and the GAR and the fact that not everyone wanted a soulmate, he could still reject you. 

You force the thoughts away, focusing on your dreams instead. Watching what he’s doing, making sure he’s not going to die again. 

Then the war ends. 

Despite the war being over, chaos still ensues in the galaxy. You don’t trust the Empire, and that distrust only continues as your dreams continue. You watch the things that happen to Echo, and his eventual desertion. You’re helpless to do much but watch the events that transpire. 

You wait patiently, biding your time as Echo and his squad try to find their place in the galaxy. It feels almost wrong to have such a front row seat to the goings on in his life despite never having met him in person before. Then again, he has a front row seat to your life as well, though your life is much more boring than his, even now. 

As the weeks pass and the disruption continues in the galaxy, your new home planet remains entirely untouched. There wasn't much special about it. No major exports, no convenient hyperspace lanes nearby, no major cities. It's a perfect place to hide. 

Echo has also found a place to hide. You begin to see a place popping up in your dreams regularly. An idea begins to form in your head as you learn about the place in your dreams. 

Ord Mantell. 

Cid's Parlor. 

You could easily find that place. Ord Mantell's not far from your current home. You could reach it in a matter of hours. All you have to do is take time off work and jump in your scrap pile of a ship. 

The idea makes you nervous. What if he doesn't want to meet you? What if he rejects you? Years. Years you've been waiting for this. You spent years thinking he was dead. Now he's within reach and...you're scared. 

You dream of yourself that night. 

You've already made up your mind, or fate has made it for you. 

You're halfway to Ord Mantell before the sun rises on your home planet. 

***

Cid's Parlor is a rather seedy place. You've been in worse, but you suppose for a front it's perfect. You take the stairs slowly, trying to remember to breathe. This is the moment. Two years ago you would have been running in and throwing your arms around him. 

It's been a long two years. 

You enter the bar, the inside not any better than the outside. There's a weequay and an ithorian at a dejarik table, and then the five at the bar. You recognize them from your dreams. Well, you recognize four of them. 

You've never actually seen Echo. You were always seeing from his perspective. You always assumed he'd look like the other clones, but then you'd seen the new group he was with and realized maybe they don't all look alike. 

You can pick him out in the group by process of elimination. You recognize the other three, having seen them at various points, and then of course there's the girl. You take a long look at Echo, tears gathering in your eyes. 

You're so close. So close. 

"Echo?" You ask, the bar seeming to go quiet as soon as you say it. 

Everyone turns to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion. Echo steps back from the bar, staring at you. He's paler than the others, his face sunken and gaunt. There's a headset wrapped around his head, and you notice the cybernetic right arm. 

The furrow of his brows lift into shock, his eyes widening as he stares at you. He whispers your name, almost too quiet for you to hear. 

You're moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around him. He's solid and warm and his plastoid chest plate digs into your skin, but you don't care. He's real. 

His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. 

"I-I didn't think..." You sniffle, a tear sliding down your cheek. "Two years! I thought you were dead."

He lets out a chuckle, his hand sliding down your back. "Yeah. Everyone thought I was." 

You pull away as a throat clears beside you. Your cheeks warm a bit. You'd completely forgotten the others. 

"Echo...care to explain?" The one with the bandana, Hunter you think, asks. 

Echo slips his arm back around you, holding you against his side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my soulmate."

The guarded look on Hunter's face lessens just a bit. You hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms and trusted immediately. Not after the things you've seen. 

You get introduced to everyone, and you find yourself sitting at the bar, telling Echo all about yourself. Where you came from, how you joined the GAR, why you left, where you wound up. He knew a lot already. He'd dreamed of you occasionally during the two years you'd thought he was dead. He hadn't really understood what was happening during that time though. To be fair, you hadn't either. 

You talk a bit about them, filling in some gaps in your understanding of what was happening to them. 

"We need somewhere to lay low for a while." Hunter says. 

"Well, I just happen to know the perfect place." You say. "It kept me hidden from the Republic and there hasn't been even a glance from the Empire so far."

"It's out of the way of most hyperspace lanes." Tech says, typing away at his datapad. "No major cities or ports. Mostly self-sufficient. Nothing anyone would be interested in." 

You shrug. "It's not much, but it is safe." 

***

"We're going in that?" Echo asks as you stand next to your ship docked at the port. 

"Hey, don't hate on Bertha." You pat the side of the ship, something clanging inside. "She helped me escape the Republic."

You lower the ramp, having to fiddle with it as it sticks for a moment. Echo gives you an incredulous look but you wave him in. She may be a bit temperamental, but your ship has a special place in your heart. 

"Tech will have a heyday with this one if you let him get his hands on it." Echo says, taking the copilot's seat. 

"Well, he's more than welcome if he gets bored." You say, firing up the engine. "Can't make her any worse." You grin at him, giving the control panel a solid smack to stop it from rattling. 

Echo doesn't relax until you're in hyperspace. You don't take it personally. You had been a little nervous flying the first time but though she was prone to rattling, Bertha flew perfectly fine. 

You turn to look at Echo as the blue of hyperspace surrounds you. You reach out, pressing your hand to his cheek. His skin isn't as warm as you'd expect, your brow furrowing a little. 

His hand lifts, resting against yours. Your thumb strokes his cheek, reminding yourself that he's real. He's right here with you finally. 

"Echo...what happened to you?" You ask. 

And he tells you. You spend the entire trip listening to his story. He starts at the beginning, explaining things you knew and many you didn't. You listen to it all. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking. 

You cry for him a few times. Cry for the pain and the misery and the torture he's faced. He wipes your tears, dampening his glove but he doesn't seem to care. 

You talk almost the entire flight, catching up on years of missed time. Echo only slightly clings to the seat as Bertha drops from hyperspace and you begin the hour flight to your home planet. It's slow going, Bertha not exactly made for speed. 

The others are already there when you land, by no surprise. Though your home was small, you could offer them a roof over their head until they found something more permanent. 

If they decided to stay here. 

You try not to think about that too much. 

"Glad you made it." Hunter says, eyeing Bertha as you and Echo step off the ramp. 

"Not you too." You make a face. "She flies just fine, she's just got creaky joints."

You can already see the wheels turning in Tech's head as he eyes Bertha. You lead them inside, showing them your small house. You only have one spare room and a couch but they assure you they can just sleep on the ship. You feel bad, but then again you hadn't really been expecting this when you ran from the Republic. 

You hadn't expected a lot to happen. 

You make dinner, probably the first home cooked meal they've had in a long time, or possibly ever. Echo hovers in the kitchen but you don't mind. You like having him close after all this time. You're still a little afraid you'll turn around and find he's gone. Like he's been a figment of your imagination this whole time. 

They leave you and Echo the house for the night, and you can tell by the look on Hunter's face it's deliberate. You hadn't really considered that but you knew anything could happen after you meet your soulmate.

You find Echo in your room after you finish cleaning up. He's standing next to the bed, tracing the carving on the wall. 

CT-1409 

You'd carved it after hearing it again in your dream. You'd been half dazed, repeating the number over and over in your head. 

He turns to look at you, fingers resting in the center of the 9. Your cheeks warm a bit, not having thought about that. You just have his designation number carved in your wall. You might as well have his name there. 

"I did that after I heard it in a dream." You say, approaching the bed. "I couldn't get it out of my head." You crawl onto the bed, kneeling next to him. "I put it there because it felt like in a way you were still with me, though I know now you never left." 

He drops his hand, turning to face you. He looks a little guilty. "I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Don't apologize for something you couldn't control." You say, putting your hand on his scomp arm. "You're here now. That's what matters." 

He glances down at your hand before looking back up at your face, those big brown eyes shining in the orange light of sunset shining in through your window. 

"I made a promise once." He says, staring at you. "To someone very close to me. We promised each other that after the war ended, we'd find our soulmates and settle down somewhere. Get married and have families. Grow old together far away from everything else."

You smile softly at him, gently guiding him to sit on your bed with you. "Well, I'd be more than happy to help you keep your part of the promise."

You sit with him, talking late into the night. There's no rush now. You have all the time in the world. 

***1 Year Later***

"Just a pinch of this." You say, blindly holding out the jar of spice. 

It's taken from your hand and set on the counter, your ears picking up the small clink of metal on tile. Hands grip your waist from behind as you stand on your toes to reach the second shelf of the cupboard. 

"You know I can reach those easily." Echo murmurs in your ear. 

You grin at him over your shoulder. "I know. I also know you love looking at my ass."

He practically purrs, hands sliding lower. "I do love your ass."

You press back into his hands, one flesh, the other cybernetic. He'd ditched the scomp a few months ago now that he's retired to a boring civilian life. 

"We don't have a lot of time before they get here." You say, straightening up to try and slip out from where he has you pinned to the counter.

He presses against you harder, hands moving to trap you between him and the counter. "They can wait for dinner." He breathes into your ear, pressing his half-hard cock against your ass. "I want dessert first."

You bite your lip, letting out a strangled moan as he grinds against you. "At least turn the burner off." You breathe. 

Echo presses a kiss to your neck before he pulls away, reaching back to shut off the stove. You turn in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he turns back to you. 

He pins you against the counter once more, molding his lips against yours as his hands trail back down your sides. You deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer. You can feel him, fully hard against your stomach now. 

His hands grip your waist, easily lifting you onto the counter. One of your hands slides up to tangle in the curls that have regrown over the last few months. He groans quietly against your lips, hands parting your thighs for him. 

He steps between your legs, your skirt riding up around your waist, revealing your panties underneath. His fingers rub the damp fabric, teasing you before he tugs them aside, meeting your flesh. 

You moan into his mouth, pressing your hips into his hand as he circles your clit. You're already worked up just from kissing him, the familiar heat igniting under your skin from his touch. 

"Kriff." You breathe against his lips, grinding against his hand. "Make me feel so good."

He hums contently against your lips. "Good. You deserve to feel good." 

You slip a hand down his front, palming him through his pants. "I'd feel better with you inside me, though.".

He grins, pressing one more steamy kiss against your lips. "Yes, ma'am."

You shriek as he tugs you right to the edge of the counter, holding you steady with one hand while the other pulls his cock from his pants. 

You wrap your arms back around his neck as he presses close between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. You moan quietly, playing with the ends of his hair as he slowly presses into you. 

He groans, pressing his face into your neck as he slides into your warm passage, your body wet and ready for him. 

It never gets old, the feeling being so connected to him invokes. Your very soul seems to hum with pleasure from being so close, so connected. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he settles inside you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips as you sit in the moment for just a second, savoring the feeling before he begins moving. His thrusts are slow yet deliberate. They reach deep into you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you over and over. 

You won't last long, you know it as your legs begin to tremble around him. You moan against his lips, hands fisting his shirt as he picks up the pace just a little. 

You whine as you cum around him, milking his own orgasm from his body. He moans into your neck, holding you tightly as he spills into you. 

You stay still, just breathing and feeling each other for a few moments. Your hands gently massage his neck and his shoulders, easing the ache you know he feels from his cybernetics sometimes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your neck, not enough to leave marks but still enough to pull quiet sounds from your lips.  

He kisses a trail up your jaw to your lips, both of you pausing at the knock on the door. 

"Hunter's gonna know." You murmur against his lips. 

"He probably already does." Echo says, kissing you once more. "Probably heard us halfway down the street."

Your cheeks warm as he pulls away from you, fixing his clothes before helping you look presentable as well. You turn on the stove once more before pulling out the disinfectant spray. 

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[nyoomfruits]

i somehow lost the ask but this was written for the ‘wanna practice’ kiss prompt with lestappen :)

The door of the dorm room swings open rather dramatically, banging against the opposing wall as Charles comes barging through, beeling for this bed and flopping down on it face first. 

“Do I just suck?” He asks, voice muffled by his pillow. 

“Yes,” Max says, not looking up from where he is working on his econ homework on his own side of the dorm room. 

“You don’t even have any context,” Charles says, unburrying his face. Max glances at him. He’s pouting.

“Hm,” Max says, pretends to consider it. “No, my answer stands.”

Charles makes a dramatic strangled warbling noise and falls back into the pillows. Not for the first time, Max regrets becoming his friend. It was easier, back in high school, when they were sworn enemies. Lot less exaggerated sighing as Charles waits for him to ask him what’s wrong. 

After the fifth sigh, a deep one that must be coming from the depths of Charles toes, Max finally relents. “Fine,” he says. “What happened?”

Charles looks up with entirely too much glee, happy to be indulged, as he says, “I think I’m like, unloveable.”

Max suppresses his snort as he thinks of all the people that would line up to get their shot with Charles Leclerc. “Sure,” he settles on. “Why?”

“I was making out with this girl last night and then she made this very obvious excuse and just left. And there was this guy, a week ago, we’d just been making out for like, maybe a minute and then he went ‘nope’ and left.” Charles has flopped onto his back now, staring miserably at the ceiling. 

