#but if she uses the scan for too long it gives her a headache

[braindancer]

Romy and her knockoff kiroshis

[yunaversalluv]

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull

ᴀ ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄɪᴀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ x ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴛ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ!ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull m .list

note - if there are any mistakes please let me know!

cw for this chapter// emotional distress, dissociation, breakdown, self-isolation

taglist - @miajooz @talyaisvalslutsoldier @lesoulew @elliespotion @valeisaslut @mariesmagix @eriiwaiii2 @liztreez @re1daway @wrappedinvines @eleanorsghost @fangirlinc @wwefan2002 @elliee-smellie

CHAPTER TEN: ALL THE WRONG SONGS

The lights are too bright.

The crowd’s a blur of bodies — sweaty, electric, loud — but none of it feels real. Just shapes. Just sound. A headache with limbs. The bass thunders through her sneakers, but it doesn’t settle in her chest the way it used to.

Nothing does anymore.

She’s three songs in. Or maybe four. It’s hard to remember. She’s been on autopilot since they stepped on stage, mouth moving, fingers working the chords by muscle memory. If Dina hadn’t cued her in with that glance — that silent you okay? — she might’ve kept drifting.

She’s not okay.

She hasn’t been since you left.

The fight replays every time she closes her eyes. The photo. The silence. The way your voice broke when you said, “You don’t get it. You never let me in.”

And maybe you were right.

Maybe she never did.

But that doesn’t stop her from scanning the crowd anyway — from squinting past the glare of the stage lights, hoping, stupidly, that you might be there. That maybe you slipped into the back of the venue like you used to. Hoodie up. Hands in your pockets. Watching her the way you always did — like she was more than the chaos, more than the name, more than the girl with a guitar and too many things she didn’t know how to say out loud.

You’re not here.

Of course you’re not.

Her throat closes around the next lyric — mid-verse — and it happens before she can stop it.

She chokes.

Silence.

The mic picks it up. The crowd stirs.

Jesse tries to cover — launches into a riff like he’s smoothing over a missed cue. Dina shoots her a quick glance over her shoulder, fingers hovering over the synth, waiting for her to catch the beat again. Waiting for her to come back.

But Ellie doesn’t move.

Her fingers hover over the strings, frozen. Her jaw locks.

She stares into the crowd like it might spit out an answer. Like if she looks hard enough, you’ll appear — arms folded, camera slung at your hip, giving her that look. The one that stripped her clean without a word. The one that saw through every line she tried to draw between the versions of herself she let exist.

You’re still gone.

The silence stretches too long. She can feel the confusion ripple through the front rows, their eyes darting between her and Jesse. Murmurs. Someone whistles, unsure if it’s part of the show.

It isn’t.

She hears her voice in her own head, sharp and bitter: Get it together, Ellie.

But she doesn’t want to get it together.

She wants to feel it. Let it ruin her a little.

So she turns her back to the crowd. Walks toward the amp. Unplugs her setlist from the floor tape with shaking fingers and drops it. Doesn’t look at it again.

Instead, she starts something old. Something raw. The first song she ever wrote. Never meant for anyone to hear. A song about her dad — about the silence he left behind and all the questions she never got to ask.

It’s not on the setlist. It’s barely rehearsed. But her hands remember it.

The first note comes out thin, cracked — like her voice doesn’t know how to carry grief in front of other people.

But she doesn’t stop.

The room stills. The crowd quiets. Dina turns — watches her, soft and worried, like she’s afraid this is the kind of bleeding you don’t come back from.

She sings anyway.

Each verse is a wound. Each chord is a memory. And all of it — every aching, trembling second — is for you.

The last line barely makes it out. Her voice cracks, trails off.

No one claps right away.

They think it’s passion. They always do.

But when the stage lights drop and she stumbles off into the wings, Jesse is the first one to catch her — hand on her shoulder, brows drawn tight.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “You good?”

She wipes her eyes with the heel of her palm before she can answer. The skin beneath is hot. Wet. She doesn’t even remember crying.

“I’m fine,” she lies.

Jesse doesn’t push.

And maybe she’s grateful for that.

Because if he asked what happened — if he really asked — she might actually tell him.

That you saw the real her once.

And now you won’t even look at her.

The door swings shut behind her.

It’s loud out there — screaming, clapping, the kind of noise that used to make her feel like someone — but back here, it’s all concrete walls and flickering fluorescents and the sound of her own breath, sharp and uneven.

She grips the edge of the sink in the green room and stares at herself in the mirror.

Eyes red. Liner smudged. Hair sticking to her face from the sweat and the tears and the weight of singing something that stripped her all the way down in front of a thousand strangers.

She feels hollow. Exposed. Like someone ripped her skin off mid-set and left her out there bleeding.

Dina knocks gently once before stepping in.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Ellie nods without meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”

Dina doesn’t believe her — Ellie can feel it in the way she lingers, in the way her hand hovers just shy of touching her shoulder.

“Okay,” Dina says softly. “We’ll give you a few. Come out when you're ready.”

The door clicks shut again.

Ellie exhales, slow and shaky, then sinks to the floor.

Crosses her legs. Presses her palms to her face.

It’s so quiet now. Too quiet. Without you, even the silence feels wrong.

She should’ve texted you. Should’ve called. Should’ve said something — anything — before tonight, before it all curdled into this aching thing she can’t carry anymore.

But you looked at her like a stranger the last time she saw you.

Like you’d taken all those soft, quiet pieces of her she only ever gave you and locked them behind glass. Like maybe you loved the art more than the girl. Like maybe she had it backwards this whole time.

She pulls out her phone.

Her thumb hovers over your name.

There are drafts in there. Old ones. Unsent. Half-messages. Rambles. Apologies that don’t land.

One says:

i wish you hadn't seen me like that i wish i’d let you hold me instead of pushing you out

Another:

that song tonight — it was about my dad but it felt like it was about you too

She closes the app. Reopens it. Starts a new one.

i looked for you in the crowd tonight like a fucking idiot

Deletes it. Types again.

you used to see me even when i didn’t want to be seen and now you won’t even look at me

This one sits there. Heavy. Too much. Too late.

She doesn’t send it either.

Just stares at the blinking cursor.

It blinks like it’s waiting. Like it’s hoping she’ll be brave enough to hit send. But she’s not.

Not yet.

Instead, she switches apps. Opens her camera roll.

There’s one photo she’s never deleted.

You. Sitting on the arm of the hotel couch, laughing at something Jesse said, slightly out of focus. Ellie’s thumb is in the corner of the frame — a mistake. But she remembers the moment. Remembers how her fingers brushed your knee and how you didn’t flinch away.

She almost smiles.

Almost.

Then she locks her phone and drops her head back against the wall.

“She saw the real me once,” she whispers to no one. “And now she won’t even fucking look at me.”

Ellie’s fingers tap an absent rhythm on her phone, the vibrations against her palm nothing but a distraction from the gnawing emptiness crawling up her spine. The door to the green room clicks shut, and she’s left with the quiet buzz of fluorescent lights and the sound of her own breathing. Heavy, uneven. Like she can’t quite find her center.

She grabs her guitar, resting against the corner of the room, and strums it absentmindedly. The chords are familiar, warm. But they don’t feel like they belong in her hands tonight.

She wishes she could forget the weight of the mic in her hand, the sound of the crowd fading into nothing when her voice cracked. The fear of being exposed. And worse — the realization that the one person she used to count on to see her, to understand the person behind the image, isn’t there anymore.

A message from Dina lights up her phone. She ignores it.

It’s always this way after the show. Everyone on the tour wants to be around her, to offer something comforting, a distraction. But they don’t know the half of it. They don’t know what it feels like to have a piece of yourself ripped away and not know how to put it back together.

She slings the guitar strap over her shoulder, stepping out into the cold night air. The tour bus is parked a few yards away, its lights flickering like it’s waiting for her to come back, like it’s the last place she has left to go.

But even when she steps inside, the warmth doesn’t reach her. The quiet hum of the engine sounds distant, as if it’s too far removed from what she needs right now. The seat is too empty without you next to her. The bus feels like it’s built of all the spaces where you should’ve been. The ones she never had the courage to fill.

She sinks into the corner of the couch, staring out the window, watching the dark stretch on forever. The city lights blink as the bus rolls through streets she doesn’t care to notice.

Her phone’s still in her hand. The screen is dim, the cursor still blinking in the unsent message she couldn’t bring herself to send. She scrolls past it, down to the photo gallery, stopping on that one image — the candid shot of you. Your smile caught in a moment of quiet ease, something that felt real, even if it wasn’t. Something that wasn’t for anyone but you.

Ellie swallows hard. The image is too much. Too soft. It aches.

She glances toward the back of the bus. Jesse and Dina are sitting together, the remnants of their conversation fading into the noise of the engine. They’re talking, laughing, sharing something that feels so fucking far away from her right now. The warmth of it makes her heart ache harder.

She scrolls through her photos again. And then, just to torture herself, she opens your name in the text messages. It’s full of everything she never got to say. All the lines she thought would be easier, all the apologies she buried under her pride.

But there’s nothing she can write that’ll fix this. Nothing she can say that would undo the way her eyes had wandered the crowd tonight, looking for you — for that safe place — and not finding you there. The weight of it suffocates her.

Ellie runs a hand through her hair, staring down at the screen. What do I do? The words echo through her mind. What is the right move when everything she’s been hiding from, everything she tried to protect herself from, is standing there in front of her, in pieces?

She types something simple:

“I’m sorry. I miss you.”

The second her finger hovers over the Send button, the weight of it crushes her chest. Is that all she’s going to say? How can those words possibly capture the complexity of what she feels? The way she’s been unraveling since the moment she realized you weren’t coming back to her.

Ellie deletes it. Her thumb presses Back on the screen.

It’s too much. It’s too little. She doesn’t know which.

There’s a quiet knock on the door. Dina.

She enters without waiting for permission, already dressed for bed. Her expression is soft, the kind of gentle knowing that Ellie’s come to dread. Dina knows. She’s always known when Ellie’s hiding something — when the mask slips, even just a little.

“Can I talk to you?” Dina asks, voice soft, as if she’s not sure if Ellie will break if she pushes too hard.

Ellie just stares at the floor, suddenly feeling the weight of every unsaid word hanging in the space between them. Her voice is small when she finally speaks, rough with fatigue and frustration. “What’s left to say, Dina?”

Dina sits down beside her, a little too close, but not close enough to make Ellie uncomfortable. Her tone is quiet, measured. “You know what you’re doing, right? You’re pushing her away and making it look like it’s easier than it really is. You think you’re protecting yourself, but you’re just… hurting her. And hurting yourself.”

Ellie laughs — a broken, hollow sound. “I don’t know how to fix it. I fucked up, Dina. I—”

“Stop,” Dina interrupts gently. “You don’t need to ‘fix’ it. You just need to talk to her. Let her in. You’ve spent so much time closing yourself off, but she’s not like everyone else. You know that, right?”

Ellie bites her lip, fighting the sudden surge of emotion that threatens to break her down. She didn’t want Dina to see her like this. Didn’t want anyone to know how deeply it’s eaten at her, how much she’s fallen apart without you here.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ellie whispers, shoulders heavy. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if she’ll ever look at me the same.”

Dina doesn’t answer right away. She just sits there, watching Ellie with a quiet intensity that almost makes her feel like she’s being read.

Finally, Dina speaks, soft but steady. “Then tell her that. Tell her everything. Let her see you. You won’t know until you try.”

Ellie looks at her, but she doesn’t say anything. She just stares down at her phone again, fingers hovering over it, unsure whether to send the message. She thinks of you — of your face, your laugh, the way you saw her when no one else did. But she’s terrified that saying the wrong thing will make it all worse.

The silence stretches. Dina gets up to leave, but before she does, she turns back with one last glance. “Just don’t wait too long, Ellie. It might be too late by then.”

The door closes with a soft click behind her.

Ellie leans back against the cushions, staring at the screen.

I miss you. I’m sorry. I fucked up.

The words repeat in her head, but she can’t make them fit. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, she locks her phone and closes her eyes, fighting the exhaustion that drags at her like a weight she can’t escape.

And still, she waits.

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia Chapter 425 Spoiler Talk

I'm enjoying writing about this stuff again, though I've got a headache going on, so I'll do the best I can for now. I might add in stuff later:

I'm very happy to see our Big 3 graduate finally! I was kinda worried Mirio wouldn't even graduate for a second, but I'm happy to see that he did and he gave a valedictorian-esque speech to everyone talking about rebuilding society so everyone can have a bright future like Sir Nighteye wanted. Ending his speech with a joke is such a Mirio Togata thing 😂. I'm going to miss that guy so much 🥹

Why are Deku and some other students just lying on the ground with their feet up like that btw? Did they run out of chairs or something? It's a weird, quirky little thing that's just there, I guess.

The narration mentions that it's June in the MHA universe now (Happy Pride, btw 🏳️‍🌈). So, if the War took place around April or May, then it's been at least 1 month since we last saw the kids at the hospital.

Our class 1-A is now officially Class 2-A! They're finally second years as they should have been. Everyone including Aizawa is alive, though saying they're well is debatable. Everyone is clearly still injured in some way, shape, or form. Most have several bandages and even Jiro looks like she has a prosthetic for her missing left earphone jack.

Quick note: I notice that Bakugo is actually wearing a tie with his uniform now. It's still not buttoned up, but you can tell that he's definitely softened a bit since the war. EDIT: Looking at it again, it might not be buttoned up because he has a cast holding his right arm, but it’s hard to tell from the scans.

Aoyama not wanting to return to UA is sad, but it makes sense. I'd argue that he earned his place there regardless of AFO's influence, but I can understand that he doesn't feel that way and wants to redeem himself and become a hero in his own way without being forced to betray his friends and teachers.

Replacing Aoyama will be Hitoshi Shinso! I think most of us predicted that Shinso would be joining Class 2-A, but I'm very happy to see that confirmed. It's going to be a bit of a weird start for him, but I think he'll get used to his new classmates quickly.

Another quick note: The second-year cloud girl, Fuwa Mitawa, is seen quite a bit in this chapter and her return is something Horikoshi promised many volumes ago, so I'm glad to see him keep that promise.

Those two first panels of Shouto make me so sad, y'all 😭... His hair is so messy and you can see bags under his eyes. It's hard to tell because of the leaks, but I don't know if there's even light left in his eyes. He looks so exhausted. What happened to Dabi, Endeavor, and the rest of his family? I have no doubt that he's been agonizing over them for god knows how long. I hate seeing him like this, honestly. He's my favorite character and deserves all the good in the world, especially after the harsh life he's been put through. I want to give Shouto all the hugs in the world 🩵.

I don't think Deku smiled at all this whole chapter btw. He tries to talk to Ochako at one point, but she interrupts him with a comment about his new haircut. He just looks sad this whole chapter. I bet he's still grieving and processing what happened. I need Izuku to open up to someone because he can't just bottle this up.

Then we have this mysterious man walking around a desolate town. We have absolutely no idea who this is, but apparently it isn't someone we know of. I want to say it's a grown-up Tenko Shimura somehow, but even that might be too farfetched.

Finally, there's Shouto and the Todorokis. Shouto reassures Deku that he's ok, but I bet my gatcha game currency that he's putting on a brave face because that final beautiful panel of him does not scream "I'm ok!" to me. If anything, I'm amazed Shouto doesn't look like he got any other permanent scars on his face at least.

It looks like Shouto is going to see his family at the hospital. Specifically Endeavor and what might be Dabi who's being kept alive in a big machine. It's hard to tell because the scans are so unclear, but I'm 90% sure that's Dabi in there. It's a miracle that man is alive given he was just a skeleton last we saw him. I'm 99% sure we're going to get a Hellish Todoroki Family Part 3 or something next chapter.

But, we won't see that until 3 weeks from now because we're officially on a 2-week break. There isn't a given reason why like Jujustu Kaisen got (Gege Akutami is sick, so he's taking 2-week break too), so I really hope Horikoshi is ok. It's either he's sick too or he needs time to think of the final chapters of MHA. Or both, that too. Regardless, any breaks given to Kohei Horikoshi to give him time to rest is ok with me. Just sucks for us as fans. Leaving us on THAT kind of a cliffhanger is just mean 😭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unmanageable 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re often the first one in office and unfortunately, the last one gone. That day is no different as you let yourself in through the back door of the bank and lock it behind you. You arrive at least an hour before opening to run diagnostics. Marska or her equivalent, Taylor, often cut it close to the starting time. You don’t mind so much as long as they’re not late.

The silence is soothing where to many it may be eerie. You leave your office door open as a scan runs on your screen. You blow over the open slot of your thermos and groan. You were up a bit too late playing Eldenring. The Godskin Duo gave you quite the headache.

The connection, despite being wired in, seems slower than usual. The last week or so, cell service has also been limited. In Hammer Ford, it isn’t entirely surprising. Sometimes it feels like the world forgets the backwoods village.

You yawn and take a cautious sip of hot coffee. You nearly choke as your eyes are drawn above the monitor by a blurred shape. You pull your mouth off the lid of the cup as Pete leans against the doorway, slightly bedraggled as his floppy hair droops down one side of his forehead and his eyes are ringed with sleep.

“Hey,” his voice is gritty and low, “you’re here early.”

“Same time every day.”

You note that he’s wearing the same jacket as the day before. You can’t see the rest of him past your computer but his tie is gone and his shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned. You should be concerned but you’re just not. Whatever problems he has, you can’t imagine they’re not self-made.

“I smelled coffee,” he grumbles and scratches the side of his nose.

You put your thermos down softly, hiding it out of his view. You’re not sharing.

“Guess…” He leans back and looks into the bank, “I could make a pot… Marska usually puts one on… her coffee tastes better than mine.” He checks his watch, “how long till she gets in?”

You blink at him. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the manager. Your job is the computers, not scheduling. You look at him and shrug.

“Mm,” he turns back to you, “guess I’ll give it a try.”

His reluctance is clear as he sluggishly pushes away from the frame and drags his feet away from your office door. You have the urge to get up and shut your door but even you know that’s a bit much. His soles scuff as he barely lifts his feet and you listen to him grumble and sigh.

He clanks around loudly with the old machine. You’re always sure to bring your own. They only ever have the cheap brand in the office and when you brought your own, others drained the pot before you got any. This place is miserable. You wonder if they need a technician down at the library.

The shatter of glass breaks the morning lull completely. So much for a slow start. You hear Pete groaning from the next room. You don’t have to go out there, you don’t have to…

Damn it.

You get up and find him standing over the broken urn, only the plastic handle still intact. He hangs his head and grips his hips, pouting over the disaster. You cross your arms as you approach.

“I’m a mess,” he pushes his hair back as he shifts to look at you. “Sleeping in my office, wearing yesterday’s clothes,” he drops his hand emphatically and puffs out through his lips, “now this.”

“Did you cut yourself?” You ask, scanning his hands for blood.

He shakes his head, “no, I didn’t, just… I’m not doing well.”

“Right,” you stare at him flatly, “well, just broken glass. Nothing that can be cleaned up.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, “thank you.”

Then he walks away. Walks. Away. Leaving you in front of the scatter of glass shards. You watch him go incredulously. Does he really expect you to clean up his mess? As he enters his office, you’re assured that he very much does.

You close your eyes and take a breath. Technically, he is your boss. Well, truly, he is a man child.

You go to get the broom and pan and sweep up the glass. Not for him, for practicality. No one else should have to cut themselves for his clumsiness. You dump the glass in a box and put that in the bin. You’ll leave it to him to add the replacement to the supplies sheet.

Marska arrives as you put away the broom. Before she even slips her purse off her arm, she struts to the machine, not acknowledging you until she finds the burner empty. She tuts and faces you, blocking your path back to your office. Your safe haven.

“What happened?”

“Pot broke,” you answer bluntly.

“You broke it?”

“No,” you say.

She scoffs, “no? Well, what happened?”

You point to Pete’s office and shrug, shouldering past her without further argument. She sighs and clicks her heels towards the front desk. Her agitated mutters drone on as you enter your office and rub your forehead.

“Hey Mar,” Pete greets the teller buoyantly, “that’s a nice skirt.”

Absolutely no shame.

“Pete,” she purrs back, “what happened to the coffee maker, baby?”

They’re not as subtle or quiet as they think.

“Mm, yeah, accident,” he says, “you know what time that bakery opens? They do good coffee. You could run over, it’s never busy at open.”

“Pete, it’s always busy at open. That’s when all the old ones do their banking,” she rebuffs.

“Oh…” he sniffs, “I’m sorry, baby. Late night, I…” he pauses, “she knows.”

“What?” Marska’s voice cracks.

“I don’t know how she found out…” his voice trails off, “we should talk in my office.”

“Whatever, the other won’t care. I don’t even know if she understands me half the time,” Marska sneers, “you sure she knows what she’s doing? These fucking computers are slow as hell.”

“Mar,” Pete warns, “let’s go…”

“Well, I don’t have much time or any coffee, so make it quick,” she snaps and her heels tap across the floor.

You roll your eyes and close your own door. You don’t envy the mess they’ve made of their lives and you assume it won’t be long before Marska’s husband knows about it. What do you care? You don’t waste your time on all that. You’d rather get to the Erdtree.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Concerned König, protective König, concerned Price, protective Price, TW: Predatory behavior, TW: Manipulation, TW: Kidnapping, TW: Hostage situations

I'm gonna split this chapter into two parts because of how long it is lol. So this is Chapter 7 Part 1.

(Part 1)

König POV:

The next day came far too soon for König's taste. He'd woken up sore and disoriented, still dressed in the club outfit from the previous evening. From what he could currently remember, he’d had a pretty good time. At first, being around so many people he didn’t know really made him nervous. But once he had begun to settle in with a few drinks, that fear had quickly faded. In truth, he had probably gotten a bit too comfortable for his own good. Because the last thought he had that wasn’t muddled and hazy was joining Soap’s drinking game.

Soap was a true heavyweight when it came to alcohol. And König knew he shouldn’t have pushed himself to compete with a guy like that. But in the moment, it was so hard to resist whenever Soap would shove another drink in his hand and egg him on. He didn’t know just how many such drinks he’d gulped down that night. But from the piercing headache that was hammering away behind his eyes, it had been far too many.

With great effort, König hoisted himself out of his bed and began a groggy march towards the bathroom. Fortunately, Price had given him an exception from that morning’s run. He knew excessive drinking was not a common occurrence for him and had chosen to give him a bit of grace since he was enjoying his time with his girlfriend. Konig was beyond grateful for the merciful gesture too. Because the only thing his body was craving was hydration, a hot shower, and maybe some excedrin.

A little while later, König was feeling much more like his usual self. Clear-headed and relaxed. His headache had vanished, too, thanks to the medicine. He was looking like himself again, too, having returned to his usual tactical outfit. The only reason he was able to be so relaxed at the moment was the captain’s quick thinking. Thankfully, Price had left him a text last night that let him know you were okay and that he had arranged a ride to get you home. In addition to his persistent hangover, Konig had initially awoken in panic when he couldn't remember how he had gotten home last night and much less how you had. But as he approached the door to your room, he was much more at ease. He wanted to be there when you woke up so he could help you out of bed and get you feeling better, too.

He knocked at the door twice, but there was no reply. Assuming you were still in the clutches of a heavy slumber, König opened the door and wandered inside. But he was startled to find the room dark and empty. There were no signs that you had even been there since all of you had left for the club last night. Your bed sat clearly untouched, makeup palettes and hair supplies still littering its surface. Just as they had been before you had left. So where were you?

Just then, Price stepped out from his own room and into the hall. He was armed with a towel and a bottle of shampoo as he headed for the bathroom, sweat from his exercise still evident on his clothes. But König hurriedly waved him over to your room, full of concern.

“Captain?” he asked, gesturing to your empty room. “Have you seen Y/n this morning?”

Price poked his head around the doorframe, scanning the room as he shook his head. “No, I thought she was still passed out. Figured she could use a chance to sleep in after last night.”

König scratched his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How did she get home last night? I was too out of it to remember much.”

“When I took everyone else back to base, Ghost said he’d get her home alright. But, come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around either.”

König turned, urgently knocking on Ghost’s door across the hall. But again, he was met with silence. He cast Price a questioning look, hesitant to enter the lieutenant’s quarters uninvited. But Price nodded, now looking a bit concerned himself. So with the captain’s permission, König turned the knob and the two of them ventured inside. The room sat just as dark and empty as Y/n’s had. And there was no sign it had been disturbed since last night either.

He stood in the middle of the room, head in his hands as his anxiety hit in full force. Something must have happened. Had there been an accident on their way home? Maybe a drunk driver had lost control and had hit them! They could both be hurt. Or worse. It was only when Price spoke that his mind stopped racing for a few seconds. The captain had instead chosen to explore the empty room, looking for any clues that would set their minds at ease and explain things. He was crouched in front of Ghost’s closet, looking at something.

“König,” he said, his voice measured and tense as if he was trying his best not to scare him. He had picked a small object up off the floor and was studying it intently. “That equipment from RTI yesterday? Remind me what we did with that gear once we finished that training.”

König paused to think for a moment, his hazy memory gradually lifting to reveal the events of the previous day that had led up to their night out. That’s right, they had mandatory training that day. Resistance to Interrogation, or RTI for short. It was important for their entire team to be well prepared to successfully complete their missions, but doubly important for them to be trained for what could happen if they ever failed. Typically, the training involved each of them practicing maintaining dead silence through various simulations of torture, humiliation, and interrogation. Nothing was taken too far and no real harm was done. But if you let the illusion get to you and you uttered anything other than your name, rank, and serial number? You failed and would have to repeat the course until you passed.

“It was all returned to secure storage,” König nodded, the memory beginning to come back. “I saw to it personally, just like you requested.”

Price looked tense. “I don’t think that it was. Not all of it.”

He tossed König the object that he had been looking at and grabbed an open duffel bag Ghost had shoved to the back of his closet. And as he dumped its contents out onto the floor, both of their expressions immediately went grim.

Vials of a clear solution tumbled out, many of them empty. With them came a handful of syringes, pairs of handcuffs, a vast array of hunting knives, and a bundle of rope followed after them. Face going pale, König studied the vial Price had tossed him. It contained a semi-clear liquid, and the vial was marked with a frenzy of warning labels and cautionary messages. And turning the bottle, König read its identifying label: CL-369. In other words, ketamine. Everyone knew it was both potent and incredibly dangerous. It was popular as a “date rape” drug for a reason. Just a small dose would have a person out in ten seconds or less.

The mood in the room abruptly shifted. König was no longer a concerned boyfriend. And Price was no longer his equally concerned friend. Instead, as the gravity of what they’d just discovered began to sink in, their minds immediately switched from off-duty to active as their training kicked in. They were soldiers now, faced with a horrifying mission they never once imagined they'd ever face.

"Suit up,” Price ordered, jumping to his feet and heading towards the hall. “Ghost’s gone rogue, and I think he's taken Y/n with him. We leave in five. Move!"

König didn’t need to be told twice as the two of them scrambled off to their respective rooms.

In much less than five minutes, they regrouped in the hall. König had crammed every weapon and tool he could grab into the front of his vest. He clicked his helmet into place and gripped his rifle in his hands, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles went white. The image of a friendly and caring teammate had quickly vanished. In its place was that of a ruthless killing machine practically quaking with a rampant hunger for blood. Price had changed into his combat gear, quickly reloading his handgun before shoving it into his leg holster as they rushed out the door towards his car.

"Do we have eyes on him? Any intel?” König asked, a newfound coldness in his voice.

"No,” Price quipped, starting the car and tearing out of the parking lot. ”But I know exactly where he would go."

König unclicked the safety on his rifle, his eyes narrowed and murderous.

"Take me to him. Now."

Reader POV:

Your morning began with pain. But you would gladly trade what you were feeling for a hangover any day. The confusion and disorientation you felt as your consciousness slowly resurfaced was becoming all too familiar at this point. The skin of your back felt raw. Your wrists stung, and every place the knife had touched felt like fire had been stitched into your flesh.

Every fiber of your body complained as you rolled over in bed. Wait, when had you been put in a bed? The repetitive question of where you were now emerged in your mind, but you batted it away. You were too tired to ask that question again. Even if you did get the answer, it's not as if it would help things. If you weren't back at home, at the barracks, or in König's arms, then you didn't feel safe. And upon realizing you weren’t alone in the room, you felt even more unsafe.

Ghost was lazily reclined in a chair across the room, facing the bed. His legs were spread as he relaxed against the backrest, absentmindedly twirling a hunting in his fingers as he no doubt waited for you to fully wake up. He'd changed, too. In place of his usual dark outfit, he was wearing a fitted dark shirt underneath his tactical vest. The short sleeves bulged to make room for his arms. His tactical pants had been replaced with jeans. But the leg holster strapped to his upper thigh quickly broke any illusion of casual clothing. You could see a glint of metal as the silver grip of his pistol peeked out from the holster, contrasting with the black straps of the harness.

His eyes flitted to you as you moved. "Morning."

You didn't answer, instead taking the opportunity to scan your surroundings. You were lying on a small, wooden bed. The blankets were soft as they fluttered over your otherwise bare skin. Your dress had vanished, but it's not like it would have been much use to you now after Ghost had sliced it to pieces. So you clung to the bedsheets, pulling them up to your chin.

The flooring was made of dark wooden panels. In fact, everything around you was. It seemed you were in some type of cabin. And peeking out the window beside you, you could see nothing but trees stretching out into the distance. With the sunlight streaming through them like that, it was almost like a picturesque vacation spot. But this wasn't a vacation. This wasn't picturesque in the slightest.

"Sleep well?" he asked, giving the knife another flip.

You were tempted to ignore him again, but you gave in and nodded dismissively. It was clear what he was attempting. He was grasping at straws and trying to connect with you. He was bad at it, but it was still painfully obvious. Somehow, after everything he'd done, he still managed to cling to hope that you'd eventually feel something for him. Part of you envied his hopefulness too, since yours continued to fade away. Regardless of how insane the notion was, you got the feeling he had no plans of stopping his pursuit until he achieved that result. Until you somehow confessed feelings for him or something.

"Ghost?" You asked, timidly. "Where are we?"

He didn't answer you, instead beckoning you over with the blade of the knife. You hesitated, but thought better of it when his eyes narrowed. So, you pushed yourself up with a soft groan as your entire body protested. But you ignored it as you carefully wrapped the bedsheet around you in a makeshift robe and climbed to your feet.

Ghost shook his head before nodding back towards the bed. "The sheet stays."

Though he'd already seen every bit of you so far, it still felt humiliating as you left the sheet behind and nervously came to stand in front of him.

After looking you over as he gave the knife one last twirl, he stowed it away in his vest and reached for you. You immediately jumped when his hands grabbed your hips, but he didn't do anything terrible. Instead, he turned you around so that your back faced him before pulling you down into his lap.

You didn't like facing away from him like this. You didn't like not having any clue what he was doing or thinking. But you carefully lowered yourself onto his thighs at his request.

A dull soreness pulsed from your groin, the area feeling slightly swollen and definitely sensitive to the touch. The fabric of his jeans was rough against the tender skin, making you grit your teeth and shift your position. You didn’t want to look down there to confirm it, but you were fairly certain you'd find dried blood or bruising if you did.

Your whole body was littered with darkened blotches that stood as silent witnesses to his previous roughness. And as he began inspecting each one, you felt yourself grow tense. His fingers lightly prodded at each cut and scratch. The touch was firm. Not soft enough to be classified as gentle, but not necessarily malicious either.

You hissed as his hands moved to your upper back. The skin was still raw and irritated.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

"Of course it hurts," you grumbled internally. What kind of question was that? But you didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now. And you really didn’t want to piss him off when your body was still recovering from his last approach. So, again, you chose to simply nod your head.

Ghost didn't say anything else, but turned you around in his lap so that you straddled his hips. Panic returned as he did. You fully expected that a repeat of the night before was well on its way. But to your surprise, he just picked you up and carried you into another room. After unceremoniously depositing you into a large bathtub and tossing you a clean cloth, he sat on top of the closed lid of the toilet nearby.

"Clean yourself up," he snapped. "Make it quick."

Obediently, you closed the drain and cranked the knob. A torrent of warm water streamed out, quickly lining the bottom of the tub. It stung a bit when it first touched your skin, but the feeling quickly became soothing as the stubborn pain began melting away. You let the tub fill up as high as it could go before shutting off its supply. Then, with a sigh, you let your shoulders rest against the back of the tub. The water enveloped you like a warm embrace as the water surrounded your body. And if you tried hard enough, you could imagine you were back home unwinding after a long day of work.

You sat for a while, conjuring up alternate versions of the past few days that fit seamlessly into your everyday life. Maybe Elliott had brought those amazing doughnuts to the office again. Maybe Daphne had her hands full with bug fixes and needed you to help out. Maybe the client submitted updates to their deliverables and the whole team was working late to meet their demands. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, Ghost’s hovering presence in the room broke any illusion you tried to construct. So, eventually, you opened your eyes and accepted the grim reality. Looking his way revealed he was just sitting there with his forearms resting against his thighs, staring right back at you. You sat up a bit, folding the washcloth in your hands before setting it down on the edge of the tub. Then you sat there, staring right back in a silent request for a bit of privacy.

"You bathe with me here or you don't bathe at all," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I wasn't born yesterday."

Though it was not the response you wanted, his instincts weren’t wrong. The minute he had left the room, you had fully intended to scan the area for anything that could serve as a weapon. Anything sharp that you could hide in your hand or behind your back. But with that plan now foiled, you turned your body as far towards the opposing wall as you could before beginning to scrub your body clean. You could feel his eyes drilling into your back as you did, too. Always watching. Always wanting. So you chose conversation to at least ease the tension.

"Why are you being so nice to me now?" You asked timidly.

Ghost returned to playing with his knife as he spoke. "After what you admitted last night, I thought you deserved some positive reinforcement. I'm not shy to mete out punishment when necessary. By now, that should be clear. But you should know that being my good girl brings rewards, too."

What you admitted last night? Did he mean the whole “who do you belong to” line he’d thrown and pressured you to answer? Apparently, he was under the impression that coerced compliance was consent! That what he'd forced you to say last night was how you truly felt! Dumbfounded and frustrated with his denial, you were tempted to correct him. You didn't want to give him even the slightest idea that you were a willing participant in any of this. But, at the same time, you really wanted this bath. You needed it. You needed something other than pain just for a few minutes. So you stayed silent, continuing to gently wash the dirt from your skin.

As you did so, your stomach rumbled loudly. Embarrassed, you shot Ghost a pleading look over your shoulder. If he was in a rewarding mood, might as well get as much out of it as you could before it passed.

After digging around in his pocket, he produced a crumpled-looking granola bar. From the looks of it, it'd been in there for ages. You wouldn't have been surprised if nothing but a plume of granola dust came out when you opened the wrapper. But thankfully, it was still mostly intact. You munched at your rations hungrily, your stomach happy to have anything at all to digest. It felt like you hadn't eaten in days! The situation was still odd. But at least you were no longer covered in dirt and starving.

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

"So. What do we do here?"

The prisoner in the hold was no grizzled space pirate. She was a perfectly ordinary, partially-clothed, docile looking Mautian- a feline-humanoid. Colloquially known as catgirls.

Aarakon peered through the windows in at her, uncertainly clicking his pincers together. Two officers stood at attention in front of him, their professionalism faltering slightly in the wake of their shared uncertainty.

"She's an accomplice. We lock her up with the rest." He said with less certainty than he would have liked.

The officer who had brought her in shook his head. "She most certainly isn't. During our recon of the ship, I observed how the rest of the crew treat her. She has no job. She aids in no criminal activity. She serves no obvious purpose. They just… Dote on her. Pet her. Sometimes they stick their faces in her stomach."

Recon for a law enforcement unit meant utilizing the long weeks it took to travel through space to maximize efficiency. Electronic signals traveled faster than a ship full of men, so whenever a space pirate crew was identified, they took the time to learn them while bridging the distance to them. Available cameras would be remotely interfaced with, and files stored onboard the ship's computers would be scanned for any information that might aid in the coming seizure.

Aarakon shuddered at the description. "Repulsive. And they willingly give up resources for her, too?"

The other officer nodded. "They feed and clothe her. She has her own room separate from the crew's quarters, with a cushioned bed. Multiple means of self-entertainment available for her."

"I don't understand it. I simply don't understand it." Aarakon repeated in disbelief.

The officer coughed again, flitting his wings idly. "So… What do we do with her?"

"Has she said anything? Does she… Know anything?" Aarakon pressed desperately.

The officer shook his head. "We've interrogated her. All she's done is rub up against our legs. We're not even certain of her sapiency level."

"What information could she possibly have gathered?" His partner butted in. "She doesn't even attend crew meetings. She sleeps through announcements. And nobody gives her orders."

Aarakon began navel gazing, as well as he could being from a species with no navels. "This is baffling. What does she... do? What purpose can she possibly serve to be worth expending supplies on?"

"Is she… Worth anything?" The officer asked. "Ransom, perhaps?"

"She doesn't even have government files. I checked." The other shook his head. "And they treat her too well to be a prisoner. If she was with them against her will, she would have told us when we took her in."

"Enough of this." Aarakon snapped. "If she can give us nothing and nobody will miss her, chuck her out the airlock and be done. I'll be in my quarters, trying to nurse this headache you lot have given me."

Both soldiers stood up straight, resuming alertness. "Roger, chief. Shouldn't be too much of a hassle. She's unarmed, after all."

---*---

Licking her paw, Lethia nodded firmly at her captain, who scratched her ears as they huddled with the rest of the crew in an escape pod.

"He seemed to think that, anyway." Lethe related, lapping up the last bloodstain in her fur. "Clearly, his species never domesticated felines."

[never-stop-dreaming30]

The Things You Give Pt. 32

WhOoO wEeE! It's be a long time. Sorry it took so long! I've had a wild summer, yall. I moved and been pretty darn tired! I've also been stuck in a writing rut, so please forgive me. But I think I got it! I hope you like this chapter! It took a bit to write and I hope I do it justice. Thank you, loves! For everything. By the way, it's finally spooky season! Yay!

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked incuriously.

“I’m here to pick up some stuff,” he responded and leaned against the doorframe, staring her up and down. “Whoa, who did this to you?”

“Who the hell are you?” Hyde asked, coming up behind Y/n.

“Connor,” he replied coyly and flicked his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes.  “Who are you?”

“I’m her husband,” he said defensively.

“Oh, yeah I heard about you,” Connor said, wagging a finger at him. “You’re the one that got busted for carrying. Like, two years ago, right?”

“Yeah, now answer my question.”

Connor smirked and eyed Y/n up and down. “I was her camp counselor a couple years back.”

Hyde looked to his wife whose eyes never left Connor’s. “Is he the one you…?”

“Yep,” Y/n responded shortly.

“And it looks like I dodged a bullet,” Connor snickered.

Y/n sharply inhaled, a throbbing headache already coming on. “What do you want, Connor?”

“I’m here for my dad,” he responded. “Wanted me to pick up something from Red.”

“What? What could he have that you need to pick up?”

“Hey, Connor!” Red greeted as he came from the den. “Glad you’re here! Wanna follow me into the garage?”

“How do you know each other?” Y/n asked.

“I ran into his dad while at the hardware store the other day,” Red replied. “He told me that he was in need of a chainsaw and I told him ‘No need, you can borrow mine.’”

The couple raised their eyebrows at him.

“You’re willingly letting someone borrow one of your tools?” Y/n asked incredulously. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my dad?”

Red chuckled. “I know his dad. We’ve known each other for years. We served together in Korea.”

“Oh…” she trailed off, her stomach dropping. “Of course, he did.”

“How bout that?” Hyde chuckled, jealousy starting to boil in his veins.

“How do you two know each other?” Red asked, turning the question back on them.

“I was her camp counselor,” Connor repeated. “We had a good time and got to know each other pretty well.” He drawled on those last two words, not breaking eye contact with her.

Y/n glared at him, her fingers starting to itch from wanting to wrap them around his throat.

Red furrowed his brows at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Y/n answered through clenched teeth. “We got to know each other just like everyone else.”

Red couldn’t help but squint his eyes at the three young adults: Y/n standing rigid, clenching her jaw while Steven stood stiff as well with his fists balled up, knuckles white. Then there was Connor whose smirk never left his face, eyes scanning his daughter like a piece of meat. Any likeness he had towards the kid was quickly going down the drain.

“Alright, Connor, follow me to the garage,” Red said, less enthusiastic as before.

“Yes, Mr. Forman,” Connor said dutifully and brushed past Y/n without breaking eye contact—or his smirk.

Once those two disappeared behind the kitchen, Y/n spun to Hyde whose eyes were locked on the kitchen door. If she didn’t know any better, he would be able to burn holes into it.

“That son of a bitch,” she spit.

“I hate him,” he said shortly.

“Yeah, me too,” she sighed and got back to helping everyone clean. “Just don’t pay any mind to him. It’s what he wants.”

“Why did he bring up your guys’ past like that?” Eric asked.

Y/n froze as she was picking up the plates. “Uh...I don't know. Reasons?"

“What reasons?” Donna pressed, grinning wickedly.

Y/n whipped her head towards her, baring her teeth. “Shut. Up,” she mouthed.

“Nothing, guys,” Y/n said without making eye contact. “Just drop it, okay?”

“Y/n…what aren’t you telling us?” Kitty asked nervously.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, getting visibly nervous. “Let’s just clean up because I’m getting tired and want to go to bed.”

“Y/n, it’s six o’ clock,” Donna pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you try carrying twins!” she snapped.

Donna laughed as she carried the rest of the plates in the kitchen.

“Y/n…please tell me you didn’t do anything with that boy,” Kitty almost begged, nervous.

“Uhm…” she stumbled, her brain short-circuiting.

“You know what, I don’t want to know,” Kitty said, almost disgusted. “All my children are sex maniacs.” She rushed out the living into the kitchen.   

“Okay, but seriously, what the hell?” Y/n hissed once Kitty was out of earshot. “Out of all people, he had to be the one to show up at my front door!”

“What’s the big deal?” Eric asked. “It’s not like he’s going to stir up anything. He’s just here to pick something for his dad.”

“No, absolutely not,” she responded. “Knowing Connor, he’s going to pull something Zack would do.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of all these surprise visitors,” Hyde grumbled and picked up some plates off the coffee table. “It’s starting to dwindle my will to live.”

“You don’t think he’s going to tell Dad about you two, do you?” Eric asked nervously.

“If he’s asking for an ass whooping, then sure,” his twin chuckled. “I’m not worried about Dad’s reaction, I want to know his true intention.”

“Yeah, it can’t get worse than finding out about you and Hyde,” Donna chuckled.

“Yeah,” Y/n trailed off, remembering the murder that almost took place. She shook her head, bringing herself back in the moment. “Anyway.”

“He can’t do any worse than what Zack did,” Donna said.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Y/n grumbled. “I’m really not in the mood to kick his ass, too.”