“Maybe you’re just bad at kissing,” Max says, frowning down at his econ homework.

“What? No I’m not,” Charles says, indignant. There’s a pause, during which Max scribbles some things down in his notes. Then, very quietly, “Oh my god, maybe I am.”

Max makes a ‘well, there you go’ motion, and hopes this means he can finally go back to finishing this assignment. It isn’t due for another two days, but there’s that paper coming up and he has time now, so-

“Kiss me,” Charles says. Max hadn’t even heard him move, but he’s here now, leaning into Max’s space like some kind of siren out of a Greek myth trying to lure him into the depths of seduction. 

Or something. If anything, Max’s brain isn’t really working right. Charles is right there, in his space, hands leaning on the sides of Max’s desk chair, looking ridiculously… giddy, almost. Max had this dream once. But Charles had looked a lot more sultry and his eyes had been closed and he’d been sitting in Max’s lap instead of leaning over him and-

“Why,” Max says. In his haste to stop that insane train of thought, he forgets to phrase it as a question. 

Charles pouts at him. His nose is inches away from Max’s. “So you can tell me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“Who says I’d be a good judge of that,” Max says, instead of outright ‘no’, because he’s a self sabotaging idiot. “Maybe I’m a horrible kisser.”

Charles tssk’s. “You and Daniel dated for like two years. If you’d been bad at kissing he’d dumped you much sooner.”

“Thanks,” Max says, frowning. “I think.”

“Come on,” Charles weedles. “Just see it as like, practice. For you. For when the next Daniel comes along.”

Max snorts derisively. The next Daniel is currently trying to convince him to kiss, so. Whatever. “Fine,” Max eventually says, because Charles is a stubborn little bastard and maybe if they kiss he will finally leave Max to his assignment. 

Also Charles is still there, in his space, with his big green eyes and his stupid pouty mouth and Max is only a man, so. 

“Yay!” Charles says, and then abruptly lunges forward to smash his lips against Max’s. 

Their teeth clunk together and Max winces as his nose bumps against Charles’s, and he lets out a strangled little noise as he gently pushes Charles back. 

He’s starting to see there might be some truth to the whole ‘Charles is bad at kissing’ thing. 

“Wow, okay, let’s just,” he gently pushes a confused Charles further back and gets up out of his chair, so they’re face to face. “Maybe do it a little more gently, yeah? Like this,” He puts one hand on Charles chin, tilts his fac up a little, softly brushing their lips together before pressing a little harder, letting their lips slide against each other. 

And oh, it’s much better like this, Charles following Max’s lead, his hands coming to rest on Max’s waist as Max’s hands slip into Charles’s hair, and he’s a little enthusiastic with his tongue at first, but he’s a quick learner, and for a moment there Max forgets all concept of time. 

“Ah,” Charles says when he pulls away. There’s a frown on his face, like he's deep in thought. “Yes. I might have been doing that wrong.”

Max merely hums, still reeling a little bit from the experience, still feeling the faint touch of Charles’s lips on his own, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Well!” Charles suddenly says, seemingly shaking himself out of whatever thought process he’d gotten tangled up in. “Thanks for that! I shall put it into practice now.” 

It takes Max a while to understand what he means, but then Charles is putting on his jacket and grabbing his keys and oh. 

He means with other people. 

“Right,” Max says, trying really hard not to look disappointed. “Right, well, good luck.”

“Thanks!” Charles yells over his shoulder, before moving through the door, taking Max’s entire heart with him. 

Max is left standing in the middle of the room, staring forlornly at his econ homework. It suddenly lost all of its earlier appeal. Especially when he can still feel the ghost of Charles’s finger tips on his waist. 

[delusionalmishka]

Blue Blood

Summary: After the turmoil at Driftmark, King Viserys attempted to mend family divisions by arranging a marriage between Alicent's son, Aemond Targaryen, and Rhaenyra's daughter, Lucenya Velaryon; when King Viserys died and the greens and the blacks war began to unravel, the arrangement fell through. On the brink of war, Lucenya was sent to Storm's End as an envoy. Aemond didn’t plan on letting his bastard bride slip through his fingers one more time. She’d owned him for his left eye.

Warning: uncle x niece relationship, extremely dubious consent, targcest, canon-typical violence, mild Fire and Blood spoilers, my warnings are not exhaustive, if you don't like it, don't open it!

Word count: 3,565 words.

Context: *A couple of things before getting into the chapter. Lucenya is basically the female version of Lucerys but a little older, a year younger than Jace, to be more exact and Rhaenyra was never pregnant with Visenya. Very dark fic, lowkey reverse harem-ish (i'm fully indulging myself, sorry not sorry) I don't sugarcoat things. Usual ASOIF violence and incest weirdness!!! You know what you are getting into!!! A couple of spoilers from the Fire and Blood book but nothing that will ruin your experience. Enjoy!!

Aemond Targaryen stood on the balcony of his chamber, his mind racing. The breeze licked his face and hair as his fist crumbled the piece of parchment in his hand, the crow that had just delivered it, quickly flew away, leaving no witnesses to the meeting with the prince, like it was carefully trained for; these special crows meant news from his spies in Dragonstone. 

He had just received word of Lucenya's impending departure to the North. A cold determination tempered combined with his rage, fire rushing through his veins. His predictions were right; as soon as Aegon rose to the throne, Lucenya Velaryon would be sent to Storm’s End to Beratherons as an envoy of war, them possibly North to the Starks. 

Aemond had promised himself that he would not let his promised bride slip through his fingers again, like she had done years ago, and he intended to keep that promise. 

As the first light of dawn broke over King's Landing, Aemond exited his chambers and descended the steps with purpose. 

This was valuable news. Aemond considered his plan carefully; There were great risks, but great rewards as well. Rhaenyra loved all of her bastard children, although everyone knew her only daughter was the one closest to her. Having Lucenya as a political hostage could make Rhaenyra and her loyalists bend. 

Maybe he could take her eye as well.  It would make his mother happy.

His grandsire and his mother would appreciate his quick thinking, he would end the war before it started. Vaghar was fast, he would be able to reach Storm’s End in less than a day.

{...}

Lucenya's eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on her surroundings. Pain coursed through her body with every harbored breath, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through her limbs. The room around her blurred and swayed, her ears ringed, the lingering grit of sand and blood from Storm's End still clinging to her skin and clothes.  

Her feverish mind conjured vivid visions, blurring the lines between reality and hallucination. In one moment, she saw her mother, Rhaenyra, pacing the halls of Dragonstone, her face etched with worry and regret. Rhaenyra's voice echoed in her ears, calling out her name, the desperation in her tone piercing through Lucenya’s haze. She could almost feel her mother's arms around her, a ghostly comfort in her feverish state.

In another vision, Lucenya found herself in the great hall of Winterfell. Her brother Jace stood beside Cregan Stark, Jace’s eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow, his voice a distant murmur as he spoke of rescuing her. She reached out, trying to call to him, but her voice was lost in the void, her fingers grasping at empty air.

The scenes shifted and twisted, leaving her disoriented and lost. She sees herself on a beach under a raging storm, the clouds looming ominously above her as she stumbled away from where she had landed, away from Arrax’s body. Shadows danced at the edge of her vision, and she heard the distant roar of dragons, their cries mingling with the howling wind. An enormous figure emerged from above, Vaghar landing —her uncle, Aemond, his sapphire eye gleaming with cold malice. He reached for her, and she recoiled, her heart pounding with fear.

Through the haze, she became vaguely aware of voices— sometimes muffled by the ringing in her ear, sharp and insistent. 

"How soon can it be done?" it was Aemond's voice, impatient, edged with urgency.

Lucenya struggled to comprehend his words, her fevered mind grasping at fragments of conversation. Another voice responded, softer and measured—it was the Maester.

"Prince Aemond, the lady is gravely ill. She needs rest and proper care if she is to recover. To discuss a wedding at this time is highly inappropriate. It is a miracle she survived."

Aemond's figure loomed closer, his face coming into sharp focus for a moment before blurring again. His expression was one of cold determination. "She will recover. And when she does, I want the wedding to take place immediately." 

A new voice entered the conversation, sharp and urgent. "This was reckless, Aemond," Lucy recognized that voice immediately. It was Alicent Hightower. "Attacking and kidnapping Rhaenyra’s daughter? Do you have any idea what this will provoke?"

"It had to be done," Aemond replied, his voice cold and unyielding. "We need leverage in this war. Lucenya is that leverage."

"You’ve endangered us all!" Alicent argued. "Rhaenyra will stop at nothing to get her daughter back. She'll burn King’s Landing to the ground!"

Before Aemond could respond, another voice joined the fray— Lucy also recognized this voice, it was Otto Hightower. "Aemond is right," he said calmly, his tone measured. "This move gives us a significant advantage. With Lucenya as our hostage, we have a powerful bargaining chip. Rhaenyra and her followers will be forced to negotiate."

Alicent turned to Otto, her gaze observed the girl in bed for a second. It was like Lucenya had gone to the battlefield: cuts, bruises, and burns were scattered around her face and limbs, her skin was still dirty with sand and blood and a thin layer of sweat covered her exposed skin. It was indeed a miracle that she had survived. 

"Father, you can’t be serious. This could escalate the war beyond our control."

Otto met her gaze, his expression resolute. "War is already upon us, Alicent. We must use every advantage we have. Lucenya’s presence here gives us a strong hand to play."

Alicent took a deep breath, clearly torn between her fury and the harsh reality of their situation. Rhaenyra would never forgive her for letting her son hurt her daughter like this. Their old affinity with each other was officially dead. 

After a long pause, the Queen Dowager spoke again. 

"We must move forward with our plans. Lucenya must be integrated into our family."

Lucenya’s blood ran cold at their words. She was a pawn in their game, a tool to be used in their quest to steal her mother’s throne. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but her body was weak, her injuries severe. 

Aemond's gaze flicked down to her, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, his expression softened, but it quickly hardened again. "You will pay, Lucenya," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "This is your destiny."

As the room spun and the fever tightened its grip, Lucenya’s mind drifted back into the depths of unconsciousness, her body unable to fight any longer. The last thing she heard was Aemond’s voice, resolute and unyielding. 

Her visions returned, more vivid and desperate. She saw her mother, Rhaenyra, scouring the air, her eyes wild with panic as she called out Lucenya’s name.

{...}

The knowledge of the secret ways behind the walls of the Red Keep had come in aid for Aemond and his purpose. Turning a few corners, he quickly arrived at his desired destiny: the temporary chambers of his bastard niece and the newest heir to Driftmark, Lucenya Velaryon. 

It was quite the evening at the Red Keep. Someone finally had the courage to say it out loud; his older sister was a whore and her children are bastards. Vaemond Velaryon lost his head because of it, but it did gave Aemond the satisfaction of having his niece and nephews around again. 

With silent, deliberate movements, Aemond gently pushed the false wall, the hidden mechanism yielding to his touch. He slipped through the small opening, his steps as quiet as a predator stalking its prey. The cold sapphire in his eye socket gleamed faintly in the dimly lit space, the flames of candlelight and the fireplace licked his skin lightly. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and rage, the obsidian shadows of the Red Keep cloaking his approach.

As he entered the chamber, Aemond's mind buzzed with thoughts, the jewel in his pocket seemed more heavy now. Aemond himself was not sure what drove him to invade his niece’s chambers. They both could get into trouble if they were caught, no matter his intentions. 

Lucy was not asleep, as he had expected, despise the late hour. Instead, she was awake, brushing her long brown curls at her vanity. The rhythmic strokes of the brush through her hair seemed almost hypnotic, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Aemond. For just a second, Aemond allowed himself the luxury of observing Lucenya's beauty. 

Unfortunately, his niece had grown into her bastard features; the long brown hair and the almond brown eyes complimented her delicate face. She wore a long white nightgown that exposed her sharp collarbones and was see-through enough that Aemound could see the silhouette of her body through the fabric. She was indeed as beautiful as the rumors and whispers that made to King’s Landing and the rest of Westeros. Bards in King's Landing were kin to singing about her.

He stepped into her camp of vision, his presence announced by the cold gleam of his sapphire eye. Lucenya's hand froze mid-stroke, her almond brown eyes meeting his in the mirror. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and buried emotions.

"Aemond," she said quietly, her voice steady but with an edge of wariness. "What brings you here at this hour?" Unfazed by her uncle's sudden appearance. 

Aemond's lips curled into a semblance of a smile, though it was devoid of warmth. "You know why I am here, Lucenya. We have unfinished business."

Lucy turned to face him, her gaze unwavering, but Aemond could spot the hesitation in her eyes. "Is this about Driftmark again? About what happened when we were children?"

Aemond's jaw tightened, the sapphire in his eye socket catching the candlelight and reflecting a cold, malevolent glint. "You took my eye, Lucenya. You humiliated me and took my destiny.  King Viserys promised you to me, yet your mother schemes to wed you to you bastard brother."