“Hey, I’m your husband. That’s my job,” Hyde piped up and smiled at her, making his way into the kitchen.

“And you’ll look sexy while doing it,” she responded and followed him into the kitchen.

Eric and Donna trailed behind them as well, carrying the rest of the garbage and dishes.

Kitty sat at the table with a glass of bourbon, reading a Cosmo magazine.

“Uh, oh. Someone pulled out the bourbon,” Y/n sang-song. “What’s got you upset?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kitty said hoarsely as she flipped through her magazine. “It’s nice knowing all my children are sinners.”

“Ugh, Mom,” Eric and Y/n groaned in unison.

“And the fact that you two partied and drank in high school,” Hyde tsked, watching as the twins turned to him with wide eyes and murderous looks.

“You what?!” Kitty screeched.

“Nothing!” Y/n seethed. “Hyde is just a little loopy from his head injury.”

“What? I don’t have a—”

He didn’t finish as he was wacked hard upside the head.

“Ow, Y/n!” Hyde grumbled, rubbing his head, but his smirk didn’t falter nor go unnoticed.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Y/n said and finished throwing away the trash. “I want to know why, out of all the guys in Point Place, why did he have to come knocking at my front door?”

“Come on, Y/n, whatever happened between you two was a while ago,” Donna said, carefully picking her words. “I don’t think he’s here to start anything.”

“I don’t know,” she responded. Her mind was reeling of the possibilities. “If Zack was a problem before, I can’t imagine what Connor is going to be.”

“Oh, Y/n, you’re being a little dramatic,” Kitty said and stood from the table with her bourbon in hand. “Connor isn’t going to do anything. You’re married now with twins on the way. I don’t think he’s going to try anything.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t ease my nerves,” she responded and grabbed a snack from the fridge.

“Don’t let one person ruin your day,” Kitty said exasperated. “You had a great day! You had a beautiful baby shower—thanks to me—and you got amazing gifts—also thanks to me—and now you have everything you need for these babies! Why would you want to let an ex ruin that?”

“I guess,” Y/n sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I just don’t have the time or energy to deal with another ex-problem. I want to focus on the babies and figuring out what I’m doing to do with my life.”

“You still haven’t figured it out?” Kitty asked, shocked.

“Well…no,” she admitted sheepishly. “I don’t know what I’m interested in.”

“Join the club,” Eric said.

“Well, figure it out, you two, because you won’t be living here for the rest of your lives.” She didn’t give them a chance to respond as she marched out the kitchen. 

“Ugh,” Y/n grunted as plopped down at the table. “I’m exhausted.” A beat passed. “Steven, I’m hungry.”

He sighed and looked at her adoringly. “What do you want?”

She perked up. “A big fat cheeseburger with extra pickles and large fries. Oh, and a chocolate milkshake!”

“You got it,” he said and kissed her before grabbing his keys.

“Can you get me something?” Eric asked.

“No,” Hyde called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Eric turned back to his sister who was grinning. “Nice husband you got there.”

“I know,” she responded dreamily.

Suddenly, the door slid open revealing Connor and Red with Connor holding a chainsaw.

“Thanks, Mr. Forman. I know my mom is going to be really happy once my dad cuts off those noisy tree branches. She’ll finally be able to sleep at night now that the branches won’t be hitting her window.”

“You’re welcome. Just remember to bring it back,” Red said, smiling. “Tell Chuck I said hi and to give me a call. Maybe he’d like to grab a few beers and catch up.”

“I’ll let him know,” Connor chuckled innocently before he caught sight of Y/n. His eyes suddenly turned vulture like as if he was waiting for his prey to die. “I’ll see you later,” he purred.

A shiver ran down her spine, and not in a good way. “Ew.”

 “Come on, sugar, don’t be like that.”

“Wow, okay, we have a lot to unpack here,” she stated and stood to her feet. “One: Don’t call me that. It’s gross, you’re gross. And second of all: I don’t know why you out of all people have to be here, but stay away from me, stay away from my friends, and stay away from my family. Specifically, my husband.”

“Trust me, sweets, I wasn’t planning on being anywhere near you.”

She squinted at him. “Good. I already had to deal with Zack, don’t make me deal with you, too.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that,” he snickered. “You made him run away with his tail tucked between his legs. Real badass what you did there.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she spit. “I don’t need you bringing your crap into my life. There’s a reason why we didn’t move forward with our relationship.”

“You call what we had—or did—a relationship?” he sneered. Her eyes widened as he smirked at her. “Darling, I only hooked up with you because I needed a release.”

“You did WHAT?!” Red barked, making Y/n jump.

“This is it; this is how I die,” she whispered to Donna who was sitting behind her.

“You hooked up with your camp counselor?!” Red continued to shriek and turned to Connor. “You’re like two years older than her!”

“Hey, man, she wanted it just as much. She was hot on me like a moth to a flame.”

Y/n thought she was going to vomit right then and there.

“Connor, man, do you think this is smart to do with my dad and a chainsaw in the same room?” Eric muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m going to kill you with my bare hands!” Red roared.

"Wow, okay, go straight to it," Eric murmured and got behind Y/n.

“And then I’m going to detach every single one of your limbs for fish bait and if that is able to bring me any use, then that is the most useful you’ve ever been in your entire life!” Red continued.

Connor chuckled as if he just didn’t receive a threat from Red who was very capable of following through. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the chainsaw, man.”

“I don’t think so,” Red countered and ripped the chainsaw out of his hands. “You can get the hell out of my house.”

The smile on Connor’s face faded. “Fine.”

“Oh, and tell Chuck that he’s a son of a bitch and I never liked him.”

Connor didn’t respond, but turn on his heel and walk out. Once they heard the front door slam close, Red whipped to his daughter who was cowering away from him.

“What the hell was that about?” he demanded. “All that crap he was saying—he better be lying because I’m tired of hearing things about you that a father should never hear about his daughter.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Y/n responded cooly, even though her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

“Okay, then tell me how it is, then,” Red challenged as he put the chainsaw down to cross his arms. “Tell me how it’s ‘not as bad as it sounds.’”

“We went out a couple times and kissed once,” she lied—sort of. “Nothing beyond that. He was just being a prick. And he told me he was the same age as me, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

Red stared at her for a moment, deciphering whether she was telling the truth or not. She held her breath while under his scrutinized glare.

Another beat passed. “Fine.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Fine?”

“Fine,” he repeated. “At this point I don’t care if you’re lying to me. I’m just tired of your ex-boyfriends.”

“Believe me, so am I,” she grumbled and watched as Red walked out the kitchen. “I’m still not convinced that he’s gone for good.”

“He’s gone for now,” Donna said, attempting to soothe her best friend. “Try to relax.”

“Keyword is ‘try’,” she grumbled and allowed Donna to lead her back to the table. Putting her hands on Y/n’s shoulders, she guided her down into the chair.

“Look, you’re three months away from popping and any stress isn’t good for the babies. You need to find a way to destress. Decompress tonight and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Okay?” Eric said, trying to comfort his sister.

Y/n’s face scrunched up in realization. “Isn’t that from my book?”

“Hey, I get bored. And I’m reader, I can’t help it.”

Y/n chuckled as Donna handed her a juice. “Thanks.”

“Okay, let’s forget about Connor,” Donna continued and sat next to her best friend. “What do you want to do?”

“Well…I could go for a movie,” she perked up.

Donna nodded. “Okay, sure. What movie do you wanna see?”

“I heard the new Rocky movie was good.”

“Nah, nah, nah, you wanna see Mad Max,” Eric intercepted. “Now that movie was badass!”

“Or,” Y/n continued, ignoring Eric. “I could go upstairs, get into my comfiest pjs and put on a movie and wait for Steven to bring me my food so I can go to bed early.”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot more lately,” Eric said, concerned.

“I’m busy incubating right now. Let me know how well it goes for you when you get pregnant.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned.

“No, but I am tired and I just want to snuggle up with my husband.” She checked her watch. “Where is Steven with the food?”

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Eric said, cutting himself a slice a cake Kitty had made earlier in the day.

“This town ain’t that big,” Y/n countered. “I swear, if he’s not here in five minutes, I’m going to start eating you.”

Eric’s eyes widened.

“Hey, Doll,” Steven said, sliding the door open. “Sorry, it took so long. The line was—”

“Oh, thank God,” Eric cried out and grabbed Hyde’s shoulders and spun his body around so that Eric was using him as a human shield. “Y/n was about to start honing in to eat me.”

“What?” Hyde responded, barley stumbling back. “No, she wasn’t and—get off me, Forman!” He shrugged Eric off his shoulders.

“Is that mine?” Y/n asked, pointing to the white, greasy bag in her husband’s hand.

“Who else’s would it be?” he asked, teasing. “Here you go. And here’s that milkshake.”

“Thank you, baby,” she cooed and kissed him.

“Of course.” He looked around the kitchen, noticing Connor’s absence. “Where’s wannabe frat boy?”

“He left. He told my dad that we were a thing.”

“What?!”

“Yeah…”

“And the place is still standing?” he quipped.

“It wasn’t about to be,” Y/n chuckled and sat down to dig in.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Hyde said and swiped one of her fries.

She smacked his hand away. “Hey! Get your own.”

                                             --Time Skip—

“Hey, Honey, do you have the new The Knack album?” Y/n asked while browsed through the records at Groove’s.

“Yeah.” Hyde rounded the checkout counter and joined her at the crates of records. He flicked through a few before he pulled out and handed it to her. “One The Knack record for my pretty lady.”

“Forever the gentlemen,” she flirted and took it from his grip. She flipped it over to see the price. “Oh, Mr. Hyde I don’t have any money to pay for this.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “Will you take any other form of payment?”

Steven looked at her with hooded eyes, smirking, and took a step closer to her, a hand resting on her hip. “I can think of one.”

She hummed. “Where can I give your payment?”

“The office is empty,” he purred and started kissing her jaw.

“Does it lock?” she breathed.

“I installed one for a reason.”

Y/n felt a moan creeping up in the back of her throat as she felt his lips brush against her sweet spot on her neck. “Are you busy?”

“I can take my break.”

“Really, you two? At work?” an annoyed voice piped up from behind them.

They spun around to see Angie standing there, holding a clipboard and a file.

“In the middle of the store, no less,” she continued. “Very professional, Steven.”

“You’re right,” Hyde said and grabbed Y/n’s hand. “We still have the office.”

He started to tug her towards the office when Angie stopped them.

“No! Don’t defile our office like that!” Angie argued. “I do our paperwork and eat my lunch in there!”

“Oh…you might want to find another place to eat now,” Y/n said sheepishly.

Angie’s eyes widened. “EW! What is wrong with you two?!”

Steven shrugged and wrapped an arm around Y/n's shoulders. “What can I say? We’re hot for each other.”

Angie scoffed. “Well, you can’t leave the floor anyway. You need to do inventory, remember?”

Hyde sighed in annoyance. “C’mon, man, we have until Friday to finish it.”

“Yeah, and it’s Tuesday and I’ve already done half of the work,” she argued. “I think having your wife here is distracting you.”

“Hey, ‘his wife’ has a name and you know that!” Y/n piped up.

“Honey, I’ve got this,” Steven said defensively. “My wife has a name, and you know that!”

“She just said that,” Angie said.

“I know,” he replied and shuffled his feet, straightening his back. “It sounds better coming from me.”

Y/n’s eyes rolled but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.  

“Besides, she has every right to be here just as much as everyone else,” Hyde continued. “If you don’t want her here, then I’m not going to be here. You know what? That sounds like a good idea. C’mon, Y/n, let’s go—”

As he turned to walk out, Angie stopped them again. “You can’t go anywhere. You said you were going to lock up the store tonight.”

Steven stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around. “When did I say that?”

“Yesterday, when I asked you if you could lock up tonight because I have a date.”

Hyde thought back to the day before, trying to remember when he agreed to do it. It suddenly hit him when he had strolled in after “lunch” and was barley listening to her as he watched the patterns on the wall dance.

“In my opinion, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” he argued, and Angie rolled her eyes. “Besides, who do you have a date with?”

“No one in particular,” she said, the file suddenly becoming interesting.

“Angie…” he warned. “Are you going out with Kelso?”

“No,” she said, a little too loudly.

“Angie, you can’t go out with Kelso, man! Kelsos have a bad rep. Even the sign entering Point Place says that.”

“Yeah, he’s right,” Y/n said. “It literally says, ‘Don’t date Kelso.’”

Angie shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You guys have nothing to worry about. It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to be dessert,” Y/n quipped, earning a dirty glare from her husband. “Look, if you don’t want to end up pregnant like the last chick, don’t—and I cannot stress this enough—date Kelso.”

“Well, then I can just join your club then,” Angie said snidely.

Y/n squinted at her sister-in-law, feeling insulted. “You know what? Let her get knocked up, I don’t care,” she said and walked away to sit down at the counter.

“C’mon, can you close up tonight?” Angie said. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Actually, yeah, I do.” Steven changed his stance, legs spread apart with his arms crossed. “Go ahead.”

She groaned. “Fine. Please?”

He scrunched his face. “No. You’re not going out with Kelso. I forbid it.”

He walked past her to join Y/n at the register.

“Forbid it?” Angie asked. “You can’t forbid me to do anything!”

“I don’t care, man. Kelso is bad news, and I won’t let him hurt you because that’s what he’ll do.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet that you’re looking out for me,” she cooed.

He leaned against the counter on his hands. “No, it’s not that. I don’t want to have Kelso officially related to me. I already can’t stand him as my friend.”

“Okay fine. I won’t go out with him,” Angie said, pouting. “But you’re still going to lock up for me tonight.”

“Fine.”

“But that’s not the reason why I came out here.” She handed him the folder in her hand. “I hired a new girl and she’s on her way right now to fill out the paperwork.”

“We were hiring?” he asked, flipping through the file. “What’s she like?”

“Well, her name is Mandy, she’s twenty and still in college. Very sweet, very smart, and very cute.”

“Oh, good to know. Didn’t even know we were hiring.”

“It’s only part time, but she’ll be a good addition to the store.”

“Uh, quick question,” Y/n piped up, holding up her hand. “Why didn’t you think to ask me? I’m not only here every other day, I know my way around the store.”

“Because when you go into labor, we’d have to find a temporary replacement and I don’t want to go through that trouble. It’s better to just have someone already lined up,” Angie responded. “Besides, having a pregnant lady here might turn off some customers.”

“Oh, well, thanks for your consideration,” Y/n muttered bitterly.  

“She starts Monday. Make sure she fills out all the forms and has her driver’s license and social security card,” Angie directed.

“Do we really need all that stuff?” Hyde asked and tossed the folder on the counter beside him. “It’s just you and me, man. We don’t need a third person here.”

“Extra help won’t hurt,” she said. “Besides, she’ll really help out when you go on paternity leave.”

“Paternity leave? I’m only going to be gone a few days, maybe a week.”

“A week?!” Y/n interrupted. “I’m going to push two full grown babies out of a hole the size of a pea and you’re only going to be home for a week?!”

“Well, Y/n, I still have to bring home a paycheck,” he replied, turning to his wife. “You can’t buy diapers without me bringing home the dough.”

“Oh, come on, you know how Dad is,” Angie said. “We both know he’s going to pay you a little extra. You are making him a grandfather anyway.”

“I’m not going to assume that he’s going to pay me, Angie,” he said, opening the cash drawer to count it.

“Yeah, because he’s my hardworking man,” Y/n gushed and wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing his shoulder.

“Ugh, get a room,” Angie said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, we tried but you clam-jammed me,” Hyde said and snickered after Angie wrinkled her nose at him.

“Just…be nice to the girl when she comes in, will you?” Angie asked desperately and looked at Y/n. “And keep your hands to yourselves.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Y/n grabbed her husband and smashed her mouth to his, roaming her hands all over his back, shoulders, and butt.

Steven went along and gripped her hips, returning the kiss.

“Uh…is there where I’m supposed to fill out paperwork?” a small voice piped up.

The couple pulled apart instantly. In front of the counter stood a petite girl with dark flowing hair and dazzling green eyes. She was skinny but had a natural big bust which was really pointed out by her sling bag strap resting between her breasts. Her face was round and innocent with a natural pink tint to it. Overall, she was absolutely gorgeous.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

Angie could feel her face heating up and blocked her of the PDA. “You must be Mandy,” she chuckled nervously.

“Is this how your employees interact with each other?” she asked with a hint of a smile.

“No!” Angie quickly defended. “They’re…they’re—uh—”

“Married,” Hyde finished for her. “And she’s not an employee. This is my wife, Y/n.”

“Hi, I’m Mandy,” she said, waving.

“I’m Steven Hyde, I’m the manager,” he said and shook her hand. “But you can call me Hyde.”

“So, you’ll be my boss?” she asked.

“Yes, and her too,” he pointed to Angie. “You’ll probably be dealing with her more than me, though.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding her head. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Trust me, man, it is,” he said, walking around the counter and hopped onto it, his legs dangling. “Just keep the store running and don’t let anyone steal anything and you’ll be golden.”

“Well, there’s more to that,” Angie corrected, giving Steven a look. “But that’s the gist of it.”

“Okay, sounds good,” she beamed. “Where should I sign the papers?”

“Here, I’ll take you into the office,” Hyde said and grabbed the folder then lead her into the office. He turned briefly to shoot Angie and Y/n a smirk before entering the room.

Once they disappeared, Y/n turned to Angie. “What the hell? You couldn’t hire someone else?”

She couldn’t even be bothered to look up from her clip board. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you couldn’t have hired someone old and ugly?!”

Angie finally looked up with a glint in her eye. “Do you have a problem with Mandy?”

“Do I have a problem?” Y/n repeated. “You purposely hired her to piss me off, didn’t you?”

Angie sighed, now annoyed. “What’re you talking about? I put a help wanted ad in the paper a few days ago and she answered it. I didn’t do anything on purpose.” She looked at Y/n who was busy glaring at the office door that was now closed.

“Why is that door closed?” she asked, pointing to it.

“For confidentially reasons,” Angie responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know that office has other uses besides what you guys do. Anyways, what has gotten into y—?” A smirk then danced across her lips realizing what it was. “Are you jealous of Mandy?”

“What?” Y/n cried out. “Of course not!”

“Really? Because I think I’m starting to see some green poke through.”

“Angie, I’m not jealous of Mandy, okay?” Y/n said, a little weakly. “It’s just…I don’t like the way she looked at him.”

“She didn’t look at him in anyway—” Angie started, but then realized that it was a moot point. “Y/n…if you’re worried about if he’s going to try anything with her, he’s not.”

Y/n moved her attention to Angie who, for the first time, was talking to her like a normal human being and not just some annoyance. “I know, but…she’s his exact type from before.”

Angie popped out her hip and rested her fist on it. “How do you know she’s Steven’s type?”

“Well,” she stuttered and looked down at her hands that were resting on the counter. “She’s pretty and…and tall—”

“She’s not that tall.”

“Okay, but she also has a rack on her!”

Angie snickered and flicked her eyes down to Y/n’s swollen chest before looking back up. “Yeah, because hers are the problem.”

“And she’s older!”

“So?”

“She’s wiser! She’s in college!”

Angie hummed, thoroughly amused at this point. “Anything else?”

“She’s—”

“Skinny?” Angie interjected.

Y/n snapped her attention to her sister-in-law. “Are you enjoying this?!”

“Maybe a little bit,” she admitted and set the clipboard down. “Look, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Steven. Steven is a lot of things, but a cheater ain’t one of them.”

“Yeah, I’ve said that before,” Y/n mumbled.

“With the way Steven looks at you, you’ll be fine,” Angie continued and started flicking through the vinyl’s and checking them off her check list.

“Yeah,” Y/n sighed. “It’s not him I’m worried about, though.”

                                                   --Time Skip—

“So, you think the new girl is going to go after Hyde?” Donna asked later that night as they hung out in her bedroom. An empty pizza box sat at their side along with two coke bottles and juice boxes as Donna painted Y/n’s toes a baby pink.

“I don’t know, I mean, she didn’t interested, but I don’t know what happened after they went into the office,” Elena sighed.

“C’mon, you don’t think Hyde would actually cheat, do you?”

Y/n shrugged. “No, but I can’t trust a girl won’t throw herself at him.”

Donna screwed the cover back on the nail polish and used a magazine to fan the polish dry. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I mean you remember what happened last time.”

“Exactly! I remember what happened last time and I don’t want a repeat of it! Remember Amber?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen again,” Donna reassured.

“It was only six months ago, Donna!”

“Y/n, listen. Hyde has a lot to worry about then some girl coming onto him, alright?”

“You didn’t see her, Donna,” Y/n whined and got up carefully as to not ruin her nail polish. “She was really cute and not pregnant and older! She’s in college!”

“What?! No way!” Donna exaggerated, feigning shock.

“Yeah! She can easily have—you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “But you’re being a little ridiculous.”

“Am not!” Donna gave her a look and Y/n’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, maybe a little. I just don’t seem big chested college bimbo all over my husband.” Donna gave her another look. “What?! I’m pregnant and hormonal; don’t contradict me.”

                                                            --Time Skip—

“Hey, Y/n,” Steven said the next morning as he entered their bedroom. She sat on their bed against the headboard as she read her baby book. “We need to think about setting up the twins’ nursery. You got any ideas?”

“Mhm, not really,” she murmured.

He stood at the edge of the bed, staring at his wife. “Well, shouldn’t we go over it?”

She hummed and flipped the page. “Sure, if you want.”

Steven placed a hand on his hip and looked down at her frustrated. “Can you stop reading and look at me?”