Lucenya's expression hardened slightly and her eyes remained guarded, aware."I was a child, Aemond. We both were. It was an accident, a moment of fear and anger. I was defending my brother! You cannot hold me responsible for the rest of our lives!" she paused and lowered the copper hairbrush, her neck turning slightly in his direction.  “And we both are aware our Grandsire was not off sound mind, an arrangement between us would never work, uncle.” 

Aemond could tell she tried to be assertive, but there was almost a unnoticeable tremor to her voice. Aemond was a terrific hunter, he knew when his prey was wavering in fear; she feared him, but was not afraid to confront him. Since she had arrived, Lucenya was always looking over her shoulder and seemed on edge. She knew she was in enemy territory.

Aemond also had rumours that reached Dragonstone. How the prince had grown and had became a lethal weapon like his dragon; not only great in his academics but had enviable skills with a sword. Lucy was not stupid or hopeful like her brother Jace; she needed to have her guard up around the greens, especially Aemond. 

Their little misunderstanding over dinner tonight just confirmed how Aemond still felt bitter towards her.

Aemond stepped closer, his presence looming over her. His hands grabbing her naked shoulder firmly, he could feel Lucy slightly shivering underneath his fingertips. 

How cute.

"You owe me, Lucenya Velaryon. Your future, your destiny—they belong to me. You were promised to me, and I intend to collect what is rightfully mine."

Lucenya maintained eye contact although the pink tint that rose to her cheeks gave her away. "And what do you propose, Aemond? How do you intend to settle this score?"

She watched with attention when he placed his right hand in his pocket, the left one still holding her in place. Lucy was expecting a dagger, but Aemond’s long fingers fished a necklace from his pocket. With an unusual gentle touch, Lucy gazed as her uncle placed the tear-drop-shaped sapphire - that looked awfully similar to the jewel that replaced his left eye - his hand holding the unusual gift around her neck. 

"You will honor the arrangement King Viserys made. You will be mine, as it was always meant to be. I will have your loyalty, your obedience, and your heart. You will make amends for the pain and humiliation you've caused me."

Lucenya's eyes flickered with a mixture of defiance and resignation. The fear she felt was gone, getting replaced by outrage, fire dissolving the fear and hesitance she felt towards the man behind her. "And if I refuse?"

Aemond's grip tightened slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then you will face the full extent of my wrath. I have waited too long, and suffered too much. You will not deny me any longer."

The room seemed to close in around them, the weight of their past and the intensity of their emotions creating an almost palpable tension. Not another word was spoken among them, Aemond finished his threat and promise by clasping the necklace around her neck, taking his time with it and leaving, disappearing in the shadows from where he had appeared.

{...}

Lucy woke with a start, her breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. The fever that had plagued her seemed to have broken, leaving her drenched in sweat but more clear-headed. She took a moment to orient herself, the dim light of the room revealing the familiar, yet oppressive surroundings of King’s Landing.

The memory of her last encounter with Aemond haunted her for many years. After leaving King’s Landing that day, she intended to never look back. The sapphire in her neck was still intact despite the brutal attack she had suffered.  

Pain still radiated through her body, a constant reminder of her injuries from Storm’s End. She winced as she tried to move, every muscle protesting in agony. Slowly, she turned her head and her body froze in fear when she saw Aemond. He was slumped in a chair beside her bed, fast asleep, his usually stern features softened in repose. A dagger hung from his belt, a silent threat even in slumber.

Tears burned in Lucy’s eyes but she quickly blinked them away. 

It was not the time to show weakness. She needed to go back to her mother, where she belonged.

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackling of a fire in the hearth. Lucy took in her surroundings, noting the lavish tapestries and heavy curtains that adorned the walls. Lucy’s bed was a grand four-poster, its canopy draped in silks and velvets of green and golden, the Hightower colors. The sheets, though currently disheveled and stained with sweat and blood, were of the finest quality, soft against her bruised skin. The bedposts were carved with dragon motifs, their eyes seeming to watch over her protectively.

Despite the grandeur, the room felt like a cage, a prison where she was held against her will.

Her gaze returned to Aemond. Even in sleep, he seemed imposing, a figure of both protection and danger. She watched him for a moment, her thoughts a tangled mess of fear, anger, and confusion. Why had he done this? What did he truly want from her?

Summoning what little strength she had, Lucenya shifted slightly in bed, trying to assess her condition without making too much noise. Her body was bruised and battered, and the bandages wrapped around her wounds were a stark reminder of her recent ordeal. Yet, the clarity of her mind brought with it a renewed sense of determination. She was no longer lost in the fog of fever and hallucination. She needed to think, to plan, to find a way out of this nightmare.

As she lay there, her thoughts racing, Aemond stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked a few times before focusing on her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence heavy.

“You’re awake,��� Aemond said, his voice rough with sleep but carrying a note of relief. He straightened in his chair, his eyes never leaving her face. 

Lucy opened her mouth, but suddenly her mouth and throat felt dry, a parched feeling that made her wince in discomfort. 

Aemond stood up immediately. Without a word, he reached for a goblet of water on the nearby table. His fingers, usually so sure and authoritative, were gentle as he lifted the goblet and approached her.

As he carefully propped her up in bed, his touch was surprisingly tender, though his demeanor remained stoic. Lucy’s heart raced with fear and confusion. What did Aemond intend to do next? 

He held the goblet to her lips, his gaze steady but distant. Lucenya drank slowly, each sip soothing her parched throat, but she could not shake the underlying tension. Aemond’s silence was oppressive, adding to her anxiety. The room was filled with the faint sounds of the crackling fire and her labored breathing, but otherwise, the silence between them was thick and heavy.

Aemond's eyes remained fixed on her as she drank, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. He was careful not to rush her, allowing her to take her time. His silence spoke volumes, and Lucenya could sense his contemplation.

As the goblet was finally lowered, Lucenya’s throat felt less constricted, but her fear remained. She dared not meet his gaze directly, unsure of what emotions or intentions lay behind those piercing eyes. The way he looked at her, with that unsettling calmness, left her on edge.

Once she had finished, he set the glass down with deliberate calmness and settled back into his chair. The quiet tension in the room was palpable.

Finally, Aemond broke the silence, his voice smooth and calm. “Once you’ve fully recovered, Lucenya, we will proceed with the arrangements for our marriage.” His tone was measured, devoid of emotion but carrying an unmistakable weight.

Lucenya's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, her hand gripping the bedclothes as she tried to process his words. “Married?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “To you?”

“Yes,” Aemond replied, his gaze steady. “You will enter Aegon’s court as my wife. Your presence there will serve to solidify our position and provide leverage in the ongoing conflict.”

His words felt like a heavy blow, and Lucenya’s mind raced with the implications. The idea of being wed to Aemond, and becoming part of Aegon’s court, was overwhelming. She would be in enemy territory; they would punish her mother for her missteps and she would be punished if her mother decided to retaliate. 

She needed to get out of King’s Landing.

Besides her fear and uncertainty, anger also boiled inside her. 

“You think this is the end of it?” she said, her tone edged with determination despite her frail state. “My brother Jacaerys and my mother—they won’t just sit idly by. They will come for me. They’ll come for you and they will come for your traitor brother!”

Aemond's gaze remained steady, a hint of amusement flickering in his eye. He regarded her with curiosity and indifference as if weighing the validity of her threat.

“I’m well aware of the lengths your family might go to,” Aemond said calmly, his voice devoid of concern. “But by the time they realize what’s happened, our plans will already be in motion. Their efforts will be in vain.”

He stood up and walked closer to her bed.

As Aemond approached Lucy’s bed, the room's dim light accentuated the sharp lines of his face, casting shadows that highlighted the intensity of his gaze. His footsteps were soft, and deliberate, and his movements were infused with a strange, almost unsettling calmness.

Reaching the side of the bed, he looked down at Lucenya with a gaze of usual coldness and disdain but there was something more elusive—perhaps a fleeting hint of tenderness or possessiveness. With a practiced grace, he extended his hand and gently brushed the stray strands of her dark hair away from her face.

His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the steely resolve he had shown earlier. He moved her hair with delicate precision, his fingers lightly grazing her forehead. The action was almost intimate, a silent acknowledgment of her vulnerability.

Lucy, though still weak and disoriented, could feel the warmth of his hand near her skin. The juxtaposition of his cold demeanor with this gentle touch only deepened the confusion and fear she felt. The tenderness in his actions seemed almost incongruous with the harsh reality of her captivity and the dire threats he had just made.

Aemond’s expression remained blank as he continued to smooth her hair back, his movements slow and deliberate. There was a methodical nature to his actions as if he was contemplating the weight of his decisions while attending to this personal detail. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and then he pulled his hand away.

“I’ve made preparations for such eventualities. I assure you, niece, everything is under control.”

As he finished speaking, he stood up, the faint glint of the dagger at his belt catching the light. His posture was firm, resolute, and indifferent to her protests. “Rest now,” he said, his tone final. “Once you’re well, we will proceed with our plans. Until then, there’s nothing more to discuss.”

(Part Two)

AO3

[ninnosaurus]

18 with Bay!Raph, please? Because the world needs more Raph angst in it 😊

YEAH YEAH SURE LETS GOOOO i wrote this at work teehee 🤭

18. "Can't you see?" Warnings: Brief mention of suicide. Angst. Shitty grammar, I guess?

All you remember from that day is that it was raining. How cliché, right? It was like the sky also wept for him. For… you? I had never been that heavy, climbing to the rooftop on that night. The rooftop where you met him the first time. Where he… saved you. You had been ready to close that final chapter of your life, but instead; he decided it was time to start a new one. 

That was months ago now, close to a year, actually. No one you knew knew about him. And you doubted it would be accepted. You couldn’t deal with the thought of telling people about him. It would put him, and his family, in danger. And it broke you knowing what you had to do.

You saw him sitting on the ledge of the roof, under a makeshift cover from the rain he most likely put up himself. A massive, hulking figure. Scary to anyone who would come across him in the dark. He’d scared you too, that one time. But not anymore. Now, your stomach makes back flips every time you see him. Now, when he speaks it makes you warm. His voice is like a warm blanket during snow storms.

But tonight, he and his presence brought sorrow to you as you stood behind him. 

Raph turned around when he heard you scrape across the roof. “Hey, shortstuff.”

Internally you begged him not to look at you like that. Green eyes swirling with complex emotions and thoughts and feelings.

“You need to leave.”

A voice so cold and devoid of everything you saw in his eyes surprised you. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own.

“What? Why?”

He moved to stand up. To reach for you. He probably noticed the change in your voice, in your vibe. He’s good like that. Mikey was never the only one good at noticing details like that. But you moved away from him. 

“Because…”

Being gentle wouldn’t work with him. You can’t- you can’t sugar coat things if you need him to leave. To leave and to never come back to you. The words tastes like poison when they come out of you;

“Because you’re a monster!”

You saw his arm lowering, stopping at his side. And that’s when you made something you would regret more than telling him this, you looked at him. Raph looked broken. He didn’t look… angry. “Broken” was the best way to describe him. Broken, like a vase someone had knocked over, or a mirror found in an abandoned mansion. 

“...you don’t mean that.” 

You didn’t. It was the opposite. He’d quickly become your everything. You loved him. But… you could never be. This wasn’t a world for beings like him, and even less for him to be with you. Because this world wasn’t kind to anything different. You knew that. This was for his sake. To save him. 

“Just go. You don’t- You don’t belong… here.”

“But-”

Dodge him! Don’t let him embrace you!

“No! You- you don’t belong with humans! You- you should stay in the sewers!”

He doesn’t even budge when you shove at him. Solid as a brick wall. Hands trained to hurt. Arms- arms made to-.

“Did I… Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Please, just fucking stop. Just go. I can’t be with you! No matter how much I want to

“Jesus christ, Raph! Can’t you see?! Open your fucking eyes!”

Your voice starts to waver. A crack somewhere in it that feels just like the thunder in the distance sounds like.

Get it together

“We can never be together! Just- just look at me! And- and look at what you are!”

A dagger straight into his heart, serrated, slowly twisting around.

He’s quiet. That was the thing that brought you two together, you could connect in that way. Anger and fury shielding yourselves from harm and emotional hurt. When he came to you to vent about Leo, you stayed quiet. Letting him scream, and yell, and swear and cuss. You knew it was never directed at you.

But this time, when he stayed quiet; It scared you. It broke and it hurt. Like salt into an already open wound. 

“So… All you said…?”

You meant every word! Please don’t leave me…

You faked a scoff, tried your best to pull off an amazing performance.

“I can’t believe you’re so dense that you believed all of that?! You really think I would ever- that- I-... that.”

He never said anything after that. Just looked at you one last time before jumping off the roof. Those green eyes you had fallen in love with, the ones that could contain a magical forest were dark. The forest had been burned to a crisp by the vicious fire you had started.