A sigh escaped her as she looked up from her book, annoyed. “There, happy?”

“What’s gotten into you?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Bull,” he spit.

“I’m serious! I’m just reading.”

“You’re not usually annoyed when reading. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“Steven, I told you, it’s nothing.”

“And like I said, it’s bull.”

She stumbled her way off the bed and rubbed her forehead. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Must be pregnancy hormones. What do you have in mind?”

He scrunched his brows at her, but relaxed his features immediately as he decided to let it go. “Yep, well, that’s why I came to you.”

“You’ve always been better at this kind of thing than I am.”

“We can do Winnie the Pooh?”

“What—are our children wusses? No thanks.”

“Okay, what about green? Or blue?”

“What if they’re both girls?”

“Okay, then yellow?”

“Then we’re back to Winnie the Pooh!”

“Okay, then you pick!” she said, frustrated.

“I don’t know, doll,” he said and sat on the bed. “We just need to pick something out so that we can be ready.”

“I can pick up some magazines,” she sighed and sat next to him. “I’ll go today.”

“Well, we can start by rearranging the room,” he suggested, his tone lighter than before. “We do have a lot of crap in there.”

She smiled and rubbed her round belly. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Good.” He turned to look at her and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry for being grumpy.”

“Yeah, well…you were.”

She laughed and threw a pillow at his face. Chuckling, he blocked it and leaned in, kissing her.

                                              --Time Skip—

At lunch that day, the Formans and Hydes sat around the table, enjoying grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Y/n was on her third bowl as she wolfed down her sandwiches.

“Hey, Y/n, mind saving some for the rest of us?” Eric asked.

“Shut up,” she snapped with a mouthful of food. “These aren’t big enough.”

“You really are pregnant, are you?” he asked.

Y/n looked at him with a deadpanned expression. “What gave it away, genius?”

“Okay, no snapping at the table,” Kitty interrupted. “Y/n, Steven tells me you’re going to start decorating the nursery. That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, we’re going to pick out color samples today,” she responded.

“Oh,” Kitty said, intrigued. “What colors were you thinking? You know, when I had you and Eric, I painted your room gender neutral colors. It was green and orange.”

“Yeah, it was horrendous,” Red commented off-handedly.

“Excuse me?!” Kitty asked. “You didn’t even help me! I was far along as Y/n is and you refused to help me!”

“I did not!” he argued. “Every time I would come in to help, you turned me away!”

“I did not!”

“You said I was messing it up and I couldn’t do it right!”

“Well, you weren’t!”

“And now you’re blaming me!”

“Okay—you know what?” Kitty said and scooted out of her chair and stormed out.

“We were just having a complete normal conversation and she still gets mad at me,” Red said exasperated.

                                                --Time Skip—

Later that day, the gang, minus Donna, found themselves in the basement, hanging out.

“You did what to her?!” Y/n shouted at her brother. 

“I swear it was an accident!” he shouted back.

“How do you accidentally almost break someone’s neck?” Hyde questioned.

“I didn’t almost break her neck!” Eric defended. 

“She can barley move her neck, Forman,” Hyde said.

“Seriously, what in God’s name where you thinking?” Y/n demanded.

“I was already on page twelve!” he defended. “At that point I was a natural.”

“Oh, do you guys hear that?” Hyde mocked. “He read a book for ten minutes and is already a professional!”

“You know what? I already feel bad enough as it is,” Eric said, pouting. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Well, we’re not here to pat your back,” Jackie piped up.

“Eric, I know I haven’t been here long enough, and please don’t take offense when I say this, but how is Donna still with you?” Markus asked.

“Funny you say that, I was just going to ask the same about Jackie,” Eric quipped.

Markus pursed his lips and nodded. “At least I didn’t almost break her neck.”

“Can’t say the same for her back though,” Kelso smirked.

Everyone stared at him in disgust.

“What?! We can joke about Hyde and Y/n’s sex life, but not Jackie and Markus’s!?” he defended.

“No, you see, we make fun of our sex life,” Hyde said, pointing to him and Y/n. “We mainly do it to freak out Forman. But you bringing up someone else’s is just plain creepy, man.”

“So, Fez, Kelso, have you guys found an apartment yet?” Y/n asked, clearing her throat in discomfort.  

“Yeah, Red convinced Fenton to give us the apartment,” Kelso said, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“Yeah, and Red seemed so happy, he was laughing the whole ride home,” Fez said with a smile.

Kelso laughed dumbly. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure that Red told Fenton that we knew a lot of chicks. 'Cause Fenton kept checking me out, like he could tell that I knew a lot of chicks.”

At that moment, the basement door swung open, revealing Bob and Donna, whose head was still stuck to the side.

“Eric, I can’t believe you crippled my angel! My pride and joy!” Bob cried out. “It’s killing me to see her like this.”

Eric’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, then why are you bringing her here then?”

“Oh, I have a date,” Bob said, any sign of distraught gone. “Met a lady at the open house. She's got crow's feet, but she works in a sandwich shop, so I bent the rules. See you, Kitten.” He walked out the basement leaving Donna to her boyfriend and friends.

“Look, Donna, I just want to apologize again,” Eric said, eyes following her as she moved to sit down next to him. “You know, I've been thinking about it, and I don't think I ever really wanted to be a chiropractor. I was just, you know, grasping at straws.”

Donna turned her body to look at him. “You know I’d nod in agreement, but I’m paralyzed.”

“Eric, you know what I’m realizing about you? You’re not good at anything,” Kelso said, smiling at his friend’s misfortune.

“That’s not true,” Fez spoke up. “Don’t forget butt wiping.”

“What?” Y/n asked, confused.

“Don’t ask, it was a circle thing,” Hyde whispered to her.

Eric clicked his tongue in offense. “Oh, you know what? You guys suck. Whenever you're in trouble, I don't burn you. I mean, usually 'cause it's hard for me to think of things right on the spot, but also 'cause, you know, I try to help.”

“That's actually true. I mean, Fez, remember when you wanted to learn how to kiss, and Eric taught you by sticking m&m's to the mirror?” Donna said.

Everyone turned to Fez with amused grins and raised eyebrows.

“What?” Fez asked, sweat beads forming on his brow. “That never happened. I know how to kiss. Oh, shut it, Donna.”

“Yeah, and, Kelso, how about that time I stayed up with you all night to study for that math final. I mean, sure, nothing stuck, but, you know, I blame nature for that,” Eric continued.

“You know Forman, if you can teach Fez how to kiss and Kelso how to do math, you can probably teach anybody anything. Why don't you just become a teacher?” Hyde suggested.

“Hey, Eric, that’s a great idea!” Y/n said, excitedly. “Remember when you taught me to drive? You were so patient and didn’t give up even when I kept hitting the curbs.”

“You still do,” Hyde mumbled.

“What?” Y/n snapped.

“What?” Hyde repeated.

“I’m not a driver!” she defended.

“No offense, Y/n, but I’m afraid for you children when they’re in the car with you,” Kelso said. Y/n grabbed the nearest object by her, which was a tennis ball, and threw it at him. “OW! I said no offense!”

“Shut up, Kelso!” Y/n yelled.

“You know, that makes a lot of sense,” Donna said. “I mean, you have all this knowledge about stuff you have no ability to do.”

Eric thought about it for a minute before his face brightened. “A teacher? Well, I do like helping people. I mean, I'd love to help kids. Yeah. Like, ‘Mr. Forman.’ That just feels really great. Yeah, a teacher. That just feels so... right.”

“That’s it. Forman’s going to be a teacher!” Hyde announced. “This calls for a toast!”

They all grabbed a beer except for Y/n, who sat there pouting.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Hyde shrugged. “To Forman!”

“To Forman!” Everyone cheered.

                                           --Time Skip-- “You sure you want these colors?” Hyde asked Y/n as they stood at the painting store. “Because you know once we paint the walls, we’re not changing it.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she chirped. “It’s going to be so pretty.”

“Cool. It’s going to be cool,” he corrected. “But, okay.”

Y/n beamed as they bought two cans of paint.

                                             The Next Day…

The doorbell to the Forman house rang in the late morning. Red got up from the den from shining his shoes. When he opened the door, Connor and his father stood there.

Red squared his shoulders and straightened his back. “Connor, Chuck.”

“Hey, Red,” Chuck said, frowning. “I heard you threatened my boy yesterday.”

“Yeah, I did," Red answered honestly. “What about it?”

“I don’t appreciate the way you talked to him.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Red responded dryly. “Is that all?”

“No!” Chuck yelled, causing Red to raise his eyebrows at him. “You apologize to him right now!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Red.”

“Okay, you want me to apologize? Fine. I’m sorry that your son is a piece of no-good, smug piece of crap who takes advantage of young girls!” he roared. “And I am so sorry that I wasted my time being nice to either of you!”

“Now, you listen here, Forman—” Chuck started, but was cut off.

“I don’t know where you got this entitlement, Chuck, but you certainly didn’t get this from serving with me during Korea. And for you to come here, to my house, demanding that I apologize to you and your kid for the way he treated me daughter than you are out of mind because I ain’t do nothing for you or human garbage of a son. He’s lucky I don’t press charges against him!”

“This isn’t about your loose daughter, Red,” Chuck said. “This is about how you spoke to my boy.”

Red’s face distorted into a look that Chuck hadn’t seen the war. “What the hell did you just say about my daughter?!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be dumb,” Chuck continued. “I know you, Red, and you are so far from it. She probably had it coming. I mean, you probably heard all the stories about her. And giving her current situation, I can’t believe you’d be this blind.”

Connor stood there at the door with a smug look knowing they were getting under Red’s skin.

“Get the hell off my property before I do to you what I did to the Koreans!” Red threatened, his body shaking from anger.

“No, not until we get our apology!” Chuck demanded.

“I’ll tell you what. You get to walk out of here alive, how bout that?”

Chuck straightened his body, matching Red’s energy. “You don’t want to mess with me, Forman. You remember me during the war.”

“Yeah?” Red challenged. “Why don’t you remind me?”      

                                                            Meanwhile…

Up in the nursery, Kitty, Y/n, and Steven were painting the walls, revealing it to be a beautiful light green. “You kids picked a lovely color,” Kitty complimented. “It doesn’t matter if you have boys or girls, it’s going to match either way.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Y/n responded as she rolled paint onto the wall. “And thank you for letting us paint the room. It means a lot.”

“Of course, dear. I’m just so excited to meet my grandbabies!”

Hyde got down from the latter with his white shirt covered in paint and wiped some sweat off his brow. “You know, Y/n, I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you being this close and huffing in these chemicals.”

“I’m fine, Steven.”

“I don’t know. I think maybe you should let me do the painting and then you can help with everything else once I’m done.”

“Steven, I can help!”

“Okay, well, while you two decide on that, I’m going to go get some lemonade,” Kitty announced and made her way to the door, opening it. “Does that sound—”

A yelp and the sound of something heavy thumping to the floor cut Kitty off mid sentence. “What was that?”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she and the Hydes rushed to the top of the stairs before seeing Red standing at the door, screaming.

“You want to be next?!” Silence. “Then get the hell out of here! And I better never see you two sorry asses ever again! Do I make myself clear?!”  

The three stumbled their way halfway down the stairs to see what was going on. Connor was staring down at his unconscious dad with a wild and angry look in his eyes. Before he let him answer, Red slammed the front door and examined his knuckles that were bleeding. As he made his way back to the kitchen, he finally looked up to his family who was staring back at him in shock.

“Oh, hey. You—uh—may want to call an ambulance,” was all he said as he walked into the kitchen to tend to his hand.

“Red, honey?” Kitty called after him. “Red, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he responded as he made his through the kitchen and over to the sink.

The three of them followed him and saw him running cold water on his hand.

“Well, that doesn’t look like nothing!” Kitty shrieked and scrambled to get the first aid kit.

“I learned today that Chuck is just as big of a prick as his son,” Red grumbled, not daring to meet everyone’s eyes.

“Daddy…did you punch Connor’s dad?” Y/n asked.

“I did what I had to do, sweetheart,” he responded and looked at his daughter with soft eyes and smiled. “All I gotta say is, I don’t think you have to worry about that boy anymore.”

Y/n swore she could cry right there, but instead walked over and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course, pumpkin.” He turned the water off and grabbed the towel that was laying on the counter beside him. “Just do me a favor and don’t let any other ex-boyfriends come back to the house, yeah?”

Y/n chuckled. “I’ll try my damn hardest.”

Hyde looked over to Kitty who didn’t look happy or impressed at all. “Come on, Doll, let’s leave your parents alone and go upstairs,” he said quietly and guided his wife through the kitchen.

A beat of silence passed before Kitty spoke up. “What on earth were you thinking?” Kitty started. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“I’m sorry, Kitty. He started saying some horrible things about Y/n and I lost it,” he explained. “I’ll tell you what, though, he’s going to need a good dentist. There’s no way he’s going to be able to put his teeth back to normal.”

“Well, in that case,” said and pointed to the table. “Sit. I need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

It was quiet between them as she started tending to his knuckles. “Gosh, you haven’t done this since we started dating and Frankie Wallace was making passes at me during the military ball.”

“Well, what can I say? I gotta protect what’s mine.”

Her eyes glanced up to meet her husband’s before going back down to his hand. “That’s very sweet, but I think what you did was stupid.”

“What’s stupid was challenging me in my own house about my daughter. It’s not like I didn’t warn him beforehand.”

“We already don’t have a lot of friends, now we’re really not going to,” she scolded. “Red, we’ve become that house!”

“Good! Maybe those dumbasses will finally get the message! I don’t like it when my family gets threatened!”

Kitty finished up wrapped his knuckles and started putting things away. “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, honey, I promise.”

Kitty’s demeanor changed as she scooted closer to him. “Well, I got to make sure that my big, strong, hunk of a protector is okay. Wouldn’t want him getting hurt or anything.”

Red’s looked down at Kitty, eyes hooded. “That’s my job.”

“So, Handsome, what’re you doing later?”

Red chuckled and leaned over, kissing his wife. “That.”

They looked at each other for moment before they scurried off upstairs.

                                         A Few Minutes Later…

“Steven, honey, I’m fine!” Y/n argued. “I don’t want you to worry about me! I’m fine!”

“I’m not worried about you,” he said back. “I’m worried about the babies.”

“Quit treating me like I’m fragile!”

“You kind of are! Until my kids come out of you, it’s my job to make sure you or the babies don’t get hurt!”

“And that’s really sweet, but—” she was cut off by the sound of springs squeaking. “What is that?”

Hyde furrowed his brows in concentration as he listened. “Well, I did see your parents run into their room not long ago.” The realization finally hit them both. “Ugh, not again!”

Y/n turned to her parents door. “Oh, come on! Other people live here!”

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch @leothesquishy

[itsjuststardust]

Heaven in Hiding - Chapter 23: Vermilion

Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After.

Word Count: 6,916

Author's Note/Chapter Warnings: We are nearing the end of 🐍🐍Act 2🐍🐍 dear readers… I struggled with making cuts/edits, so here we are for a short chapter in exchange for two more relatively long chapters. Chapter warnings are nothing that haven't been revealed in previous chapters. 🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 “Fake Empire" - The National and "Daffodil" - Florence + the Machine.

MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY

Chapter 23: Vermilion

 “I hope this message reaches you, Alaina."

The effect is instantaneous; Din Djarin’s teeth clenched, and his hackles raised in warning at the sound of that voice.

“Turn it off,” Alaina’s quiet plea reached past his helmet, surprising him with her request.

“What? We can listen to what he has to say,” Din responded; his focus was directed at the weasel-eyed doctor, nervously wringing his hands together before continuing. The weasel hadn’t even said anything yet. Little did he know, he’d regret not shutting off that message in about sixty seconds.

“I’m reaching out to you at great risk of being compromised. He has not given up the trials, and now that we have the Child’s blood, we’ve been proceeding with Project Vermillion.” Vermilion. There’s that word again. The color that Alaina had been so adamant about him dropping.

“Unfortunately, we have not found another person with the same abilities as you or the child. We’ve been using volunteers with disastrous success. Alaina… Alaina, I’ve been studying your brain scans, trying to find some new avenue to try… What I found only brought more failure.”

“Turn it off,” Alaina whispered, pleading with him to turn the message off again. But it was too late; he was too far in to ignore it now. 

“Alaina, your neuropathways are deteriorating, likely due to forcing new abilities on you. If I’m correct, you’re likely experiencing headaches, nose bleeds, and general malaise. The list can go on… I believe I have a solution, but more testing must be performed to confirm my hypothesis. In hopes that you are still traveling with the Mandalorian, I’ve reached out to our previous mutual acquaintance, Greef Karga, and he’s agreed to help arrange a meet-up. I know you have no reason to trust me, Lainey, but you have to believe the words I’m saying: You are dying.”

Dying.

Every nosebleed Alaina had ever had replayed through his mind. Every headache she’d complained about. The exhausted, haunted look that had returned after she’d successfully made the stone float back on their moon. Sure, the makeup and other things Alaina did to cover the evidence had helped, but when he had awoken in the med bay after taking that spear, he couldn’t help but notice their return.

Dying.

Pershing’s warning echoed around his head as if it were the only thought he could drum up.

“You will die without help. Weeks… Months… A year… I can’t be certain, and it may have to do with how often you use your powers. You were my friend once, and… Lainey, please don’t be stubborn.”

Once the message ended, the blue light from the hologram flicked off, shrouding the cockpit in silence while he digested Pershing’s message.

“You will die without help. Weeks… Months… A year…” That wasn’t enough time… weeks? A year? That was the blink of an eye. That wasn’t enough time…  

“I thought I said no more surprises," Alaina mumbled behind him.

The leather of Din’s gloves creaked as they tightened around the controls at Alaina’s words. Slowly, he spun to face her in her chair to assess her because, surely, she wasn’t joking. How could she joke at a time like this? She just heard that she’s dying, and here she is, making jokes about it.

“What’s Project Vermilion?” he demanded, eager to get down to business.

“It’s a trap, you know,” Alaina whispered, skipping over his original question, and instead, tried to give him those damned, blinking, doe-eyes.

There wasn’t time for this… they had weeks.

One, Din thought to himself, gripping the armrest tightly while he waited for Alaina to give in.

“Din—”

Months.

Two. “What’s Project Vermilion?” 

Alaina rolled her eyes at his question.

A year—a singular year with no hope for anything beyond that.

Three. “Stop,” he growled. “Alaina, what is Project Vermilion?” he asked for the third and final time, leaving no room for argument.

Green eyes hardened before him, but he didn’t care if he made her angry. He needed answers. Was it a trap? Probably. Did Pershing sound sincere? Terrifyingly so. Sincere to the point where he couldn’t be making it up. At least not all of it.

“I am,” Alaina finally answered. Din cocked his head at her answer, but her face remained as flat and stoic as her words, giving nothing away. “It’s what they called their project to give the force to others,” she continued, pausing to look down and rub one of the kid’s ears. “Because Gideon has a flare for the dramatic and said that everyone would know who had the power someday when the Empire would paint the galaxy Vermilion. Because the color red wasn’t dramatic enough for him.”

He nodded as he attempted to wrap his mind around the answer. Alaina was Vermilion. Not the worst news—

He blinked as the question returned, “On Sorgan, the episode you had the day we left, you told me that I couldn’t save you, but Vermillion could.”

Alaina rolled her eyes, “No, I said you couldn’t save the sunshine—”

“Tranyc,” he countered, reminding her of the Mando’a nickname he had given her.

Alaina sighed and shook her head. “Din,” she whispered, “I know that message didn’t sound great.” Din’s helmet twitched at her words, but Alaina held up her hands before he could lay into her. “Din, this is a trap. You see that, don’t you? Pershing knows that the only hope he has of getting his hands on me, on us,” she paused to wrap her arms tighter around Grogu, “is with something that raises the stakes.”

“What if he’s not lying?” Din asked, clutching his chair. “He listed your symptoms—”

“You mean the same symptoms that I had when I was his prisoner? Wow, what a shocker,” Alaina deadpanned.

He paused to take a calming breath through his nose before continuing. He was gaining no ground fast at the moment, and they needed to decide how much of what Pershing said was the truth. “Alaina, what if he’s not lying?”

Alaina shrugged, “What if he is?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Risk their lives on the chance that Pershing feels remorse for the years of torture he inflicted on his childhood best friend and wants to make amends… Or… Risk that Gideon is there pulling his strings.

“Din, I’m fine,” Alaina started again, leaning forward to grab ahold of his left wrist to squeeze over where the bracelet she made him was. “If something changes later on… we can deal with that then,” she suggested, shrugging her shoulders. “But that’s then, and this is now, and I’m fine! Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. My homeworld to get my mom’s trunk, or we could go to Coruscant!”

“What’s in Coruscant?” Din asked, unable to suppress the grin at her enthusiasm.

“That’s for us to find out! It doesn’t have to be Coruscant. We could go to another big place to blend in. Bespin!” she suggested excitedly. “Bespin has Cloud City, right?”

“Alaina—”

“You already said that Rhoam fueled us up and paid us handsomely,” she argued, talking over him. “We can go anywhere you want to, just not to Pershing. It’s not worth it.”

Not worth it? “Alaina, we’re talking about your life.” Not worth it… Alaina gripped his wrist tightly and turned her pleading emerald eyes up a notch. “Don’t,” he murmured, preventing her from saying anything. “Don’t tell me you’re not worth it, Alaina Corra. If there is a chance that Pershing isn’t lying, if there is the slightest chance that he is right, we have to at least talk to him—”

“And then what?” Alaina released his wrist and leaned back into her chair to glare at him. “Walk me through this,” she instructed, sweeping her arm out. “We take the meeting and talk to him, and then what?”