Here's some tags of people I like and that has really inspired me to get back into writing <3 @thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @theyhavetakenovermylife @turtlecleric

[compassionatereminders]

Why do you think women pressure other women into having kids so much?

Never in my life a man who barely knew me told me OOOOH YOU GONNA REGRET NOT HAVING KIDS, YOU WILL DIE ALONE, YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO CHANGE YOUR MIND, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE KIDS YET (i'm 27)

And I'm like wtf.

So I work in a store and I had to "teach" how to work my station. We are a huge super market in in our super market people only have training here for 3 weeks before they get sent to their stores where they will work.

So I have older women and younger women who I "train" (and my coworkers too, basically anyone who is around "trains them by showing stuff and such since most of people who train here never worked in a grocery store)

This year since January probably over 30 people was "training" here. Most of them were women and I am not kidding at least 20 of them start asking about private things like DO YOU HAVE A FAMILY right away.

I would love to just say IT'S PERSONAL WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS WE MET LIKE 30 MINUTES AGO FOR THE FIRST TIME. But I don't want to be a bitch and I answer with short answers "no". I would love to say OFC I HAVE A FAMILY I AM NOT AN ORPHAN. I HAVE MOM, DAD AND MY BROTHER. but that would be bitchy too. But I would love to say it lol.

The next question is WHY? WHY NOT? and YOU STILL HAVE TIME I HAD MY 2ND ONE WHEN I WAS 33. Etc.

And then they talk to me how great kids are which like ok you can talk how much you like kids I don't mind but this woman was literally AND YOU STILL DON'T WANT THEM AND THEY ARE SO GREAT.

Not every woman is that annoying like this one but all give me the same questions as I mentioned "why? Why not? You still have time?"

I don't think this is a normal question but it's very normalized question women about kids and family after a few minutes or after a few hours of meeting for the first time.

Do they ever think that some women can't get pregnant or they had a miscarriages and it's a touchy subject for them? What if their bf, husband can't have kids? You won't go around telling that to everyone. They just interrogate other women like they are a police officer.

Not to mention one of the women (she was training here in February) gave me the biggest death stare when she was asking me when I'm planning to have kids and because I was so annoyed I raised my voice and said NEVER the only kids I'm planning on having ARE ANIMAL KIDS, BABY CATS, BABY DOGS! after that she was just giving me death stares.

Women my age in mid 20's are the same and they have been telling me I will change my mind since I was 14.

Like imagine me go preaching around like them ADOPT YOUR KIDS ABORT YOUR KIDS (which i would NEVER DO) but imagine us who don't want kids would do that we would look insane yet those who do have kids are seen as normal when they ask about such things.

Sorry for a longer rant but i'm just so pissed off and women that i work with (my own coworkers) don't find such women annoying and they think i overreact when i think that such behavior is annoying.

People have been telling me I look 19-20 and it's even weirder that they ask me such stuff before they even ask my age. One woman said (she was in her late 30's) OH I THOUGHT YOU HAVE MORE TIME (when i told her my age because she thought i was 19) YOU WILL HAVE TO HURRY UP... like who says this???

I hate when people act like there's One Right Way To Live, and that everyone who isn't pursuing the same life as them must be in the wrong and needs to change their path. There's nothing wrong with wanting a family, but there are so many other dreams to pursue which can be equally important and valid. What makes person A happy isn't necessarily the right path for person B

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you survive the Order 66 because of Lord Vader.

Warnings: angst, drama. Not recommended for minors or those who have sensibility to these themes.

Warnings 2: unburnt Vader + fluffy endings.

Warnings 3: younglings are not killed in any of my stories.

Recommendations: Lorde’s version “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”. “We Remain” by Christina Aguilera.

***

Intro.

The sky is heavy with the darkest shade of grey that paints the clouds. As they tumble against the other, a tempest begins to form. You don’t seem to notice how all of a sudden the light of the sun is eclipsed by the appearance of darkness.

You are weary due to your last mission at the planet Y/C. You carry many frustrations to yourself because it feels as if whatever you do it’s never enough, whether for the Order, whether for your master.

How many times you’ve been fighting this war, at times boldly so, earning the epithet of “reckless Jedi”, and how many times you felt as if each mission battle defeats you? Victory comes at a higher cost every single time.

You are closer to the edge.

As you stand under the heavy rain that starts to pour over the temple Jedi, your knees go weak. You collapse right there. No one is there to help you to stand. You are by yourself.

He is not there either. And to miss him, to miss the one responsible for you to get where you are now only breaks through you.

Where are you, Anakin? I don’t feel you. Where did you go to?

The hood continues to absorve the impact of the rain. The sensation doesn’t soothe the sensation that the higher you get, the higher your fall will be. To be embraced by this storm only seems to reinforce the feeling that you are drowning to the core of suffering.

To whom are you enough? It takes a lot of criticism to knock down one’s self esteem and with time, with losses to face, with the delusion to wipe away the duty perception to a fragile Order, what is there to remain?

You have nothing else to think about. You raise your head and let a scream out of your lungs. A bittersweet mix of salty tears that roll over your cheeks and the tasteless rain that comes to your face is felt. You are soaked. You are hurting.

Immersed in what seems to be a longing for healing, you don’t realize the hologram that a clone nearby you opens it. You barely listen to a mechanical, evil voice giving the order 66. You don’t see the moment this clone complains about a strange migraine before saying something about executing the Jedis.

However, you do hear the sound of blasters. The sound of despair. You smell death. You rise instantly and the next thing you know a blaster is pointed at you.

“Jedi, you are about to die.”

That’s what you are told before he shoots at you.

***

Two years ago.

Anakin senses your disturbance the moment your ship lands. He comes right after you, concerned for your safety. You have only recently replaced Ahsoka as his Padawan and quickly earned his affection—though not exactly the way you wanted to be because, unlike his, yours was a different fondness that installed in your chest the moment you started the trains, but you always hid it away because you soon realized his heart belonged to someone else.

It is only fair you are greeted properly by your Master after such a difficult mission in Mustafar, a planet that only got to your nerves. And you also come back deeply wounded, though nothing hurts more than a broken pride—you were this close to knock Dooku down, but he was faster and wiser and here was when your inexperience left you.

“Hey Y/nickname.” He is frowning at you, seeing the scar you got in your shoulder and the signs of burnt in some parts of your skin. “What the hell happened?”

“I am fine”, you hear yourself saying but not even you believe in that. You look a mess and your words don’t match your state.

“Are you really going to lie to me?” Anakin asks you with ferocious eyes.

You regret instantly what you said.

“Apologies, Master. I feel better, truthfully.”

Anakin sees how you struggle to look composed. A sight he does not approve.

“You are shielding yourself behind your pride. I am not asking twice: what the hell happened?”

It takes a good deal of you to aquiesce with what he asks of you. Simple as it may seem to admit a failure from an outsider, it blows your self-esteem doing so. Yet, here you are. And when staring into his blue eyes, you tell him how Dooku overpowered you.

Anakin soon soothes in his treatment towards you. He places a hand over your shoulder and as he draws you closer, he says:

“You almost got me worried for a moment, Y/nickname. What on earth were you thinking about facing Dooku in such a planet?”

“I thought I could. After defeating Ventress and one of the Sith agents, I…” You sigh again.

“This is not a helpless case”, Anakin assures you. “Come now. You need to take care of yourself. Otherwise what use will you be to me?”

He offers you a soft smile before heading to meet Rex and the other clones. You don’t respond him, watching him go as you are left with your growing frustrations.

A few days later, though, you amend your pride. However, stubborn as you may be, you have clues about an agent to Dooku in the planet Y/C. Much to your dismay, Anakin refuses you.

“What? Why?!”, you cannot keep the good-girl posture much longer. Anakin raises his eyebrows, never before seeing you act like this. “I mean… What reason does my Master have for not granting me permission to get this mission? Have I not proved my worth?”

It’s only then that Anakin realizes you are both the same. And that he’s being to you what Obi-Wan was to him: hard, proud and stubborn. The result of his former frustration stands right before him, embodied in your person.

So he softens.

“I am sorry. It’s not about that. Things are escalating, Y/N. You are really good, you know that. Otherwise I wouldn’t take you under my wing”, he is pleased to seeing you smile. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes, thank you.” Calmer this time, you add: “When will my trials begin?”

“I have to check with the Council, but I believe it soon. And for someone who overpowered the Ventress, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Anakin seems to notice you for the very first time when you smile at his compliment. And what a nice smile you have, Y/N. But instead of voicing his thought, life happens and such never got to his tongue.

***

A year ago.

Your hair is loose and longer than the last two years, dropping right to your waist. There is something sensual about how you always wear your y/c locks wild and untied, how you opt to wear bandages to protect your chest in the same color of your pants.

Such are Anakin’s perceptions. But he shouldn’t notice you. Not when he and Padmé broke up because of her ex boyfriend, not when he is in pain. Not to add the amount of issues he’s been having with the Council.

But when you flash him a overconfident smile, Anakin’s mind goes blank.

“Anakin, hi! Have you been there for some time?”, you ask him, always careful to shield your heart and thoughts.

You are now a Jedi like him, and though there is no need to be under his guidance anymore, the bond one has with the other is too tight to break.

“What’s the point of practicing by yourself?”, says he in a defiance tone. “Go on. Get your saber, Y/N. Let’s see how good you are.”

A year can change everything, how odd is to perceive it. But as you and Anakin practice, as twilight paints in orange the skies above you, no change is perceived.

Yet.

Because where you start dressing blue, he begins to dress black. Where you are growing patient, his moves start to be more aggressive. This is a contrast a good observer could have noticed, but one is so intricate with the other that neither of you sees it.

“Good”, Anakin laughs arrogantly. “But you can still do better, Y/N.”

Your smile starts to fade, but you are quick to omit your insecurity from his eyes. Those are now set on you like of a hunter, but you will not be his prey.

It doesn’t help your moves that wind starts to get colder. One shiver, but you resist it. One blow, you resist it. But then one cramp…and here’s where you meet your fall.

“Well done, Y/N”, he tells you softly after offering you his hand to grab it.

As you take it, you unintentionally fall over him. Anakin has to hold you, otherwise you’d get some bruises by dropping to the floor. And it’s right where his eyes meet yours.

And he knows. Because he knocks your shield down.

“Y/N…”

You get instantly red, freezing as you stare back into those blue eyes, aware that he found out. But…

But he leaves you there. And you watch as he turns his back at you, leaving you there, pretending nothing happened.

You put a smile and decide there is nothing to investigate. Absolutely nothing. So you go straight to your quarters.

***

You hear from Rex that he and Padmé Amidala are getting back together.

“I didn’t even know they broke up��, you tell him, baffled. “But good for them.”

Good for them indeed, but not for you. You sense Anakin has been avoiding you, and if these rumors are true, it may be wise to avoid the Senator’s presence as well.

Fuck. All my efforts to keep this unseen and unknown… all of these were for nothing.

So you decide to have a good and honest conversation with Anakin again. It takes some time but when you find him, you notice there is something wrong by how he turns at you.

“What?”

You clear your throat.

“Uh. It’s me, Y/N.”

Awkward.

Anakin sighs before turning at you. He softens and it’s only when you see that there’s been something going on. You leave your concerns aside and say:

“Anakin… What’s wrong? Please talk to me. Was it something that I did? I…”

“On the contrary, Y/nickname”, Anakin smiles at you and there is gentleness in his voice, contrasting it, however, to the sadness in his eyes. “You could never do anything to stress me out. There is nothing for you to worry about.”

You take his hand almost unconsciously, a gesture that does not go unnoticed by him.

“I want you to trust in me. I could be of help somehow. You don’t have to go through all of this by yourself.” You know he is about to protest, so you squeeze his hand and proceed: “Don’t shush me. You know you don’t have to carry this weight upon your shoulders.”

He does not realize he locks his fingers with yours.

“You don’t know what it is like…” And then he breaks down.

You hold him close, then pull him against you. One barrier has been knocked down. There is little need to speak, so you stay like this for some long time.

***

Six months ago.

You are assigned to a very difficult mission regarding the chase of Darth Maul in Mandalore. You don’t know yet, but this will be the last time you see Anakin before some catastrophic events happen.

And it’s just right at the time that you are preparing to leave that your former Master comes after you.

“Y/N”, he calls you, sounding somewhat reluctant.

You turn your head. Today your hair is tied in one long elaborated braid. And you are dressing red. A color that, according to Anakin’s opinion, suits you well.

“Yes, Anakin?”, you greet him cheerfully.

Whatever it was that happened that day changed every dynamics of your relationship. But at the same time… Neither of you dares to make the first move.

“I must tell you something”, he finally decides to quit the battle against his heart.

You smile at him, warmly so. Anakin smiles back. Both of you know what’s to be finally said. He extends his mechanic hand for you and you are about to take it when Master Windu comes up.

“Greetings, General Y/LN.” He bows his head at you first. “I believe General Rex is waiting for your command. General Skywalker, may I have a word?”

You and Anakin are forced to struggle with disappointment when this awkwardness hangs between you two. He carefully casts you a painful look, though something about your eyes relieves the anxiety in his soul.

“Of course”, you are quick to answer the older male. “I appreciate your kindness, Master Windu. Have a great day. Master Skywalker.”

“Take care, Master Y/LN”, Anakin says nonchalantly.

But as his eyes follow your moves, his heart is plagued by a bad feeling concerning your mission. Worst, however, is his remorse for never telling you how he came to love you.

***

The mission & The Order 66.

All the whilst the clone wars are coming to an end and Palpatine are orchestrating his coup, bringing Anakin to his side, you are flying after Maul. To the point that you find him in a Sith planet, long forgotten even by the Jedis. And it’s right there that you are forced to deal with something bigger.

“Join me, Y/N”, you hear Maul’s voice. “You can be my apprentice, together we will be greater than any Jedi or Sith.”

“No”, you clench your jaw. “Quit with the bullshit, Maul. I will never be by your side.”

Yet, in the midst of a dark mist that confuses your vision, you hear his laughter, full of disdain and deprived of joy.

“There is darkness in you, sweet Y/N. Fight it as you wish, but you cannot deny there is in you.”

And for some reason the certainty in his speech annoys you to the point you struck rightly so. A violent battle follows, there is only so much you can take, however, and he manages to escape you.

So close, yet so far.

Maul laughs as he hears your screams. But it’s not over yet. You pursuit him. You forget about clone wars and politics. Good sense dissipates as you start a chase that dries your energies.

This whole process only ends when you get back to Coruscant, months later. You succeed in bringing Maul to justice after all. But…

What have you done?

Vengeance is not the Jedi way, you could hear him admonish you. And you feel exhausted, drained out, so tired of all this Jedi thing. There is no taste of victory as what feeds your soul is a huge frustration.

Under a heavy rain, you let a cry out of your lungs. Under a heavy rain, you barely notice the presence of a troop, his migraine and words about the order 66.

“…destroy the Jedis.”

When you turn, it’s too late. The blaster would have knocked you down, had Anakin Skywalker not lifted the clone and sent him away. What would’ve been of you had he not rescued you?

“Oh Anakin!”, you basically tumble and fall onto him. “You came!”

He gives you a half way smile at you.

“I did, Y/Nickname. For you did.”

But his yellows are different.

***

The Rise of Lord Vader.

You are both alone in what used to be the council room, used for general meetings. Anakin is waiting for your reaction as he told you what happened. For some strange reason, however, you remain an enigma for him.

“You saved me”, it’s all you can say.

“What?”, Anakin turns from the window and stares at you, puzzled by your statement. “I told you all the wrongs I’ve done and you focused in this?”

“Yes”, you are firm in what you believe. You move to where he is, noticing he is still reluctant at what your next moves will be, you lock your hands together. “If you were truly this evil being, you’d have me killed. You care for me, don’t you? Say it, Anakin. Because I do too. More than that, in fact…”

You are interrupted by the urge of his lips clashing against yours. You gasp, forgetting how to breathe as his hands involve your frame, pulling it against his. Yours tangle within his curly hair, before resting over his face, holding it so dear, so gently.

When you part the kiss to catch your breathes, you rest your forehead against his as he does the same against yours, staying like this for quite a while. Chaos seems part of another world, distant from your private universe.

“You took too long for this, Anakin”, you whisper against his lips. “I’ve always thought your heart belonged to somebody else.”

“No, princess”, he caresses your cheek. “My heart has always been yours. It will remain so. Let me provide you the best for us, you deserve every recognition. I sensed your pain, there is no need for further suffering.”

“You bring me peace, Ani”, you admit it in a whisper. “I am tired of fighting.”

He wipes away your tears with his thumb. Gently, he says:

“There is no need to fighting anymore, my angel. I’m here for you. But I must know what will be of us.”

You rest your hands over his shoulders, not willing to separate from him. There had been too much time spent apart of each other. As you cast him a look, you come to realize what had there always been within you. The truth before announced by Darth Maul himself. So you say:

“In the end, I guess we had to fall, but I would gladly fall a thousand times more with you.”

Anakin smiles broadly at you. He embraces you, knowing that the love one feels for the other remains above all.

***

Epilogue.

Most times the war one wages is against what truly resides within oneself. Accepting that you are not entirely bad for having flaws helps you understand Anakin’s. Helps you both overcome issues that had been severely repressed by the Jedis.

Palpatine is now dead. Power lies in the hands of you both. But behind the scenes, balance prospers. Anakin pulls you against him every morning, every moment, to remind you the love he has for you only grows intense.

And you respond him with the same way. You never cease to defend him, to justify his doings. He’s been too misunderstood and one of the moments where you found your voice was defending your husband.

Oh yes. The two of you got married in a discreet ceremony at planet Y/C. Only two witnesses were present to attend: C3-P0 and R2-D2.

As time starts to pass, however, rumors begin to spread that where Lord Vader rules the Empire, it’s his Lady Y/N who rules him in bed. There might be some truth in it.

But neither of you seems to care. It’s all good. It’s perfect and happy as it should be.

[notiddygothgf]

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 !

synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.)

pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader, light takeomi x reader content warning: smut, porn with some plot, car sex, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, sexual tension, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

ONE: TWELVE THOUSAND YEN

YOU DIDN’T HATE YOUR BOYFRIEND. That would be too far of a stretch. Yet a part of you felt smothered whenever you were around him, like the sparkle you had once been known for dimmed in his presence. You didn’t hate your boyfriend but you felt a little piece of you die whenever his lips would whisper white lies against your own. It was something remarkably strange to behold; that you could feel a sense of resentment towards someone you used to adore, and even more so that you had no idea when or where these feelings began.

If you had to guess, it was probably some time around the end of the honeymoon phase which, ironically enough, had lasted longer than you had expected it to. After the new feelings subsided and the “just because” gifts trickled to a stop, what remained was an empty shell of what your relationship used to be. Empty kisses, empty conversations, empty promises. So why were you still with him? At times, it was a convenience thing. Other days it was because you loved him. It was limbo.

You were drained.

Your boyfriend sat next to you on the couch. The two of you were watching something, some show that you couldn’t recall if your life depended on it. Six long, loving years ultimately led up to this point in time, where the two of you sat side by side watching a shitty television show leaving room for all the conversation in the world – and taking none of it. 

A part of you wished you had your own place. You used to dream about living with him. You had no idea, of course, that six years later you would be sitting here regretful you hadn’t decided to be self-reliant and get your own place.

“He said he’s about to pull up right now,” The man finally spoke. His voice was a little hoarse from the harsh words he had shouted at you only a few minutes earlier. “Go outside and meet him.”

You turned towards him. “It’s cold out.”

“Yeah?” He hummed. His eyes remained trained on the TV screen. His remarkable lack of care for you could not be more obvious. “I didn’t ask.”

Feeling put down – the way you usually felt when he was around, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself – you forced a smile. Reaching for the jacket that you had strewn over the couch just a few hours ago when you had gotten home, you threw it over your shoulders. “Fine.”

You didn’t say bye. You didn’t feel a need to do so. Instead, you stood up and walked over to the front door. Giving it a good, firm tug, you pulled it open and stepped outside. Immediately, you felt the warmth beneath your skin shrivel into hiding. 

Pulling the coat tighter around you, you continued the tread down the road in solitude. You weren’t sure what you were looking for.

It was a cold night, colder than most nights this month so far. Far too cold for you to be out here by your lonesome, on some empty sidewalk at 11 or 12 at night. Mildly interested, you watched the hot air from your breath materialize into opaque clouds, grayish white against the otherwise black midnight gradient. 

It didn’t take too long before an inconspicuous vehicle pulled up next to you, right up to the curb.

You felt the pace of your heart quicken. You’d seen so many shoot-outs and drive-bys lately. God, what if something like that happened to you? Would now be a good time to start running?

The car slowed to a stop in front of you. Sleek, black, expensive-looking. Nothing at all like you had expected it to look. You swallowed the lump in your throat and, as the window began to roll down, stepped forth.

The face you were met with threw you for a loop. The description of the man your boyfriend had given you did the man absolutely no justice. He had this cute nose, one which complemented his rather feminine features – deep lilac eyes framed by long blonde lashes, perfectly arched brows, strands of hair dyed purple and blonde falling against his face in an almost delicate fashion. You had never had the pleasure of meeting the notorious Waka – the one your boyfriend hated so much. He was… actually really cute.

Waka – who appeared to share a similar sort of confusion with you –  looked you up and down. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” He said rather plainly, and then began to roll the windows up again.

“Wait!” You cried out. “I’m picking up for him. I’m his girlfriend.”

And down the windows rolled once more. You felt the intensity of his gaze as it raked itself up your now trembling form. When they settled on your face, he made a face, as if to say ‘whatever’, and reached into what appeared to be his pocket. “Just an 8th, right?”

His voice, honey-smooth, made your head spin. So much so, in fact, that you almost completely forgot where you were. “Yeah. 5000 yen, right?”

“That’s right,” He affirmed, extending his hand towards you. You produced the money from your pocket and placed it in his palm, watching his long fingers close around it. He slipped the money into an envelope. Then, with a softer gaze, he turned to you and dropped the bag into your hand. “He really made you wait out here all by yourself, doll?”

After a brief silence, you nodded. 

“He sent his girl to get his bud?” He remarked. “I know he’s mad at me, but shit.”

Pulling your little coat tighter around your body, you breathed out. The heat of it formed a small cloud in front of your face. “I’ll be alright.”

The man, taking a brief moment to look you up and down carefully, rested his arm over the car door. “Get back safe,” he hummed. 

“Thanks,” you replied. After he rolled the windows back up, you spoke to no one in particular, “You too.”

A week had passed and you couldn’t get him out of your mind. He was very attractive, objectively so. Lord knew you had questionable taste in men these days. No, that wasn't quite it. You were intrigued by him and his quiet charm.

That was it. Your boyfriend’s cohort slash dealer had piqued your interest, that was all.

“Shit, that’s strong.” 

Takeomi continued coughing to expel the smoke from his lungs. 

The two of you were sat in the middle of his room. On the floor, of course, because his bed wasn’t big enough to fit the two of you side by side. An ashtray was settled between you, along with an ice-blue bong and his favorite black lighter. 

You furrowed your brows, directing your thoughtful gaze down to the carpet below. You felt terrible about having these thoughts. It’s not like you would ever act on them, no, not in a million years. But they hadn’t gone away in a week.

 hadn’t even bothered to change. He was still wearing his work pants and the same T-Shirt he had come in wearing – a stupid one, at that.

You glanced over at your boyfriend. He was fiddling with the strings of an old guitar. Pinching a mini pipe between your fingers, you tapped the burnt remnants of the bowl you had just smoked into the ashtray. 

“Play me something, Omi,” You hummed. You were buzzed. You hadn’t smoked enough to get high just yet. You knew that shit was expensive nowadays – but you were buzzed. “Won’t you play me something nice?”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he began playing a quiet tune. He fucked up one of the chords and then sighed. “I’m tired.”

“ Tired? ” You smiled. Fake, of course. “From what?”

There was some sort of bitterness between the two of you left over from one of your more serious altercations a few weeks back. To make a long story short, Takeomi hit you. He had raised his hand to you in the middle of an argument – in the middle of the mall – and he’d struck you with such force the hit had left a bruise in its wake. 

You had taken him back, of course. You loved him – you thought. Something like that. Whatever it was, you kept coming back for more. Time and time again you had tried to see the better in him, tried to allow him the time to prove that people can change… but still, that sense of disgust you get after being hurt by someone you love never truly goes away, does it?

He sighed. “Work shit.”

Work shit. It was always work shit with him. Never any details. Just Work shit.

You packed another bowl, handing the pipe to your boyfriend.

“Thanks, babe,” he grinned. Holding his lighter up to the green bud, he took a long drag, sucked it in, and then exhaled. “You hungry?”

“A little, now that you ask,” you replied. He offered you the remainder of the bowl. You took it from him but set it on the floor as you quickly decided you didn’t want it anymore. “I could go for a ham sandwich or something like that.” “Sounds good,” Your boyfriend said, voice strained while he sucked in another mouthful of smoke. “If you’re gonna make one, make me one too.”

You paused. “Oh. Okay.”

The corner store was relatively barren, as per usual. So you, a regular, strolled through the aisles with comfortable ease. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, so to speak. You were just looking to spend some money before your shift started.

You liked slow days like this. Nothing really ever happened. Being that your job was so high-paying, you were able to take it easy. You usually started work near the evening time, and you were allowed some days off here and there for no particular reason. The job in question that permitted such a lifestyle was rather demanding, though, but you couldn’t complain. Desperate times had called for desperate measures. After Takeomi had blown all of his money and landed himself in a cesspool of debt, you’d picked up a job to help out.