“We decide if he’s telling the truth or not,” he answered, confused by the question in the first place.

“Right, so let’s say we take the meeting and learn it’s not great news. It’s not a trap. It’s just Penn reaching out because he still cares about me and feels bad,” Alaina shrugged. “That’s the best-case scenario. Don’t even get me started on this if it is a trap. He shows us the brain scans, and we listen to him. Of course, the last time I checked, we were a bounty hunter, a ballerina, and a toddler, and unless you’ve been hiding something from me, neither of us is a secret scientist or doctor—”

“Alaina—”

“What I’m trying to say is that we don’t have the right background to understand any of what he is going to show us, so how will we know if he is telling us the truth or not? But let’s say we take him at his word, and we learn that he is telling the truth… and I am dying… then what?”

Din frowned at her question. He wished he had a better answer but begrudgingly saw her point.

“Are you going to let him take me to ‘fix me’?” she asked quietly, although, judging by the look on her face, she already knew the answer to the question was no. “He said he’d need to perform more tests to be sure… Do you think the Empire will just let us waltz in and out?”

Kriff. He didn’t know what a waltz was, but he got the gist.

“And that’s just me. Don’t forget Grogu,” she reminded him, smiling down at the toddler, who turned his head at the sound of his name to coo at Alaina. “Because if they get their hands on Grogu, then…” she tapered off, giving him a sad look.

If they got their hands on the kid, Project Vermilion would be back on track and running full steam ahead.

Then, the Empire could paint the galaxy vermilion or whatever they wanted to call it.

Alaina was right. It was the definition of a no-win situation. 

And then flashes of the last few months replayed in his head. From rescuing Alaina to Sorgan to Tatooine to their moon, to Dietes… The three of them had been through so much together in such a short span of time. They were bonded together somehow, and if Alaina had a meltdown over feeling their connection go cold when he was unconscious after getting stabbed by that spear, then Din wasn’t especially keen to learn what that would feel like if Pershing wasn’t lying and Alaina did die… They were a family. They were his clan to protect.

“You will die without help. Weeks… Months… A year…” Pershing’s words rang in his head.

There was another option out there. There had to be because he needed more time. Perhaps with help… Backup… Someone who he could trust to have his back as well as Alaina’s and Grogu’s backs…

The beginnings of a plan began to take shape in his mind, and he nodded. Unfortunately, Alaina looked like she thought his nodding meant he agreed with her.

“We’re taking the meeting,” he announced, taking Alaina by surprise.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, looking at him like he had grown another head.

Mando spun back to face the console, and his hands flew over the buttons.

“Mando, this is a trap. You have to see that,” she pleaded, and he had to close his eyes when he heard the hurt in her voice.

“Which is why I think we’ll pay a visit to Sorgan first,” he answered, pulling the lever back to launch them into the hyperdrive channel.

He nodded to himself. He’d get Cara Dune to come with him and help watch their backs, and then they’d get Kuill for backup with the kid. The more people he had on his side, the better their outcome was. At the very least, he needed answers. Once he knew the extent of Alaina’s assumed prognosis, they could decide how to proceed from there, but he needed answers at the very least.

“I know you’re upset,” he started, directing his head at the stars. He didn’t think he could take the hurt emerald doe-eyes. Not now. “But, Alaina, I need more… more than a year with you. We’re just going to listen to him talk. I’d never just hand you over to him.”

Silence answered him back. He steeled himself for the tears, the yelling, the anger… but it never came.

Surprised by the quiet, he spun his chair around to discover Alaina’s vacant seat. Movement from across the way grabbed his attention, and he looked up just in time to see Alaina enter her room with the kid wrapped in her arms. She couldn’t even look behind her before she shut the door, blocking his view of her room from his view.

He let his chair spin around to face the window, then ripped his gloves and helmet off to angrily rub his face with his hands. Everything would be fine, she would see. They’d have backup, listen to what Pershing had to say, and then figure out what to do with the information. Surely there would be someone else in the galaxy that would be able to help them…

Din blinked when his bracelet's purple and yellow strands grabbed his attention. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the bracelet, letting one of his fingers rub against the lock made out of Alaia’s hair.

What other choice did he have?

Duck. Jab. Strike.

With a roar, Din launched himself at his attacker, sweeping his leg out at the older boy and knocking him flat on his back to the ground.

“Had enough yet, brother?” he snarked, holding his hand out to his adoptive brother, whom he had just taken to the ground.

The other boy batted his hand away and got up from the ground on his own. “Maybe you should be more quiet,” his brother suggested. “You give yourself away when you’re loud.”

“Apparently, it didn’t help you out, seeing as how I just knocked you on your ass,” Din argued half-heartedly.

“I let you win that round.”

Din rolled his eyes, “Sure you did.”

At eleven—or wait, was he twelve now? Din frowned as he wracked his brain to remember the date—eleven years old, he decided. Twelve in two months. Maker, that meant he’d been on Concordia for almost two years…

In those two years, Din Djarin’s life had changed drastically. He was no longer a baby with delusions of being a pod racer when he got older. He was now a full-fledged Mandalorian, training in the fighting corps. He had two father figures: Kresh, his sponsor, and Rav. Kresh had even offered to adopt him officially, and while he was thankful to both men for keeping him standing, Kresh understood when Din politely declined the offer. He didn't think he could dishonor his parents' memory, but he was still deeply appreciative of the offer. He could even begrudgingly admit that he appreciated Kresh’s son, who had become a sort of big brother to him—a very annoying pain in the ass, brother, but a brother nonetheless. Rav still came and went but kept his word to keep a more regular schedule. Rav even made it to his ceremony when he took the Creed. Much to Kresh’s displeasure, Rav even promised to take Din out on a supply run at some point in the future.

“Do you think they’re back yet?” Din asked, feeling as if the hours were dragging by.

His older brother sighed and shook his head, “They’ll get here when they get here. Focus. Let’s go again.”

It was Din’s turn to sigh this time. The last time Rav had returned, something was wrong. The older man refused to tell Din anything, but Din and his brother had caught Kresh and Rav huddled in deep, heated conversations. Eventually, Kresh announced that he would be leaving with Rav on a mission, and it could be weeks before they returned. No one would tell the boys anything, which irritated both adoptive brothers, but they eventually accepted it. Now, almost three weeks had passed when they finally got a cryptic message from Kresh that they would return today and had strict instructions to stay at the training camp until he came to get them.

Din put up his fists, ready to go another round with his brother, when whispers from around them made the two brothers take pause.

“They had to be taken straight to the infirmary.”

“I heard they both lost their helmets.”

“No, only one did.”

Din shared a worried look with his adoptive brother. What were the chances that multiple parties were set to return today? And for a Mandalorian to lose their helmet? Even just one of them—whichever brother it was—would be devastated.

The younger brothers needed only a brief, silent conversation before they sprinted toward the infirmary. Din’s lungs burned, and his legs ached from their sprint. His older brother, who was larger than him, was a surprisingly quick runner. Din’s boots pounded against the Concordia terrain as he followed on his brother’s heels. Concordia was still a confusing place to navigate, and he was thankful that his brother knew all of the shortcuts, cutting their trip in half as they came skidding to a halt at the infirmary doors.

His brother wasted no time, barreling through the doors, looking for his father. Din followed him, trying to figure out what would happen to him if both of his sponsors lost their helmets.

“Dad,” came his brother’s sigh of relief, and Din turned to look down the hall to find Kresh sitting in the hall, holding his head in his hands.

His helmeted head was in his hands. And if the rumors were true, and Kresh was still wearing his helmet, then that meant Rav…

Din’s feet were on autopilot, bypassing the father-son reunion to head toward the room across the hall from the bench Kresh was sitting on.

“Wait,” Kresh called for him just before he pushed the door open. “He’ll be out in a moment. Give him some time.” Din couldn’t remember a time when Kresh ever sounded so… sad.

“Is it true?” his brother pressed. “We heard rumors someone returned without their helmet.”

Kresh heaved a deep sigh but nodded his head.

“What does that mean? What happens now?” Din asked his sponsor, unable to take his eyes off the door.

“He’s an apostate now,” was all the man said.

Din looked back at the closed door where Rav was currently being treated, wanting nothing more than to go in there and comfort the man who had saved his life that day on Aq Vetina.

“Is he okay?” Din whispered, turning back to look at his sponsor.

“His injuries were minor,” Kresh answered quietly. “The aruetii, however…”

Din frowned at the foreign word, trying and failing to recall hearing it in his Mando’a lessons.

“Outsider,” his brother explained. “Who’s the outsider?”

Kresh never got to answer his son’s question because, at that moment, the door to the treatment room opened behind him, and all of Din’s focus went to the dejected-looking, limping man who exited the room.

“Rav,” Din whispered, immediately wrapping his arms around the man’s middle.

“Hey, kid,” Rav answered, sounding exhausted, but returned Din’s hug with the tightest hug Din had ever received from the man. When their embrace ended, Rav clapped Din on the shoulder, and Din moved to help him limp to the bench that Kresh had just vacated so his brother could sit.

Din took the empty spot next to Rav on the bench. He tried not to look too hard, to draw too much attention to the fact that he could see Rav’s face, but he couldn’t help it. The man looked a little older, mid-thirties perhaps, with a shaved head and clean-shaven face. His tired, hazel eyes closed as he leaned his head back to rest against the wall. His skin was ghostly pale, and Din wondered what kind of atrocities his sponsors had experienced to bring them to this point.

“They’re taking her for surgery,” Rav whispered.

Kresh nodded in understanding, but the younger boys looked confused as they tried to figure out who the mystery woman was.

“You and your riduur will stay at my home while you both heal,” Kresh began, crossing his arms across his chest.

Riduur, he had learned that word at least. “You’re married?” Din asked Rav, surprised to learn that the man had a wife he had no idea about. Rav rested a tired hand on his thigh in answer. Din’s eyes were drawn to the bare, roughened, calloused hand on his thigh.

Kresh began speaking again, pulling Din’s attention back to his sponsor, “I will allow you and your riduur to stay and heal—”

“Allow?” Rav cut in, eyes opening to study his brother.

Kresh nodded, “And then you must leave.”

“Kresh,” Rav gaped, looking as if he’d just been shot by his own brother.

“Raivi,” Kresh countered, standing a little straighter. “You are an apostate now,” he continued, speaking quietly as if the words pained him to say. “You are an apostate, and your riduur is an aruetii—”

Rav launched himself off the bench to go toe to toe with his older brother, “She saved both of our lives!” 

“Her actions make no diff—” 

“Bullshit!” Rav shouted, gaining their small group the attention of some other Mandalorians down the hall. “That mudscuffer was collecting Mandalorian helmets! You would have been next if she hadn’t interfered!” 

The two brothers had their silent stare down one another in the hallway, and Din noted others gathering, anticipating an altercation to break out between the two of them. Tense seconds passed before Rav’s body sagged, and he threw his hands up in defeat. “Whatever,” he mumbled, returning to fall back onto the bench next to Din again.

Din looked between his savior and his sponsor while he attempted to wrap his mind around the ramifications. To no longer be a Mandalorian was one thing… but to be outcast by your own brother… Din couldn’t imagine. So, unsure of what else to do, Din grabbed Rav’s hand, hoping to give him silent support while they waited. Rav squeezed his hand tightly back, and Din pretended not to notice the tear that escaped from the man’s eye.

Hours passed while the four of them waited silently in the hall for an update on Rav’s wife. Din didn’t even know she existed before now, but he said a silent prayer to the Maker that she would pull through so Rav wouldn’t be alone. 

Finally, one of the Mandalorian medics exited the treatment room. Rav lept from the bench, dragging Din by the hand with him. 

The medic nodded his helmet to Rav, and then Kresh and his son stood further down the hall before turning his attention back to Rav. “The procedure was a success,” he announced without preamble. Rav’s hand gripped his tightly in relief, and Din gripped the older Mandalorian, clutching him like a lifeline. “She has a long road to a full recovery, but I’m confident she will in time.” 

“Thank you, doctor,” Rav sighed in relief. 

The medic nodded, “I’m just glad to be able to give good news this evening. And to save both of them—” 

“Both of them?” Rav asked with a frown. “I only came in with my wife and this mudscuffer, and he’s fine,” he clarified, hooking a thumb back at his brother. 

The medic cocked his helmet, “Right, your riduur and the baby.” 

Rav gripped his hand tighter, and Din watched as the man’s knees buckled, but he didn’t fall to the ground. “I’m sorry, did you say baby?” he whispered in shock.

“You didn’t know?” the medic asked, and Rav shook his head. The medic looked between them, and Din wasn’t sure if he was looking for confirmation or backup, but he finally returned his helmet to Rav and nodded. “She’s very early. It’s possible she doesn’t even know yet.” 

“A baby?” Rav murmured, and Din smiled as the shock wore off Rav’s face and slowly became replaced by a tentative smile. “And the baby is fine?”

“As I said, your riduur is very early, but the baby’s heartbeat is strong,” he confirmed. 

Rav huffed out a sound that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a wheeze before asking, “I’m going to be a dad?” 

The medic nodded and offered his hand as he chuckled, “Congratulations.” 

Rav ignored the offered hand and wrapped his arms around the medic’s neck, taking him by surprise. Din couldn’t help but smile at Rav's look of pure joy. He released the medic with a manic laugh as he started walking in circles around the cramped hallway with his hands on his head while he processed the news.

The medic nodded at the three of them before turning back around to return to the treatment room, leaving Din in the hallway with three stunned Mandalorians. When Kresh released a sad sigh and shook his helmet, Din sobered as he looked at Rav as the man collapsed in his bench seat again.

“Do you think the child will…” Kresh began and then tapered off but continued when his brother looked at him confusedly. “Do you think the child will be like its mother?” he asked quietly.

When the look of confusion left Rav’s face, it found a new home on Din’s. “I don’t know,” he answered nervously.

Kresh nodded, “You will both stay until you are recovered, and then you must leave. You must hide them. Both of them,” he instructed, and Rav nodded slowly at the order. “Come, Paz,” Kresh called to his son as he turned to leave.

Din watched as his sponsor and his pseudo-adoptive brother, Paz, began to walk down the hall. He supposed he should feel torn about which party he should go with, but it was no contest. Din returned to sit beside Rav to stay with the man who had saved his life. Kresh and Paz paused to look back when they realized he wasn’t following them, but they only spared him a moment’s glance before they left without another word.

“Don’t let yourself get on their bad side, buddy,” Rav mumbled, nudging him with his elbow. 

Din just shrugged. He’d been on their bad side before; he could do it again. Rav was the one who needed him right now. 

“You know, it’s customary for the Mandalorian who found you to give you your first scrap of beskar or have something made for you when you take the Creed,” Rav explained. “And I know that technically, my brother is your sponsor, and he made your first helmet for your ceremony… But I kinda feel that I owe you a scrap since I’m the one who found you,” he paused, ripped the pauldron off his left shoulder, and handed it to him. Din held the piece in both hands and silently studied it. Next, the man pulled a blaster from his boot and gave it to him as well. 

“Look at me, kid,” he murmured.

Din felt like he was moving in a slow haze as he pulled his gaze from the pauldron clutched in his left hand and the blaster in his right, giving Rav his attention.

“You’ve got a good heart, Din Djarin,” Rav began, placing both hands on his shoulders and hunched over slightly to look him in the eyes. “Let it—Let them shape you, but don’t let them change you,” he finished, pointing to the middle of Din’s chest. 

Din nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” Din asked his savior, nodding his smaller helmet at Rav’s helmetless head. 

Rav gave him a pained smile, “Don’t worry about me, kid,” he murmured, but Din gave him a disbelieving tilt of his head, earning him a huff from the older man. “I’m not gonna lie to you and tell you it doesn’t hurt… but for her,” he let out a long, low whistle. Rav smiled and nodded his head, “But for her, it’s all worth it.” 

Din did his best to keep the emotion from his voice when he asked, “Am I ever going to see you again?” 

Rav breathed a long, sad sigh before answering, “I don’t know, kid. I’d like to think that maybe our paths will cross again, but it’s a big galaxy.” 

Din lost his battle with his emotions. He lunged forward and flung his arms around Rav’s neck, hugging him tightly with his pauldron and blaster still in his grip. “Thank you for everything,” he whispered, unable to keep the tears from coming.

Rav returned the hug, squeezing him back tighter while he brought a hand to hold the back of his head. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna be a good dad,” Djarin whispered in the man’s ear. 

Rav let out a watery chuckle and slapped him on his back before pulling away. “Thanks, kid,” he said, and Din’s tears came harder when he saw Rav was crying too.

“Din?” someone whispered, running their fingers through his hair.

Din’s eyes shot open at the contact, and the fingers left his hair.

“It’s just me,” Alaina whispered from behind him. “I didn’t see anything. I promise.”

Din blinked in confusion, trying to shake the sleep from his mind, and looked down to find his helmet in his lap.

“I brought you something to eat,” Alaina told him, reaching to place a cup on the deck near him.

The past few hours caught back up with him. Dying. Alaina was dying. Alaina was dying, and he had a dream of the last time he ever saw Rav. “But for her, it’s all worth it,” Rav’s words replayed in his head.

He gripped the armrests of his chair. One spin, and she would see his face. One spin, and he could look at her emerald doe-eyes with his very own. No helmet, no blindfolds…

“But for her, it’s all worth it.”

He relaxed his grip on the chair. Din Djarin was not Raivi. Even though his former mentor had lost his helm in battle, there was no difference in the eyes of the Creed. He didn’t want to be an apostate. There was a way to do this and do it right.

“Alaina,” he called, hoping she was still in the cockpit with him.

“I don’t want to talk, Din—”

“Then listen,” he whispered, earning him a sigh when he cut her off, but he didn’t hear an argument or her footsteps, so he continued. “I know you don’t want to do this, Alaina. I know there are risks, but we need to find out if Pershing is telling the truth,” he began, keeping his voice steady and even. “But you're worth it, Alaina. You're worth every risk.”

Silence filled the cockpit, and Din strained his ears to listen for any indication that Alaina was still there or had acknowledged him. He was about to call her name again when he closed his mouth at the sound of a soft, delicate step, followed by the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair again. Din closed his eyes at the feeling of the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp.

“I left Grogu down in the hold with his soup. I need to go make sure he hasn’t burned himself,” she whispered.

Din grabbed her hand, preventing her from leaving, and tugged her hand forward slightly so he could place a kiss on her palm. Alaina’s thumb rubbed along his mustache before she pulled her hand back.

“Eat,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair again. “Come join us when you're done.”

Din smiled at the small olive branch offered and relaxed back in his chair. He looked back down at his helmet in his lap and felt the first flicker of hope spark to life in his chest from Alaina’s quiet offering.

He wasted no time, downing the cup of soup that Alaina had brought to him so he could join the rest of his clan down in the hold. 

He smiled at the sound of the kid’s giggles as he climbed down the ladder to the hold.

“Hold still,” Alaina muttered, and his grin grew when he saw she was struggling to wipe the kid’s face clean after he finished his soup.

“Patu!” the kid yelled, pointing at Din when he saw that the Mandalorian had come to join them. Grogu renewed his efforts to squirm out of Alaina’s arms until the woman finally released him with a roll of her eyes as the kid tottered excitedly toward him.

“I think he’s learning to talk back,” Alaina grumbled, wrapping the white-knit blanket from Sorgan tighter around her.

Din hummed as he bent over to pick up the womp rat running at him as fast as his legs could carry him. “Then that means he’s learning that from someone,” he countered, nudging the kid's head with his helmet, smiling as the kid babbled and banged on the beskar helm.

Alaina looked back at him with an arched eyebrow. “I know you’re not implying that he’s learning that from me,” she replied, leveling him with a serious look. “Because I would never backtalk anyone,” she added, giving him a small, teasing grin as she situated herself on the floor with her back propped up against the wall.

Din let out a snort and shook his head. “Whatever you say, Mesh’la,” he said, walking to sit next to her.

Once he was seated next to her, he let the womp rat go, and the adults watched him walk around the hold, dragging his stuffed frog behind him as he went to grab the small beskar gear ball. Alaina leaned into his left arm, and Din lifted it to allow her to snuggle into his side.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” Alaina murmured as Din’s arm came to rest over her shoulder.

Din sighed and tugged her tighter to his side.

“How much longer till we get to Sorgan?” she asked timidly as she fiddled with the blanket hem.

“We’ve got another cycle to go before we get there,” he answered, rubbing her arm with his hand.

“So there’s still time?” Alaina asked hopefully.

Din sighed, “Alaina—”

“I don’t want to die,” she said, stopping him. “And Penn might be telling the truth… but why do we have to go right away?”

“You will die without help. Weeks… Months… A year…” replayed through his mind.

“I only just got my life back, Din,” she continued, wrapping an arm around his middle to cling to him. And I have you and Grogu… I have a family." She paused to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Can’t we wait? Just a little longer?”

“You will die without help. Weeks… Months… A year…”  

“What if we wait too long, and Pershing is right?” he asked, pulling her to sit in his lap so he could wrap both arms around her. “What if we wait too long, and the damage is too far gone, or you die before we even take the meeting?”

“I think I’d prefer that option.”

Din grabbed Alaina by her shoulders to pull her away and look her in her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely mean that,” she replied, staring at him as if he was the one spouting nonsense.

“Alaina—”

“No,” she growled. “I’ve had hours to think about this. And seeing as how you’re making the decisions, again, you have to listen to me.” Her green eyes hardened as she locked eyes with him from under his helmet. “On Tatooine, when you told me you weren’t going to turn me back over to the Empire, you told me that you would do everything to protect me and the kid,” she continued and paused until Din nodded. “Sometimes, doing everything means taking a step back and doing nothing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“There are things worse than death,” Alaina told him, placing her arms on either side of his helmet. “This is a trap. I know you think that going to get Cara is going to help, but they are going to be prepared, Din. They haven’t given up in years. They were willing to perform experiments on Grogu, and he’s a child. I can’t do that again. Grogu doesn’t deserve that,” she finished as her eyes filled with tears.

“I won’t let them take you, Alaina. I won’t let them take either of you. But I can’t just step back and do nothing if there is a hope of an answer to save you,” he told her, clutching her waist. “Alaina, I l—”

“Stop,” Alaina whispered. She moved her right hand to cover the lower part of his helmet as if she were covering his mouth. “Tell me after.”

“After?”

“After,” she nodded. “Because if you are hellbent on following through with this, it would break my heart to hear the words I think you’re about to say, only to lose you.”

“I need more time,” he whispered, struggling to keep the emotions from his voice. “A week… a month… A year? It’s not enough time,” Din rasped.

Alaina nodded. “Weren’t you the one who just told me you couldn’t promise me next year or even tomorrow?”

Din’s chest filled with air, and he leaned forward to press his helmet into Alaina’s forehead. Alaina pressed her lips to the center of his helmet.

“So, you can tell me after,” she murmured into his helm. “If you’re deadset on doing this, tell me after. If we all make it out, I want you to take us back to our moon,” she smiled, pressing another kiss to his helmet. “I want you to take us back to our moon, and we can go into the lavender field where you first kiss me, and you can tell me then.”

His chest deflated as he nodded into her kiss.

“And if we don’t all make it—”

“Dune will take care of you,” he told her. “I’ll have her take you to Dietes—”

“You really think introducing Iris and Cara is a wise decision?” Alaina asked with a watery smile.

“I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have watching your back.”

Alaina nodded, and her brief smile faded as she pulled away from him. “Just promise me that Grogu is the priority. The Empire cannot get their hands on him, Din.”

“They won’t,” he vowed.

“Even if that means losing me,” Alaina finished.

“Alaina—”

“Promise me, Din Djarin,” she said as her face became steeled and determined. “Put aside the fact that between the two of us, he is the answer to Project Vermilion, and Gideon will paint the galaxy red if given the opportunity. Put that aside… Din, he’s ours,” she pleaded. “He’s our kid, and he comes first.”

Din turned his head to look at the kid, who was now sitting on the floor by the alcove, rolling the silver ball to his stuffed frog and clapping when the ball would roll back to him.

“I’m going to be a dad?” Rav’s words echoed in his mind as he watched the womp rat. 

“I promise,” he vowed.

Alaina nodded and moved to stand up, but Din grabbed her hand, preventing her from walking away.

“But I need you to promise me you won’t do anything stupid. You can’t make rash decisions that will jeopardize your life.”

“I promise I will do whatever it takes to ensure you and Grogu live.”

“You mean that you promise to do whatever it takes without being rash?”

“I won’t go back,” she murmured. “I have a family again. I have you, we have a kid… I won’t go back, and he can’t go back.”

“What are you saying?”

Alaina gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand. Din’s breath caught in his chest as a memory from Sorgan rushed to the front of his mind. They had just discovered that Imperial Walker and Din were determined to leave immediately before Alaina changed his mind. But it wasn’t her argument to stay and help the villagers fight that wasn't the memory.

“I don’t want to go back,” she started quietly. “I don’t want to go back so much that I would kill myself before I let that happen again.”

“No!” he snapped, jumping up from the floor to tower over her. “That is precisely the kind of rash decision that I’m talking about!”

“Din,” she whispered calmly, placing a hand over his heart at the center of his chest.

“It won’t come to that, do you understand me?” he demanded, stepping into her space.

“Well, I certainly hope it doesn’t. I was rather looking forward to going back to our moon with you,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his armored chest. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, and you want to go there now instead?” she asked, blinking up at him with hopeful emerald eyes.

“Alaina… I…” he tapered off, at a loss for words.

The hope left her eyes, and Alaina nodded, giving him a quick, forced smile. “After then,” she murmured. “Let me know when Cara is here,” she said, turning to walk back to the ladder, still wrapped in the white-knit blanket.

Din watched her climb up the rungs of the ladder until her blanket disappeared from view.

“After.”

Author's Note #2: XOXO, love you all 🩶

Tag List: @racheldon @zenrobbins0021 @locked-ness @smoochispoof @hipcheckchick

Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Next chapter in series: Chapter 24: Ya'burnee

[wonderland-smile-stories]

~ Chapter 18 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Chan-young when he was about to walk outside. 

"A little woozy, but I'll survive." I nodded, scanning his face and ensuring he was okay. 

"Make sure you drink enough water. It helps to get the rest of the toxins out of your system faster." I explained hoping he would listen. 

He was about to answer when the girl came out of nowhere, standing at the doorway, making us both jump. 

"Don't worry I'll make sure he does." 

Rolling my eyes at her I cross my arms over my chest. 

"I think you have done enough for him." 

The girl pouts before taking his arm and pulling him out the door. She's too crazy for his own good. 

"Wait," Chan-young stopped the girl before turning back to me. 

"Aren't you coming with us to eat?" 

I look outside the window to where the man and Eun-yu are sitting, then look back at him, shaking my head. 

"No, it's already a miracle the man hasn't shot me yet. I'm not gonna test his patience any further. You guys need food and he's giving it, so go eat. I'll be fine." He was about to argue when the girl pulled him again making me shake my head. 

With a deep breath, I lay down closing my eyes on the seat where we found Chan-young unconscious. It's the first time in a long time I felt this exhausting. I could sleep for days if the world let me, but I know I have to go outside and continue my search. 

I still need to find Eun-hyuk. Even if he's a monster I'll find him. I don't even know what he would look like as a monster. What even is his desire? To make sure his sister is safe? I'm not so sure. 

I'm sure that Eun-yu won't stop until she finds him. It would be funny and handy, but I can't keep her on a leash. If she doesn't want to return to the stadium she can live with me. At least this way I know she will be safe. 

But then we have to go back there and get Ji-su, the kids, and maybe some others if they want to come. I'll probably have to find a bigger shelter if more people would want to come, but I'll manage. 

Maybe if Hyun-su sees who's with me he will want to stay. Maybe he doesn't want to stay for me, but maybe for the kids, he will. 

'Or you could go to him and kill that little girl.'  Letting out a groan I cover my already closed eyes with my arm. 

'No, go away.' 

'That's cute you think you can get rid of me that easy.' 

I hoped I could. 

'That little girl is probably holding him back. She also almost killed Eun-yu."'

'Oh my god, I'm not going to kill a little kid! Go away you're giving me a headache.'

I don't know if it really went away or if just blocked her out when I heard more voices outside. Thinking that someone had come to hurt the others I jumped up before running outside. 

"Eun-yu what's happened..." 

My voice got stuck inside my throat when I saw Hyun-su standing there with Eun-yu next to him. 

Guilt was written all over his face when he saw me. Together with the pain in his eyes. I honestly wanted to run towards him and wrap my arms around him, but my legs were fully glued to the ground. 

I swallowed hard before looking down at where Chan-young and the girl were kneeling. Is that Yi-kyung? 

"Yi-kyung unni?!" I ran toward hers rolling her carefully on her back. 

She had burn marks on one side of her body. Just by touching her, I could feel how much pain she was in. 

"What happened?!" I looked back up at Hyun-su. 

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it back again struggling to tell me. 

"First, get her inside," Chan-young said, making me break eye contact with Hyun-su. 

Why do I have a feeling I wouldn't like what Hyun-su was about to say... 

I wanted to pick her up, but Chan-young beat me to it asking the girl to help him put her on his back. The second I got back on my feet a gunshot went off. 

For a second we all stood frozen on the ground watching Hyun-su fall clutching his shoulders. 

"Don't sir!" I hear Chan-young yell making me turn around to see the man point his weapon at Hyun-su reloading it. 

"You dare to come crawling out here?" He spat still pointing his gun and Hyun-su who was groaning in pain. 

"Stop it. Stop, please!" Eun-yu yelled angrily at the man. 

More people will get hurt at this rate. 

No. 

It felt like my vision darkened just like when I killed those people who were hunting me back then. Without thinking more about it I moved my hand forwards yanking the gun out of his hands with my mind. 

I caught it with ease, before lifting my other hand towards him making him levitate in the air. 

"How many times are you going to piss me off before I actually going to have to kill you! My patience is running thin with you!" I snapped closing my hand making it harder for him to move. 

"I don't know if I should actually let you go right now seeing how many times you have already hurt my friends. Should I just spare the trouble for later and kill you now?!" I growled stepping closer. 

"I...I kno...ww yo...ou a..are j..uust li..ke ever...ery o..ot..her mo..ons..ster." The man struggles to say. 

I let out a dark chuckle moving my hand so that he came closer. 

"There isn't a monster like me." Still having the shotgun in my other hand I moved it to his neck. 

"Let's see if you like to be shot." 

"Mi-na!" I was about to pull the trigger when Hyun-su's voice brought me back. 

Turning around I saw Hyun-su looking pleadingly at me making me turn back to the man. Loosening my grip on him I made him fall to the ground before tossing the gun in front of him. I turned around to walk away when the man stood back up pointing the shotgun at the back of my head. 

He really won't learn his lesson. 

I was about to do something when my eyes met Hyun-su who was still clutching his shoulder in pain. 

"I thought I was clear. Don't bring any damn monsters here." The man said from behind me pushing the gun more in my head. 

"No!" Hyun-su groans out ready to take a step forward to stop the man. 

"Why don't we talk this out? He's the person she's been looking for." Chan-young said trying to defuse the situation. 

"Do these things look human to you?" The man spoke up before I heard another gun being pulled out. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the man point the gun at Chan-young. 

"Have you looked in a mirror recently? It's not like you could win a beauty contest." I mutter out.

For a second we all just stood there until Eun-yu grabbed the girl holding the knife to her neck saying. 

"Take one fucking step, move a single muscle, and I'll cut her fucking head off." Which made the girl laugh a little.  

"Way to prove my point about humans. Pulling this shit after I saved your life is rich." 

Now it was my time to laugh. 

"Says the person who has also tried to kill us a few times." I spat out, but the man only held the gun firmly against my skull, digging it into my skin. 

"I said I'll take them with me. I said I'll take them. So just... What's your problem?!" Eun-yu's voice was shaking at the end ready to cry. I could see the tears forming in her eyes wanting to fall out. 

She desperately wanted to save me and Hyun-su that she would hurt the girl. 

"You're with monsters, that make you a threat. And you call yourself human? Jesus." The man cursed at her. 

"What makes you special? How are you sure you're gonna stay immune? What if you were to start showing symptoms? Seems a bullet is your only option. Since monsters have to die." Eun-yu argues back tightening her grip on the knife and the girl. 

"Stop it," Hyun-su said trying to make Eun-yu stop, but she ignored him. 

"And she? Could you put a bullet in her? How about I save you the trouble?" Eun-yu was ready to do it to prove her point and to protect Hyun-su and me. I could see in her tear-filled eyes that she would do anything to protect us. 

"Eun-yu, don't. It's not worth it." I said trying to reason with her. 

Even if he shoots me I'll be fine. It will hurt, but I will be alive. Even though the girl is annoying she doesn't deserve to die. 

"Oh, yeah. So this is who you are." The man said from behind me. 

Hyun-su turned to Eun-yu trying to reason with her as well. 

"Stop it. Don't do this, Eun-yu." Without even blinking the girl grabbed the knife from Eun-yu's hand before switching their places. 

Now she had the knife against Eun-yu's neck actually cutting her. I had to hold myself in place so that I wouldn't attack the girl when I saw blood running down her neck. 

"Ha-ni!" The man yelled lowering the gun from my head. 

The girl looked at the man for a few seconds before pulling the knife away from Eun-yu and dropping it to the ground. She pushed Eun-yu forward before walking away saying. 

"Let's get out of here." We all watch how she walks to the car before throwing Eun-yu's and my backpacks at our feet. 

"You're just gonna stand there?" She asked the man before getting into the car. 

Without saying anything the man walked away from me to the girl which made me let out a deep breath. This could have gone so much worse. 

"In this life, we weren't meant to be, maybe in the next one. Get rid of that girl though." The girl, well now I know her name is Ha-ni. Yelled at Chan-young. 

After that, we watched as they drove away leaving us on our own. 

"Are you okay to move? How's your shoulder?" Chan-young asked Hyun-su who was still holding his bloody shoulder making us all look at him. 

"It's okay," Hyun-su answers pulling his bloody hand away. 

It must already have healed by now. 

"I think we better go. Monsters might have heard the gunfire." Chan-young said before walking away with Yi-kyung still on his back. 

The three of us still stood there not really sure what to do. The first one to move was Eun-yu. I watched as she grabbed the knife and or bags from the ground. She handed me mine before walking away saying. 

"Let's go." 

I watch as she walks away not sparing us another glimpse. Tightly holding the bag's strap in my hand I was thinking about what I could say. I honestly wanted to say so much to Hyun-su, but I knew that now was not the right time. 

Yi-kyung was hurt and she needed our help. After we get her better we can talk. If he wants to at least. 

Putting the bag on my back I began to walk after Eun-yu feeling Hyun-su's eyes on me.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

———————————————————

[tweetsongs]

'cause my love will be fierce (and your love will be missed)

my other prompt for @orv-gotcha-for-gaza for @evelinadodge! i am SO sorry about how long this took. i have no excuses except for uh. underestimating law school OTL. i hope this is even slightly what you're looking for!

Sometimes Yoo Joonghyuk thinks that the whole traveling mercenary thing leaves much less to be desired than advertised. Then he steps into a court again and remembers the alternative.

“Lord Yoo,” someone says, and he resists the urge to grimace. He turns around, and a woman with auburn hair smiles at him, bows. He nods back, not responding. 

The woman doesn’t seem to be bothered by this, eyes scanning over him. It’s not the look he’s used to getting from young noblewomen, the one that wonders whether he still has enough pedigree to be worth marrying, or, at the very least, a night of fun (the answer to both questions is and always has been an empathetic no). Rather, it looks like she’s looking him over for something, some quality or characteristic that makes him feel oddly seen. It is not an especially comfortable feeling.

“What do you want,” Namwoon scowls at her from behind him. Yoo Joonghyuk resists the urge to sigh - he really should’ve known better than to bring him to these sorts of functions by now. Though, on the other hand, the alternative option would’ve been leaving him without supervision, which was equally risky.

On Namwoon’s side, Jihye punches him in the shoulder, which is no less rude but does the job. “Stop embarrassing Master!” she hisses, not quite soft enough to be discreet. Yoo Joonghyuk tries not to close his eyes against the incoming headache.

Thankfully, Hyunsung steps forward then, more affable than their entire party combined: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he says with a knight’s easy charm. “My name is Lee Hyunsung. May I have your name, and what your business is with the lord?”

Yoo Joonghyuk barely manages not to grimace at being called a lord. This night was really getting worse and worse.

The woman glances at them, then shares a look with the woman beside her, clad in knight’s clothing. “My name is Yoo Sangah,” she says. “This is Sir Heewon. And we...may be in need of your assistance.”

--

The story is a typical one: a tyrant who went too far, an uprising, a queen who is deposed alongside her husband, a prince in a dungeon. A line of executions.

“And you want me to stop the executions,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. They’re on a balcony now, away from prying ears. 

Yoo Sangah shakes her head. “I want you to save him.”

“Just him?”

A hesitation.

“Just him.”

“Why?”

She smiles, slight. “He was my betrothed,” she says.

He considers her - she doesn’t seem the kind of person who is easily taken in by sweet words or false gestures. “So it’s because of love?”

“Not- the way you think. We were not...romantically involved. But he was...unlike the rumors. Kind. He was a good friend, and would have made a good partner, if nothing else.” there is no sign of a lie in her voice. “He was my best friend, and-”

“He was my brother,” Sir Heewon says. “In all but blood. He cared for his people, even when his ma- the former king tried to force him not to. He was the only reason the revolution succeeded. But now-” her fists clench. “He told us that it was better for them to all be executed, for the story to have a clean ending. He pretended- he pretended to hold Lady Sangah hostage, so that she would not be seen as complicit. He bade me go with her to make sure she was protected. He got every one of the innocent castle staff to escape. It’s unjust, for him to die. I am his knight. I can’t allow it.”

“We can compensate you,” Lady Sangah rushes to reassure him. “My family - my dowry is still intact, so I can give you as much as you need.”

It is a startling story, an almost unbelievable one. What kind of prince gives up his power, his title, his life, just for the sake of a story? He looks behind him, and meets the eyes of his companions. They understand each other.

“...alright,” he says. If nothing else, he wants to meet the person who inspired such loyalty.

--

It is, he will admit, a very neat ending that Kim Dokja had orchestrated.

The commoners in the yard, holding weapons made from improvised tools. The bodies already piled up, dressed in royal blues, the blood staining them closer to violet. The prince, plain but for the strange calmness of his expression, the almost excited glint in his eyes, standing atop the execution stand.

“And we will finally be free,” the lady-knight in front of the stand says, steady hand on a leather-wrapped sheath. “From the tyranny that the Demon King has held us under, the cruelty of their progeny- let us live, now, as we were meant to. Let us live as people, rather than cattle.”

A cheer echoes down the crowd, the sound like a church bell or a horn -- something like change, like revolution. And in the centre, the prince that nobody knows has orchestrated all of it, hemp woven in a loop along a pale throat in a noose he wears like a crown.

“You sure we actually wanna save the guy?” Namwoon mutters out of the side of his mouth, cloak thankfully covering his fidgeting. “It feels kind of like a bummer for these guys. They’re probably gonna throw a party after this.”

“Shut up,” Jihye’s voice, echoing in their ears via Uriel’s carefully-maintained communications spell, says before Joonghyuk can say the same thing. “I’m ready, master.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nods slightly. The signal. He sees her begin to move from the corner of his eye, the slight slide of her palm to unsheathe her shield-

- and then an arrow pierces the air, cutting through the noose. The lady-knight draws her sword, swings it towards him - good instincts - but it is stopped by a shield the size of a man. Hyunsung, always quicker on the draw than people would assume of his stature, meets her sword with a clang of metal on metal. Defending, because this revolution was not wrong, even if the one they’re executing may not be the man they thought he was.

Yoo Joonghyuk is moving before his mind catches up with his steps, a hand slipping around the no-longer-prince’s waist and hauling him over a shoulder. He isn’t sure why he’s moving so quickly, except that something about the resignation in his eyes feels familiar, irksome.

“If you want to hold someone hostage, I must warn you now that I have few around willing to pay any ransom,” Kim Dokja says, strangely placid for the situation. If it weren’t for the momentary tenseness of his body, the flash of confusion in his expression before it disappeared over Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder, he would’ve been fooled into thinking that  the former prince had predicted all of this.

As it is, he replies: “You are worth more than you think.” it seems to startle Kim Dokja into silence, until Kim Namwoon joins them, a smirk on his face: “Your girlfriend paid us a pretty sum for saving you -- I hope you’re ready to be a concub- argh!”

Yoo Joonghyuk removes his palm from the back of the teenage boy’s head, rolling his eyes. Strangely, this makes Kim Dokja even more tense. “My-”

“Lady Sangah hired us,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, not mincing words. They weave through the back of buildings, commoner-knights and determined farmers and soot-covered revolutionaries beating footsteps fainter and fainter behind them. It is a shame- their determination brought them victory against their leaders, but it is not quite enough against Yoo Joonghyuk’s team. Or their magic.

“Where are you taking me?” Kim Dokja says, as they go further and further towards the outskirts of the city. Instead of answering, Yoo Joonghyuk runs faster towards their meeting spot, where Jihye and Hyunsung will meet them before they go back to the location Yoo Sangah gave to them. After a few moments of quiet, realizing that he was not being given an answer, Kim Dokja continues: “I see that the rumors about Lord Yoo becoming a renegade were accurate, though I admit I would’ve imagined you to be taking more noble jobs then this.”

“Bold words for the one who’s keeping you alive,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, without thinking. He blinks as he catches the edge of a smirk out of the corner of his eye. He was trying to get a reaction, he realizes. That little-

“Jihye!” His attention is snapped back by Namwoon’s shout, and his feet stop sharply at the sight of his student, standing where they were supposed to meet.

A knife at her throat.

“I would thank you to put that boy down,” the one holding the dagger says evenly, their clock wreathing them like a shadow. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes sweep over her face, tense but carefully calm. To Hyunsung beside her, a hand hovering over his shoulder, where a bloom of red is spreading from an arrow sticking grotesquely out of his shirt. He hesitates. Holds out an arm to stop Namwoon from taking a step forward.

“Who are you?” he asks instead, keeping his voice level.

The figure makes a sound like a scoff. “You’re in no position to ask.”

“But I am,” Kim Dokja says. Yoo Joonghyuk hisses as he feels the tip of a foot dig into his waist, as if he were a horse that Kim Dokja were trying to put to heel. “Put me down, you stupid sunfish.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Well, now that you’ve ruined my first plan, no. I don’t plan on dying in a random place outside my former kingdom, felled in the midst of strangers. But that’s not what’s going to happen. Trust me.”

What an absurd thing to ask, of a person you’ve just met. A person you yourself have no reason to trust.

He cared for his people.

He was a good friend.