Carefully, you grazed your fingers over the glass bottles. You’d never been big on beer, but today seemed like a kind of day. So you bent down, letting your black miniskirt ride up because who really gave a fuck these days, and picked a pack off the shelf. Feeling a little better about the whole Takeomi situation now that you had access to means to drown out your sorrows, you sauntered over to the checkout counter. 

It took quite a bit of arm work to hoist the heavy pack onto the top, but the minimum wage worker behind the counter did not seem to appreciate the raw display of brutish strength. Standing a few inches above you, she had her arms crossed over the front of her form-fitting uniform. The little brunette smacked on the pink bubblegum stuck in her teeth. 

“I’m gonna need to see ID” She mumbled. 

Your smile faded slightly. “Sure, okay.” 

Reaching back into the pink crossbody purse you had brought, you pulled out your wallet. You popped it open and began quickly flipping through its contents. A few moments spent searching revealed that your Non-Driver’s ID was nowhere to be found.

You felt your heart sink through the floor. “Shit,” you hissed. You flipped through your wallet one more time to no avail. “I don’t think I have it on me.”

“Okay, well,” The girl paused for a moment. You knew she didn’t believe a word that had just come out of your mouth. “You know I can’t sell to you without an ID, right?”

You sighed. “Not even for 2000 yen?”

She stood still, lips pressed thin with her bored eyes resting on your worried face. She didn’t look amused. “No."

26. You were 26 years old, and here you were, still being carded. What made matters worse? The girl behind the counter looked to be at least 5 years younger than you.

“If you’re not buying anything please step to the side,” She waved you off. 

What a dick. You still obeyed, of course, but shit. 

“You really can’t tell I’m not a teenager?” You thought out loud, more to yourself than anyone else. Not like the girl acknowledged you, but still.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, ma’am,” She replied. She turned the other way, towards the customer who had been behind you in line – apparently. You hadn’t seen him step behind you – and offered in a much nicer tone, “I’m sorry about that. Are you ready to check out?’

“Just this and a pack of Mevius lights,” He spoke.

Finding it a little infuriating that this man was receiving service when you weren’t even finished checking out, you whipped your head around. You felt a strange sensation squeeze your heart when you immediately recognized the man who was checking out.

Standing there at eye level with you – maybe even a little higher – was a man of feminine nature with a pretty face and a pretty nose. His blonde-purple hair was near unmistakable.

He had this cute nose, one which complemented his rather feminine features – deep lilac eyes framed by long blonde lashes, perfectly arched brows, strands of hair dyed purple and blonde falling against his face in an almost delicate fashion. 

Waka in the wild. Who would have thought.

Your heart squeezed again when you realized he was looking right at you. 

“Hey,” you offered rather lamely.

The pretty man nodded his regards to you, sliding his own ID card onto the countertop. “Hey,” he replied. “Take’s girl, right?”

Part of you was flattered that he’d cared enough to remember you after one interaction. Part of you felt a little let down at the prospect of being reduced to Takeomi’s girlfriend, especially in the presence of such an attractive specimen. But, still, you forced a smile and said. “Yeah.”

The girl at the register placed the pack of cigarettes on the counter, right next to the brown bottle he had given her. From here, you could just barely make out the words on the label; Don Julio.  

She pressed some keys at the register and then hummed. “9517 yen.”

Waka took his ID off the counter, tucked it away into his wallet, and then brought forth a black card. “Let me get the beer, too.”

The girl behind the register paused. She glanced between you and the man and then sighed. She typed some more numbers into her stupid little register and added, “12,017 yen.”

She took the card from between his fingers. After a quick swipe and a few more key presses, she handed the card back to him – along with a receipt this time. 

“Thanks,” He hummed. Slipping both the card and the receipt back into his wallet, he folded it up and put it back in his pocket. Without much of a signal of departure, he set out for the door, then he paused. As he turned to you, his blond hair slid over his shoulder like silky drapes over a grand window. His lips, pink, plump, kissable, uttered the words, “You coming?”

And come you sure did (pause). 

You speed-walked out of the store, right alongside him.

When the two of you were a safe distance away, he dropped the case of beer into your arms. 

“Wait, hold on,” you said, fumbling for the opening of your purse while simultaneously trying not to drop the beer on his foot. “What was it, 2500 yen?”

He braced his hand on the beer box, helping you steady yourself. When you returned your gaze to his pretty face, he was shaking his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he muttered.

You froze for a moment, hand still stuck in your purse. “You sure?”

“Positive,” he replied. When he saw you stumble a bit trying to regain your posture, he reached for the box of beers again. “You got a pen?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you nodded. You searched for a pen, which you then placed in his hand. You let him put his hands on the box. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said rather noncommittally. He was scribbling something on the beer box. After recapping the pen, he handed it back to you. “I’ll see you around.”

You couldn’t quite see what he had written, and you had barely had enough time to strike up a conversation, let alone ask the man what he had just scribbled on your beer box. So, instead, you watched the man take a few steps back and hop onto a bike – his bike, you assumed, as it looked like he was the one who had parked the thing there. It was still running. 

He turned his head to look you up and down one more time. “Oh,” he added like it was an afterthought. “Tell your man I said hi.”

God, his voice made you weak at the knees. Fighting the heat that threatened to take over your face if you continued looking at the soft-spoken man, you averted your eyes to the gravel below – head bowed. “I will.”

You watched him pull off. 

Out of sheer curiosity, you turned the beer box on its side to see what he had written. 

Then you felt the warmth begin to crawl up your neck and spread onto your face as you spotted a series of digits written there in black ink – a number. 

As the sound of his motorbike faded into the night, his words played on repeat in the back of your mind. 

I’ll see you around. 

[sugacookees]

lovebug again

✩ boo seungkwan x reader ✩ high school setting, fluff, mutual pining, mentions of death  ✩ w.c. approx. 7.1k ♫ this town - niall horan; lovebug - jonas brothers; for lovers - lamp; forever&more - role model; la la la that’s how it goes - honne; falling for you - colbie caillat

I hate being sick.

Everyone does, but some people enjoy the special treatment they receive from loved ones. But in my household, that is never the case. When I get sick, it always seems to be my fault. Too much time on my cellphone, not enough sleep, going out with friends too much—every leisure activity that could be blamed except for the fact that it actually happens.

Teenagers get two to four colds a year on average. But maybe I’m not a teenager after all since my mom says I should never catch a cold. Only weak people do. And annoyingly so, I kind of agree. As president of the class and of the school council, each day is vital. So, being sick is totally not on schedule and ruins everything. The time I’m spending lying on my bed staring at my ceiling could have been time for me to finalize our plans for the fundraiser and the booths for the upcoming school festival. But no, the universe decided that I should become the most helpless human being on earth at the time I'm most needed.

I couldn't even check my phone for updates or messages from other school council members. My mom is convinced that my phone single-handedly caused me to catch a virus and that it should be kept away from me. She even went out of her way to wrap it in a drawstring bag so my sister wouldn't get sick like me. I tried to do some schoolwork in advance, but I felt like my head was about to fall off, so I quickly abandoned that plan. 

It was a day ago in Chemistry class when I started feeling ill.

“Okay, here are five chemical equations to balance. I’ll give you a couple minutes to accomplish this and then we’ll get right to checking them.”

I look down right away at my notebook and copy the equations. By the second one, the numbers and letters are starting to jumble and lose sense. I feel like I’ve been reading the same number over and over again. I look up and around at my classmates to see if I’ve just been looking down too much, but I quickly regret it as soon as I see Jisoo’s head in front of me turn into three. I clutch my head and shut my eyes closed, hoping it would go away. Nevertheless, I go back to my problem set and attempt to accomplish it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking to my right, where the voice is coming from, I see Seungkwan, who looks concerned. I quickly reassure him that I’m fine and that it’s probably just the heat. He nods in agreement, but does so hesitantly. Anyhow, I couldn’t find it in me to reassure him further as another wave of pain hits my head, and right at that moment I think I would just like to be hit by a train and be done with.

As I am looking down, I see a peek of navy blue hovering by my peripheral. I slowly turn my head towards it and see a jug held by Seungkwan, still with his worried face.

I’ve known Seungkwan for years. Our parents know each other way back from their childhood as we live just about 7 houses down by each other. It’s a small town too, so we go to the same market, same bakery, same school, and same dainty old cafes and restaurants. On holidays, we exchange meals and gifts, and simple hellos and goodbyes.

I remember the time before Nari was born. Seungkwan and I would always run around the house and play together. He invited me to his birthday parties, and I did too. Though, when we grew up and my father passed, I found myself forever changed. Seungkwan and I started to drift apart as a result of that, among other things.

Seungkwan has always been the most extroverted one in the room, and me, well, I’m completely on the other end of that spectrum. Wonwoo and Jiheon have always been quite introverted as well so we quickly got along. Surprisingly though, Wonwoo had also made friends with Seungkwan along with a few other boys. We would all be together from time to time at the park, the boys playing sports, and Jiheon and I, along with the other younger siblings of the boys, playing a definitely more beginner-friendly version of whatever game they were playing. All in all, we all got along well. Seungkwan and I would exchange conversations every now and then, but we weren’t as close and playful as we were before.

But I must admit, I have, and always will, hold a special fondness for Seungkwan. He was always sweet and kind, and even loved by all the elderly people in town. I recall the time I was out to buy some bread for our house, I saw him happily chatting with Chan’s grandmother. I say chatting, but more like gossiping by the way they were hunched and shifting their eyes. He would always make sure everyone in class was included, and he would always make everyone happy with his jokes and skits that he, Seokmin, Jisoo, and surprisingly, Jihoon, would act out. Seungkwan would also unhesitantly offer assistance to the student council during major projects. Sometimes, he would even stay late with me, saying, “So you have less to do tomorrow, and more time to rest!” He would then walk me home, and never forget to greet my parents and wish them well.

Seungkwan is lovely. And he is even more lovely now as he offers his water to me. Our drinking fountains have been under maintenance recently so, if I take up his offer he’ll have to wait until he gets home to get a drink again. He sees me hesitate and about to reject his offer, so he firmly places his tumbler on my desk and turns back to his notebook, offering no space for compromise.

In perfect timing, Mr. Hyun announces that the time is up and it’s time to check our answers. I pick up the tumbler, open it, and drink. I turn to Seungkwan quickly and smile. He smiles back.

By the next day, the headaches still come and go, but I keep it to myself and head to school anyway. During our break time, Wonwoo and Jiheon notice my weakened state and urge me to go to the school clinic.

“I’m fine! Just sleepy, that’s all.”

They share a look and thankfully leave my table.

But my peace is soon ruined as Jiheon slams a piece of paper on my desk. A clinic slip. The loud thump gathers the attention of the class, and they take notice of the much familiar white paper that occupies my desk.

“Oh my god, class president is sick?!” Soonyoung exclaims while exaggeratingly covering his mouth.

Usually unconcerned Hansol, Myeongho, and Junhui jerk their heads in my way with horrified expressions.

“I’m not sick! It’s just a small headache. It’ll go away soon.”

“It won’t.” Wonwoo says firmly with his arms crossed. “You’ve been having them since yesterday. Go to the clinic right now or else I’ll drag you there myself.”

Now, I'm usually assertive and tend to win in situations, but when I remember how Wonwoo once dragged Mingyu down the stairs by his backpack down the stairs because they were running late, I decide to sign the slip. I definitely don't want to be dragged like that.

On my way out, Jeonghan and Jisoo give me a few applauses with matching devious smirks.

I point at them accusingly and say, “Unlike you, I’m not pretending just to get out of class.”

Now here I am, at home, holed up in my room, bored out of my mind. Until, I hear a knock on my door and see Nari peeking in.

“Unnie, your classmate’s downstairs. He’s talking with Eomma. Come quickly.” She says hurriedly before rushing out.

I wonder what’s Wonwoo doing here. He usually sends me a text if he’s coming over. Well, he’s been one of my best friends for years, and he has come over a lot, so it’s not like my family has no idea of his existence, and maybe, he thought that sending me a text would end up in me stopping him from coming over. Probably.

Knowing it's only Wonwoo, I skip glancing at the mirror to fix my appearance; after all, he's seen me worse. Still feeling a bit lightheaded from lying down for hours, I make my way downstairs.

“Yah, Wonwoo. You couldn’t even se-“

I halt and gape at the man in my living room who is definitely not my best friend with fifty-eight centimeter wide shoulders (we got bored in class).

Seungkwan stands there in his collared navy blue sweatshirt, holding a basket of tangerines, looking at me with an alarmed face, then gives me a soft smile. It is at this moment I truly realize how much the universe hates me. I probably look like absolute shit right now, and Nari’s sly smile only confirms that further. That little girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or whatsoever. I hope it’s okay. I’ll just drop this off and go, I’m sorry again.”

My mom quickly butts in, “No, no! It’s alright Seungkwan. The gesture is much appreciated. And I know this one has been dying for a familiar face that isn’t ours.” She gives me a look, which I have no idea what it even means, and smiles. She takes the basket and heads to the kitchen bringing Nari along.

In the living room, Seungkwan and I find ourselves standing awkwardly, a noticeable gap between us. It's evident that he wants to say something, but he seems hesitant, perhaps fearing that he might not be welcome. Unable to bear the silence any longer, I take the initiative and speak up.

“Thank you for coming by the way. And for the tangerines too. Those are my favorite.”

“I know.”

His response catches me off guard, and my surprise seems to have unconsciously shown on my face, prompting him to explain further.

“In middle school, we were asked to bring our favorite food. You came in holding this single medium-sized tangerine. And you know, my family has a farm so I brought one too. I was really embarrassed because Seungcheol had brought this full-blown meal and everyone was gathered around him. But then you saw me, approached me and told me-“

“‘Tangerines are cuter anyway.” I finish.

We both share a laugh and in between our laughter he asks me, “What the hell does that even mean anyway? How could tangerines be cute?”

I look at him fondly and answer, “Well, they just are.”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows our laughter as we gauge what to do next. As I’m about to ask him what made him drop by, he already answers me with a sheepish smile, “I, uh, just seeing you pale and weak in class, and you not showing up today just really had me worried.” He scratches his head and looks away. “So, I decided to check-up on you to see if you were alright.

Despite my disheveled bed hair, crusty and pale lips, and being dressed in Anpanman pajamas, I confidently say that I'm doing well.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming to school tomorrow.”

He gives me a worried look, like the one he gave me a day ago in Chemistry. “Are you sure? I think you should rest more. The council’s doing alright with the prep anyway.”

Feeling my stomach flutter at his genuine concern, I try to brush it off, blaming it on my feverish state, and reassure him that I'll be okay.

“I’ll be fine, Kwan. It’s just a cold.”

Kwan. I hadn’t realized I used a nickname for him I gave him years ago until I had said it. Either he didn’t notice, or doesn’t really care as it doesn’t seem to have caught him off-guard, seeing that he still seems to worry about me.

“If you say so…”

Ever the worrywart, but undeniably cute.

?!

“Well, it’s about to get dark in a while so I should head home. It was good seeing you. I hope you feel better. And if you ever decide not to come to school tomorrow that’s a hundred percent just fine, and I’ll take care of letting our teachers and the council know.”

I chuckle and walk him to the door.

“Thank you, Seungkwan. For coming by, and for the tangerines. I really appreciate it. Be safe on your walk back, and see you in school tomorrow.”

A few steps away from the door, he turns around, now walking backwards, with that charming smile and says, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. I hope I don’t.” As he walks away, that smile still on his face, I wave goodbye, returning the gesture with a warm smile of my own.

Subconsciously admitting that I do feel a little under the weather, I retreat back inside, hoping to get more and better rest.

Nearing the staircase, my mom stops me, and Nari hovers behind her with a smile that makes me feel uneasy.

“So,” she starts, annoyingly elongating the ‘o’. “I haven’t seen you and Seungkwan together for a while.” I quickly try to jump to correct her until she interrupts me. “I mean, you know, conversing. Especially with him coming here to our home.”

“Yeah, conversing.” Nari butts in, also, elongating her vowels. I roll my eyes at them.

“Tell that sweet boy he should come over often like the old days. Makes me feel younger.” My mom yells.

Don’t think I’ll be doing that, but like the good daughter I am, I say okay anyway and go back to my room.

My head pounds as I struggle to wake up, attempting to open my heavy eyes. The blaring alarm in the background adds to my discomfort, and I quickly move over to silence it. Another second of that noise, and my head might just explode. Despite feeling weak, I gather the strength to stand up, determined to get ready for school

Looking at my state and the fact that I can’t even tie my shoes right without getting lightheaded should be enough reason for me to garbage the idea of going to school. But then, I remember all my missed classes and the council preparations. I can’t miss one more day.

During breakfast, I try my best to act normal and perfectly healthy. Nari gives me a side eye every now and then, waiting for a moment to catch me red-handed; pretending not to be sick. Fortunately, my mom is preoccupied with getting ready for work and preparing our lunches, so she doesn't pay strict attention to my condition.

So far so good.

I collect my things and head out. As I open the door, the sun blares right at me so I cover my eyes with my hands and take a few steps forward to get into the shade. As soon as I remove my hand, I jump out of surprise at the sight of Seungkwan.

“Yah! Are you trying to kill me?! What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry! I just..” He trails off and leads me into confusion.

“You just…?”

“My mom!” He screams frantically, and I jump in surprise again. “My mom also knew about you getting sick, so she asked me to accompany you to school to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, well, she really didn’t have to. I’ll send her a text that I’m alright-”

“No!” He screams again.

“Seriously! Why do you keep screaming so early in the morning?!” His agitated state isn't exactly helping mine, and the never-ending screaming is starting to make me lightheaded again.

“I’ll do it. I mean- you don’t have to send her a text. I’ll tell her myself later. Don’t. Send a text.”

“Okay, alright!!”

I turn towards the direction of the school and start walking. He quickly follows and walks beside me.

Trying to make small talk, he asks me, “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yeah I am.” Well, technically, yes I am better. I didn’t say anything about feeling totally okay, so I’m totally, technically, not lying.

“That’s good,” is all he says.

He doesn’t make further small talk and we make our way to school in comfortable silence. Even if we hadn’t maintained a close friendship all these years, I can never feel uncomfortable around Seungkwan. Somehow, he always knows when I am in need of a cheery conversation, or time to be left alone. He also supports me in any endeavor I take on, like running for class president, and school council president. He even went as far as taking Soonyoung and Seokmin to the crafts store, buying materials to make a ton of banners and posters for me. I thanked them by treating them to Chan’s grandmother’s restaurant.

As we arrive in our classroom, our arrival makes some commotion.

“Oh? Class president, hello! Seungkwan-ah… hello to you too.” Soonyoung greets, adding a wink for whatever reason at the end.

As we walk to our seats, I feel lingering eyes following our every move. I look back and see Seokmin and Soonyoung whispering to each other. I raise a brow at them, and turn back to my seat shaking my head.

“Sorry about Soonyoung. I guess he missed you.” Seungkwan says beside me as he settles on his seat. “We all did…” He adds.

Wonwoo and Jiheon approach me asking about how I was and if I was feeling better. I fed them the same remarks (not lies) as I did Seungkwan. Wonwoo looks at me accusingly but decides to brush it off and keep to himself. If I don’t want to be sent home, I should really look out for Wonwoo. He might smell my bullshit about being okay from a mile away.

I made sure to bring a lot of water, using the big jug my mother uses on family trips. And also, to avoid Seungkwan offering his, and ending up infecting him. After all he’s done for me, I really don’t want to do that to him.

I excuse myself and head to the restroom to take a pain reliever, so a headache wouldn’t come over and torture me during class. After doing just that and trying to get myself together, I head back and continue as normal.

At lunch, Wonwoo and Jiheon eat with me. As I open my lunchbox and pause, both of them point at me accusingly, “Aha! I knew it! You’re still sick aren’t you?”

I guess my reaction, or lack thereof, to seeing my lunch was a dead giveaway that I don’t feel so up to par. Usually, I would get excited and eat right away, leaving no crumbs for Jiheon to steal.

“Ugh, but I feel better now. I promise!” I beg, mostly to Wonwoo. “Help me here Jiheon, please?”

“Sorry, I’m with Wonwoo on this one. You’ve been overworking yourself these days and coming to school today will just make your fever worse. You need to rest. It’s okay to, y’know?” She says.

I lean back on my chair, any appetite I even had, gone. I appreciate my best friends’ worries, but I really can’t afford missed days. But maybe they’re right. I can rest, and if I push myself harder I’ll miss more school days than I should.

Wonwoo pulls out an all-familiar slip and pushes it towards me. A clinic slip, all filled out and ready for me to bring. “We’re only worried about you. It’ll be better anyway if you were here in perfect, healthy condition, than physically being here but your mind—no offense, helpless.”

I take the slip and put it in my pocket. And since I don’t have any appetite, nor will I be in the classroom, I offer my lunch to Jiheon, which she accepts excitedly. Wonwoo shakes his head.

I leave the room and head to the clinic. On the way, I really start to feel my fever taking a toll on my body. What even possessed me to leave my bed and get ready? I should have stayed and slept all day.

When I get to the school clinic, they take my temperature and quickly assess that I should be sent home (again) for better recovery. Nurse Yang tells me she’ll ask someone to bring my stuff over for me.

After waiting for a bit, the sound of the chimes by the door brings my attention to Jisoo who is wearing my backpack.

“Thanks, Jisoo.”

“No problem. Though, I’m kinda jealous.” I smack him square on the shoulder. Nurse Yang gives us a side-eye glance. “Kidding. Obviously.” He heads out the clinic, but not before shouting, “Get well soon, our president!” I chuckle at Jisoo’s antics. “Sorry about that.” I tell Nurse Yang, to which she only shakes her head at.

“Your mother says she’s near, you should go to the gate now. Get well soon, dear.”

“Thank you, Nurse Yang. Hopefully you won’t see me back here anytime soon.” I really, genuinely, hope that.

I meet my mom, who is visibly mad, at the school gate. As soon as I get in the car, she gives me a lecture. I drown it out, and use my headache as an excuse to nap, even for a bit.

As soon as we get home, she orders me to stay on the couch for dinner and to drink some ginger tea. Even though the couch might not be as comfortable as my bed, I still snuggle in and nap.

The sound of the doorbell wakes me up. Despite being just a few feet away from the door, I refrain from standing up to get it. I know my family understands my current sickly state, and they will likely get it themselves. I hear the door open and my mom’s delighted gasp.

“Ah, Seungkwan!” I jolt upright and check if my ears heard that right. I look at the door, and there he is, right outside, holding a paper bag and smiling sheepishly at my mom. I contemplate whether I’m dreaming or not, but with Nari tapping my chin, I guess I’m not.

“A fly might go in, Unnie.” She teases then runs away before I give her one.

Seungkwan greets my mother back. “Hello! Just wanted to drop by again and give this samgyetang Eomma made. I also just wanted to check if…” He points at me, on the couch, “…is okay.” He smiles, and waves at me.

“Oh! How kind of you Seungkwan. Come in, come in!” My mom ushers him hurriedly inside, and takes the paper bag from his hands.

She looks at me pointedly, “Make some space for him!”

Seungkwan, alarmed, quickly blurts, “Oh no, it’s okay! I can just stand here...”

Despite his protests, I move my legs off the couch and move off to one side. I look at Seungkwan, who has a look of horror (and a bit of shame) on his face, and pat the very vacant seat beside me.

“Seungkwan, it’s okay. Lying down for so long isn’t great anyway.” I reassure him.

“Well, I won’t be here long. I just wanted to check if you were okay. But also, I felt a bit guilty that I didn’t notice that you were sick this morning.”

If I thought my head pounding was painful, the rapid and loud beating of my heart in my chest is quickly overshadowing that pain. Kind, charming, sweet seat mate and friend Boo Seungkwan, who offered me his water bottle [despite the fact that he can’t get a refill throughout the day], dropped by my house afterwards to give me a basket of tangerines, came to my house early in the morning to accompany me on my way to school [even if he was closer if he were to walk from his home], brought homemade samgyetang, and now says he feels guilty for not noticing I was still feeling sick. I think I might just melt into this couch, actually.

Thinking of nothing to respond, I switch the subject and ask him how his family is doing.

“They’re doing pretty good. My sisters miss seeing you. They always liked you ‘cause they could dress you up and talk about girl things I probably can’t understand.” He laughs.

“Well, I miss them too. Being an elder sister to Nari makes me want one too. I’ll make sure to visit when I get better.”

To that, he merely nods. We’re left in awkward silence again. Running out of things to say, I impulsively invite him over for dinner.

“Oh, no it’s alright, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

My mom overhears him and quickly excuses him (more like begs him with pleading eyes), “No, Seungkwan. It’s alright. We would love to have you over for dinner! It’s always just us three, so another would make great company.”

“Eomma’s right, Kwan.” 

Kwan. The nickname again. I silently hope he doesn’t notice. And instead of dwelling on why it felt so natural to call him that, like in the old days, I beg him to stay.

“It’s the least we can do for all you’ve done for us, for me. The visits, the tangerines, the samgyetang, your water… Please stay.”

He looks at me to my mother, in deep thought. He fumbles with his hands, and I take notice of how slender and pretty they are. He takes a deep breath as he answers, “Okay.” My mom cheers and shouts my sister and I’s names, telling us to set the table and help her in the kitchen.

“Let me help!” Seungkwan says loudly, standing up from his seat.