Trust me.

He puts the former prince down.

“What-” Kim Namwoon begins to protest, but Kim Dokja’s voice cuts him off, steady and with the words that Yoo Joonghyuk may have least expected.

“What are you doing back, mother?”

[vengeancedemon]

TIMING: recent. LOCATION: everlasting garden. PARTIES: @oliver--fox & @vengeancedemon. SUMMARY: emilio is hired to investigate oliver, who he knows in passing. he decides to learn more before deciding if he wans to take the case. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

He was working, and it was fine. It was good. It gave him a distraction from the stillness in his chest, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the rage that threatened to swallow him up or the emptiness that was the only thing making any attempt at taking its place. Emilio had always liked his job, too, liked the way it made him feel useful, liked that he could help people without spilling blood, sometimes. So he was working, and it was better that way. He was working, and it was a good thing.

He’d already tied up the cases he’d been on before his death; looking at the files made his stomach churn, so he’d wanted them gone sooner instead of later. He had new ones now, new things to focus on. And everything still ached a little, and the rage still burned, but staring at the case files let him focus on something else for a moment, so he figured it was working. 

It wasn’t until a familiar name popped up that it seemed to work a little less. He didn’t know Oliver Fox very well; he barely knew him at all. There had been a moment in the woods months ago, when something else had gotten into Emilio’s head and made him figure he needed to protect a monster until Oliver snapped him out of it. In the process, of course, Oliver had revealed that he was a nymph, and his ‘help’ had probably been less about assisting Emilio and more about protecting his domain. He had no idea where the guy fell on the morality scale.

Now, apparently, was the time to figure it out.

Emilio had no real allegiance to the guy who’d hired him, just as he had no real allegiance to Oliver. He’d find what he could find, and he’d go from there. Since Oliver knew what he looked like, he couldn’t stride into his flower shop undercover, and he disliked the idea of trying to watch him from across the street. Luckily, their past encounter did kind of give him an in. And… the shitty Worm Row apartment he was living in now could probably use a plant or something, even if Emilio would probably kill it in a week at the most.

So, he stepped into the shop he’d found under Oliver’s name, rapping a knuckle lightly against the wall. “Uh… I’m here to look at… plants?”

—

Oliver glanced up at the sound of the door opening, eyes widening a fraction at the sight of Emilio. Memories of their last interaction played back to him, and he couldn’t help but quickly scan the other for any sign that he was planning to come in to fight. Sure, Emilio had been under the influence of the Withercap the last time they met, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be pissed at Oliver for the injuries that had happened. 

Oliver had just figured that if he were to come back for retribution, it would have happened not long after the original attack, not…now. Emilio didn’t seem upset, though, so maybe he really was here for plants. “I’ll be right with you! Feel free to look around at what we have in the meantime.” Oliver said with a customer-service grin before turning his attention back to the girl in front of him. She was probably a teenager who was very upset that her orchid seemed to be dying, likely due to the root rot from overwatering. “So! Now that we’ve replanted it in a new, slightly bigger pot, you should be good.” Oliver explained, leaving out the fact that he had healed the plant while she had been looking at other pots. No reason to let her walk with a plant that was still sick; she knew what to do this time, and both she and the plant deserved a do-over. He’d deal with the headache that it had caused later.

Oliver nodded at his employee, Mallory, who came over to finish the transaction with the girl as he made his way over to where Emilio was. “So! If you are looking for plants, you have come to the right place.” He said with a light laugh. “Was there anything specific you were looking for? Or certain parameters, like one that doesn’t need a lot of light/watering/care in general, or if you are looking for more of a challenge, then we can talk about the ones that might need more maintenance…” Oliver trailed off as he realized he may be overloading the other with questions. 

—

He tried to gauge whether or not Oliver recognized him, but it was difficult to map whether the look on his face was one of familiarity, or just a man preparing himself to greet a new customer. If Emilio had known Oliver a little better, he might have been able to decide for certain one way or another, but he knew better than to jump to conclusions about what a stranger’s expression might mean. He liked to think he was memorable, but… there was every chance Oliver had a number of experiences similar to the one that had crossed their paths before. 

Emilio browsed the shelves while Oliver spoke to a teenager at the front of the shop, studying the plants and trying to determine which would be the easiest to keep alive. Just because the plant purchase was a cover for his real intentions here didn’t mean he wanted to buy one only to kill it later; if he was going to spend money on something, he was going to try to make sure it wasn’t wasted. Never mind his poor track record for keeping things alive.

It wasn’t long before Oliver was heading over, and Emilio nodded to him as he approached. Still no real indication that he recognized him; maybe he would have been better off coming in as a stranger after all. “Something hard to kill,” he said. “I’m not the nurturing type.” He studied Oliver carefully, still searching for signs of recognition. And maybe he was searching for something else, too; his client seemed to think Oliver was dangerous. Emilio had seen no real indication of that. If anything, the fact that the nymph hadn’t killed him in the woods seemed to prove the opposite, but didn’t he know that looks could be deceiving? He wanted to know for certain before he decided how to move forward on this case. “How’ve you been?” Time to cut past the question of whether Oliver knew him or not. Emilio didn’t have the patience to keep wondering.

—

Oliver nodded, mentally going through the roledex of plants that he currently had in the shop and picking out the ones that would best fit Emilio’s description. It was a source of pride that he kept a high inventory within the four walls of the store after all. Glancing at the other, Oliver felt like a cactus might be a good idea. Emilio didn’t seem the type to want something super flowery in his life. Though maybe something like that was something that he wanted exactly. It wasn’t as if Oliver knew the other all that well.  He opened his mouth to ask a quick follow-up question, but was cut off by the other’s question. Instead, he gave a small smile, “I’ve been ok. What about yourself?”

Oliver had felt a little bad, leaving the other wounded in the forest after the Withercap had been taken care of. However, he hadn’t exactly been in any shape to try and carry the other out, and he also wasn’t totally sure how long after the Withercap released its hold he would return to normal. Whatever his normal even was. “Did you really come here for plants? Or was there something else?” Oliver asked quietly. He wasn’t sure what response he wanted. Emilio didn’t seem like a bad person, per se, but Oliver also couldn’t say that he trusted the other any more than he could throw him. 

—

He could practically see Oliver flipping through options in his head, and he wondered what kind of plant he’d walk out of here with. He figured, inevitably, he’d buy whatever Oliver recommended, both because he knew nothing about plants himself and because he did feel he owed the guy something after the shit with the withercap in the woods. He clicked his tongue when the nymph turned the question around on him, lifting his shoulder and dropping it in a quiet, uncertain shrug. “Been fine.” It was lucky he wasn’t fae himself — the lie might have been big enough to kill him if he were. (Again. Kill him again.) 

Oliver, it seemed, remembered him well enough after all. Emilio let out a quiet puff of unnecessary air at the question, shaking his head. “Well… I wanted to apologize, too.” And that was true. It was an investigation that pulled him here, sure, but he did owe Oliver an apology. That was also why he was approaching this investigation as he was, why he wasn’t planning on giving his client anything real unless Oliver proved himself to be a danger to them. (He doubted that would happen; Oliver hadn’t even been a real danger to Emilio when he’d had every goddamn right to be, after all.) “Figured I owed you one.”

—

“That’s good.” Oliver said simply with a grin. There was a certain amount of nervous energy that was radiating off Emilio, so something was going on. Then again, maybe Emilio was just a nervous person. That didn’t seem right, though. Oliver flicked his gaze up to where some of the pots were as he stopped his brain from going around in circles. There wasn’t any reason to be suspicious of Emilio, and the faster that Oliver let himself relax, the easier this conversation would go. He turned his attention back to the other when he started speaking again. “...Apologize?” Oliver asked, eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down.

“What are you apologizing for?” Emilio had been brainwashed, and Oliver was pretty sure that was typically a get-out-of-jail card if he had ever heard it. “You..” Oliver lowered his voice. Mallory wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, but better to be safe than sorry. “You weren’t exactly in control the last time we met. In fact, I feel like I should be the one apologizing.” The withercap had been the one in control of Emilio, but Oliver had fully been in control of his own body; both of them had injuries at the end of the meeting. “I-I don’t think you owe me anything, honestly.” Oliver said with a shake of his head. 

—

“Right,” Emilio agreed, the air between them feeling stale even to a man who didn’t need to breathe it in. He probably should have considered how shitty he was at small talk before attempting to use small talk as his cover. Maybe if he’d come in here pretending to be angry, it would have gone a little smoother. But Oliver had suffered enough at Emilio’s hand already, even if Emilio hadn’t been fully in control of that hand at the time. He wouldn’t add to it, wouldn’t dig himself a deeper hole than the one he’d dug already. Apologizing would be good, would make him feel better. 

…unless Oliver looked at him like he’d grown a second head for saying it. 

Emilio shifted his weight uncertainly, glancing around as Oliver did to ensure no one was listening in. There was something a little uncomfortable about Oliver finding it so easy to not be upset with him for things he had done when he was not himself given how hard Emilio found it to offer Caleb the same grace. Oliver, he thought, was a better man than he was; any lingering consideration he’d had about following through with his client dissipated. He wouldn’t be giving anyone any information on Oliver now, that much was certain. “Shit,” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head, “what do you have to be sorry for? If I’d been me, I’d have told you to kick my ass.”

—

“I…” Oliver started before shrugging, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Yeah, but like, there was probably a better way to go about it.” He said, scratching the back of his head. Emilio wasn’t wrong. It was a meeting that had probably been destined to end badly. “I should have been able to do it without knocking you out, is all.” That was the crux of the issue. Oliver wasn’t someone who was the first to run into a fight. He liked to hang back, gather all available information, and then move based on what he thought was the best option. He knew that he was strong, even when he wasn’t using his powers, he could still hold his own against others, but it wasn’t as if he was invincible or anything. When he was using his powers, there was always a bar in his mind that he had to keep in mind. Each move used a certain amount of his stamina, and each use had drawbacks; and he had to factor that into each interaction. 

“I’m…I was too focused on not wanting to hurt you that badly, but I still did so…I-It’s whatever. Like I said, no reason for you to apologize about anything.” Oliver said quickly, eyes moving to the shelves around them, spotting something that he thought worked perfectly for Emilio. 

 “This is an orchid, it might be what you’re looking for? Not a lot of care is needed, but it has a pop of color.” Oliver explained to the other. “If it’s not your style, we always have a cactus or two that could work.”

—

“That’s how I would have gone about it,” he admitted, shrugging a shoulder. Emilio knew himself well enough to know that he was stubborn. Even when he was right in the head — or, at the very least, when he was at his baseline level of fucked up — he wasn’t one who could be easily deterred. When he was determined to do something, he’d do it. The only way to stop him was to do so physically. He’d been in plenty of fights where he’d walked away half-dead, but still victorious because so long as he remained conscious, he remained fighting. There was nothing more Oliver could have done to stop him. Emilio knew that; he figured Oliver deserved to know it, too.

He shook his head at Oliver’s words, shrugging off the apologetic tone. “You didn’t hurt me. Not really. I’ve got a tough head. Can take a lot of damage.” More so now than the last time they’d met, though he wouldn’t say as much to Oliver. It was… nice, in a way, to have someone feel bad about hurting him. It wasn’t an experience Emilio had really had in the past. Typically, if someone hurt him, they didn’t apologize after. Especially not if the injury had been as minor as what Oliver dealt out. It made his chest feel oddly warm. Someone hurt him, and they hadn’t meant to. Someone hurt him, and they were sorry. Wasn’t that something?

Oliver produced a flower, small and bright. Emilio eyed it carefully. “It really doesn’t take much work? I’m not gonna… kill it, or whatever?” He thought it might look nice on his desk. Better than a cactus, probably. Swallowing, he nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “All right. I’ll take the orchid.” And he’d tell his client to fuck off. Oliver was all right in his book.

—

Oliver hummed noncommittally. It was clear that the two would just have to agree to disagree in this situation. That said, it did make him feel better for the other to explicitly say that he hadn’t been that hurt in the exchange. “That’s…good to know. Thanks.” He smiled softly. There was a quiet whisper in the back of his mind, that it was odd that Emilio hadn’t mentioned anything about his nymphness. Maybe the other truely didn’t care, that he had been being honest about stopping by to apologize. It still struck Oliver as odd. He shook it off, instead focusing on answering the questions about the plant care.  “Nope! Just water it like once a week, it doesn’t need direct sunlight or anything.” Oliver said, his grin widening once Emilio agreed to buy it. 

“Great! Let me just get you rung up.” He carried the plant over to the register before ringing it up, quietly giving Emilio a 10% discount before putting it in a bag for transport. “If you run into any issues, or have any questions, feel free to  drop by or reach out.” Oliver said, tossing one of his cards into the bag before handing it over. Mallory calls out his name,  poking  her head out of the office, holding a piece of paper with ‘Oscar calling?’ scrawled across it, phone up to her ear. Oliver gives a nod before turning back to Emilio. “Have a good one.” He adds quickly, before walking over to take the phone. 

[huesofcookies]

💭 (for blueberry)

Answering for memory game:

Turned to behind her, conversing along with her classmate with joy, blueberry cookie looked happy as can be until the teacher had finally paused her lecture upon noticing.

A harsh bang onto her desk quickly alerted the child of the teachers presence and quickly turned to face her, met with a harsh expression she recoiled in a timid shy posture unlike her usual demeanor. Blueberry cookie was used to this by now, but the yelling and harshness of their lectures never stopped hurting, "If you want to represent house blueberry one day you best to learn!" That's what it always dwindled down to, and after they'd give her a stern look and go back to class as usual while she miserably attempted to follow along with no avail.

After classes it was time to walk home, accompanied by the likes of cranberry and bumbleberry. While she occasionally would chime in by that point she mostly stayed quiet and kept in her thoughts unless addressed, all cranberry did was complain and gossip, bumbleberry no better with her small jives at other students. Blueberry by no means cared that the others did such things, it could be amusing sometimes and it was best to stay in good status to the other houses, that's what her parents have told her anyway.

Once arriving home, opening those pretty doors shaped to hold patterns of wavy beautiful blueberry vines, she'd enter the giant mansion she called home, aesthetically fit and pleasing to their name. Scanning the lobby for any sign of her mentioned parents, she could only spot the one or two maids, she passively wondered if her father was in a meeting again or perhaps her mother in his stead as that happened frequently too, but she quickly brushed off the thought and began her walk to her room upstairs. 

It was much more dull than the mansions entrance, a label simply placed onto it being her name with at least some paintings of blueberries to decor it, it did its purpose though. So she entered though not before loudly demanding to not be disturbed unless asked for by her guardians, and then she entered and shut the door firmly, finally returning to her nice simple room with its nice simple berry aestheticness once more. Just like everyday.

After having held it in for so long she finally allowed herself to begin sobbing, though still controlled to not scream in her anguish as she had learned better to not do from other times. Everyday was like this, going to school and trying to talk that she was so much better at than whatever those buzzards tried to teach only for them to yell and lecture her, never actually bothering to stop and tell her exactly how to such, she always tried and it just lead to a headache, every time she asks every time she pleas all they do is reduce it to excuses and complaints and "Think of your house!" 

But she was always thinking of her house, hanging out with those two even if they made her feel worse. Cranberry so intelligent and better than everyone else, prettier and more poise than she could ever be! Bumbleberry barely even tried but she still got better grades than her, still smarter than her, still better than her!! Because at least she has her athletics, at least she had her strength! And here she was left with expectation after expectation, to be perfect, to be intelligent even though everyday at school hurts and drains her. Blueberry cookie hated it. Hated them. Hated all of it. She wished it would all just go away, that house blueberry would just crumble so she didn't have to care anymore!! Because she doesn't care about any of it, but just because the rest of them did, her parents did she had to...!

Blueberry flopped onto her bed, screaming into her pillow until her pain would drain along with everything else, until she no longer could care to feel it either, then turning over to stare at her bedroom ceiling she blankly stared until her eyes would droop and she could dream this whole ordeal away...Like. Always.

[summersfamilydiaries]

Together

This is a very personal piece I have been working on. It was inspired by my personal emotions and experience.

Warnings: mentions of doctors, unknown medical issue, crying, mention of seizures, on the more emotional side of writing, brief mention of being scared to lose someone

This is probably the last writing of mine that I will post because talk about a flop…Thank you to those who have read the few things I posted before and gave me some feedback. I appreciate the support you gave.

Gifs not mine, credits to owner (filter applied).

Eve sat on the couch in her dad’s living room. She had sat on that couch a thousand times, but couldn’t get comfortable in this moment. There was something in the air, making it hard to breathe…hard to think, hard to sit there in comfort. Her dad stood by the front window, arms crossed, not out of anger but for like he was comforting himself. He’d been silent for the last few minutes, staring off into the distance with god knows what running through his mind. He was retired but still had the same demeanor as he did being a surgeon. Calm, calculated, logical... But now? He was spiralling, breaking. She could see it in the way his jaw clenched and from the look in his eyes, dulled slightly. Someone needed to tell him everything was going to be okay. She had to tell him everything was going to be okay. She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady. “Dad…I don't think they’re going to find anything else. I really don’t. Doing all these tests again are going to give us the same results." She said calmly. Her dad turned slowly, his eyes red rimmed, on the verge of tears. He’s been filled with worry since she first talked to him about the symptoms. Headaches, migraines, dizziness, the damn seizures he had to find out about from his son in law. The doctors had run tests, but the scans hadn’t shown anything conclusive but him being a doctor himself, couldn’t accept that.

“They should have found something, Eve.” He said, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared it. "Anything. You’re a neurologist, you know this. There has got to be an answer. This is not normal. I used to see this all the time..." He trailed off, thinking about his past patients with the same symptoms. She nodded in agreement. She knew. She saw this at work too. But she needed to stay strong. "I’m not going to let them give up on me, Dad. They just…they can’t see anything yet. Maybe it’s too small or maybe they’re missing something. I’ll go get a second opinion, I promise." "You shouldn't have to." He said firmly. "Eve, I’m not asking you to be the doctor here. I’m asking you to be my daughter. To be a patient. Don’t accept anything less than the treatment you deserve. I…I can’t lose you." He said the last sentence quietly as his tears started to flow. The silence that followed was deafening. Eve swallowed hard, blinking back the wetness in her own eyes. She’d always been a strong one. The one who could hold people together when they were falling apart. But right now, she felt so weak…like she was falling apart. But she didn’t want to let her dad see that. She needed to put a face on. "Dad" she whispered, her voice cracking "You’re not going to lose me. Everything is going to be okay." She said, almost more for herself than anyone. That’s what she needed to hear too. "I’m not going to let them tell you it’s nothing, Eve. If they can’t find it, I’ll do the surgery myself." She froze, looking up at him. "What?" She asked, shocked by what he had just said. His eyes were wet now, tears flowing. The look in his eyes was something she hadn’t seen in a long time. The raw emotion mixed with desperation of someone who refused to suffer a loss. "I can do it, Eve. I know what I’m doing. I’ll go in, I’ll find it, whatever it is. You don’t deserve to be in pain like this. To be in a state of fear and wondering “what if”. I can’t stand it." "Dad" she said again, more forcefully this time. She gripped his hands, trying to bring him back from wherever his mind is at. "You can’t just…I know you want to fix things, but you can't do this. It’s dangerous. You can’t go in blind and start looking around, hoping you find something. You’re not practicing anymore. You haven’t done surgery in years. You can’t -" "I don’t care." he interrupted, his voice breaking. He closed his eyes, running his hands down his face. "I can’t just sit here and watch you wither away, not knowing what’s happening to you. Not knowing if I’m going to lose you. I can’t lose my little girl, Eve." She swallowed, feeling the tears gather in her own eyes once again. "I know, Dad." she whispered, her voice full of pain. She thought of her kids and how they would have to face a world without her if the worst came to pass. She thought about Chase and the pain he would go through. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. "I’m scared too, Dad. God, I’m terrified." she said finally, her voice breaking under the weight of the situation. "But we can’t make decisions out of fear. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret." "I don’t care about regret" he said "I care about you." He added. Eve took a long, shaky breath before speaking again. "I love you. We’re going to get through this, okay? We’re going to figure it out. Together." "Together." he said before pulling her into a hug that neither of them pulled away from for a long time.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week Day 3: Lost/Stranded

Words: 1771

Notes: Again, I probably went a little heavier than I initially intended because apparently that's all I can do, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Read on AO3

“Hey, it’s Chloe, I’m sorry to call so late,” Chloe said, as soon as she heard Beca’s mumbled greeting upon answering the phone. 

“S’okay,” Beca said, stifling a yawn as she rubbed a hand over her face. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I, um, I’m kinda stuck,” Chloe said, and Beca could hear the cringe of embarrassment in her voice. “I’m, like, stranded.”

“What do you mean?” Beca asked, briefly holding the phone away from her ear so she could check the time. It was a little after 1 am. “Where are you?” 

“That gas station on 35 I think.”

“Is that the one with the all-night diner that does those hash browns we like?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “Chicago was driving me home from our date and we had a fight and I made him pull over.”

“Are you okay?” Beca asked, suddenly feeling much more awake. “Is he still there?”

“No, he left,” Chloe said. “My phone is dead, the waitress in the diner let me use their phone, and yours is the only number I know by heart. Could you call me a cab or an Uber or something? I’ll pay you back.”

“Are you kidding? Look, just stay in the diner, I’m coming to get you,” Beca said. She pulled a coat over her pyjamas and shoved on her shoes, the phone held in the crook of her neck. She hesitated for a second and grabbed a second coat from the hooks hanging by her apartment door. 