“No.” We say in unison. Seungkwan gives up and sits back down with a huff.

During dinner, the atmosphere in our cozy kitchen is delightful, with lively conversation filling the air. A table for four, an antique lamp hanging right above our heads, and a lit candle on the counter. Seungkwan seamlessly fits in, right here beside me, engaging in cheerful chatter with my family. As we lock eyes occasionally, we can't help but share sheepish smiles.

In the middle of Seungkwan telling a story of how his sisters dressed him up for Chuseok last year, a sudden and powerful thunderclap reverberates the room and takes us all by surprise. Nari drops her spoon in surprise and latches on to our mother. As my mom consoles her, I look over at Seungkwan and see him deep in thought.

Oh right, he still has to go home.

“Oh, that must be the rain. Before it gets any stronger, I should probably go…” He says, looking down, afraid to disappoint my mother.

Out of concern (and concern only), I butt in. “What if it gets stronger as you’re walking home? Even with an umbrella, the walk home will still be pretty dangerous.” My overthinking self proves to be quite resourceful at this moment in concocting excuses, even though, in reality, it's not even raining yet. Despite that fact, I continue, “It’ll be better to wait it out, here, where you’re safer.”

I look to my mother in hopes she would agree with me. Her brows are raised but she relaxes them back as soon as I nudge mine for her to interject.

“Oh, yes. Agreed. Definitely. It’s time we took care of you, don’t you think?”

We all look to Seungkwan. An uneasy expression settles on his face. So, to assure him that he isn’t overstaying his welcome (I don’t think he ever can), I place my hand on his arm and smile softly.

“Please?” I squeeze his arm a bit. “I don’t want your family to get mad at me anyway for sending you home drenched.”

He chuckles and places his hand on top of mine. It’s warm. Where is this heat coming from? My fever? My naturally sweaty hands? My hand being sandwiched by his skin? The candle? Or maybe, it has something to do with the loud, fast rhythm my heart is going.

“Okay, okay. You convinced me.” He says out loud. His hand still on mine.

As dinner ends, my mother tells me to put on a movie in the living room to pass time in waiting out the rain. Seungkwan and I make offers to help with the dishes, but my mother is sure she can handle it and doesn’t let us forget that, actually, I’m still sick. Seungkwan, as if hit with this revelation, looks to me with shock as if he had also forgotten why he had come in the first place.

He rushes us back into the living room, settling on the couch, and picking a movie to watch.

“How about that one?”

“The Mimic?! Are you serious?! I’m sorry but no.” He says to me, as if very offended.

“But they said it’s good!”

“How about this one instead?”

The Lover’s Lake, flashes on the TV. I look to him in surprise. I should’ve known he was a rom-com guy.

“See, look. 5 star ratings! This is definitely the one.” He says excitedly. With this much excitement coming from him , I find it impossible to say no. He celebrates shortly, then stands up to dim the lights, setting the perfect mood, and then settles back down, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position. And this said position seems to be at a spot closer to me than he was previously.

I have this thing where, if the movie is good, I tend to instantly fall asleep. And that is just what I did. My eyes were getting heavy about just 20 minutes in. I had felt myself slowly leaning onto Seungkwan, and continued doing so until my head rested on his shoulder. He had not said a word about it, and continued to watch the film.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but he had leaned onto me too. Though, I wouldn’t be so sure about that as I had drifted off to sleep by then.

“Okay, now just pull the bunny ears you’re holding. Pull them tight.”

Following his instructions, I pull tight and successfully tie my shoelaces. His face contorts in delight and breaks out in a big smile.

“See! You did it! Not that hard, right?”

“It was hard.”

He laughs and picks me up in his arms.

Giving me a big smooch on my cheek, he tells me, “I’m proud of you anyway, my love.”

“Thanks, appa.” I say, and hug him tighter.

“Now go back down and show them.”

I run down the stairs excitedly. Today’s my 4th birthday and my family and friends have come to celebrate with me. There’s people towering over me everywhere. Finding my way to my mom to show her my recent feat, I maneuver through the crowd the best I can, but in doing so, I bump into someone.

“Ow, my head!”

As the voice screams out, I instinctively reach for the spot where we bumped, trying to figure out who I even bumped into.

It’s Seungkwan!

“Seungkwan!” He greets me back with the same enthusiasm, both of our pains ebbing away.

“Look!” I point to my shoes and he looks down to see what I’m even excited about.

His jaw drops a bit at the achievement usually only 6 year olds can achieve. “You did those?!”

“Yep.” I say with a proud smile. He continues looking at me in shock and he looks down at his shoes.

Velcros.

I laugh heartily but stop immediately when Seungkwan looks back up at me with an annoyed face.

In an attempt to make him feel better, I ask him if he wants to go get sweets with me. He puts up a bit of a fight before agreeing, but says yes anyway as if it was his last resort.

I take his hand in mine as we weave through the crowd towering over us. He squeezes my hand every now and then, when someone bumps into him and he’s lagging behind, afraid I’ll leave him behind. I tug on his hand.

After what felt like the world’s most grueling journey, we arrive at the kitchen. The sweets are on the counter, but they are really, really high up—way beyond our reach.

Seungkwan and I share a look.

He gives me a nod and I return a look of confusion. He nodded at me like I knew what he was about to do, or that we’ve been through this a million times. He really needs to stop watching those spy movies.

He leaves for a moment and comes back with a stool. As he takes a step on it, it wiggles a bit and I clutch onto him immediately. I look up at him and he merely says, “Oops.” I furrow my brows at him in annoyance.

“Let go of me! I’m so near!” He whines while gently pushing my forehead.

I sigh in defeat and let him go.

He takes another step, both feet on the stool. The added leverage enables him to see the array of sweets on the counter, which, judging by his reaction, is a pretty damn lot.

“Woah! There’s bungeo-ppang, chocopie, songpyeon, and-” He pauses and lets out a gasp.

“What? What is it?! Tell me!” I beg, tugging on his shorts.

He looks at me to create suspense, and then screams in glee, “HOTTEOK! Our favorite!”

In utter surprise and excitement, I pull my hand away from Seungkwan and start applauding. But it seemed like I did it too quickly, causing him to lose balance. From the first wobble, I start screaming his name repeatedly.

“Seungkwan! Seungkwan!” I say it repeatedly, and too fast, that by some point (yes, at this point he is still pretty much wobbling, putting up a good fight) all anyone would hear is, “Kwan! Kwan! Kwaaaan!”

He falls.

I rush to his side and ask him if he’s okay. He stays on the floor, with his eyes closed. After a beat of silence, he starts laughing. I look at him in confusion, wondering if he hit his head too hard. Seungkwan is now crazy and I have to say bye-bye forever.

He opens his eyes and stops laughing as soon as he sees my expression.

“You sounded so funny. ‘Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!” He says, mimicking my voice.

I smack him square on the shoulder.

“Sorry. Here-” He tries to sit up and hands me something. A single piece of hotteok. “Happy birthday!”

I take it from his hand saying, “Oh. Thanks!”

“What happened here?!”

We both look up in surprise at the horrified voice. It’s my mother.

In fear, Seungkwan starts apologizing frantically. “Sorry! We just wanted some sweets but I fell down. Don’t worry they’re still fine! I just got one hotteok though.”

My mom sighs deeply and helps Seungkwan up. She returns the stool from where it came from and reaches for something on the counter.

“Here. One for you, since you fought so valiantly for it.” She says, ruffling his hair. Someone from the living room calls for her. She gives us a smile and walks away.

Seungkwan and I exchange amused glances and burst into laughter. Amidst our laughter, I manage to take a bite of the hotteok now and then, only to continue laughing with my mouth full. Seungkwan playfully teases me, "You hotteok addict! At least wait for us to stop laughing!”

I smack his shoulder again, which seems to urge him to tease me further. “Hotteok addict! Hotteok addict!” He starts mimicking my voice and my rushed tone from earlier, now saying, “Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“What does that even mean?!”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. What does Kwan mean?!”

“Your name is SeungKWAN, stupid!”

“Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!”

“Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“Yah!” We both look at the booming voice, and see my dad towering over us with his brow raised. Seungkwan and I look at each other and nod. Then we start running away in laughter.

A loud thunderstrike jolts me awake.

Huh. My 4th birthday. That was the last time my dad celebrated my birthday with me, and the last time Seungkwan ever saw him alive. What a bittersweet memory.

I try to raise my head but feel a weight on top of it, stopping me from doing so.

My cheeks heat up at the realization. Seungkwan fell asleep too. And, he’s leaning on me.

In a state of panic, I try to make him more comfortable, but only lead myself to move my head and realize how stiff my neck is. I wince in pain which jolts Seungkwan awake. He looks around, feeling heavily disoriented.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you.” I say.

He looks at me with his mouth slightly open, his hair all floofed up in different directions, and a faint red mark on his left cheek where he was leaning on me.

He gains a bit of composure and says, “No! If anything, it’s my fault. Sorry for falling asleep on you. It must have been uncomfortable.” He scratches the back of his head, feeling a bit ashamed.

With no intention of lying, I agree with him. “Yeah, a bit. But it’s alright.” I say, laughing a bit towards the end to make him more comfortable.

“Well, it seems like the rain has stopped. I should head home…”

My mouth opens to say something, but the words seem to escape me, leaving me with a simple, "Oh."

He stands up to collect his things and prepares to leave. I stand and go to the door before he can, then Seungkwan appears in front of me.

I open the door and gesture my hand for him to step out first. He smiles shyly and heads out, with me following right after.

“So, uh, thanks. For coming by today. I really lo-liked having you here.”

“Me too.” He responds promptly. It seems to be a vague response so he adds, “Thank you, I mean. Thank you also for the great dinner and letting me stay for a while. Sorry again for… sleeping on you…” He looks away.

I laugh and tell him, “Kwan, you apologize too much y’know. Honestly, tone it down.”

He lets out a blissful sigh. “Well, I won’t keep you out here for too long. Goodbye.” He wistfully says, saying my name at the end.

“Goodbye, Seungkwan. I’ll see you in school.”

He starts walking away, towards his home, away from me. And for some reason, I wait. I wait for him to do something. Not exactly sure what. But I just feel like I don’t want this to end.

So I rush back inside the house and reach for something below the shoe rack. I run after Seungkwan, shouting his name.

Alarmed, he looks back immediately in shock. I stand before him tired and panting with my hands on my knees.

“What are you-”

“Here-” I hand him an umbrella. It’s pink and has flowers. “You should use this. Y’know, in case it- umm, rains again.”

He appears hesitant, almost ready to decline, but he stops himself and settles for a simple, kind, and gentle, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that.”

We stand in the middle of the street, just staring at each other with soft smiles. Just two people who have been gravitating around each other, now seemingly refusing to be apart.

He breaks the silence and says, “I’ll go now. For real this time,” while pointing a finger at me. We share a laugh.

Feeling a bit ashamed, I look down and say, “Sorry.”

“Ah, it’s alright.”

He smiles at me, and in response, I smile back and nod, silently indicating that I have nothing else to say to hold him back from going home.

“Get well soon, Tteokki.” He says, ruffling my hair. I say nothing about the nickname, like he did all those times before, and keep smiling.

Seungkwan finally turns back and walks towards the direction of his home, and I do the same.

Before I step inside, I can't help but glance back at him. Seungkwan continues walking with the umbrella hanging on his wrist, swinging it along with his arms. I keep my eyes fixed on him until his silhouette fades away.

With a sigh, I turn back inside, unaware that a certain round-faced boy had momentarily halted his walk and looked back, his thoughts mirroring mine. Just for a moment.

After an exhausting day of essentially doing nothing, I plop down on my bed. I fluff my pillows, get under my covers, and hold onto my teddy bear, hoping for the best sleep ever.

However, just as I close my eyes for about three seconds, I hear a notification sound from my phone. Unable to ignore it, I reach over to my bedside table and check the notification. The curiosity of not knowing what it is would surely keep me from sleeping soundly anyway.

It’s a message from my mom.

Confused, I swipe to open our conversation and see that she has sent me an image. It hasn’t fully loaded yet so I click on it and wait.

When the image loads, my heart starts beating quickly.

It’s a picture of me and Seungkwan sleeping on the couch. My head on his shoulder, his head on top of mine. My brows aren’t furrowed like they usually are. I look relaxed; at ease. I don’t look like I’m sick at all. And Seungkwan looks the same.

I zoom in behind us and see Nari smiling wide holding up a peace sign.

I shake my head and react on the picture with an angry emoji. Before I turn off my phone, my finger hovers over a button.

It doesn’t take much resistance from me to go ahead and click it, so I do.

Then a pop-up notification appears on my phone.

Image saved.

I smile to myself, then turn off my phone and head back to sleep.

Maybe I don’t hate being sick anymore.

a/n: loosely based on a dream I had of seungkwan! fun fact: that dream was the reason he ultimately became my bias T__T i miss u boo! Be well, always <3