“Bec, you don’t need to do that,” Chloe said. “It’s late.”

“It is late. And you’re a woman alone at a gas station in the middle of the night. I’m coming to get you.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, the relief in her voice palpable. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

Beca thought murderer might have been a more apt title for when she was done with Chicago, but she didn’t think saying that would help the situation.

“I won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe said. She hung up the phone and gave a grateful smile to the waitress. “Thank you,” she said. “I promise, next time I’m passing this way I’ll stop in and give you guys the biggest tip I can afford.”

The waitress waved her off with a smile. “Don’t mention it,” she said, before moving down to the other end of the counter to pour coffee for some truckers.

Chloe spun in a slow circle in her chair until she was facing the entrance of the diner. She wished her phone was charged so she could at least distract herself. She was cold and tired, and she felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes. She already regretted the third glass of wine with dinner.

She rubbed her fingers into her tired eyes - no longer caring about smudging her mascara - and prepared herself to defend Chicago to Beca.

She knew he didn’t actually deserve defending - not this time - but she prepared the arguments in her head anyway.

He had a long day. Work has been really stressful for him. Money is tight. I insisted we go to this particular restaurant. I was too friendly to our server and it gave him the wrong idea.

Her shoulders sagged as she thought about all the excuses she was going to offer for him and, not for the first time since she’d put it on, her eyes fell to the engagement ring on her finger and she felt a ripple of doubt.

Was this really the way she wanted the rest of her life to be? 

Chloe was broken out of her thoughts by the squeak of the diner door being pushed open. 

She saw Beca scan the diner until her eyes fell on Chloe, and she seemed to deflate with relief.

Chloe climbed down from the chair and walked quickly towards her best friend.

“Thank you so much for this Bec,” she said. She saw Beca had shoved her coat and shoes on over her pyjamas, and in her hand she held a second coat.

“Here,” Beca said. “You never bring a jacket with you.”

“You’re the best,” Chloe said, gratefully pulling the coat on over her dress. She turned to the waitress who had looked up from her conversation. “Thank you again for letting me use the phone.”

“No problem, get home safe,” she said.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” Beca said, and the pair left the diner and were soon climbing into Beca’s car. “Are you okay?” She asked, turning on the engine and cranking the heat.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. I am now you’re here, she thought. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Beca said. “I couldn’t have just left you there. I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. She absentmindedly twisted the engagement ring around her finger as she let her head come to rest on the window. 

“Do you want me to take you home, or do you want to crash at mine?” Beca asked. 

Chloe swallowed. She didn’t want to go home. Not tonight. She was too tired for another fight. “I… I don’t really want to see him right now.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “I have a charger in my glovebox if you want to plug your phone in. You can text him to let him know, in case he’s worried about you.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said, taking the wire and plugging it in. It took a few minutes before her phone came back to life. She wasn’t surprised when she saw there was nothing new from Chicago. She knew she should expect radio silence from now until she apologised.

She fired off a quick text to him saying she was staying at Beca’s, and then she put her phone away. She knew if anything this would make him more pissed, but she also knew if she stayed silent she’d be blamed for making him worry. 

“So,” Beca said, trying not to sound angry when she spoke, “he left you alone at the gas station? With no money, and no phone?”

“He, um, he didn’t know my phone was dead,” Chloe said, realising it was a pathetic defence as she said it.

“Oh, I guess he’s off the hook then,” Beca said. “Fiance of the year.” 

“Please don’t make me have to defend him,” Chloe said. “I don’t have the energy for it.”

“Why on Earth would you defend him right now? Anything could have happened to you,” Beca said. 

Chloe had expected Beca to sound angry, but when she spoke Chloe realised that she was scared. Beca was right, anything could have happened to her. 

Why wasn’t Chicago scared about that? 

Why hadn’t he tried to call or text? Why didn’t he care if she was okay?

“I’m not going to go on about it,” Beca said. “I just… Whatever you might have done, whatever argument you guys were having, it doesn’t justify this. He put your safety at risk and… I dunno. I dunno how you come back from that.”

They were silent for a little while longer until Chloe spoke again.

“I laughed at our server’s joke,” Chloe said. “That’s what I did.”

Beca pulled into her parking spot at her apartment building, but neither made a move to get out of the car. It had started raining, and the only sounds were the low white noise of the car heater, and the wipers moving against the windshield.

Beca didn’t speak, but when she looked across at Chloe she saw tears in her eyes.

“I had all these excuses ready for him, but all I did was laugh at this stranger’s joke. That was enough to make him feel threatened enough to start screaming at me on the highway. I made him pull into the gas station because I was scared. He wasn’t paying attention to the road and I was scared he was going to crash,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes with her hand. “I got out of the car as soon as he stopped and he just drove off. He hasn’t called or anything. This isn’t… He was so… He was the perfect gentleman when we got together. So sweet and attentive and kind and now… It’s like I don’t even recognise him anymore. This wasn’t what our life together was meant to look like, and I feel so… Lost. I feel like I made a mistake”

Beca reached across the car and took Chloe’s hand. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you, okay? No matter what. If you need a place to stay, you can stay with me for as long as you want.”

Leave him, Beca wanted to scream. Leave him before he really hurts you.

But she knew she couldn’t push Chloe into this.

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “Can we go inside? I’m really tired.”

“Of course,” Beca said. 

They rode the elevator up to Beca’s apartment in silence, and when they got inside Beca got her some water, makeup wipes, and a pair of pyjamas. She even insisted that Chloe take her bed.

Chloe couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her like this.

“For what it’s worth,” Beca said, hovering in the doorway before she went to go lie down on the sofa, “you deserve to be treated better than this. You deserve something infinitely better than this. Get some sleep, okay?”

Chloe sniffed again and wiped her eyes. “Bec? Can you please stay?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, smiling as she climbed into the other side of the bed. “I can stay.”

Chloe was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the ring on her finger. With a shuddering breath, she pulled it off and set it on Beca’s nightstand. She settled back down onto the bed, feeling like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders.

“Can you drive me home tomorrow?” She asked, her back to Beca as she stared at the ring.

“Of course,” Beca said, her heart sinking. It’s her choice, if she wants to go back to him, she told herself. All you can do is be there for her.

“I need to give Chicago his ring back,” Chloe said. “Could I… Do you think I could stay with you for a little while?”

Beca swallowed and tried not to cry through sheer relief. “Of course,” she said.

Chloe turned away from the ring and pulled Beca into a hug.

“You might have saved my life tonight, Beca,” she said. 

“You saved it,” Beca said. “I just provided the getaway car.”

[xxsycamore]

Since I'm all for IkeRev and I'm all for the sapphics... Hope I still can request this! WLW Bodyguard AU featuring Genderbent!Oliver who has to constantly save baka MC because she's so naive she gives her a constant headache.

Whoops, I had a field day with this one. I couldn't help it, the prompt was too good 😭❤ Thank you anon, hope you like it!!

[ 🌈 part of the character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests🌈 ]

For Different Universe, Same Love creative challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐔 ┅┅┅genderbent!Oliver x Alice

𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

"A-LI-CE!"

Olivia calls out with hands cupped around her mouth, hoping the airhead would finally, finally hear her.

Accepting her offer to go to the beach was the absolute worst idea, yet she still fell for those pleading large blue eyes. "I'll be safe because you, my bodyguard, will be there with me, Olivia!" "Magical Disciples don't go to the beach, Olivia!"

Olivia gives up on shouting, resorting to rubbing the bridge of her nose in vain attempts to soothe her headache instead. At least the sun just has set which means that 1) being in her adult form means she can finally reach Alice's head to give it a deserving bonk 2) the beach is getting emptier! somewhat. Screw those late-beach enjoyers still making the Alice search harder.

Olivia recalls all the trouble she had to go through to keep Alice safe today.

***

"Okay, I found the sunscreen. Alice, turn your back to me so I can- Alice? Alice?!"

Olivia turns to see Alice three beach towels away from their spot, talking with a very suspicious person.

"Eh? Mister, why are you dressed in black from head to toe at the beach? Did you forget your sunscreen? My friend Olivia has some, I'll go get it-"

Olivia strides fast on the scorching hot sand to snatch Alice back to safety. "We don't have any. We used it all up. Goodbye."

***

"Here is your ball. Be careful next time, kiddos."

After retrieving some kids' beachball, Olivia turns to where Alice was relaxing on a floatie just a second ago - only to find out she's nowhere in sight.

"Alice? Alice?!"

Sheltering her sight from the sun, Olivia spots Alice drifting away in the water far from everyone else.

"AAAGHH!"

***

Breathing heavily from carrying the weight of the sand bucket, Olivia finally returns from the shore where she collected wet sand for Alice's project of building a sand version of their little house where they live together with Blanca.

"Haaah... Alice... here you go-WHAT THE-"

"Oliviaaa! Look at me! The Mister in black and his friend offered to bury me in the sand!"

"AAAAAAA"

***

Many such cases. Olivia wishes to forget all about them by the time their beach episode day is over. She tries calling out once more, eyes scanning in every direction in front of her.

"A-LI-CEEE!!"

"Olivia, there you are! I was looking for someone shorter, oops! I guess the sun has set, huh..."

Startled, Olivia turns around to see that Alice has approached from behind. She's never going to get used to Alice's unique ability to pop out of thin air and disappear in the same fashion. But, after all, she did fall quite literally from the sky one day.

"There you are, baka Alice! Where were you?"

"I bought ice cream! I'm sorry, did you want some?"

"No thank you. Where did you even buy this?"

"Over there! From a stand named Magic Ice Tower...eh? It's gone..."

Olivia slaps the ice cream cone out of Alice's hand and into the ground before she can take a lick from it.

"Seriously, baka Alice! I can't believe what a disaster you are at taking care of yourself. Next time instead of a straw hat, I'll make you a helmet."

Getting her hat pushed down until it covers her eyes, Alice makes a troubled, pouty sound as a reaction to being bullied like that.

"As long as you make it, I'm sure it will be cute, so I'll wear it anyway! I had such a fun day today. Let's go home, Olivia!"

Taglist:

@arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran   @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou  @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[xojennyboo]

A/N: Another update!!! I can’t apologize enough for not posting consistently. I’ll try to do better but unfortunately life gets in the way. I hope you enjoy this small update. Please continue to read, vote, and suggest what you want to read. Please follow me here and on tumblr, I use the same username. Enjoy!

When you're truly in love with a person, it feels like time stands still. You feel like you're on cloud nine and no one can tell you otherwise. You will go out of your way to protect the one you love and to fight for that love. Relationships aren't easy, they're complicated. They go through different phases and experiences some good and some bad, hoping that in the long run things will end up being okay.

Your relationship with your boyfriend Harry has been a rollercoaster for the past couple of years. Thankfully, most of your moments are good. When things do end up getting bad though, it was a habit to get it resolved that same day or the following day. Unfortunately, right now, you and Harry were having a fight and weren't speaking to each other.

It all started when he decided to take you to an after party for the Grammy's. You were definitely star struck by the many celebrities that were attending. at this point in your relationship, you understood the role Harry played in these events. He was loved and liked by many, and you were fortunate to call him yours and know him in ways that no one else did.

One thing you had to get accustomed to was how friendly Harry was .it wasn't a bad thing, you never thought it was, but it was difficult at times when Harry didn't realize when someone was being excessively friendly or flirty. That's exactly what had happened that night. There were drinks involved, too many for your liking. There was a specific celebrity who was all over Harry. Many knew about your relationship with Harry, it wasn't a big surprise. But the nerve of this person was getting to you.

That night you felt disrespected and neglected throughout the entirety of the event. You smiled when you had to and took photographs when needed. You stayed in the background and watched the love of your life shine. You couldn't help but feel rage when she would put her arms around him or whisper in his ear. You just wanted to grab her ponytail and yank her across the room. But you held back, not wanting to create A scene.

Your face expressed everything to Harry though. The many times he would scan his surroundings in search for you told him he had fucked up. But for the time being, he had a lot of alcohol in his system to fully grasp anything. He would just catch your eye and give you a small smile, smiling back to not raise any suspicion. By the time you got home, you helped Harry out of his suit and tucked him in. Inside you were very upset. You couldn't sleep at all that night, deciding to stay in the living room and watch your favorite comfort show the rest of the night.

The following morning you started cleaning the apartment, which was occasionally something you did when you were upset. it was definitely a give away to Harry. He woke up that morning with a minor headache. He was very thankful to find 2 painkillers with a glass of water on the nightstand. He took them and got up to start his day. He thought about the night he had, hanging out with his peers and having a blast. What had made it special was having you by his side. Once he was done showering, he went downstairs and saw you excessively cleaning. We’re talking micro cleaning, where you would clean everything from the cabinets or reorganize everything. "Hey, good morning love", you hear him say as you cleaned the sink. "Morning", your back was facing him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at your tone of voice and actions.

"Is everything alright?", he stepped closer to you your body stiffening a bit. You simply shrug your shoulder at his question not caring how bratty you were being. "Y/n, honey talk to me", he stepped closer, his hands placed on your shoulders. You flinched away from him, walking away from him and into the living room leaving him appalled. "Y/n", he followed you, not leaving the matter. You didn't respond. You hear him sigh in frustration behind you, your behavior ticking him off. "So, are you just giving me the silent treatment all day?", his voice going up in volume compared to his gentler one used a few minutes ago.

Again, you didn't answer. You grabbed the cushions from the sofa and fluffed them, not paying him any mind. "Well, when you stop acting like A bratty child, Ill be in the room", he says, starting to walk away. "Now you know now it feels", you say. He stops in his tracks and turns around. "What on earth are you talking about?", he frustratingly says. You roll your eyes annoyed at his cluelessness. You knew that he remembers everything, even when drunk. "Last night, you ignored me all night. Too busy with your friend to even notice", you yell, your fury just coming out at this point. "My friend? What are you on about", he says back.

"Harry don't play dumb with me. I know you remember everything from last night. did you not realize she was all over you, pushing me to the side”, your hand moving as you yelled at him. "You were too drunk to even bother to go talk to me. Do you know how fucking stupid I felt watching my boyfriend getting touched excessively by someone else!!”, your eyes stinging from the tears threatening to spill out. "I looked at you the whole night to make sure you were alright. You smiled back!', he defends himself. "You don't fucking get it Harry”, you slop down on the sofa, attempting to control your shaky hands. "What is there to get!! You knew what you signed up for when we got together. You knew the baggage", he says. You didn't bother saying anything just standing up and storming into your room, locking the door so he wouldn't come in. You were so tired physically and emotionally, that you didn't realize when you had fallen asleep.

Harry's POV:

We hadn't spoken in 3 days. This has been the longest fight we’ve ever had. That night was a bit blurry, and I do remember y/n being distant. I guess I had too much alcohol in my system to realize that she was all over me. I do feel like an asshole but something in me didn't want to reason with her. The day of our fight I had stormed out of the apartment after y/n locked herself in our room. I had a writing session with Tom that day. He eventually told me what had happened. He basically scolded me for being a dickhead to y/n. I felt like such an idiot.

I let things cool down a bit. Y/n still wasn't talking to me, but we slept in the same bed every night and she still included me in dinners, breakfasts, and lunches. She was keeping her distance. So today I woke up early to go on a run. On my way back I went to a nearby flower shop and bought a bouquet of her favorite flowers. I also picked us up some breakfast from our favorite breakfast spot around the corner. I also got her favorite coffee. Luckily the walk back home wasn't long, arriving in 5 minutes.

When i got in, I heard the shower on, she was awake. I set the table really quick and placed the bouquet right in the middle of the table. By the time I was finished she was done getting ready and walking in the kitchen. She abruptly stopped, looking at the scene in front of her. "What's all this?", she asks, stepping closer to the table to look at everything. Her eyes instantly lit up when she saw the flowers. "I am an idiot and I'm sorry", I say, cautiously walking towards her, she didn't back away, a good thing. I place my hands on her shoulders, her body relaxing against my touch. Her back was facing me as she looked at the table once again.

"Please forgive me", I whispered. She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. She let out a sigh as she turns around in my hold looking up to me. Looking into her eyes I take a glance of the pain that I had caused her. We’ve gone through thick and thin together, gone through small arguments which were always fixed right away. I love her deeply and we shared a special bond together. I should've taken a closer look at how she felt and understood where she was coming from.

Y/n embraces me in a tight hug. Tears sting my eyes as I hear her cry. I hated hearing and seeing her cry, especially when I was the cause of it. "I'm so sorry my love. Please don't cry", I say, kissing the top of her head. I cup her face, seeing her red puffy eyes. I wipe them with my thumbs, placing small kisses all over her face which causes her to laugh. "I'm such an idiot. I love you so much y/n " I say placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I love you too", she finally breaks her silence causing a huge smile to break out on my face. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?”, I ask hopeful. "Mmm, yes, but you have a lot of making up to do", she says, sitting on the chair to start eating her breakfast.

"I will do anything for you. You're too important to me. I don't want to lose you", I seriously say. She looks at me with adoration. "You won't lose me Harry", she quietly says. "I will always be here for you", she says, taking a hold of my hand across the table. "I love you", those three beautiful words filling up my heart with so much joy.

For the remainder of the breakfast, we talked over our days apart. Her laughter filled the room, her eyes shining bright with light. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. She was captivating in every sense of the word. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?", she interrupted my trance. "You're beautiful", I tell her. She stayed silent, a small blush appearing on her face. "I love the way you blush every time I compliment you”, I say, standing up and walking towards her on the opposite side of the table.

“The way your body reacts to my words, my touch”, I say leaning into her body and closer to her ear as I let my words settle. I can feel her chest rising and falling against mine. I love feeling her body, her touch.

Y/N POV:

His words were captivating you in ways unimaginable, your breathing picking up in pace as he whispered in your ear. You feel his fingers trace against your arm, goosebumps forming on your skin due to his touch. this felt so erotic. “I want you, y/n”, he kisses against your ear. “I want you in ways I cannot explain myself”, he confesses, his kisses moving against your face, small pecks leading towards your lips. “Be mine y/n. Let me show you how much I love you. You’re the only one. My one and only. The only woman I want to spend every minute of everyday with”, tears now spilling from your eyes. “Don’t cry my love. Please. Let me make it better”, he says, his lips centimeters away from yours. “Y-yes”, you whispered. Without other words he connected your lips together and kissed you with so much passion. His hands cupping your face, deepening the passionate kiss, taking your breath away. Your hands rose up towards the back of his head, fingers intertwining with his curls, pulling him closer to you, as if that were even possible.

He moaned against your lips as you tugged on his hair. His kissed down to your chin and down to your neck, nipping at the skin making you moan. “Harry”, you whisper, his face buried against your neck as his hands explored every inch of your body. His hands reached your ass, tapping it as a signal to jump up. You did as instructed, as your legs wrapped around his waist, hands cupping your thighs as he led you through the apartment. He led you towards the bedroom, where he plopped you against the mattress. He didn’t waist any time removing your clothes and his, leaving you both naked in seconds. “Goodness you’re such a goddess”, he kissed down your body, leaving wet kisses and licks against it, your body reacting to every action he made. He kissed down your navel until he reached, you’re aching core. You let out a gasp once his tongue made contact with your clit.

"Mmm. You taste so good", he mumbles against your core. His tongue circles your clit and moves down to your wet entrance. His hands gently placed on your waist, your hands reaching down to intertwine with his, gripping them tightly as his tongue explored your aching pussy. Your hips moved to the rhythm of his

Tongue his nose pressing against your clit. "Oh, fuck H-Harry. Feels so good", you moan out, the sensation of his tongue licking you becoming too much. Harry placed small longing kisses against your clit, before kissing up your body again and attaching his lips to yours in a needy kiss.

“I can never get enough of you, do you know that?", he mumbles against your lips. “Me too Harry", you gasp as he sucks on your neck leaving a small red bruise. "I need you. Now.", you say to him, wrapping your legs around his waist bringing him closer to you. Quickly, he positions himself in front of you and slowly inserts himself in you making you both moan in unison. "Always ready for my cock aren't you baby", he moans against your ear, thrusting with each word. "Yes, yes. Always ready", you moan back, his rhythm picking up.

All you could hear as you close your eyes was the sound of skin slapping skin .it was the most erotic sound ever and you couldn't get enough of it. The feeling of him inside you felt heavenly .it was the perfect fit, the perfect size. Harry always made you feel loved and desired. He knew the kinks you were into and was always opened to trying new things with you. He always made you cum whenever you had sex, which was such a turn on. He also enjoyed leaving marks on you and vice versa. it was to remind you both of your want and desire for one another.

His grunts against your ear brought you back to reality. He was close, feeling his muscles tense along his back as your hands roamed down it, reaching his butt and squeezing it lightly causing both of you to laugh. "Let me ride you", you say, his movements slowing down listening to your words. Without giving it a second thought he flipped you both over positioning you on top. You take ahold of his hard wet cock and slide onto him, both your heads falling back at the feeling of your wetness against one another. His body tenses as you slowly ride his cock, moving up and down, your hands placed on top of each of his pecs.

"You look amazing riding me honey", he says, taking ahold of your waist. You felt your orgasm coming and you start riding him faster and harder, his hips meeting you halfway. "Fucking hell baby, I'm gonna cum", he moans, taking control of your movements and thrusting upwards into you, your head falling back at the intensity of his thrusts. "Oh fuck!", you moan loudly and soon you came and let your orgasm take over your body riding out your high. Harry came soon after. After the intense organ you both had, you cuddled in each others' arms and talked about the most random things. You hated fighting with Harry, but you loved him, nonetheless. He was yours through and through and you were his until the end.